Tired Of Death

"What was that?" asked Emerald, as a dull roar echoed around them.

Percy shrugged. "Sounded a bit like thunder. It's okay, we're safe in here. You're not scared of a bit of rain are you?"

"Well, under the circ.u.mstances I'd be happier if it didn't rain," she replied. "What with us being in the sewers and everything."

"Good point," said Percy.

Emerald glanced down, narrowly avoiding stepping in some, thankfully, unidentified lump. The sewers were actually in very good condition, with a raised path at either side of a river of liquid that she was careful not to examine too carefully. Still, it was slow going without a light, even though her night vision was excellent. A side effect of spending so much time in the dark probably. The zombies didn't seem to have any problem seeing, and she was reluctantly forced to rely on them for guidance. She walked quietly, and somewhat gingerly, after them. Sprat trotted along behind.

"Hey, look! A couple of rats!" Percy pointed to one side.

"Where?" said Cuthbert, swivelling his head. "Try and catch one, I haven't had fresh rat in ages."

"You two are disgusting," said Emerald.

"All part of the job description," said Percy cheerfully.

She shook her head. "Come on, no chasing rats. We've to get to the dungeons and rescue Tybalt."

"And Frumble," Cuthbert reminded her.

"Yes, and him." Emerald looked around, nose wrinkling in distaste. It seemed royal waste stank as much as anyone else's. "How do you know we're still going the right way?"

Percy tutted. "Women," he said. "No sense of direction."

"We're very good with tunnels and dark places," said Cuthbert. "Trust us, we're going the right way."

"And there's an exit." Percy pointed at a ladder a little way ahead, across the other side of the tunnel.

"Oh god, it's over the other side," m.o.a.n.e.d Emerald.

"No time to be squeamish now," said Percy, with an undue amount of cheeriness. "It's only a short wade anyway." He picked Sprat up and splashed across.

"I think I'm going to be sick." Emerald gagged as a particularly pungent aroma drifted over her.

"I'll carry you if you like," said Cuthbert. He held out an arm, rotting flesh drooping off scabs and boils.

Emerald took a shallow breath and closed her eyes. "Calm, calm," she said to herself. "It's only Cuthbert. I can do this."

"What do you mean, 'only Cuthbert?'" asked the zombie.

Emerald ignored him, took a deep breath, choked as she realized her error, and then climbed onto the zombies' back. "Go," she said. "And if you drop me, you'd better run."

"No problem." The undead stepped into the river of foul muck and started wading across.

"This is so gross," said Emerald, her eyes closed.

"Some people are just ungrateful," the zombie replied. "You can get off now, we're here."

"Thank-you," said Emerald, climbing carefully onto the other path and brushing at her clothes. "Oh no, stop that!"

"What?" asked Cuthbert, looking up. In one hand he held a mass of dark goo, which he'd been sniffing.

"Put it down, whatever it is, and get up here," she demanded, turning around to examine the ladder and grate above. "It looks secure enough. I can't see anything up there though."

"I'll go first," said Percy, suddenly the gentleman. He climbed stickily up the ladder, and pushed at the grate at the top. It lifted up and he peered through. "Some kind of tunnel. No one's about," he reported back, climbing out.

Emerald followed him up, with Sprat and Cuthbert coming behind her.

Eventually the four were standing in the tunnel, which was plain stone with an uneven floor. Torches flickered at intervals, lighting the way with an orange glow.

"Looks very dungeon-like to me," said Percy. "I think we've hit pay mud."

"Pay dirt," corrected Emerald. "Come on, be quiet, let's go this way."

They started off down the passage, which continued to wind around. Soon after it branched into two. Emerald listened for a moment. "This way," she whispered. "I can hear something."

"Doesn't that mean we should go the other way?" asked Cuthbert, but she'd already set off.

The torches became more frequent, and soon the corridor turned sharply. Emerald peered around the corner cautiously, then jerked back. Gesturing at the zombies, they moved back up the passage a little way.

"What did you see?" asked Percy.

"Well, there's good news and bad news," she replied.

"The good news is - I saw some cages. Tybalt and Frumble were inside."

"And the bad news?" asked Cuthbert.

"Our old friend is there too. Harvey Von McVon, just sitting there, waiting. Probably for me."

Who's Harvey?" asked Percy, scratching his head.

"Harvey!" Cuthbert said. "You know, the human wizard, back in the dungeon?"

"Mmmm. Can't quite put my finger on him." Percy frowned, not improving his looks any.

"You must," insisted Cuthbert. "He had a load of invisible cat men hanging around."

"Nooo," said the other zombie, tapping his chin with his finger. "Doesn't ring any bells."

"Idiot! Remember his big throne, he said it regenerated him. He was the one that wanted Emerald. Remember now?"

Percy's eyes widened. "Yes!" he raised his finger, then he frowned. "No, wait… yes? No. Yes! Yes, I have it now. Rotten guy on a big chair, lots of funny cat things hanging about."

"Finally." Cuthbert rolled his eyes.

"Well, it's not my fault is it?" Percy complained. "My brain is mostly mush you know."

"Is Uncle Percy crazy daddy?" asked Sprat.

"Yes son, but then it comes with the job," Cuthbert answered.

"This is all well and good," said Emerald, "but what do we do now?"

"Do about what?" asked Percy. "Oh, yes, the wizard."

"I suggest a good old fashioned prison break," said Cuthbert, rubbing his hands together. We hitch our horses to the bars and pull. It's a tried and tested method. Classic."

"Apart from the fact we have no horses, and even if we did they'd spot us coming a mile off," said Emerald, not impressed.

Cuthbert scowled. "Well Miss I'm-so-clever-I-couldn't-even-remember-my-name, what do you suggest?"

Emerald heaved a great sigh. "We should wait for Dreth. He told us to he'd meet us here."

"If he ever gets here, which isn't certain," said Cuthbert. "And I don't want to hang about here if we can help it. We could be discovered any second."

"Fine." Emerald crossed her arms and thought for a moment more. "Well, I would say it's me Harvey's after. At least he was back in the dungeon. How about this…"

Cuthbert and Percy leaned forward as she explained her plan.

~ * ~

Dreth opened his eyes. A beam of light was shining directly into his face. He winced and moved his head, trying to take in his surroundings. Thanks to the light filtering through a gap in the rubble he was able to assess his situation. He was lying at an uncomfortable angle on what appeared to be a pile of ceiling. A large beam of dark wood had fallen on his left arm, pinning it down. Apart from that, he was miraculously unhurt. A slab of wall had fallen and come to rest at an angle over him, saving him from an uncomfortable squashing under many tons of building.

"Dreg looks after his own," he muttered.

"That hurt!" A familiar voice came from near his right hand.

He looked down to see Darkblood, wedged between two stones.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he said, trying to move his arm. "Since when do you explode?"

"I didn't explode," the sword hissed. "I'm one of a limited edition kind of devil blade, created in the bowels of the Underworld and imbued with dark powers. If I'm used against other of my kind the energy feeds back on itself, resulting in a slight reaction."

"You call that a 'slight reaction'?" asked Dreth.

"If someone is stupid enough to keep us together for long enough," the blade's tone spoke volumes, "then the reaction becomes more volatile."

Dreth grunted and pushed at the beam trapping him. It didn't move. "We need to get out of here, but I can't shift this wood," he said.

"Don't look at me," said Darkblood. "I'm not an axe. Chop your arm off already."

"I can't do that!"

"Why not? You have another one don't you?"

"That's not the point. I've become rather attached to my limbs over the years."

"You're not going anywhere if you don't."

Dreth glared at the sword, with no visible effect.

"Maybe it'll grow back. You recovered from a fall into red hot magma didn't you?"

"Lava. It's only magma if it's underground," said Dreth. "I fell into lava."

"Magma, lava, whatever. Do you want to get out or not?"

The sword had a point, Dreth conceded. An edge too, when you came right down to it. Still, chopping off your own arm was a rather drastic move.

"I think I can hear people," said the weapon. "Maybe it's your teddy bear friend come to finish the job."

Taking a deep breath, out of habit more than need, Dreth pulled at the sword with his free hand. "I suppose you're right," he conceded.

"That's the spirit," said Darkblood, as Dreth manhandled it into position. "Now, this is going to hurt you a lot more than it hurts me…"