Tenebroum

Chapter 56: The Under Temple

They continued deeper into the darkness after that. As the sound of water got louder, the hair became more humid until water began to drip from the ceiling of the narrow winding passage. They waited for the next attack to come at any moment. Instead, the terrible fury of the zombie’s attack had been replaced with an unsettling silence so oppressive it made Todd’s hands tremble, at least that was until he heard the sound of distant chanting. The words were too faint to be understood, but the darkness behind their terrible rhythm was clear.

He could not let himself be overcome by the fear that boiled out of the dark and mouthed a silent prayer to the light bringer to drive it back. At the same time, he followed Brother Faerbar deeper into the darkness. Even the holy light radiating from the Templar's and their weapons did not penetrate far into the cursed shadows they were walking through, so when the room opened into a large cavern, it surprised everyone. One moment the winding path seemed like it would continue forever into the bowels of the earth, and the next, the walls fell away to reveal a wide hall that was very dimly lit by a number of large brass braziers lined up down the center of the hall.

It was entirely different from the tunnels they’d traveled through so far. Not only was it larger, but the floors here were smooth and the walls painted. Someone had taken great care in their construction. In places, there were grooves cut to channel something from the broad, flat surface, but he had no way to know if they were meant to keep water from pooling, or if they existed for some darker purpose.

Brother Faerbar led them along the left wall, toward the nearest of the small doors that lead away from the great hall. This made sense Todd reasoned, since they shouldn’t stray far from their only known exorcist until they’d found another. Instead of finding more attackers, though, they found a wall and a series of rooms which resolved themselves into a nightmare more awful than anything they’d seen in the palace above. There, there was only the blood as evidence that something horrible had happened. Here though, lay the bloodless corpses - pieces of them, anyway. The Rooms were packed with stacks of body parts, and on tables, there were corpses in different stages of disassembly or reassembly. That most of them wore the remaining shreds of fine clothing told him that they had found the final resting place of the missing nobles.

All the squires had made signs of warding as soon as they’d caught a glimpse of these sights, but the muttering began when they saw one particular corpse, with five extra arms grafted onto it and a sixth sitting there just waiting to complete the horrible symmetry. Barbaric. Butchery. Abomination. The words were quiet, but the disgust in the syllables was unmistakable. This place needed to be cleansed, and the people responsible needed to be brought to justice.

There was no one to hold to account, though. Wherever the chanting voices were coming from, it wasn’t here. Here there were just mutilated corpses that had been modified until none of their humanity remained. At least, that was the case until they reached the final room. There they found a man with his back to them, busily stitching away on the corpse before him like they weren’t even there. His back was to them, and they couldn’t see his face, but because of the fluid nature of his movements, Todd was sure that he was a living person, and if he was persuaded properly, he could finally give them the answers they sought. So, he was surprised when Brother Jakobous approached with his glowing sword raised high to split the stranger in half without asking his name.

Todd understood the rage as much as anyone. He could see the evil roiling off the cloaked figure in waves and knew a swift execution was too good for such a man. It was only when the Templar was bringing his sword down like a vengeful god that Todd finally saw the third hand that it had been using to hold the stitches and understood the truth: it was just one more corpse that happened to be busy making other corpses.

Everything happened at once after that.

The blow never landed as a corpse next to the strange surgeon suddenly came to life and grabbed the brother’s arm. The undead’s hand began to smolder on contact with the Templar’s holy aura, but its death grip held firm nonetheless. Even as that happened though, all the partially finished and half-completed zombies suddenly came to life on all sides of them as the room erupted into chaos. Not even the zombie that began reaching for Todd distracted him from the gruesome sight that would remain burned into his mind for as long as he still drew breath.

With Brother Jakobous’ sword held over his head and his arm restrained, there was nothing to stop the strange zombie’s fourth hand from plunging through the Templar’s chest and ripping out the man’s heart before suddenly withdrawing. For a second, Todd struggled to understand how something could rip through the warrior’s blessed chain mail like it was little more than paper. However, that single image of the hand holding a still beating heart answered his questions and would live in his nightmares forever. The seven fingers on that hand had all been knives of one shape or size, and they glowed with a foul aura that made them glitter violet and black in his sight.

After that, he didn’t have time to rush to Brother Jakobous’s body. No one did. They were all fighting for their lives, and though many of these half-finished monstrosities were effortlessly slain a second time, some of the more monstrous creations proved quite a challenge. No matter how hard Brother Faerbar and the other Templars fought, they couldn’t quite reach the surgeon that had struck down their friend and sworn companion.

Each time they got close, there would be a new surge of monsters to push them back, and it only ever had to move to parry their blows a handful of times. It didn’t even bother to turn around and face them as it had its ragged little army attempt to tear them to pieces. Ultimately, the Templars were forced to retreat from the relentless, murderous insanity. Such a maneuver was not without cost, though, and warriors were wounded and maimed as they fought their way free from the insane slaughterhouse to regroup in the main hall, where they weren’t surrounded.

They’d expected to have to hold the door against a wave of dead, but in the end they weren’t followed as they left those cursed rooms and returned to the eerie orange glow that was reflected in the puddles that spotted the floor. There was an argument then, in that relative moment of safety. Some of the men argued that they needed to go back to secure the bodies of the fallen before that thing could bring them any harm, but Todd was having trouble paying attention to that as he noticed one simple fact: the chanting was getting louder.

“They are brothers,” Brother Harnin swore. “We owe them nothing less than this!”

“It pains me to say this, but the light will protect their souls, but their bodies are already dust, and we will have to mourn them later.” Brother Faerbar said softly, “The light will protect us too, but we need to keep pushing deeper. We have not yet found the true source of evil in this place, and people will keep dying until we.”

A few moments were spared for the paladins to use the light to heal the most injured of their brothers. Once they were done, the only evidence they’d been wounded were rent clothes and damaged armor. Even these miracles were a trade-off, though. Every one spent healing the dying was one less they could use against the darkness, so those with lesser wounds made do with bandages. Then they were back to pushing deeper into the cavern.

“Why would there be light?” Brother Samael asked as another brass brazier bloomed to life in the distance with no apparent cause. “Surely the damned would do best in the dark.”

There was some quiet debate about witchcraft or it being a trap before Brother Faerbar interjected. “It’s because they want us to see this sacrilege,” he said, pointing at the barely visible wall on the far side of the light. The way was narrowing as they approached a pool, and the walls were covered in blasphemous murals of aquatic scenes, which were barely visible in the dim light.

Todd wanted to study the pictures but couldn’t take his eyes off the almost circular pool of water in the center. Its dark water was perfectly placid but so full of evil that it might as well have been acid or poison. Nothing had happened yet, but he was sure that it would.

It was only when he saw the murals on the far side that he finally turned and looked to his master, “Look - it’s Oroza - the water dragon!”

The mural depicted her as a giant, sinuous blue-gray water dragon, but no sooner had he spoken that name than the pool began to boil and froth. For a moment, he worried that the water dragon herself would burst up and devour them all.

But instead, tentacles show out of the water, aiming to drag every nearby warrior into the depths and drown them. When Todd felt the first two tentacles crunch beneath his mace, he realized they weren’t tentacles at all but arms sewn one to another until they stretched over a dozen feet and made a mockery of life itself. The monster might not have revealed itself yet, but this fact told him a great deal about it. He shouted a warning to his brothers, but he wasn’t sure if they heard him over the roar of the leviathan that finally rose from the bloody pool.

It rose along with the pitch and volume of the hellish chanting that echoed through the hall. This wasn’t a man or a beast; instead, it was a monster made into the shape of a beast out of the parts and pieces of countless men. Todd would never be able to describe it better than that. Its wide mouth was filled with row after row of teeth, and innumerable tentacles were attached to its bloated body. He would remember those details in his nightmares for years. As it dragged itself onto land with its wavering tentacles and clawed limbs, it used its grasp to entangle and then devour two of his fellow squires almost immediately. A Templar followed soon after.

It was all Todd could do to keep from hyperventilating as he battered the grasping arms and pseudo tentacles from him as he tried to fight his way to his master’s side. He couldn’t, though. Even if he could fight through this forest of flesh, he never would have been able to stand so close to Brother Faerbar’s brilliance.

The Paladin shone like a tiny star as he advanced on the horror, with no fear on his face. There was only determination as he struck at it time and again. Three of the other Templars did the same, as they fought in a long crescent, absorbing most of the attacks. Still, none could get so close as his master, which filled Todd with a strange sort of pride as he struggled to do his part.

In the end, it was their holy light that did the creature in. No matter how many limbs they lopped off or rents they created in the creature’s bloodless skin, more tentacles ending in dead men’s hands always rose out of the water to assault the warriors. Still, slowly but surely, the thing began to smoke and smolder before it finally burst into pale-yellow flames of holy fire. Todd had been taught that evil could never stand against the might of good, and he had never doubted that.

It was one thing to believe and quite another to see with his own eyes. As the strange aquatic creature switched from lashing out in a never-ending storm of attacks to flailing in agony as it became a slowly deflating spiritual bonfire, Todd praised Siddrim for his protection and strength, vowing never to forget this moment of triumph.

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