Dreams of a Dark Warrior

“I don’t know what’s out there, but maybe we’ll get a chance to break out.”
    Regin glanced down at her chest. How far could she get like this? Outwardly, the wound was in the reddened, itchy stage of regeneration. Inwardly, who knew? As she’d begun to move around, she’d determined that she still had her full range of motion—but it hurt like hell.
    She’d be damned before she slowed Natalya or anyone else down.
    As the storm outside grew even more violent, thegrapevine went abuzz. Yet the inmates repeated only one phrase:
“La Dorada.”
    Regin rolled her eyes. “Who or what is La Dorada? Sounds like a snack chip—”
    “RIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG!”
    “A really pissed-off snack chip.”
    The shifter next door whispered, “She’s the Sorceri Queen of Golds and of Evil. They say she’s come for Lothaire, the Enemy of Old.”
    “RIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG!”
    “You want your ring?” Lothaire yelled from down the corridor.
“Then come and get it, you bitch!”
    “Lothaire, the S.O.L., sounds like.”
Serves him right.
    Then the shifter said something that really got Regin’s attention. “Farther up the ward, Dorada’s removed torques from other Sorceri and some members of the Pravus.”
    Natalya said, “Then there will be an escape. As soon as one of them is strong enough to break the glass.”
    Regin exhaled a deep breath, wincing from the movement. “Like Portia and Ember.” Two of the Sorceri in Carrow’s cell, rumored to be lovers for centuries.
    Portia, the Queen of Stone, could move Mount Everest into her backyard if she felt like a climb. Emberine, the Queen of Flames, could shoot fire from her hands or turn herself into flame. A single blast from her could grievously wound an immortal. A human—or a young immortal—would stand no chance.
    Carrow and her little cousin Ruby were trapped with those Sorceri.
Gods help them.
    “Volós could shatter it,” Natalya said distantly. “With one kick.” The creature was huge, eight feet tall and packed with muscle. “I could face him here. Finally.”
    The floor began vibrating beneath them. Small fissures cracked in the cement, sending up clouds of grit.
    “Is that what I think it is?” Natalya asked.
    “Feels like Portia’s getting frisky. Hold on to your ass,” Regin said. “Thad must be wigging. If we get free, we snag him then go straight for my witch friend.”
    “Agreed.”
    The shifter relayed, “Portia’s bringing up a mountain of stone.”
    When the rumbling strengthened, Natalya said, “If a mountain keeps rising, doesn’t that mean the surrounding land will start falling away?”
    Regin nodded. “Yep. And we’re on the surrounding land.” Smoke began oozing down the corridor. “Looks like Emberine got loose.” Could Carrow escape those two with a little girl in tow?
    Again and again, glass shattered as more creatures were freed.
    “La Dorada’s coming,” the shifter whispered. “Ah, gods, she’s coming.”
    Seconds passed, then … La Dorada skulked into view. She was half-mummified, but sodden. Gooey.
    Regin let out a low whistle. “
The Mummy Returns
meets
Dingoes Ate My Face
.”
    Strips of rotting gauze clung to the sorceress’s body.Her face was slimy with pus and appeared to be missing a couple of chunks, as well as an eye.
    Surrounding her like a pack of guard dogs was a dozen Wendigos. They were as contagious as ghouls, but much faster and smarter. Of course, the average loogie was smarter than a ghoul.
    “Look at the gold,” Natalya breathed in awe.
    Dorada wore cool gold pieces—a golden crown on her lumpy head and an elaborate breastplate over a surprisingly intact rack. With each of the sorceress’s steps, gold flakes drifted down.
    “She’s altogether ooky. But I’m not picky.” Regin banged the bottom of her fist against the glass, ignoring the pain radiating out from her chest. “Yo, beautiful. Come pop this collar off me.”
    Natalya hissed, “Are you mad?”
    “What’s she gonna do? Vivisect me? Imprison me? We’ve got a pact to fulfill, remember?” To Dorada, she cried, “Seriously, sweetheart, shake that mummified ass over here.” Regin kicked the glass. “Lemme the fuck out—”
    La Dorada swung her head around, peering at Regin with her one eye.
    “Okay. That’s freaky. Lookit, Gollum, if you spring me, I’ll help you find your Precious.”
    Regin could have sworn the sorceress’s mouth gaped with a toothless smile. Then she slinked away.
    “No, no, no!” Regin cried.