Lewd was even more surprised at just how fast a Doelm could run when properly motivated. At least the warlord had been able to cherish the Doelm’s scream for a short time. Every once in a great while the Doelm surprised him by loosing another horrified bellowing scream that echoed from the Shark Tunnels. It was a miracle he was still alive.
Lewd’s entourage halted at a large iron reinforced gate, one of the many Sharkgates that closed off these tunnels from the rest of the sewers. The warlord pushed his way through the mob.
Yessheeran stood at the gate, a snaky grin crawling across his lips. He held a small folded cloth that Shade had wedged into the locking mechanism. He pulled the door back and forth allowing it to creak slightly.
Warlord Lewd grabbed Yessheeran’s torch and took a quick glance into the Shark Tunnels. He eyed the piles of bones of the many helpless victims who had been eaten alive trapped on the wrong side of the gate. He looked down into the sewer canal on his side of the gate and saw a few corpses bobbing in the tide and beating against the Sharkgate. These poor wretches had been murdered in Lewd’s own underworld, but their legs and arms had been chewed off by Sharlak that could not pull their torsos through the bars.
The warlord allowed no grin to grace his lips. He glared long and hard at his envoy, “And you’re certain Shade went in?”
“Yesss, of courssse,” he frowned.
“You’re certain?”
“Why have you come to doubt my word, massster?”
“Because last time I sent you to take care of something, you came back with ten body bags!”
“There’sss no need to worry,” Yessheeran assured him, “Krulle tracked him in there himssself.”
“You’d better be right,” Warlord Lewd said coldly.
“Don’t worry, master,” Kishrub said, “you safe with us.”
“Yeah, you safe, master,” said Zulbash.
“Need I remind you two imbeciles of the mockery that assassin made of you already? If you two were capable of doing your job I wouldn’t need to sneak around in my own sewers wrapped in an old woman’s cloak!”
Kishrub and Zulbash stood dumbfounded holding the large iron chains they were going to use to double lock the gate.
Yessheeran stood ready to close the door.
Warlord Lewd grinned at last and ordered coldly, “Lock him in.”
Shade barely had the time to ponder the bizarre mystery of the statue’s disappearance before the second figure reached him. The figure was a tall, bald dark humanoid with a bone pierced through his nose’s septum. His heavy boots clopped along the brick passageway as loudly as a clumsy horse. His wild bulging yellow eyes bursted with panic. It was Sadrik, the smart-mouthed Doelm, from The Green Barrel. His mouth, it appeared, had finally caught up to him.
The Doelm ran, as if possessed, pursued by some unknown foe. He saw Shade and collapsed into his arms. The assassin dug his heels into the ground and held the larger mortal awkwardly, more to keep his footing than out of any desire to help the terrified Doelm.
“Help me!” Sadrik squealed, “Help me, please!”
“Get off me!” Shade shoved the Doelm to the ground. He dragged one of his blades across Sadrik’s muscled shoulder, sending a message never to touch him again, cold and clear, sealed by the burn of blood.
Sadrik blinked and scrambled back to his feet. The wound didn’t even faze him. Shade frowned. What manner of foe could drive someone to such riotous fear?
“They’re coming!” Sadrik implored, his arms flailing in wild gestures, “I saw them in the water! You must face them! You must slay them as you did the—”
The Doelm stopped as a horrible sinking sound ended in a grisly thunk. Blood trickled from Sadrik’s mouth and his eyes rolled up into his head.
Shade’s jaw dropped at the sight of a crude bone spear, hooked at the end, protruding through the Doelm’s chest. Sadrik’s knees buckled. He teetered forward, then he defied the law of gravity and fell inexplicably backwards. The Doelm landed on his back on the ground, but his body dragged itself chillingly across the blood-smeared floor, towards the water’s edge.
Shade felt chills when he realized that Sadrik was being pulled into the water by a crude algae-covered rope. The Dark Elf could not see the pullers, but he had few theories as to the identities of his new adversaries. He was not afraid, but merely shocked that Sharlak employed tools to ensnare its victims in a similar fashion to how a man might catch a fish. He wondered whether they might be mortals after all.
Sadrik’s body flipped over the edge and disappeared into the murky water. The sewage splashed and thrashed violently like sharks in a feeding frenzy. A plume of blood painted the saltwater a grotesque red.
The assassin readied his blades and prepared for the worst. His glowing yellow eyes studied the rising and falling tide with a building readiness. Then he saw it.
An albino almost humanlike finned head emerged from the waters. The Sharlak stared back at him with large lidless, white eyes and hungry black pupils. Its skin was deathly pale as if the abysmal creature had never seen the light of day. The Sharlak had thick leathery shark-like skin. The creature opened its gaping maw and revealed its long lines of razor-like teeth stained with flecks of rotten flesh and old dried blood. It let out a horrible garbled wail spattering the bloody waters.
Shade threw a dagger at the Sharlak’s head, but the sea creature merely sunk back into the tide. The blade disappeared with a splash. The assassin feared the water had stopped the blade’s momentum. The Dark Elf unsheathed another dagger, rolled it over the back of his hand and coolly reinforced his stance. He felt his heart drumming loudly in his chest. At last a test to pit his wits.
The assassin heard another garbled wail this time down the right end of the corridor. It was echoed by another equally horrifying wail from the left corridor. A chorus of similar muddled shouts rose up, bounding off the walls of the sewers and then Shade saw the shark-men emerging from the waters. Tall hunched forms stalked towards him with outstretched claws protruding from long webbed fingers. Sharlak skin was not fully white, but gray at the back, mottled like the countershading of a Great White. The Sharlak had curved fins running down their scalps, down the forearms and forelegs, but they walked on two webbed feet like a man.
A small number of Sharlak carried the long hooked bone spears that had been the end of poor Sadrik, tied to their offhands by ropes. Shade guessed this was how the shark-men pulled their victims in. A scarred Sharlak brandished a strange bone sword lined with shark teeth. He must have been the pack-leader. He jeered at the others. Shade temporarily froze in wonder. He was amazed at their use of simple tools. He also noted at how peculiarly they draped kelp about their loins to form a disturbing and disastrous attempt at grass-skirts.
The pack-leader charged him waving his shark-toothed sword. Shade tucked into a roll and evaded the attack, but he could not strike back. The other Sharlak ascended upon him with outstretched claws and bared teeth.
The assassin wheeled to the side. He ducked as a spear sailed overhead. Shade danced around his enemies biding his time, patiently waiting for the right moment to present itself. He savored the looks of frustration and surprise on his enemy’s scaled faces.
The lead Sharlak roared in fury and revealed the full terrifying length of its dripping wet maw. Shade actually took a step back. He was not so much alarmed by the long lines of shark-like teeth, but the shocking two-foot length by which the Sharlak extended its powerful jaws. ‘How could such a human-like skull stretch to such unthinkable lengths?’ he wondered. He stared into its slavering palate. He momentarily lost himself in its dark and dreadful abyss. His eyes widened at the bits of flesh that had once been Sadrik and realized he would soon be next. The lissome assassin shook off his daze and refocused.