Only half the cavern had collapsed, but from the deep, almost subsonic groaning within the walls and roof I suspected that would not be long in changing. Dust hung as thick as coastal fog in the air, making my night vision less than useful, and I was left to scramble across the piles of debris like the other survivors I could hear around me. I still had the advantage of a proper sense of smell though, and even with the dust and limitations imposed by a human skull I could pick out Tatyana’s scent. She was on the edge of the rock fall, still half-strapped to the remains of the table.
One of the wizards sprawled around her groaned as I approached, and called out for help. That changed quickly when I loomed over him, kindling the light in my eyes for little reason beyond knowing how much men feared it. And fear it he did. His plea for help became a wordless squealing that lasted as long as it took me to raise my good leg and stamp down on his face.
It also attracted more shouting and soon after several beams of white light shot through the darkness, the choking cloud of dust smudging the sharp beams and giving me precious moments to crouch behind the splintered remnant of the table. So hidden, I sent a brief pulse of energy into the unconscious Tatyana, just enough to glean that she had suffered no new injuries beyond the trauma of being so close to becoming what the necromancers had intended. Something like that would not be easily forgotten, and providing she lived through what would come next, sleep was probably the best tonic for her.
The three beams of light converged on the table, and I heard Andros’ voice call out from the left side, instructing the others to secure Tatyana. That cheered me, for as dangerous as he might be, I wanted to be the one to tear the life out of him.
The first of the wizards took shape behind the light and I shifted my good leg under me, bracing my foot against the floor. I could hear his breathing and the rapid beat of his heart as he moved into range. I offered neither growl nor roar as I rose from my cover, a black talon punching out ahead of me like a paladin’s lance. He opened his mouth, probably to scream, but whatever sound he’d intended was silenced by the arm’s length of talon that smashed his teeth back into his mouth and out through the back of his head. A quick twist finished it and my arm was already back at my side by the time his body hit the floor.
The blast hit me a moment later, exploding against my side with a crack of thunder and sending me tumbling back across the rubble with the breath knocked out of me and ribbons of flame dancing across my hide. I recognised the feel of Andros’ magic. He knew I was there and had waited for me to expose myself.
‘I see him!’ Excitement made the second wizard’s voice sound feminine, but didn’t affect his spellcasting. I could only tense for the impact as his staff flashed with crimson light. The spell slapped into me, an almost wet sensation, and then burst into flame.
I like to think he heard my laughter over the roar of it. It wasn’t mage fire, but rather the more natural sort that my body craved. I drank it in greedily and rose to my feet as the last dregs of it sunk into my skin. Andros was raging at him for being an idiot, which meant he wasn’t casting a spell. I flexed my sorcery and returned the favour, using more energy than I really needed to. The blast scoured the flesh from the wizard in a torrent of wind and fire that sent him crashing to the floor as a blackened skeleton from the knees up.
I enjoyed the sight of it far more than I should have and was punished by another of Andros’ spells hammering into me. This one threw me against one of the carved pillars, pain flaring from my misshapen shoulders as the newly formed bone was mashed against the unyielding rock.
‘Where is your vaunted strength now, Beast?’ he asked, the words almost lost in the ringing echoes of the spell and grinding of the roof above.
I flicked a shard of energy at him, blade thin and faster than an arrow, but he barely flinched as his renewed wards snuffed it out. I’d expected as much, but there was no harm in trying.
‘Pathetic.’
I sent another three such shards at his face, each of which his wards defeated, but then I knew they wouldn’t be enough to strip his defences. It did focus his concentration though. It’s hard to pay attention to anything else when someone is throwing burning knives at your face.
‘Enough of these games.’ His staff began to crackle anew and I felt the pressure of his magic press against the dregs of my sorcery. ‘When you wake, it will be to the Master standing over you. And then you will know true suffering.’
‘This is getting to be a habit,’ I said, offering a bloody smile.
It was enough to make him pause.
‘Don’t worry, he wasn’t talking to you,’ said a voice behind him.
He gave a choked gasp as Tatyana grabbed his hair and pulled him backwards. His eyes widened when he saw the knife, and he screamed when she slid the same knife I’d used to cut her bonds into him just above the groin, and then sawed it up through his guts. His staff fell from his hands and she kicked him away from her, the solid impact to the small of his back sending the first loop of his guts slithering from the gaping wound. His screams started in earnest then.
Tatyana’s smile was entirely predatory as she watched him trying to stuff the mess back inside himself, sparks of magic flashing from his rings as his control fractured. She kicked him in the face for good measure before walking over to me.
‘You magnificent bastard,’ she said in a hoarse voice.
I didn’t let the insult break my improving humour. ‘It’s good to see you too, my friend.’
I reached out to one of the smouldering lamps and re-lit it with a flash of power.
She recoiled as if I was about to take a bite out of her. ‘God’s beard,’ she breathed, her hand held to her mouth.
‘It would have been worse had they completed the ritual,’ I said, struggling to my feet.
She didn’t move, only watched me with her hand still pressed to her lips. ‘Stratus, oh my god,’ she said, taking a step away from me. ‘What did they do to you?’
‘I’m fine,’ I lied, my tongue struggling to form the letters around the extra teeth in my mouth.
She stepped closer and rested a hesitant hand on the gnarled bands of skin that snaked across my chest. I couldn’t feel her fingers as she walked around me; when she stepped behind me she gasped again.
‘God’s beard,’ she said.
‘Touch my back,’ I said. ‘I can’t see what has happened there.’
She didn’t speak, but I felt her hand follow my spine from my hips upwards. When she reached the midpoint the feel of it changed and the pressure became fainter. At my urging she poked and prodded, describing what she saw in a somewhat strangled tone. From what I felt and she saw, part of my backbone had begun expanding to its natural size, folding and squeezing the skin and flesh around them, making some movements impossible and most others painful to even attempt.
It was only when she touched the bulges on my shoulders that I finally understood.
The necromancer’s insidious magic had wormed its way into the enchantment binding me to this form, eroding its foundations. Part of it had collapsed upon itself and my flesh and bone had begun remembering its true size and form in a way it was never meant to. I was lucky that it had stopped when it did because this chest would not be able to contain either of my hearts. The jutting spurs on my back were the precursors of my wings, the rapid growth of them at odds with the musculature and skeleton of a human body, leaving me trapped somewhere in between, like a monstrous hunchback.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, moving to stand before me again.
I nodded, and even that felt awkward. ‘I’d rather explain it under the sun.’
‘No argument there,’ she said, raking her fingers through her spiky remnants of her hair. She moved over to one of the wizards who’d been brained by a falling rock, working quickly to divest him of his robes and knife while I listened to the mountain above us grumbling at the violent magics that had been unleashed inside it.
‘I think you should hurry,’ I said, watching as a stream of dust began pouring from a new crack. She looked up as a tremor passed through the floor, and without another word we both began moving towards where the entrance should be, her with the gait of a crone and me bobbing and shuffling like some grotesque crow, an image that the tattered remnants of my clothing did little to dispel.
I was at the portal before I realised that she was no longer with me, but rather at the cage of prisoners, beating her dagger against the lock. Her strength had been eroded by the tortures and forced healing of her body though, and even as I called to her to stop, she swayed and collapsed to the floor, leaving me cursing as I made my way back towards her and the screaming captives in the cage.