The Undying Legion

Malcolm sat against the satchel strapped to her back and pressed his feet against the bricks. Vibrations ran through him like an earthquake. His ears rang and his head swam. A glance over his shoulder showed that Penny’s incredible weapon was blasting the stone wall to pieces, throwing chips of rock into the air. Finally it tore through the stone and started pounding dark earth. Wet soil flew. The wave of sound smashed deeper into the ground and smoke boiled out of the tunnel Penny was creating. The wee pistol was as effective as a heavy mining drill.

 

Penny’s outstretched arms quaked. Her teeth were clamped together as if her jaw would shatter. Malcolm could imagine the beating she was taking because he could hardly stand the violent vibrations he felt coming through her. His foot slipped, kicking out shards of red brick. The platform was shattering beneath them.

 

The vibrations ceased and smoke no longer roiled out of the shallow cave. Penny dropped her arms. She gasped for breath and a trickle of blood ran from one ear. She fiddled awkwardly with the tuning fork. She shouted, “Out of range,” but he barely heard her through the throbbing in his head.

 

Bricks rattled from beneath and popped up into the air. Malcolm leapt to his feet and took Penny by the arm. They pushed past the jagged remnants of the foundation wall and crowded into the dark cave she had just created. The ground was muddy with trickling rivulets of water seeping around their shoes. They reached the end of the cave, only twenty feet from the cellar. Penny took a deep breath and raised the pistol again. When she pulled the trigger, nothing happened.

 

“No!” she shouted and began to manipulate the gun.

 

The dirt wall erupted and two arms jutted into the tunnel. Clawed hands seized Penny. She screamed, trying to pull away. Malcolm fired as a monstrous torso emerged.

 

Clods of muddy earth smacked into him from behind and he knew the second chnoubi was coming. Penny’s arm and shoulder had nearly been swallowed in the muddy wall. Malcolm grabbed hold of the fleshy mane on the fearsome head and pulled it to him with all his strength. He laid the muzzle of his Lancaster against the skull and held the trigger down. The barrel spun and fired ball after ball into the creature’s cranium. The shells penetrated into pulpy flesh but did not seem to do it damage.

 

“Die, you miserable soddin’ beast!” he screamed.

 

Penny punched frantically with her free hand, but the thing would not let go. Then claws clamped on Malcolm’s shoulders from behind, dragging him away from Penny. The hot breath from the monster’s gaping wide mouth washed over him. Penny’s dire scream cut through him. He wished he could spare her from such a horrible death, but he couldn’t do that for either of them.

 

Abruptly the earth groaned and a jet of hard water slammed Malcolm. Then another shot out and another. Mud cascaded and the earth around them yawned open with a torrent of water. He scrambled for Penny, but couldn’t feel her as he was swept back into the cellar. He fought through the icy flood, kicking to the frothy surface. The roof of the cellar was only a few feet overhead. He whipped around wildly searching again for Penny, but she was gone. Then he remembered that bloody great satchel on her back.

 

The chnoubis were in full panic, flailing about violently, their meal forgotten in their desperate scramble stay afloat and breath. Malcolm ignored the terrified demons, got his bearings, took a deep breath, and dove down into the murk in search of Penny. He desperately flung about trying to find her. There was no visibility, and his coat weighed him down. His lungs screamed and his body grew thick in the frigid embrace of the river. Then a hand grabbed his.

 

Penny.

 

Countless objects in the dark water struck Malcolm. He wanted to draw a breath; he couldn’t hold it. Only the faint touch of Penny reminded him to kick harder and bear down for another second. And then another.

 

The color of the water lightened and together they struggled for the brightness. They surged into the air and gasped loudly, sucking in breath for long minutes. He could see the lights of boats bobbing on the Thames.

 

Malcolm looked back and took fierce satisfaction watching the water of the river lapping at the nearest corner of the great house. Then the mansion started to sink into the marshy ground. He couldn’t hear the sound of the collapse over the roar of the river and the pounding of his own ears, but he saw the chimneys begin to topple in sprays of bricks and dust. He contemplated a rude gesture to the vanishing house. Instead, he turned his complete attention to swimming for his life.

 

“I had to dump my pack.” Penny was sputtering and furious. “All I managed to save was my gun.”

 

“That little beauty saved our lives. I’ll display it on a bloody shelf.”

 

When they finally heaved themselves up into the reeds, they collapsed, shivering and exhausted. They felt weighed down with numb limbs and sodden clothes. Malcolm lifted his hand, but he no longer felt the aether beneath his skin. He rubbed at it.

 

Penny saw what he was about and tried to activate the rune on her own hands. She regarded Malcolm with a stunned face. “The magic is gone.”

 

“Mine too.” Malcolm helped Penny to her feet and they started limping away. “We need to warn Simon. He’s going to be apoplectic when he finds out there’s another monster to fight. Hard to see how this will end well.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-six

Clay Griffith & Susan Griffith's books