Chapter Fourteen
Catatoran
Art was in pain when his eyes forced themselves open. The demon inside him was close, leering, burning him from the inside out. Hardly conscious, he did manage to hear Ever barking orders to Lucid. There were creatures nearby. He could hear growling, combat, the wailing of wounded beasts and cutting of flesh by metal.
They were in the woods but Art had no idea what was happening until suddenly something was being fed past his dry lips and the sweet cherry flavor exploded on his tongue. Art coughed dryly but managed to chew a bit before swallowing it more whole than this throat liked. The pain started to ebb, his muddled thoughts beginning to clear and the demon still full of rage melted back into the ache of his mind.
“Get him up!” Ever was ordering Lucid, who was under Art’s arm and hoisting him up.
Still disoriented, Art tried to rise, eyes focusing on the beast Ever was fighting nearby, a great hulking thing, gnarled teeth and twisted jaw. He had no time to ask when Orchid was suddenly before them.
“Lucid, take him out of here. Dark is almost upon us. Ever and I will find you.”
Lucid was in his nightmare guise, smeared with strange blood not his own. Questions raced through Art’s mind. What had happened? Where were they? How long had he been out? Fragments of nightmares and words from the demon flooded him as the boy helped him amble away from the fight, Orchid’s glowing form disappearing behind the trees as they went.
“Lucid, what’s happening?” Art’s words were slurred. He felt sick and weak, the demon must have been trying to drain his energy, another sign he was losing to the possession.
“Your Weir, it brings Demon Touched,” Lucid answered as the trees started to thin and Art could smell the sunrise just before them.
“Is everyone all right? I feel awful.”
“Many days you fight the demon,” Lucid said to Art’s alarm.
“Many days?!” The time lost to him gave a rush of ugly dreams blurred with pain. Some of what had transpired between him and the thing inside him, surfaced in sickening after taste and muddied images. He pushed the memories away. He did not want to recall the details of what had happened in his unconscious mind. Miraculously, he seemed to have battled the thing and still retained his mind and soul. That was enough for the moment.
The strength in his legs was starting to solidify again and he tried to lift himself off of Lucid and take his own full strides. His body ached as badly as the first night his Haunting Weir had been opened but he ignored it, knowing they had to get out of the woods urgently. Something had caught Art’s scent and he too could smell the foul beast nearby. Lucid was already wide-eyed and growling.
“It’s fine,” Art tried to reassure. “The sun is coming up, we’ll be out of the woods soon. I don’t think it will pursue us. Just stay with me.”
“Leaning fairly hard on your companions, aren’t we now?”
Art felt the voice of the demon within him, but it was not as foreign and cold as before. It had been less demonic, even friendly. The change in its communication with him brought more alarm than the evil voice had. It could have meant the thing was closer to claiming his soul than before, blending with his voice, it was starting to become him.
The thing laughed. “Even after all you have been through, how much of your mind I tried to consume and subdue, you still see clearly what is happening to you. Such a rare thing you are, Art Storygrove. You would have made a splendid Weiriman. How many of my brethren would you have expelled back to the depths had I not eaten your soul?”
“It’s not supper time yet, demon. Now leave me alone.”
It chuckled darkly, clearly amused. Art was completely dismayed. Even though the thing was still locked inside his Weir prison and he had just eaten Scarlet Extinction, it could now openly talk to him. He was progressing too rapidly. He had to put it out of his mind. He had to ignore the thing. Now he needed to get out of the woods, and make sure Ever, Orchid and Lucid were safe. He needed to figure out where they had to go next. While he was still alive and thinking he could not let the thing win out over him. There were no other thoughts to be had.
Clearing the woods, they emerged atop a hill looking out over a road leading down to a large town. It was older, less modern than Wivenguilder. Narrowing his eyes to see better in the low light, Art pulled his mask up. The filtered pure air would help clear his lungs of some of the demonic Sin Breath he likely inhaled over the last few days. It would help cleanse his mind as well.
He knew this city, the front archway over the main road was unmistakable.
“Catatoran,” Art mumbled to himself knowing this was home to one of the oldest Weirimen Guild houses. They had traveled a long ways in Art’s lost time. The man felt cold down to his gut. What a burden he had been on the little group. Just how deeply had the demon worked its way into his mind? He would have to be even more careful until he knew more.
“Don’t just stand there!” Ever was suddenly bursting out of the woods at full elven speed.
Art had not heard him coming, lithe footed as elves were.
“What’s wrong?” Art asked as the elf blurred past him. Orchid in tethered tow, like a glowing balloon on a string, her eyes wide on where they had come from in the trees.
“Run!” Ever called over his shoulder as he took to the road.
Lucid obeyed, pulling Art by the forearm. The man glanced over his shoulder, eyes bugging when he caught sight of the thing Ever fled from. A great gray figure made of misty black shroud, embedded with whirling hands and arms, streaked through the trees, moving through the trunks completely without form. An incorporeal of such a size Art had never seen before, but by the chill of cold and fear melting off it, he knew it was likely a wraith or a conglomerate of angry vengeful spirits.
Scarborough Knights could do little against such monstrous creatures, as they were immune to all physical attack. A Weiriman could dismantle it and send it back to the Abyss. But Art was in no condition for such an arduous task. A wraith was one of the most dangerous incorporeal creatures and took great mastery and skill to defeat. Most Weirimen could not battle such a thing on their own. Truly the only remedy was to run.
Usually the thing would haunt only a specific area, attacking only when things came into its haunting grounds. Art knew when the creature emerged from the woods, it’s shifting distorted body turning towards them, blue and gray hands grappling desperately, that is was after him and his cracked Haunting Weir. It was outside of its normal behavior. Sunlight would weaken the thing and send it back to its grounds, but even so close to dawn it charged after them, hovering over the ground. Near the top of the formless mass of arms and clawing hands something resembling a head, pushed its way out of the mess and wailed after them. Eyeless, with only a gaping hole of a mouth, full of jagged teeth, it screamed. Art could feel its pull. The thing was definitely after him. The elf, ghost, and boy were all unimportant. The thing could almost taste the living soul of Art’s Weir.
Slightly fearful but more struck with awe at the horror of it, Art willed his jellied legs to run, his body protesting with every step. Before long he could see the sky lightening and glancing back again, he saw the wraith shrink from the coming light and start to fade. The thing wailed and wailed its frustration, many voices issuing out of the thing as if all the souls it had consumed and held prisoner within it cried out in sheer anger at losing such a tasty prize. Art turned back around knowing the thing’s form would disappear and it would return to its territory. They were out of danger, but still he ran on until they reached the archway of the city just for safe measure.
“I have never seen a wraith behave in such a manner,” Ever said, sharp green eyes on the thing as the sun turned it translucent and it finally disappeared. “I believe it was drawn to you and I just got in its way.”
“Oh it was,” Art wheezed, taking in huge gulps of air, his tired body completely drained from the short, terrible sprint. He felt lik
e he had been sleeping for a year and his body had forgotten how to function in a vertical position. “It could smell my open Haunting Weir.”
“Are you all right? You have not been conscious for days!” Orchid’s ghostly face swam with concern.
“Yes, we have had the most inconvenient time hauling your unconscious, open-Weir body across the countryside.” Ever added flatly. His normally immaculate appearance looked slightly disheveled, though not as worn as Lucid. It was clear they had been through an ordeal.
“I’m sorry.” Art chewed his inner cheek. He felt guilty but also grateful and Ever, seeming to read the expression, said no more, only turned his gaze to the city.
“Orchid, you should hide yourself. This is a town of Weirimen.”
She did as she was told, glancing at Art, concerned again, before disappearing into Ever’s form.
“We should find what we came here for and quickly.” Ever’s eyes scanned the still sleeping town. “The last town we stopped in had a wanted declaration for you already posted. The Weirimen have put a notice for you to be captured for ‘attacking’ them. I believed they used the incident outside of Wivenguilder to move your status to officially possessed. You are being hunted now, Storygrove.”
Art had known, even if he escaped Lirecolden’s gang he would be a fugitive to the Guild. He would receive no more aid from the Weirimen. He would have to rid himself of the demon before his Guild caught up with him or suffer the fate Professor Minevur had promised.
Ever had used the map they had gotten from Wivenguilder to get them to Catatoran, but from there the map had given little clue as to where to find the Consciatosium.
“I know about this town,” Art explained after they found a small bistro that was open early and mostly empty of patrons.
“Is this a good idea?” Ever interrupted him in a hushed tone, eyes glaring up at the door every few moments. “I am certain your wanted notice is here. People will be looking for you, not only Weirimen. The reward for information is a prominent motivator. I feel you could be discovered here.”
“We could be seen anywhere,” Art responded, sipping his tea and taking a large bite of his sausage. He was certain the demon’s presence was making him crave meat, but he ignored the implication. He was just glad to be hungry rather than feeling sick. “Let’s just eat and then move. I think I know where we need to go.”
“How so?”
Art pulled out his demonic compass. “I can track demonic energy with this, but what I meant by I knew of this town is it is famous for their ancient catacombs in the city’s underground. My gut feeling says we should head there and use my compass. It will just be a matter of finding the entrance to the catacombs. I don’t know where those are.”
“I am hoping your ‘gut feeling’ is more accurate than your taste in what you fill it with.” The elf eyed the sausage with a brow raised in disapproval.
Art smirked. “What’s the matter, you don’t like sausage?”
Ever turned his nose up slightly and Lucid shook his head as well, a mouth full of coffee cake.
“Not a sausage made by the races of men. I question the quality of the meat.”
Art laughed. “Well, I don’t care at this point. My body needs the protein and I crave the meat.”
“You know that is a sign of—”
“Yeah I know,” Art cut in. “I don’t care. Let’s find this thing and end my problems rather than discuss them.”
The elf could see the wisdom of Art’s words and finished his breakfast along with Lucid, who seemed unbothered by Art’s carnivorous appetite.
"We still lack a means of finding the entrance to the catacombs. I hesitate to inquire with anyone; it could draw attention to us. Your notice does not name us as wanted, but does list us as possibly associating with you. I think we shall be noticed.”
“Yeah but this town is large. Exploring it will take too long. Maybe, we should check the town hall.”
Ever dropped a heavy look on Art before speaking in a flat irritable tone, “The town hall is the last place wanted folk should wander for information.”
“All right, that was stupid a suggestion,” Art admitted. “It’s not easy to get information on an ancient place like this. They don’t do tours or anything in this place, because it is said to be haunted.”
“Why has it gone on un-cleared? Certainly with a large Weirimen Guild in town it should not pose a threat.” Ever questioned before giving coin to Lucid who went to pay for their meals.
“It has been, several times and it is maintained, but I believe it sits on a Hell Mouth, deep in the catacombs. A hole into the underworld can never really be cleared. They just have to keep turning back what comes out.”
“And people live in this place,” Ever scoffed. “This whole town is likely saturated in demonic energy.”
“I’m sure people wear masks, and there is a large Shadow Confectionary here to compensate. People adapt, Master Elf. Your kin would not just up and leave their home because it was near a haunted ground would they?”
“I doubt such a corrupt area would ever exist so close to a settlement of my kin,” Ever answered smartly, gathering his belongs before they all exited.
“Let’s wander a bit,” Art suggested. “Perhaps we will happen on what we need. I’ll try using my compass.”
“You are proposing much risk again.”
“You have a better idea?”
As the elf did not, he pulled his hood up and fell into step behind Art, stone faced and suspicious of every passer by.
Lucid, was back to his usual curious self and had to be told more than once to keep his hands to himself and not to engage the towns folk as shops opened and street vendors set up their wears. Pouting a little, but understanding the circumstances, he shuffled along behind Art for the better part of the afternoon.
Standing before yet another Shadow Confectionary sweets shop, like the one Art had visited before he began his quest, he ran his hand hard through the long strands of dark blond hair, frustrated.
“We are going to have to talk to someone,” Art sighed. “There’s not enough demonic energy in the air for my compass to give a clear reading. Likely, the Shadow Confectioners gathered it on a regular basis. The only places my compass seems to lead us to are Confectionaries. They are the strongest concentration of demonic energy above ground. This is getting us nowhere."
“If we ask someone they might alert the Weirimen.”
“I know.” Art rubbed his hand over his light goatee and grumbled. “But we have to do something. Come on, we’ll ask in here.”
Ever looked uncomfortable but said nothing, only followed Lucid and Art in.
The little shop was not nearly as impressive as the Bohurst Confectionary in Riftenshire but it smelled equally as pleasant and was filled with sweets.
“This might be a good time to restock your Umbra Sweets,” Ever suggested.
“I can’t.” Art shook his head. “Cindervail said only the ones I got from the Bohurst Confectionary would be strong enough. How low am I?”
Lucid stopped and turned slowly. His expression looked alarmed, apologetic and scared all at the same time. Worried, Art went for the two bottles in his bag and found them nearly empty. Even the Scarlet Extinction was down to only three candies left.
“It has been a very difficult passage for you to get here,” Ever explained as he watched Art’s face turn from panic to sickening realization. “Lucid had to give you some just to keep you sane and present. You were battling the demon for your body. Do you have no memory of this?”
The mention of it flashed through Art’s mind and he tried to suppress it.
“I only remember bits and pieces and want to keep it that way for now. I understand what you did for me, Lucid, thank you.” He tired to hide the fear bubbling up inside him as well as the laughter from the demon within.
“Running low on the little candies that keep me at bay. Wh
atever will you do when they are all gone? I do wonder.”
Art ignored the jab and tried to quell his fear.
“It will be all right,” Ever reassured, even though his eyes betrayed a note of fear himself.
“Let’s just get what we came for,” Art mumbled, eyes flashing to the shopkeeper approaching them.
“Can I help you?”
Art’s inquiry raised suspicion with the Confectioner, but he did take note that Art appeared to be a Weiriman and Ever looked like a Scarborough Knight. Whispers of his thoughts did reveal he was a little confused and slightly wary that the pair was working together. Knights on occasion worked with Weirimen but usually in the Wyld and were almost never seen fact-finding in town together. Art also appeared to be partner-less, another oddity. His eyes glanced at Lucid, knowing the boy was no Weiriman, his pointed ears leaned him towards a fey. The group was abnormal and it heightened the Confectioner’s suspicions.
“Are you here with the Scarborough Knights garrison in town, Master Elf?” The Confectioner asked before answering Art’s question.
Ever looked surprised. “There is a garrison in this town?”
“Yes.” The Confectioner nodded. “They are following a pack of touched beasts that came dangerously close to several towns. This place always has scares like that though, due to the catacombs. Why would you lot want to go there?”
“It is a matter of some urgency,” Art said pulling out his license and flashing his Weirimen seal. The badge shimmered crimson in a way only shields of the Guild could. Only a tiny spark of those with the ability of a Weiriman could make it glint and the shopkeeper seemed to accept Art’s authority and divulged the location of the catacombs entrance.
“We need to hurry,” Art muttered as they exited the shop. “We may have gotten our information from him, but he is suspicious of us. If he reads the newspaper I saw on the front counter we will be exposed.”
“The newspaper is of worry?” Ever questioned as they quickened their pace down the cobblestone street.
“I saw a red notice in the folds of the paper. It would appear I am serious enough to be put on a leaflet and slipped into local papers.”
“You cannot know this notice is about you. That would be more serious than anything I have heard before,” Ever protested never before hearing of Weirimen issuing Crimson Dispatches to the public.
“The best of the Weirimen Seminary could not put this demon down without killing me. That’s unheard of. That in itself is pretty serious. After spending time with this thing I can tell you its plans for me and what it will do in our world. They are harrowing enough to print a notice and send it out to Weirimen towns and cities.”
“You are recalling your memories of the past few days?”
Art’s face darkened. He was now. He recalled some of the visions the demon had given him: the death and ruin, the plans the demon had to infiltrate the Weirimen and destroy their order. Just its magnitude of power and blood lust alone were enough to alarm his whole Guild.
“I think Felvase was doing more than just giving us room and board. I think he was poking around in my head when we were together and maybe spying on us. He had some psychic abilities I couldn’t read well. He might have seen what this thing has planned. I’m sure he doesn’t want to chance it eating my soul and gaining a permanent body in our plane. He’ll hunt me down. He’s got to be behind the public relations push to find me.”
“We must hasten to the demonic library.”
Art nodded quickening the pace but not before he noticed the Shadow Confectioner rush out of his shop and spot their party disappearing around a corner in the road. Even at this distance he could hear the man’s thoughts.
“Special Notice by the Weirimen Guild. Wanted: Art Storygrove, possessed and dangerous in league with Pith demon. Urgent! Any information pass directly to the Weirimen Guild. Ample reward.”
Art knew exactly where the shop owner would be headed next, and it would take very little time for the Weirimen to be swarming through the city heading to the very place the Confectioner had sent them.
Heading to the area the Confectioner had directed them to, Art pulled out his compass hoping to narrow down the exact location.
“Are we close?” Ever’s voice was doing little to hide his annoyance. Too long had they been wandering through the city following Art’s compass.
“It’s a compass,” Art stormed back. “It doesn't give me foot unit destination information.”
The elf shot him a look but Art ignored him. He did not appreciate Ever’s attitude anymore than the elf liked his, but they were both stressed and had every reason to be on each other’s nerves. Only Lucid did not seem to be bothered and followed along, ignoring things that would normally interest him. He too understood the serious nature of finding the catacombs before the Weirimen found them.
“We are getting close,” Orchid’s voice suddenly echoed out of Ever’s body.
Startled, Art did not know she could speak through him without being physically separate or without his mouth moving.
“How do you know?” Ever asked.
“I can hear the call of the voices from the catacombs.”
“Ghosts?”
“Yes,” she answered. “I can hear them.”
Art felt a chill. She was right. He could sense it too: a cold dampness at the edge of his skin, traveling up his limbs and into the warmth of his neck. They were close to something souls had passed through or occupied.
“She can hear the voices of the dead?” Art asked as they made their way across another street towards a cluster of tall stone buildings and an especially old looking block.
“She is closer to the side of the dead than the living,” Ever confirmed. “While in this form she can hear the call of those across the Veil and of the underworld.”
Art did not have to be a mind reader to see how much it disturbed Ever. He would have to press the Weaver for a solution for the pair.
Just as Art was wondering if the Weaver would be the right place to go for information, recalling how unhelpful with details the man had been on his prior visit, a voice called to them from the street they had just crossed.
“Halt!”
Art turned just a bit to get a glimpse of the Weirimen. Cursing under his breath, man, elf, and boy all broke into a run towards the older district of buildings.
“Where are we going?” Ever barked, leading them as his run was far faster and he was more jogging than actually running.
“There! Head that direction!” Art pointed before glancing back seeing the two pursuers. He knew he had to put some distance between him and them before they started to employ all the other things he knew Weirimen used to catch fleeing prey.
“Here, Brother!" Lucid suddenly said, grabbing Art by the neck of his coat and pulling him down an alley way, Ever spinning to follow.
“This is the wrong way!" Art growled but the boy was already at an old iron gate, chained closed blocking off a long dark alley before them.
“Come!” Lucid urged and put his hands together indicating Art should use it as a foot hold.
“I can scale the gate,” Art protested but Ever gave him a shove and the man was putting his foot in the boy’s hands before he knew better.
Art hardly had time to think, when suddenly Lucid was lifting him and the man was not only scaling the gate, but he was flying over it at a height Art’s screaming mind could not comprehend. Ever was near him, having run up and used the side of the wall to scale the gate easily, giving himself as much height. Man and elf sailed well over the gate and towards an old stone balcony of one of the buildings. Art yelped, but Ever had him by the arm, pulling the man down with him into a landing. Art skid and hit the wall of the balcony hard, but mostly unharmed. The elf, effortless in his grace, turned to catch Lucid as the boy flew through the air after them, having as much agility as the Knight.
&nb
sp; Panting and totally bewildered at being flung through the air, Art peeked over the side to see the two Weirimen glaring up at them, equally stunned.
“Storygrove!” Ever urged, having spotted a ladder leading to the roof.
Art nodded and looked at the Weirimen again, who were scrambling below to get through the gate or find another way to the building the trio had just scaled.
“Where are we going?!” Art asked once they arrived on the rooftop.
“Which way to the catacombs?” Ever ignored Art’s question.
The man looked to his compass and pointed confidently.
Elf and boy started in that direction, running towards the edge of the roof, both grabbing Art by the arms.
“Wait!” The man protested wildly, but could do little more than scream as the pair leapt from one root top to the next, pulling Art along with them.
The landing and roll was rough again, and Art was lucky he did not roll an ankle. He managed to shake it off and follow the pair, climbing down another ladder, then heading towards an alleyway below. Art was visibly grateful they were leaving the rooftops. Without Ever and Lucid he could never have made the huge leap.
“They’ll find us,” Art wheezed, slightly winded once they were on the ground, his shaky legs glad to be earthbound once more.
“I know,” Ever said, “that is why we must move quickly.”
Nodding, Art pointed the way and the group headed off at speed, boots slamming cobblestone.
Rounding another corner, Orchid’s voice rang out that they were very close. Art’s eyes darted around for a doorway, opening, or something that might indicate the entrance to the under-city. He knew the Weirimen would be along soon and likely with more. They had little time.
Suddenly he saw it. Curved and bent into the base of a building was a huge stone door, carved and aged with symbols of death and demons. Faces resembling gargoyles decorated the pillars framing the door which was set at an angle, leaning back into the earth as if it were the cover of a large hole rather than a doorway.
But before they could head towards it, Art heard the sound of foots steps and the flex of bowstrings. Turning, alarmed, he was greeted with a group of tall, armored and well armed Scarborough Knights, bows drawn, arrows ready.
“Wait,” their commander ordered, a gloved hand pointed at them, even as Ever stepped in front of Lucid and Art.