The Tunnels of Woe

Book 1: A Bounty Like No Other

Chapter 1 Part 3: A Rogue's Trap

As if in response a tin bowl broke, and twisted in midair unseen hands sharpening the hapless tableware into a fine point before launching toward Uncle Curroz’s exposed back. With a single swipe of Tirro’s dagger the tin spike went flying sticking into the fine ornate roof of the skiff. There in his heart of hearts where the wellspring of life flows, a spirit of rage filled his chest. Not a black denizen of the night, but a spirit of Heaven. Sent in his time of need, and to fulfill the Holy Father’s will.

The laughter of the haunted tunnel changed to rage as the darkness screeched back from Tirro’s face. The dagger in the young boy’s hand ragged white and pure light spilling out of the many diamonds in its hilt in every direction. Wherever the light touched the darkness shrieked the granting sound filling the tunnel halls with the inhuman cries. So loud were these screams that the rhythmic wails of growing doom which had driven them to this tunnel of horrors were almost lost in their chaotic howls.

Deep in the bottom of his chest Tirro could feel rage bellowing over the rim of his spirit’s cup. Rising into his throat as he bared his teeth at the darkness, words foreign and yet familiar spewed from his mouth. From the fountain of his spirit poured a torrent of curses and abuse sent from the Father Above upon his enemies and all those who would strike his children.

They came from a language not his own. Flowing into his mouth Tirro could just grasp the sounds of the juggernauts which his father traded at times. Guttural and harsh were the language of the machine turned flesh matching their creator’s tongue. One could sense the curses upon evil with each spited syllable.

One thought reverberated through Tirro’s mind as the Spirit of the Lord took hold of his soul, and poured judgment onto the darkness who rived in response to each alien word. Burning judgment and memory. The spirit from God would remember. Would remember the dark ones when the time of judgment came.

As he thought on it Tirro knew he would as well. The good book said that those of the upright would judge even the angels and the sons of God one day. When that day came there would be a reckoning.

With that Tirro’s words became his own again, but laced by the power of Heaven on his soul. Each word embolden his heart and crushed the darkness as it screeched at being driven back. The entire tunnel around the skiff rippled then twisted with unnatural cracking noises contracted outwards and away from the skinny boat. As if the words themselves were anathema to the bricks, and unnatural construction that went into the shaft itself.

“Cursed and twice damned! Come ye for thy punishment and early judgment. I will remember thee monsters. I will know your stench when the time of thy reckoning comes and your masters and fathers are rendered low. Come ye! Come ye and face the wrath of the God you spurned, and whose children thy contend with. In the name of the Blessed savior Jesu be cursed rats and sewer dogs!” Tirro stalked forward as his verse of curses grew. The shadows twisted and shrank back. All but one.

One shadow with glowing green eyes caming screaming from the surrounding dark. As the fiend came the wispy smoke colested to solid shape. The wailing cries of the coming monster were of higher tempo, and with each call the coming demon took on more solid shape. As uncle Farmus always said before he began to beat fear out of Tirro’s sword arm in their sparring lessons, “Things are about to get physical little Nephew.”

By the time the spirit had gained the back of the skiff a monstrous set of pail arms were clawing out of the shadowy mass. When Tirro had reached the rear cabin door the torso of a pale emancipated man attached to a sparsely furred hyena’s head with a pair of glowing green eyes had replaced the shadow. Tirro could see twisted rear dog shaped legs materializing from the black whispy mass as the screeching took on words, and a fell voice spoke in a tongue both foreign and wretched. The meaning came to his mind like the seeping of sewage into a pool of clear water.

“Welp and ape! You monkey! You dare challenge us in our own halls? Where your false tyrant God’s rotting presence doesn’t shine? This is our kingdom! The Heavens don’t rule here, and neither do you spawn of wretched and weak men! Here you will die, and our master will feast on your soul, and the trumpet calls will never be heard of the servant fools in white!” Unsettling and draining was the deep penetrating voice of the monster now manifested on Uncle Curroz’s boat. The horrid jaws of the hyena on the muscled human body of the beast slurred and bit the speech of man as the twisted creature spoke the crawling sound unsettling to the senses and mind.

Tirro sensed the power in the words. He could feel the drain on his mind and soul. A will attempting to pin him with terror. Fear gnawing on his mind. Lies and doubt crept from their shadows dancing around his consciousness launching flaming arrows into his mind with no relief to be hoped for in the endless dark.

The light in Tirro’s dagger faded as if a bushel had covered its coursing flames. The fear danced and screamed. Roaring like lions in his mind and soul were the voices of the denizens of the night. There the boy would have cowered under a wool thick blanket to find relief from the piercing gaze of the flaming eyed demon out of the hellish nightmares of the tunnels of dread. Where the darkness ruled in rebellion to the light.

But Tirro wasn’t that scared boy anymore. The Almighty God of Heaven’s Armies had recruited him, and now no hellspawn of passage of doubt or shadow of Death would take this deckhand so easily. Standing up straight, Tirro glared into the burning emerald eyes feeling the chains and arrows of the horror fall from him in a torrent of relief. As if a weight had not just fallen from his shoulders, but was washed away by the touch of his savior.

“Are you so powerful?” Tirro mocked with a fiendish smile on his face that would’ve made a devilish imp cringe.

“If so then come and take me mutt welp of the hellish tunnels. I stand here thy enemy defiant, yet by your account powerless. Come and show me thy pride dog of the night. Or are you, but a puppy yapping at the heels of your betters?” What doubt which may have held the demon hyena from a mad charge across the deck of his advisory’s craft was consumed by a fierce wrath born of pride that poured from his eyes like flowing burning water...

The Story Will Continue Every Wednesday.

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