Assassin of the Damned (Dark Gods) by Vaughn Heppner

corners faster and struck outcroppings of rock less often. Then I noticed the faint scent of…of lilies! I laughed like a madman. I must be near the surface. Hope revived me, and it shot anger through me like hot oil. I cursed the priestess of the Moon and her beast. I would never enter a deep tunnel like this again. It would be better to die fighting above ground than allow oneself into this wretched kingdom of rats and worms.
    The strain of my thighs told me the grade angled steeply upward. Unfortunately, the wheeze of the beast behind made my back crawl. I could hear its belly slide over rock. Then the ceiling vanished. And in the dim illumination of my flickering torch, I only spied rock walls. I had raced into a cul-de-sac, a dead end.
    I must have taken a wrong turn. The urge to grab the coin and make a deal—
    I looked up at a glimmer of faint light. I hurled aside the worthless torch. The walls around me had cracks and stony juts. It would take an acrobat to scale them or a desperate soul. I put my boot onto an outcropping and hoisted myself upward. I had no time for niceties, no time for caution. The approaching monster roared. I hoisted myself higher. The boots must have had magical qualities. The slightest protrusion was enough to push me upward. My fingers and wrists seemed stronger than I recalled. I was almost like a fly in my ability to cling and climb. The opening above was a jagged crack, the kind earthquakes make. It seemed too small for me.
    A loud, leathery scrape announced the monster as it popped out of the underground tunnel. It was huge, a giant lizard greater than the crocodiles that Moors boasted lived in the Nile River. Its flickering tongue darted at the torch on the stone floor, and it hissed in rage as it burned itself.
    Maybe I should have flattened myself on the wall. I was about halfway up. Maybe my cloak had properties that would have allowed assassin-like stealth. But I feared losing my grip if I didn’t keep climbing. It would be a wretched end, swallowed alive into the beast’s gullet. I kept climbing, and my belt-buckle scraped against stone.
    The monster’s head jerked up. It was a lizard-quick move. It lunged awkwardly as its tongue darted at me. Like a frog’s tongue, it was much too long. The tongue lashed against my boot with a wet splat and held as if glued. It numbed my ankle as if a strong man had hit it. The tongue yanked at my boot as the beast dropped down. I clung to cracks in the wall with manic strength, but felt my fingers slipping. I shook my foot, tried to dislodge the sticky tongue. The tongue stretched to an obscene degree. Then, just before it tore me off, the tongue peeled away and slithered back into its gapping maw.
    I scrambled like a beetle, and would have fallen but for the magical boots. The beast croaked a deafening cry, and it lunged upward once more, claws scrabbling rock. Its long tail seemed to propel it higher. The forked tongue shot out and wriggled inches from my boot heel. Then the giant creature slumped back onto the floor.
    My fingers latched onto an edge of dirt. My biceps bunched. My head broke through to the surface. I heaved, squeezed through the narrow opening and rolled onto damp grass. Then I scrambled upright and laughed. The monster roared below, and my laugh turned into a snarl. I pried a rock out of the ground and heaved it at the beast. A leathery thud told me I’d hit. I hurled more stones, certain it would find a means to climb out otherwise. Finally, it retreated into the stygian gloom of the tunnels.
    As I stood there peering into the depths, strength flooded into me. Weariness vanished, as did the black spots before my eyes. I seemed to swell with power. Baffled, I turned. The full moon blazed. It fed me strength like a maiden trickling me grapes. I’d yet to see the moon since waking with grass through my armor. When I’d been with Ofelia, there hadn’t been a moon. Staring at the bright orb made me wonder about time. How