Chapter 15

The passage twisted once, a lengthy bend that left Col feeling as if he was heading back in the same direction he came from. Bats no longer flew ahead of him in the dark, though the spikes of the floor remained.

Col was grinning. 'The guards have scattered,' he thought, 'the sentinel is defeated, and I enter lightly.'

He dodged around a mid-floor bristle of spikes. The bonesword concealed within his fore-arm itched irritably. Col looked down at his arm as he ran, wondering what exactly having the weapon meant. Surely he hadn't purposefully grown it, and yet there it was. He wondered if it was some sort of infection, or perhaps something triggered by his earlier fight with the younger Nosferat in his home.

A small voice inside warned Col that he had just barely entered the vampire's lair. It bade him slow his stride, to keep his eyes wide open in case of a trap. But a louder voice was already praising Col for a job well done. Had he not survived half a dozen battles in less than two days? He would very soon have his master, then he could go back and set things straight with Kandais... “Kandais,” he said aloud.

He suddenly found himself at the break of the tunnel. The cyclopean room beyond caused Col to gasp out of habit. The ceiling stretched beyond view, being lost in a murky, impenetrable darkness. Tips of spikes that could have been stalactites or the black teeth of some fell serpent, poked down from the dark nearly a quarter mile above Col's head. The expanse of the cavern was wide and circular, and suggesting lengthy foot travel to cross from one side to the next. Several tunnels branched off, some hinting of lights beyond.

In the center of the room was a circle of 13 thrones, one large and imposing, the rest growing smaller the further they were from the first. These were the only inviting features of the room, save a low smoldering fire in the center of their circle. The embers burned a dark, shadowy blue hue and gave off a thick black smoke.

Col bade his gaping mouth to close and finally paid heed to the quieter voice within. He strode slowly to the circle, taking his gun out from the inner pockets of his coat. His right arm shivered with anticipation, but he struggled to keep it in. It felt... better to keep it in check; Like he had control over at least one thing in all this.

“Coldrain!” came a bellowing voice. Col stopped and eyed every inch of the room. No one was there.

“I have come to claim Draz, Lord of Theyeark!” shouted Col, unimpressed. “Release him to me!”

“Coldrain, youngling of a king. Strong in the darkness, stronger than mage and monster alike!” the voice said.

Col felt an odd thing then, not of worry nor of anger, more of giddiness; prideful and vainglorious.

“You know me?” he asked licking his canines.

“I have watched you, youngling. Your strength is formidable, your resolve absolute,” said the voice, “surely the darkness rages within you. Surely you are Vaiku'hael, one with the darkness.”

“Why do you speak to me so?” Col asked. “Are we not enemies?”

“Coldrain says he has aught against me? Are you not so strong that no one can defend against thee?” asked the voice, genuinely. “Can I hope to best thine prowess?”

“I call him enemy who brings harm to my Master; He who endangers my home and my serfs!” yelled Col. He fought to keep the bonesword within him. It struggled tirelessly, whispering madness '... why... not?'

“Why do we speak? Why do we not meet in combat that I may retrieve what has been taken from me?”

“Then I have no choice, though fear be in me,” said the voice. Col suddenly got the impression that it was mocking him. The fire flickered, then blazed large and bright. The smoke billowed in a fat cloud, and from it came a humanoid form of all black, glinting in purple hues, the hanging hems of its robe flickering like quivering lines of heat.

“We shall meet then,” yelled the voice. “Come and claim thy master if the strength is in thee, Coldrain!”

The Nosferat bobbed there in midair a tick then charged toward Col, its fist reared back. Col took a defensive stance, and the bonesword sprung to ready of its own accord. The Nosferat neared, stopped short, then swung. Col braced and met the strike with sword-edge, but his weapon passed right through the fist. Suddenly the form dissipated.

In its place hung another, one dressed similar to the other Col had fought in the smaller chamber, save this one wore a heavy black robe under its dark armors. Its fist slammed against Col's cheekbone before he had time to react.

Col nearly toppled onto his side, but collapsed into a crouch, and steadied himself with his gun-arm. The right side of his face was in throbbing agony. One of his wounds tore open, sending splitting spines of pain splintering through his back. Col pushed himself up.

The Nosferat was again in total black. It soared slightly to the right, spun, then lashed out. Col ducked under the first round-house kick and reached up to catch the second. His hand passed through the shadow-form's shin. The Nosferat appeared and flipped forward, bringing his heel down toward Col's head. Col raised his weapon attempting to slice his opponent's leg, but the down-kick parried his sword aside. The Nosferat immediately stopped and kicked out, sending Col stumbling backward.

His nose felt loose, and he was slightly dazzled by the force of the blow. The Nosferat swept in low, landed and crouched for its next attack. Col snuffed back the pain and braced himself, holding his sword parallel to his bicep. His enemy leaped forward, and Col stood waiting for the blow. A shadow-form fist passed harmlessly through his stomach. The real Nosferat appeared in its place and rose further, angling for Col's jaw. As the shadow-form dissipated Col brought his sword against its neck. The real Nosferat stopped and looked down to find the sharp-edge of a sword resting against its throat.

“Hahahahaha,” it laughed. “Well done Col Aikkul-Drakkul... Well Done!”

Col slid the edge across its throat and the body toppled to the ground, but the head began to hover upward. As the head floated to the upper reaches of the ceiling, the body began to deflate; first at the feet then slowly up to the torso. The head burst into a large orb of darkness, pulsating and dancing in the heights. A huge midsection sprouted from the orb, sending a massive pair of legs falling to the ground. A pair of arms grew below gargantuan shoulders. It had no definition, no face or hair, only he shadowy folds of a robe falling to a pile around its huge feet.

Col's face gave a woeful throb as his jaw fell wide. His shoulder blades were a minefield of pain. He craned his neck back, taking in the immense expanse of the Shadow Giant. His mind was blank, no word or thought prevalent.

“More!” the voice bellowed, the sound of it echoing in the grand chamber. “Show me more!”

The giant swung its arm downward, giving Col barely enough time to leap out of its way. His mind jolted, quick-starting to reason. Col looked up at the Shadow Giant, its next strike rising with a giant's slowness. Col had never heard of nor seen such a thing. How could he fight against it? He hoped that it was only a larger version of a normal vampire, everything in its correct place.

Col quickly formed a plan. The giant's arm crashed into the ground, but Col leaped above it. He landed on the wrist and grasped two handfuls of the shadowy robe. He readied his wings as the arm rose from the ground. His trenchcoat gathered between the leathery appendages, and whipped behind him like a heavy cape.

The giant brought its arm high, preparing to smash Col into the ground. As the arm passed its shoulder, Col leaped forward and spread wide his wings. The floor was far below him, the thrones doll-house small, the fire like that of a candle. Col flapped against the stale wind. He stole a look left and saw the Shadow-Giant's left hand approaching fast. He angled his wings to lift him, flapped madly, and swept inches over the huge limb. The wind turned turbulent as the arm passed, so Col flattened and leveled out as best as he could.

He was now close to the giant’s heart, so brought his bonesword high over his head. A tendril of shadow erupted from below the giant's ribcage, and slammed hard against him. Col gasped and wondered if any of his ribs were left unbroken. He struggled in the air trying to right himself, fighting the pressure that threatened to roll him over. The strike sent him way off course, so much that when Col had regained control of his flight, he found himself on the rear side of the giant.

He flooded strength into his wearying shoulders, and continued to ignore the pain stabbing him with every second of flight. The throbbing in his cheek had subsided to a dull ache. He realized he'd been grating his teeth.

He saw the giant attempting to turn about, so worked hard to gain momentum. He reached its backside before it could reposition and grabbed a handful of robe. He pulled himself upward on a single arm and plunged his sword into its flesh. The Shadow-Giant groaned mournfully.

The giant raised both its arms high into the air. The arms buckled unnaturally at the elbows, reversing orientation. Its head swiveled completely on its shadowy neck. Col pulled himself up on his sword and grasped another handful of the giant's robe. When he looked down to pull his sword free, he saw that the giant's right arm had fallen beneath him and now gave a frightening, open-palmed chase. Col yanked the sword from the giant's flesh and retracted it into his arm. He flooded his shoulders and biceps with strength then pulled himself upward with all his might. Col rocketed several yards and wasted no time grabbing hold of the robe and throwing himself upward again. The toes of his boots slipped across the unresisting robe. Below, the palm was closer, close enough to show its flat, dark surface. Col tried to work extra haste into his limbs.

He was getting near enough to the Shadow-Giant's shoulder to see space beyond it. He didn't dare chance a glance downward; Didn't care to see the bare inches of space between him and capture nor the other hand moving quick to grab him on the right flank. He flung himself up one last desperate time, his grasp landing on the curve of the giant's shoulder. He pulled his legs up and over and lay there for a brief second before climbing unsteadily into a crouch.

Col inhaled deeply out of habit, as if he'd passed through some awful trial. His ribs grated painfully, having not set completely. He let his wings hang loose and limp from his back, grateful to relieve the strain on his shoulders.

Suddenly the hand was beside him, the flat, groove-less palm approaching without hesitation. The Shadow-Giant's fingers began to close all around him. The bonesword sprang forth before he knew it. It sliced across the palm, and the giant groaned again. The hand fluttered, the fingers freezing in different positions, then exploded into a horde of flocking bats. They swarmed over Col, smashing bodily into his face and chest. He swept them away but still they came, from all angles, blinding him.

Col stepped backward and fell from the giant's shoulder. Face up and descending, he noticed the giant's head was facing the opposite direction. The bats regrouped and swarmed upward, reorienting on Col. The horde swooped downward. As they passed the Shadow-Giant's breast the bats became again a hand. An arm sprouted from the wrist and rejoined at the giant's shoulder.

Col flipped to face-down. The hand was coming for him, hurtling with all the might the giant could muster. There was no where Col could go to avoid it. His wings caught his fall harshly sending ropes of pain through his shoulders.

He angled forward, the bonesword held tight in one hand, his other wrapped around the closed fist. The giant's midsection stretched endlessly ahead. Col guessed that the giant's heart was near.

The Shadow-Giant's hand was directly above, so close that Col could feel the pressure of its descent. Its head turned about, and a mouth opened wide, exploding with deep booming laughter. Col closed his eyes and hoped he'd judged correctly.

Col plunged his sword into the giant's torso just as the hand covered him, pressing him against the soft folds of its robes. The laughter abruptly stopped, then, becoming a mournful howl that echoed across the cavern.

There Col perched, exhausted; His sword halfway plunged into the Shadow-Giant's heart, not yet piercing it completely. He pulled his feet up to brace himself and smiled tiredly. The giant began to shrink rapidly. Afraid of more trickery, Col grabbed hold of the giant's robes with his free hand and tightened his grip on his sword. No, he would not let the Nosferat play with him any longer. He would wrest from it the truth and leave it dead there, its infidel fangs and teeth left scattered around it broken body as a lesson to anyone else who'd dare oppose Col. The ground rushed upward until he was once again standing solid on both feet, thanking providence for bringing him safely back to the firmament.

“My Master,” cried Col, twisting the blade, “where is he?”

Old vampires die hard. This one slapped its hands weakly against Col, but he was soul-deep in ire and the taste of his own glory. The Nosferat shivered in fear but did not speak. Col growled impatiently; Exhaustion was spreading quickly through him and added with the pain of his many wounds, Col's mind swirled in a numb fog. The bonesword shivered with anticipation. Drink! said a strong voice with Col. It became a mantra. Time seemed to pass by with frustrating lethargy. Finally, enraged and anxious, Col pushed the sword into the Nosferat until his fist was met with its velvety robes. He swept aside the lapel of the Nosferat's robe and plunged his fags into the vampire's neck.