Succubus Inquisition Ch. 07

"Here, take this south and sell it, make a new life for yourself." He handed the heavy gold statue over and Sigmi took hold of it as if it was a new born child, his hands shaking.

"W-w-what will you do?"

"Find Arn, one way or another."

"I can't take this, it's too much!" The thin man tried to hand the heavy statue back to Athan but the monk wouldn't accept it.

"The statue was Arn's last quest from family long dead. He would have wanted you to have it if it meant you could get out of town and survive this mess."

"How do you know so much?" Sigmi worked up the courage to ask finally, still too shocked from receiving the priceless gift.

Athan replied with a sad smile and turned to look out the window. "I think I'm the last of my order. I couldn't save them, but I won't rest until I do all I can for Arn."

Sigmi didn't press any more, even though the monk didn't exactly answer his question. The monks always did seem to know things they shouldn't have known. It always made people uneasy when dealing with them.

"I should tell you. There have been rumors, whispers really of the dead rising from their graves. I never put any stock in them, but honestly, after seeing that beast Arn found, I don't know what I believe anymore."

The barkeeper started to ramble as they headed back down stairs. Athan headed straight for the sewer hatch, as if he knew every inch of the building, without ever stepping foot within its walls.

"I wish I could tell you not to worry about such things, but I can't. This year has been very odd to say the least. You better hurry before the sun sets. Take only what you need for the journey, the statue will provide the rest. Might I recommend tracking down your old smith Robert, he'd offer a fair price for it, I think."

Sigmi didn't know how to reply to that, so he simply nodded as the monk raised the hatch and climbed down the ladder. A moment later Athan popped his head back up.

"Arn's horse is restless in the stables. The poor thing has been cooped up since Arn arrived. Please take Stormbolt along with you, and take care of him for me. If Arn is alive you'll see him again when he comes to collect his friend." Without waiting for a reply Athan hopped back down the hatch. The torch remained untouched upon the wall beside him.

* * * * * *

When the tavern's lights faded Athan's eyes lit up. A green glow covered the filthy sewer making it look worse than it smelled. There were spots of filth so ancient it appeared to breathe. The signs of Arn's struggle was like a painting in mud. Every footstep had left deep imprints on the layers of mold, moss and sewage.

For parts of the walkway the footprints were washed away. Thankfully he remembered the vision clearly and Athan followed the same path Arn had taken to the ancient crypt. Even with his eyes casting a green tint to everything, he could still make out the difference in stone as he walked out of the sewer and into the chamber - old but strong - unlike the ancient sewers that ran filth like a river around it.

With a calm mind he walked out into the center of the room. The crypt went up three floors with carved head stones for two graves high on each floor. There were no signs of the fight in his vision, no blood, no bodies. He quietly stepped up to the center altar. The spot where the sword had been placed after Arn lost the blade. Athan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Multiple creatures breathing could be heard, even though he couldn't see them. He pictured them sleeping within the graves among the dead.

Perhaps they once were the dead in those graves?

His eyes opened and he allowed the glow to intensify, until he could clearly see every bit of detail. The object of his search shimmered at the far end of the chamber. The sharp blade reflected back brightly. Astonishingly the blade hadn't been touched. Without thinking he moved quickly, bent down and picked it up. A thick breeze raised the hairs on the back of his neck, the type of breeze that was caused by breathing.

Athan calmly stood straight up with the blade in hand. As expected, one of the creatures was staring at him, with its head tilted to the side. The monk's bright eyes reflected back within the thing's dark beady orbs. Its face is twisted with long scars from its ears down along its elongated snout.

"Tisk tisk. . .," he said, while he shook his head side to side.

The over-sized rodent replied by baring its teeth with a snarl. So much for warning the beast, Athan thought with a bit of humor. The snarl woke more of them, and in no time Athan was surrounded by more than twenty of them. They looked starved, there ribs showing and drool falling from their mouths. Their beady eyes appraised him like he was a divine meal.

And dinner was about to be served.

Athan took another deep breath and brought the katana up before his eyes, in a form of silent salute. He swung and spun the familiar blade, shifting it between his fingers. The first and closest creature regarded the blade with fear and backed up, only to be pushed aside. A larger, more fearsome beast took its place in front of Athan. The spinning blade meant nothing to it as it stood heaving with each breath. The muscles bulged while it thought about pouncing. Their hunger overwhelmed their senses as more braced for the attack. The blade held most of their attention, as if being hypnotized by it. Whatever they were, they didn't belong in Athan's world.

The monk's body blurred for a moment before returning to his calm stance. The blade now outstretched to the side. He looked back up from the ground, feeling no pleasure from the act. For a moment nothing happened. The beasts stood there ready to attack. The air stank of blood. Another moment passed as Athan let out his breath. All the rodents fell lifelessly to the ground. Blood oozed from deep wounds and spread over the stone floor like a plague. None of them knew what had hit them.

He bent down and wiped the blade clean with one of the dead's rags. The monk let out a sigh as he turned around to continue down the corridor.

Arn had been dragged down the long tunnel and Athan followed its path, until a large door blocked the way. The same massive wooden door from the vision, framed by metal studs.

He tested the door and found it as he had expected, immovable. The vision didn't show how the door opened but Athan inspected every inch of it. It was solid wood, without a handle or lock, so he started to inspect the surrounding walls. Interesting, he thought, one of the stones didn't have a layer of dust covering it. He rubbed it with his hand before pushing lightly on it. The stone moved inward and a series of metallic clangs echoed throughout the tunnel.

When the noise died down, Athan attempted to push on the large door again. This time the massive wood shifted inward and slowly swung open. Pink silk sheets hung from the ceiling, blocking his view. He moved into them, pushing through. Their smooth surfaces caressed his skin before sliding off.

The room from his vision revealed itself, a mass of pillows framed by the hanging sheets. The sarcophagus leaned against the far wall. Athan didn't know what to expect but wasn't surprised to find that Arn wasn't laying among the pillows. The monk sighed with feelings of lost hope. He knew better than to expect to find Arn where his vision had ended. The vision's time frame took place right after the succubus had shown herself and she had been banished months ago.

Once again he brought the blade up. Blood still dripped from the blade he thought he had cleaned. Yet at that moment he didn't care. With more anger than he'd felt in a long time, he approached the sarcophagus.

Expert carvings covered in gem stones didn't even cause him pause. He gripped the wood with his free hand and pulled. Instantly his anger was gone, as he gasped loudly. He had expected to find the woman but instead a figure resembling Arn is there covered in cloth wrappings. Hope once again filled his heart as he took a step forward, lowering his blade, and reaching out.

Heavy foot steps behind him halted his actions. He turned and brought the blade up and out in front of him. The seven foot tall woman hunched over as she entered the door frame.

"You shouldn't have killed my children." Her voice was thick with an exotic accent and a displeased tone.

"Survival of the fittest." He braced for combat.

Her chuckling shocked Athan slightly as she regarded the blade like a child regards a flimsy stick. "You won't be needing that."

Cloth shot out from her hands. If she expected to catch him off guard she was highly mistaken. The monk moved faster than thought, slashing at the multiple strands, shredding them like paper. More shot towards his face as he cut and slashed repeatedly. The apparently unlimited supply of cloth kept coming at him as sweat formed on his body. The woman took a step towards him, her golden eyes shining brightly through the cloth wrappings.

"Impressive." She held her hands out towards him. "Embrace me!"

Her voice had an undertone that Athan recognized as demonic power. It tugged at his mind. The monk was forced to close his eyes to block the penetrating voice from his head. More cloth shot out towards him as expected.

With his eyes closed, he twisted the blade randomly, feeling cloth slice. They kept coming, and before long his wrists were caught. A quick twist and the wrist wielding the blade is cut free. Athan pulled his other arm back and brought the blade down. Three more strands wrapped around his free arm, snapping around his wrist, forearm and elbow. Another wrapped around the blade's hilt and snatched it from his grasp. The woman pulled back on all the strands. The sudden move caught him off-guard and forced him to step towards her. All the while she kept the undertone of her voice whispering commands. The demonic force kept tugging at his mind, despite his best efforts to ignore it.

The woman had to have been one of Meridiana's first spawn. Her powers were stronger than any other he faced since the demon's banishment. Yet he could tell the mummy wasn't at the height of her power. The influence weakly pressed against his mental block.

Despite his immense powers, the mental wall had been the only thing that kept him alive during all these encounters. The monks believed the powers made him immortal. Athan didn't quite know if he believed that, though. Better not to be testing that theory, he thought.

"Embrace the pleasure and give in."

She spoke softly and Athan realized all of the strands connected to his skin felt warm. He opened his eyes in a panic as he felt his body react. Traitorous body always reacted! There's a smirk upon her lips that didn't go unnoticed as he watched another strand shoot out from her outstretched hand. He attempted to move but the strands sapped his inhuman strength somehow. The strand came at him too fast and slithered into his robes. It tickled as the cloth made its way towards his loins to wrap around his growing member.

"Gah!" He cried out reluctantly.

"Embrace me!" she once again said. Her voice flowed through the room like the silk drapes undulating from an unknown source. Her words caressed his mind and seeped through the mental brick wall around his thoughts. The cloth vibrated suddenly against his crotch, blocking out all other thoughts.

"That's right, embrace the pleasure and grow, grow until it pops." He could hear the way her voice changed. The undertone was weaker and she spoke with an edge of triumph. All those times he fought the demon's creations they always found a way to tap into his lust. They never failed to make him want to surrender.

Athan knew he couldn't give in, he had to keep fighting! He pictured her body to be grotesque and monstrous. Funny enough it did help him resist.

With a grunt filled with frustration he summoned all of his remaining strength, pulling his arms together. Once together he rolled them around in front of himself as if trying to create a whirlwind. The many strands twisted together into one massive knotted strand. He took a deep breath and pulled, catching the woman off guard. She made a surprised yelp as she soared over his head to land in the mass of pillows. The momentum pulled Athan back along with her and he landed at her feet, sweat pouring down his face, burning his eyes.

A wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him as the world spun before his eyes. A dark shadow blocked the light, causing Athan to give a start. The sound of metal echoed as the shadow struck with a downward thrust. The monk watched the blade descend in slow motion as the mummy gasped her last breath.

He looked back up to see Arn ripping the cloth wrappings from his face. The man took deep gulps of fresh air. The blue eyed man ripped the remaining strands from his body. He didn't stop until the torn rags that had once been his clothing were the only thing on his body. The armor he once wore was nowhere to be seen.

They stood there, staring at each other for the longest time. Each man thought the other nothing but a figment of their imagination. Tears formed in Arn's eyes.

"What is this fascination for chopping off heads?" Athan spoke softly, exhausted and ready to collapse.

Arn didn't have the energy to laugh.

"You're alive, I thought you died with everyone else." His voice cracked with deep emotion. "She tortured me every night, trying to corrupt me. At first it was impossible to resist her. That voice echoed in my mind, I couldn't think!"

"Let me guess - her power diminished after a while?"

Arn nodded, fresh tears falling down his face.

"We defeated the source of her power months ago." Athan had to sit down, his legs ached.

"Then she has found another source because her strength was returning, though slowly."

"I think I witnessed that firsthand," the monk said while wiping sweat from his face. "Did you see anything while you were trapped here? Anything that would hint to what the new source may be?"

Arn nodded as he leaned back against the open sarcophagus.

"There's always been two of them. Another male, her mate. Some poor soul she fully corrupted."

Hearing that caused Athan to pause. So far they've only ever seen monster women. Never a male. His mentor Yshomatsu thought it was because the demon wanted to recreate the world in her image by reshaping the women and enslaving the men.

"They have a daughter, a necromancer. She's responsible for raising the dead, could be the source of their new power also. The only way to stop the dead she brings back is to burn them. I overheard them talking one night. Fire severs the necromancer's connection to the flesh."

"Then we better deal with that." Athan stood up and removed the dead cloth from his body, closing his robes. When the mummy fell the cloth had ceased its movements, obviously it died along with her. They dragged the mummy's body out into the larger chamber. Arn couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the rows of dead humanoid rodents.

"You're not alone?"

"No, no that was all me," Athan replied with a sly grin. A pile in the crypt's corner caught the monk's eye as he walked over and bent down to inspect it. "Ah good, here's your armor."

Relieved to feel the armor wrapped around his body again, Arn smiled for the first time since his 'rescue.' His belt was tightened shortly thereafter and the blade was returned to its sheath. Among the pile of useless junk he found the gifted sword from the blacksmith. With a quick adjustment he removed the katana's belt and strapped the new sword's belt and sheath around his waist.

Meanwhile Athan had been dragging bodies into a large pile around the stone altar. Arn walked over to him and held the sheathed katana out for him.

"I think you should have this back. You need a weapon, after all." Athan began to protest but he noticed the newer blade strapped to Arn's waist and he remembered the blacksmith insisting on Arn taking it with him. He didn't need two swords, especially since a katana is meant to be a two handed weapon.

"Thank you." Athan loosened his outer robe and wrapped the belt around his tunic, leaving the robe open.

With the bodies piled together the monk removed a torch from the wall and tossed it into the pile. The flesh caught quickly, engulfed in flames. The stench quickly caused the air to reek something fierce. The fumes choked and gagged both men, forcing them to retreat back into the filthy sewers.

"What happened to our family?" Arn asked, while they ran away from the vicious smell.

"A lot has happened since you left in search of that artifact. I must thank you for giving the monks you could a proper burial." For the next hour Athan explained everything from the origin of his powers to the defeat of the Demon. The existence of dragons really caught Arn's attention.

"I found the artifact I sought, it was carved into a dragon."

"I know, I gave it to Sigmi so he could escape the horrors plaguing this town. After all he did for you, it was the least I could do for him."

"How do you know so much? You always seem to know more than anyone else."

"I wish I could explain it. I had a vision recently. I saw everything that happened to you since you discovered the golden statue, till you were captured."

"Everything?" Arn's face flushed bright red.

"Trust me, worse things happened to me over the past year than you. Wait till you meet my friends. You've never seen anything like them. Oh and I guess I should tell you I lent Stormbolt to Sigmi," he said with a worried look and an arched brow.

Arn didn't even flinch before he replied, the man saved my life a few times by fetching healers, he'll take good care of good ol Stormbolt. How was my boy?

"Spirited, you trained him well. I told Sigmi you'd track him down if I found you, alive." They paused because Arn needed to catch his breath. In their haste the stench of the filthy sewer only now caught up to them. Athan gagged as Arn laughed. Even though it stank the sewers were nothing compared the burning flesh.

"We can't leave without dealing with the other two, though."

"You should go, I'll handle them. You've been through enough," Athan implored his friend with worry in his eyes.

"The order is all but destroyed, and you expect me to run away while you go off and fight? I'm sorry my friend, I can't do that, I have to help," Arn replied stubbornly. "I know things about these two that you'll need to know."

"Alright, but you'll stay back and if things go bad, get out. I want you to live. Yshomatsu is out there somewhere. The resistance fighting against these fiends will need him if I fall."

Athan explained the Legion's involvement and how they've been helping fight back while Arn led the way through the sewers to the far side of town. It made sense to Athan that a practitioner of death magic would be in the Easthallow cemetery, corrupting the holy ground.

"Might as well tell me all I need to know now, my friend," the monk replied as they approached the proper exit hatch.

"The male mummy carries himself like a solider, but he has been corrupted beyond saving. I can't explain it, but as you already know, they use sex as a weapon. It's like mankind's greatest weakness, and they exploit it completely."

"Yes, yes that I do know. They're all creations of a succubus, so it makes sense." He chuckled lightly as he thought of all the close calls. They took sex to a whole other level. To think the monks practiced celibacy to a degree some would consider unnatural. His thoughts were interrupted, though, as Arn continued talking.

"Well, their daughter is wicked and haunting at the same time. She looks like an unholy marble statue come to life. Smooth, pale skin without any imperfections. Way too beautiful. Just staring into her eyes can be the death of you. I can't even describe how immense her power is, but unlike her parents, her power never diminished. She grows more powerful with each body she raises from the ground. They made me watch one time as she converted a living man into a mindless zombie."