14. The Wendigo

The Erebus travelled quickly through the marshy water. Molly Squidpiddge had been on this vessel before, not as the Undead creature she was now, but as a living woman. It was a hazy memory, though it had been less than a year ago. She stood now upon the prow of the ship, the remains of Phillip Tombers held out before her like some grisly figurehead. He rasped directions to her, his voice growing ever fainter and more tremulous as they approached Kythera. The Guild pilot, in whose ear Molly whispered Philip's words, gripped the tiller with white-knuckled hands and never once looked her in the eye.

Rasputina and Seamus had been disarmed and shackled. They were chained to the railing and sat against it on the steel deck of the ship. The Soulstone Rasputina had received from Ramos was taken, as was the Gorgon’s Tear. Sonnia chose not mention the curse as she directed one of her officers to relinquish the jewel from Seamus.

The marsh opened out before the steamship as the towering ruins of Kythera came into view. At their approach, the sky swirled above the ancient temple with a mass of black clouds. All eyes were on the ruins, and none on board noticed the smaller vessel following in their wake.

The tall spires of Kythera towered over the Erebus, the sleek hull sailing slowly between them. Up close, the jagged pillars were massive, the dark metal of their construction somehow unblemished despite all their years in the swamp. Even at their base where they disappeared into the black water, not a shred of moss or lichen clung to them.

Molly pointed the ship towards a series of linked platforms made of the same strange metal, threaded between the hulking spider-leg ruins. The ship nudged against the remains of this decayed structure and Guild officers leaped off to secure lines bow and aft.

Sonnia had been lost in Philip Tombers’ journal since the ship set off, and she glanced up as the ship juddered to a halt and realized that several people had been calling her name.

She quickly stowed the book in her coat and climbed down the landing ladder, amazed by what she saw. All around her was the science of an extinct people. Every part of it was alien, but the characters stamped into the wheels and cogs that comprised the spires were familiar to her.

Turning to Lady Justice, Sonnia said, “These characters are the same as those used in the volumes at the Duer’s Library site. This journal is our dictionary. I’m positive that I can decipher some of these.”

“We’ve come only to close the font, Sonnia.” Justice said sternly. “I suggest you focus your efforts on that.” She began issuing orders to secure the site. Sonnia ignored her more zealous colleague and set to work with journal and notebook, scribbling down every inscription she could find.

Samael interrupted her, quietly. “What about the prisoners? I'd like to keep them where I can see them.”

Sonnia paused, gnawing her lip. “I need them. Especially that witch. I have something in mind for her. Bring them down, and keep a close watch.”

Both Seamus and Rasputina were in a rough state, although Lady Justice herself had used a small Soulstone to staunch the bleeding in their wounds and avoid infection setting in. Seamus, however, had needed some additional attention not long into the voyage. The Judge had survived the gun blast from Seamus' hand cannon, and been sent back to Malifaux City to recover, but the Guardsmen had decided to exact a little retribution for their wounded leader. Seamus' face was badly bruised, and one eye nearly swollen shut, although he seemed oblivious.

Armed officers brought Seamus, Molly, and Rasputina from the ship, two men to each of their chains. As they walked shoulder to shoulder along a narrow promenade, Seamus whispered to Rasputina, “No hard feelings, love. You put up a mean fight, sure. I’m thinking we’re here for the same thing. I hope you don’t mind sharing it with ole Seamus, now.”

Rasputina shook her head. “You and I have nothing in common, and you have no notion what brings me here.” She gazed up into the sky at the storm brewing overhead. Already a thin shower of sleet rained down on the ruins, making the uncertain footing even more dangerous. The Guardsmen and Marshals drew their hats down over their heads and wrapped their coats tighter around their bodies. The dark waters of the swamp lapped at the bare edges of the metal platforms, and gurgled underneath. The hastening wind brought the sickly-sweet smell of decay, and the first swirls of snow.

Climbing higher into the ruins, Sonnia discovered what appeared to be a dais. It was a large circular platform built atop a massive cog that hung out over a pool of water. Sonnia was able to recognize many of the glyphs, now, and it was clear to her this location was the focal point of the ruins. She called down to Samael to bring Rasputina up alone. When Samael pushed Rasputina onto the platform, Sonnia was crouched down, finishing a translation of a sequence of markings etched into the platform’s surface.

Standing, she gestured to the centre of the ring. “Put her there.” Samael complied, a little more roughly than was necessary, but Sonnia was too rapt in her work to pay much attention. Rasputina's manacles sparked and shone briefly with St Elmo's fire as she stood at the epicentre of the ruins, but Sonnia knew that the anti-magic runes in the manacles would prevent the witch from causing any trouble.

She fished a charcoal pencil and a scrap of paper from her satchel, checked her notes, then wrote a few words and held it up in front of Rasputina. All around, Guardsmen and Marshals huddled, silently watching. None of them seemed anxious to get too close to whatever was about to happen. Only Lady Justice and Samael joined Sonnia and Rasputina on the dais itself.

“Read this aloud.” Sonnia commanded. “The words Doctor Heilin spoke, as recorded by Mr. Tombers, were a sequence to open the ruins, but he never finished the sequence. I think, from what I have read here today, that we should all be quite glad of that. But the complete invocation is in the journal, and I’ve deciphered its inverse. This sequence should close it, once and for all.” She fired a look at Justice. “If Miss Squidpiddge’s testimony is to be believed, and this ruin is the source of the energy fuelling the Resurrectionist’s art, this should sever that connection.”

“You should be certain, Sonnia.” Lady Justice warned.

“Certainty is an excuse for inaction.” Sonnia narrowed her eyes and thrust the note at Rasputina again. “Read this.”

“Close Kythera?” Rasputina asked, a tight smile on her face. "Whatever you say." The drizzling sleet became a sudden squall.

Sonnia felt the impossible surge of power a fraction of a second before Samael and Justice reacted, but it was too late. The clouds above cracked with a furious boom of thunder and a blast of ice-cold wind drove straight down upon Rasputina and exploded out from her with the force of a thousand shrieking tempests. The hurricane blast sent the Guardsmen and Marshals tumbling, knocking them off their feet. Many of them landed in the water, their shouts and cries joining the howling swirl of wind above them.

Rasputina, standing at the centre of this vortex, was completely undisturbed. The ferocious wind and driving sleet continued to batter down against everyone else. Sonnia was driven against the edge of the platform as she struggled to draw her sword, momentarily powerless.

Rasputina touched her fingers against the cuffs that bound her wrists and a bitter frost spread across the iron shackles. Knocking them together, they shattered into fragments. She looked at Sonnia with unbridled hatred. “You think your pitiful runes can stop him? Here? In the place of his final triumph?” Her hands free, she threw her arms above her, reaching out to the swirling storm above. Looking into the sky, Rasputina called out, her voice ringing above the wind. “December! Remember your promise! Til Gran Kythera Fel!”

At those words, the ruins shuddered, groaned and moved. Those Guardsmen and Marshalls who had not been pitched into the frigid water were knocked off their feet by the quaking of the structure. Below the dais, Seamus fought against his manacles, raging, spittle flying from his bruised lips as the ancient gears turned and the towering limbs of the Kythera machine edged closer and closer in the grey sky. “No!” he cried, as his guards wrestled him to the deck. “Why do you want to close it? You mad witch, I'll tear your heart out!”

Seamus spoke, "Til Gran Kthera Dow. Kythera Hyat Dow."

Behind Rasputina, a nest of writhing, inky tendrils formed from the bitter air. The wind that had been blasting outwards now turned inwards, the force of the gales concentrating on a single point, and at its heart the body, limbs and head of the Tyrant entity known as December took shape. It was a giant, twice as tall as a man, covered in thick, white hair that moved of its own accord to form momentary glyphs and strange runes. Its arms stretched all the way to its hoofed feet, claws of twisted horn scoring gouges through the ice and the iron beneath. A great, toothy maw opened in its blunt, bullet-shaped head and December bellowed a thunderous roar of triumph. “The breach is closed. The shackles of death have been cut! I live again!”

Rasputina stepped in front of it. “December! We made a pact! Remember your oath to me!”

Throwing its arms wide, the inky black tendrils that wound about the creature were cast off. “Have you any idea how it feels to hunger for so long, but to be nothing but a spirit? You can live on dreams, but a god cannot.” With surprising speed it leapt off the dais and onto a walkway. It scooped up a screaming Guild officer in both hands, forced his head inside its mouth and stripped the flesh from his skull with its razor sharp teeth. The man, somehow still alive, kept on screaming until December snapped his spine and tore his belly open, holding the body above its head and devouring the man's innards.

Panic spread like wildfire, and many Guardsmen turned and ran, but the rest, and the Marshals, were made of sterner stuff. Weapons were drawn and a hail of bullets flew at the huge creature. Rasputina ducked aside to find shelter from the gunfire, but the weapons seemed to have no effect on the monster. It leapt and struck, again, and again, its huge claws rending the officers’ bodies in gleeful carnage.

From nowhere, Sonnia appeared to lunge at the creature, burying her blade in its belly. December paused in its gluttony, a terrible smile forming on its face. “Nothing in this world can harm me!”

The monster pulled the blade from its chest before batting Sonnia aside with a sweep of its hand, sending her toppling into the water. Just as Sonnia’s head emerged, it blew a breath of bitter air at her, freezing the water with a snap and trapping her. It hurled Sonnia's sword, embedding it deep in the ice.

Lady Justice's greatsword was already sweeping soundlessly through the air, aiming for December's neck, but once again the huge creature had a lightning speed that belied its size. Turning almost lazily, it caught the blade edge-on in one hand, and then smashed Justice to the deck with the other.

December howled in joy. “These are your heroes? This world and the world of men will know a new age, an age of eternal winter! Your heroes will be consumed, and their strength will be added unto mine!”

“You can start with me.” On the dais, a woman stood, her long, red cape flapping in the wind. Her sword was held out to the side and one outstretched hand beckoned December in the most insolent of challenges.

The spires of Kythera had ceased moving now, and they leaned in steeply to enclose the dais, but December still reached it with a single leap, twisting to pass through the spires. When its hooves slammed down, the woman had gone.

“Or me.” It was the same woman, standing on a walkway at the side of one of the spires. But she was not exactly the same. Her clothes and boots were different and she was carrying a pair of swords.

December growled in frustration and hurled the upper torso of a mutilated Guild officer at her, but the Doppelganger spun out of sight behind the spire.

Only to re-appear at the other side, behind December. She leapt onto the dais, katanas flashing in the grey light. As quick as December was, she matched it step for step, dancing around the creature, dashing in to slash one-two and springing back out of reach again, but as much as she was enraging December, her strikes were having no effect.

December advanced, driving her back, but she circled around the dais and started again. December ceased his growling, fell silent and waited for his moment. She feinted one way, dashed another, brought her swords sweeping about – and the Tyrant grabbed her around the waist, his giant, horned claws easily encircling her.

It brought her up to its reeking, gore-filled maw. “How I have longed to taste the blood of your kind again. These fools know nothing, but why did you even try and fight me? Nothing in this world can harm me.”

The Doppelganger gasped as December tightened his grasp. “But there is much that is new in this world, December. My people have been plotting your death for centuries.”