Undying: A Hellequin Universe Novella

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 UNDYING
A Hellequin Universe Novella

Steve McHugh

Hidden Realms Publishing

 Copyright © 2024 Steve McHugh

Copyright © 2024 Steve McHugh

Copyright © 2024 Steve McHugh This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2024 by Steve
McHugh

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Hidden Realms Publishing

Cover illustration by Jamie Noble Frier
For the creators of Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, Maniac
Cop, and all of the other 1970s and 80s horror films I watched
when I was way too young.
 CONTENTS

Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also By Steve McHugh

The Hellequin Chronicles

Crimes Against Magic
Born of Hatred
With Silent Screams
Prison of Hope
Lies Ripped Open
Promise of Wrath
Scorched Shadows
Infamous Reign
Frozen Rage

The Avalon Chronicles

A Glimmer of Hope
A Flicker of Steel
A Thunder of War
Hunted

The Rebellion Chronicles

Sorcery Reborn
Death Unleashed
Horsemen’s War

Riftborn
 The Last Raven
Blessed Odds
A Talon’s Wrath

Vampires

Those Who Dwell in Darkness

As Steve J. McHugh

Blackcoat

Atoned
The following story takes place after the events of Horsemen’s War.
 LIST OF CHARACTERS

Nate Garrett: Sorcerer and necromancer. Created to be the

Horseman Death. Semi-retired.
Tommy Carpenter: Werewolf. Best friend of Nate Garrett. Head of
a security company.
Remy Roax: Fox-man hybrid. Likes to swear. A lot.
Sky (Mapiya): Necromancer. Adopted daughter of Hades and
Persephone.
Zamek Merla: Royal prince. Norse dwarf. Alchemist.
Mordred: Sorcerer. Created to be the Horseman Conquest. Video
game enthusiast. King of Avalon.
Diana: Half-werebear. Dating Medusa.
Medusa: Gorgon. Dating Diana.
Eric Pointer: Human journalist.
 CHAPTER ONE
Village of Anfarwol

Everything leading up to this moment had been a terrible idea.

It should have been an easy assignment. Eric Pointer had
been asked to join a group of investigators looking into a decades-
old serial-killer case, where the killer appeared to have resurfaced
for the second time since the original murders nearly forty years
earlier.
He’d been quite excited, primarily because it had been the
first big story assigned to him since getting the job at the national
newspaper, and also because everyone knew serial killers equalled
sales. Besides, it was in Wales, and everyone told him how beautiful
that part of the world was and how much fun he was going to have.
Turned out, it was much less fun when running through a
forest pursued by… honestly, Eric wasn’t sure. Monsters. Killers. The
devil himself. Any of those would sound correct to him. All he knew
was that being in their company was going to get him killed,
because it had gotten everyone who had come with him killed.
At least, he assumed they were all dead. He saw bodies, the
blood, heard the screams. He hadn’t stayed around long enough to
check that all of his companions were among the victims. If he’d
done that he’d already be among their number.
Eric narrowly avoided a low branch only to run into another,
which all but wiped him out, sending him sprawling on the muddy
ground. It had rained for two weeks straight which, frankly, was the
British summer all over, although it was also quite low on Eric’s
immediate problems.
 He scrambled back to his feet, almost smacking his head on
the branch again, and heard the call of someone behind him. It was
followed by loud crashing, as though something had just torn trees
apart in their effort to get at Eric.
It was a quick thirty-minute drive back to the village of
Anfarwol. Back to safety. He just had to get out of this damn camp
first, had to get back to the car park. Why was the car park so
goddamned far from the camp?
Eric ran mostly on adrenaline and a burning desire to not
become another statistic in the number of dead. He was soon
avoiding more trees, shrubs, roots, and large rocks. He slipped more
than once but by the time he saw the sign for the car park—lit by
the moon—he could have kissed it.
He raced across the gravelled parking area, ignoring the other
four vehicles, and stopped by his brand-new burgundy Honda Civic.
He fumbled the key from his jacket pocket, dropped it twice into a
puddle at his feet, extricated it with an unpleasant wince, took a
deep breath, and pressed the unlock button. The indicator lights on
all four corners flashed. The car did not unlock.
The sounds of crashing through the dark forest sent panic
jolting through Eric.
He pressed the button twice more in quick succession,
although neither time had any other effect than more flashing
orange lights. He tried the door handle, tried the button again, and
only then realised he had the key fob turned upside down, and he’d
been attempting to unlock the car’s boot.
Someone burst out of the forest, standing on the opposite
side of the parking lot to where Eric stood wide-eyed and frozen in
place. His brain screamed at him to move, to get in the car, but his
body was having none of it. Eric had always wondered if he would
be a fight, flight, or freeze type of person, although he’d have
preferred to find out when his life wasn’t in danger.
The… thing that arrived in the parking lot held a machete in
one hand, the moonlight glinting off the blade, having the
unfortunate side effect of showing the blood that drenched it.
 That did the trick to Eric’s brain. He tore the car door open,
practically jumped inside, and managed to hurt his finger by
smashing it down on the start/stop button. The car’s engine came to
life as the thing with the machete just remained in place, making no
movement toward Eric.
The car’s headlights illuminated the monster. Nearly seven
feet tall and broad shouldered, it wore what looked to Eric like
leather armour with buckles and metal accents all around it. A mask
covered its features, and it wore a large-brimmed, black hat,
although as its gaze lingered, Eric froze again. For a moment, he just
sat in the car, the lights showcasing the entirety of the murderer
before him.
Eric shook his head, put the car in first and sped out of the
car park.
It wasn’t until he was out of the forest and back on a main
road that he considered someone hiding in the seat behind him. He
slammed on his brakes, and almost threw himself out of the car,
standing ten feet away from it as rain continued to pelt him. Eric
tentatively stepped up to the car and tried to look in the back but
the rear windows were tinted, and he couldn’t see anything. He took
hold of the car door handle, and practically wrenched it open,
revealing… an empty back seat.
Eric placed his head against the roof of the car and let out a
huge sigh of relief before remembering there was a murder a few
minutes behind him. He scrambled back inside and drove off into the
night toward the village of Anfarwol.
The village was home to four thousand people, and one of
the United Kingdom’s safest, with the worst crime committed in the
years since the camp murders, being the graffiti artist who spray
painted a black sun on the wall of the civil hall.
Eric’s plan was simple. Get back to his Bed and Breakfast, get
his stuff, and get to London and the relative safety it offered.
Compared to where he’d just been, he’d have taken a war zone to
live in right now. His mind flashed back to the news only a few years
ago, where London had been a literal war zone. He’d been at
university at the time, and had missed out on covering it, but
considering the number of people who had died to overthrow an
insane Greek Goddess, he’d probably been best sat in Edinburgh and
watching it all unfold on the news.
The entire world had been at war with Avalon, with people
who felt themselves above humanity, who wanted to rule them. A
war only occasionally fought in the light; London, Washington,
Portland, being three of the big battles that had taken over any news
networks still able to show the truth.
The war was over, evil had been vanquished, and those
humans who had hitched their wagons to the invaders had been
arrested, tried, and imprisoned, or—if you were powerful or rich
enough—quickly and quietly removed from public life. Entire news
channels had vanished overnight, as had newspapers, social media
platforms, and a host of online personalities who helped Avalon
spread fear, misinformation, and frankly aided in the deaths and
imprisonments of many of their own people.
Eric forced his mind to push those thoughts aside. He’d
always wondered how the people after a world war had just gotten
back to their lives, and it turned out that five years was actually a
long time for those who only saw the war on tv or read about it
online. People want to forget and that’s easy to do when you were
always fairly safe to begin with.
Slamming on the car brakes at the last second, Eric took a
moment to breathe. He’d almost missed his turn into the village, and
would have ended up in the middle of nowhere. He hadn’t even set
up his Satnav, primarily because he had no idea where his phone
was. Back in the forest, or maybe at the campsite. He had no way of
contacting anyone until he got back to a landline phone.
“Inform the police,” he said to himself softly. “That first, then
run.”
He sat at the junction for a few more minutes as he tried to
figure out a way to inform the police and run, but he was pretty sure
that wouldn’t look good in the police report. Besides, at least then
he’d have the police with him. He’d feel much safer.
Sixty seconds later, and Eric had decided that yes, the police
really were the best idea. So, with much trepidation in his soul, he
turned the wheel toward the village, and continued on through the
winding country roads – dark and foreboding only illuminated by the
headlights of his car.
Considering it was nearly four in the morning, Eric wasn’t
surprised to find the village of Anfarwol was asleep. He drove at a
normal speed along the main road, trying to remember the way to
the police station. It took him three wrong turns before he got it
right, and was practically overjoyed to see the lit-up, white and blue
Police sign outside of the station itself.
The building was of Georgian design, and much like a lot of
the village appeared to be lost in time. The newest buildings were,
at their newest, sixty years old, and the oldest were centuries, if not
more.
Eric parked his car out front, got out, and felt the
overwhelming urge to burst into tears. He took a deep breath,
steadied himself, and decided that breaking down in tears wasn’t
going to get him any safer, and ascended the six steps to the large,
glass front door.
When he stepped into the reception area, the warmth of the
central heating washed over him. Eric was cold, wet, bloody, and
miserable, but that warmth made things feel a tad better.
There were a selection of six chairs in the reception area,
three next to a door marked Private, and three opposite it, next to a
cork board adorned the leaflets of the local habitants. A reception
desk sat directly in front of the entrance, and therefore in front of
Eric. Behind the desk was a concerned looking man in police
uniform. He was in his fifties with greying hair, a clean-shaved face,
and eyes that said he’d seen a lot he didn’t want to talk about. He
smelled vaguely of cedarwood and cigarette smoke, as though he’d
had a smoke and rubbed his body with a car air fresher to get rid of
the smell.
“Mister Pointer?” the police officer asked.
Eric took two steps forward, took a deep breath, and said,
“They’re all dead.”
The next few minutes were a bit of a blur, but ended with Eric
being taken through the Private door and into the police station
proper. He was brought into a small canteen, given a bacon
sandwich, cup of tea with enough sugar in it that it was probably no
longer called a drink, and half a packet of custard cream biscuits on
a paper plate.
Eric stared at the biscuits for a moment and chuckled, looking
around to make sure he was alone. Despite what he’d been through,
he chuckled again, feeling like he was at the world’s strangest
birthday party.
The tea was nice, sweet, and smelled vaguely of camomile,
which meant he guessed it was supposed to be relaxing. Probably
defeated the object to pile it full of sugar. He drank it anyway, and
realised the police officer he’d been talking to—although he couldn’t
remember their name—had left his notebook on the table.
Eric looked around and risked a glance. The notebook was full
of doodles, pictures of houses, of trees, of cars. He flicked through
the pages until he paused and felt the horror of the night bubble
back up to the top. There was a picture, a drawing in blue biro, of
the thing that had killed the rest of his group. That had watched him
get into his car, and drive away.
Eric’s reaction was immediate and violent, and he threw the
notebook away, watching it bounce off the far wall. He got to his
feet, grabbed a butter knife from the table, realised it was utterly
dull, and picked up a fork instead.
He’d taken two steps when the world went dark, and he
pitched forward onto the cold tiled floor. He was awake, but couldn’t
move, his entire body refusing to do what it was told.
The main entrance to the canteen opened and two police
officers—one male, one female—stepped inside. They were
accompanied by a man in blood-red robes with a red fox mask
covering his face.
“No,” Eric said as defiantly as he could.
The man in the mask picked up the fork from the ground
beside Eric and showed it to him. “Be still now,” he said softly,
almost soothingly. “No harm will come to you.”
“Killed the men with me,” Eric slurred.
 “They fought and died,” the man said, straightening up. “You
ran and lived. Well done. We were meant to grab you before it got
dark, but you arrived late. Sorry about that. You’re here now, but we
can’t have you asking for a phone or calling anyone.” He removed
something from his pocket and showed it to Eric – his mobile phone,
the screen destroyed.
Eric watched it tumble from the man’s hand onto the floor, the
sound of it striking the ground seemingly lasting forever.
“You are drugged,” the man said. “Sounds will be quite
strange to you. You may see things that were not there. I would like
you to write my story, and for that you must live. Show a usefulness
to me, and maybe you, too, can become part of what we’re trying to
achieve.”
“Murdererererer,” Eric said, the word going on much longer
than he expected it to.
“Good night, sweet Eric,” the man replied. “I’m so glad you’re
here.”
Eric closed his eyes… and opened them again in a strange
place. A cell. Eric sat up, decided it wasn’t worth the pain, and lay
back down again, looking around his new surroundings.
The cell was fifteen feet by fifteen, and had the bed he was
laying on, a toilet, sink, and small desk with chair. Bars lined three
sides of the cell, allowing him to look through into those on either
side, although there was a five-foot gap between them. He couldn’t
reach the adjacent cells using his own body without injury on his
part.
The toilet and sink were against a bare stone wall at the rear
of the cell, and had a small curtain on rails that could be pulled
around them. Not much privacy, but better than nothing. There were
no windows, so no way for Eric to figure out where he was in
relation to the outside world.
Just beyond the bars of his cell was a hallway with steps at
the far side. Eric risked sitting up again. This time it hurt less. There
were five cells in all, his was the second from the right. None
appeared to be occupied, although the meagre light from the torch—
actual fire-lit torchlight—in the area outside of the cells kept
everything in a dingy setting.
“You’re not dead,” a voice said from the cell beside his. “I did
wonder.”
Eric fell out of the side of his bed, jarring his hip on the stone
floor.
“Sorry,” the voice said. It had a British accent, although it was
tinged with a little French.
“Where am I?” Eric asked, squinting for a better view of
whoever occupied the cell.
“Ah, that’s a slightly more complicated question,” the
definitely male voice said, but Eric still couldn’t see anyone. “Wales
would be the easier answer. Near Llyn Tywyll Campsite.”
Panic threatened to overcome Eric. “No, I’d gotten away from
here. No, no.”
“Hey,” the voice said, calmly. “You’re fine.”
“They murdered everyone,” Eric snapped.
“But not you and not me,” the voice said. “Means we still have
a chance. Also, people are going to come looking for us.”
“How long will that be?” Eric asked.
“I’m not sure,” the voice replied. “I don’t think these cells
were designed to keep people. I think they’re old animal pens.
Maybe dogs, maybe something worse than dogs. They smell funny. I
think I’d like to figure out what’s going on here before we’re
rescued.”
Torches flickered to life in the gaps between the cells, bathing
the cells in their light. Eric’s mouth dropped open as he got a look at
the inhabitant of the cell beside his. “You’re a… a… a… Not human.”
“Was once,” the prisoner said. “Long time ago now.”
“You’re a fox.” Eric stared at the three-foot tall fox-humanoid.
It wore black leather armour, similar to what Eric had seen on the
murderer, although there was no way of confusing the two.
“Foxman,” the prisoner said, stepping towards the bars and
holding out a hand-shaped paw. “Name is Remy.”
Eric stared at the hand.
 “I do not bite, my friend,” Remy said. “Actually, that’s not
true. But I won’t bite you.”
Eric put his arm through the bars and shook Remy’s hand.
“Eric,” he said. “Journalist.”
Remy took his hand back, and smiled.
Eric’s face paled as he stared at the sharp teeth inside Remy’s
mouth.
Remy stopped smiling. “Apologies, sometimes I forget that
people aren’t used to a talking fox. As for my job, well, job titles are
harder for me. A little bit of everything over the centuries.”
“And you think people are going to come find us?” Eric asked,
clinging to that thread of hope.
Remy’s smile returned. “When my friends turn up, every
single bastard responsible for our current predicament is in deep
trouble.”
“You sure?” Eric asked.
“You ever seen a sorcerer when they’re mad?”
Eric shook his head. “Are you a sorcerer?”
Remy laughed. “No, just your local, friendly foxman.”
“And you have a sorcerer friend?” Eric asked, the hope in his
voice tangible.
“A few of them,” Remy told him, a wicked smile spreading
across his face, once again showing his sharp, white teeth. “And let
me assure you, when they arrive, they’re going to fuck everyone’s
shit up.”
 CHAPTER TWO
Nate Garrett

Since the end of the war with Avalon, life had been fairly quiet. The
rebuilding had taken up a lot of time. Several of the realms were in
ruins, and more than one would never be habitable again, but most
of those where the fighting took place only required an effort to help
the people still living there. Earth included.
I spent most of my time working with groups to ensure that
those who escaped justice were hunted down and found, human or
otherwise. And after several years of work, the world and realms
were a safer, calmer place.
Spending time with my wife Selene, and daughter Astrid had
been a joyous gift. Doing so in a realm outside of the hustle and
bustle of daily Earth life, had been an even greater one.
That said, when a friend arrives and says they need my help,
and my wife breathes a sigh of relief, I take the indication to leave
for a while.
Morgan and I had once been lovers, but that had been
centuries past, right up until the point she’d betrayed me for
Mordred, and almost got me killed in the process. For centuries, I’d
believe Morgan and Mordred were pretty much evil betrayers. It had
taken Mordred’s near death to prove otherwise. Mordred had
knowingly been sent by his father to a place where he was captured,
tortured, and turned into a weapon designed to kill everyone he
loved. Including his best friend at the time – me.
Morgan had spent centuries keeping Mordred from doing
more damage, and for that I was eternally grateful. Although, it
would have been nice if she’d contacted me and told me, I
understood she didn’t know where my allegiances lay, and couldn’t
trust me not to run off to Arthur, Merlin, and co, and all-but sign
hers and Mordred’s death warrant.
Still, that was all in the past. Mordred was king of Avalon now,
and married to Hel, the princess of the Norse pantheon. Morgan
was… still busy, having seemingly no interest in settling down or
even taking time off. She patrolled the realms searching for…
actually, I didn’t know. And no one seemed keen to tell me.
“Exactly where are we going?” I asked as we drove through
the Welsh countryside, Morgan at the wheel of the navy-blue BMW
SUV, and me sat in the passenger seat trying to figure out which
parts I remembered from my childhood. The Arthurian legend was
real, although Arthur was neither a benevolent king nor anything
close to a good person. He’d been a psychopathic monster with
machinations of world-conquest. He was also very dead now, so that
made me feel more than a bit better.
“Anfarwol,” Morgan said without looking my way. Her pale
skin shone in the sunlight, as did her long hair that she’d dyed bright
grey, and tied back in a ponytail. Despite it being the middle of
summer, August in Wales counted as the wetter months, and
Morgan dressed for it in dark blue jeans, a black hoodie, and boots
made for walking the hills of Wales.
The roads were twisty, with knolls and multiple blind spots.
The kind of drive that someone who enjoys driving would smile at
the prospect of taking. Morgan was not one of those people. Every
time there was a chicane or steep hill, she winced a little.
“You know, I could have driven,” I told her.
“No,” she said. “You don’t know the area.”
“Of Anfarwol. I’m pretty sure Wales was my playground as a
boy. Along with Galahad and Mordred, and you. I think we spent
most of it trying to avoid Merlin and his people.”
The mention of Galahad’s name brought a smile to my face,
and hurt to my heart. I missed him greatly. He’d saved my life, and
lost his in the process. I killed a lot of… everything in revenge.
“I remember,” Morgan said. “I remember getting drunk on
what I can only describe as moonshine. I think it made people
blind.”
“Good thing we’re not human.”
Morgan let out a slight chuckle. “I remember you and
Mordred daring each other to climb everything and anything you
could find. I’m almost sure you once dared him to kiss a bull.”
The memory of the bet came back to me, as did the memory
of me on my back laughing as Mordred ran for his life. The bull
probably wouldn’t have killed him, he was a sorcerer after all, but it
would have hurt like the blazes of hell had it caught him. “I
remember you putting a stop to us both being increasingly stupid,” I
said with a smile of my own. “You always were the calming
influence. You and Galahad.”
“I wish he was here,” Morgan said softly.
“Me too,” I said. “Every day.”
They say losing a loved one gets easier, but that’s a lie. It
doesn’t. It never does. You just learn to live around them not being
there anymore.
“So, why are we going to a small village in north Wales?” I
asked.
“We’re meeting some people there,” Morgan said. “Diana,
Tommy, Sky, Zamek, Mordred, maybe a few others.”
“Mordred? So, does he have his entire entourage with him?”
“I hope not,” she said. “We’re here to look into something,
not have the world’s eyes on us. I wasn’t going to involve him, but
he insisted when I explained.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, recognising the concern in her
voice.
“I’ll explain everything when we’re together.”
I glanced out of the window. “How bad is it?”
“Scale of one to ten?” Morgan asked.
“Sure.”
“Somewhere between a nine and a hundred and forty.”
I didn’t bother asking anything else after that, and settled into
just watching the passing scenery while trying to push aside the
more unpleasant memories that came with it. My first few decades
in the care of Merlin hadn’t been much fun, but it also hadn’t been
monstrous. Merlin’s true intentions didn’t start to come out for some
time after I went off to do my own thing. And by that point, it was
too late to ever change his mind. By that point, he’d already sent his
own son off to be tortured until his mind broke. There were a lot of
things I would never forgive Merlin for, a lot of things his death
helped heal, but the hate I felt at what he’d done to Mordred was
never going to be something that lessened.
However hard Merlin had died—and he had died hard—it
wasn’t enough.
As we crested a large hill, the village of Anfarwol slowly came
to view. It looked like a lot of villages in North Wales – idyllic,
peaceful, and somewhat out of the way. Although on the latter point,
Wales wasn’t so big that you were ever more than a few hours from
a larger town. Also, larger was doing a lot of heavy lifting in that
sentence.
We passed a speed-limit sign, telling us to drop down to
twenty miles per hour as we entered the village, and Morgan made a
little irritated groan as she did. It wasn’t the speed she had an issue
with, when we were both born, twenty miles per hour as a top
speed—usually on horseback—would have been considered normal.
It was being told what to do. Some people never quite get over their
aversion to authority. No matter their age.
It was the middle of the day, and despite the sun being out,
everything was still wet from the last few weeks of almost constant
rain. It was always weird to step out into warm weather but still
need a coat.
Morgan parked the SUV in a tiny car park behind a bar called
the Fox and Hound, which I was a hundred percent certain Remy
would hate on sight. No one likes to be reminded of that time
someone was going to murder you by having you torn apart by
hounds. The fact that it was once considered sport should be
something the arseholes who took part in it should be deeply
ashamed. Although, I find that’s the problem with arseholes – a lack
of acknowledgment that they are, in fact, arseholes.
I stepped out into the warm day, quickly removed my black
hoodie, and tossed it onto the back seat of the car. The pub had a
thatched roof, and a small flower bed beneath the windows
overlooking the car park. I followed Morgan inside and discovered it
was a quaint place. Everything was dark wood, which might have
seemed too dark, but the lights in the ceiling and on the walls lit
everything nicely. It felt… homely. Welcoming.
A dart board and pool table sat in the far right of the
entrance, in their own little place away from everyone else. The bar
itself took centre stage in the middle of the pub, stocked with
various spirits on the wall behind it. There were a selection of lagers,
ales, and ciders on tap, and a choice of pint and half pint glasses
behind where the bartender would stand. It looked, to all intents,
like any number of completely normal pubs I’d been in. Which made
me wonder what the hell was going on in a place like this that
required Morgan to be involved. She hunted bad people, the kinds of
people you only name in hushed whispers. Yet this pub gave no
indication that it was frequented by such people.
Morgan stopped at the bar and spoke to a middle-aged lady
behind it, who was five foot tall if she was lucky, and had grey hair
that fell over her shoulders, but something about her was much
more youthful than first impressions suggested. She clearly had an
excellent skin routine.
“In the back,” the woman said with a nod.
Morgan thanked her, and motioned for me to keep up. I
nodded a hello to the lady behind the bar, and she stared at me as
though I had a second head. Maybe I should shave the beard and
get a haircut. I probably looked like a hippie.
I followed Morgan around the bar to a side door, which
revealed a large room with multiple tables and chairs. There was a
second, albeit much smaller bar on the right side as you entered,
and a small stage on the far left of the room. Windows lined one
side, next to a set of fire doors. It was the kind of place for wedding
receptions.
In front of the stage were three tables placed side by side,
and around it sat several people I knew very well.
Zamek, the dwarven prince sat at the far end of the table,
and raised a battle axe in hello… because dwarf. After the war, he’d
been told to go back and take his rightful place as king. He’d
decided it was actually something he’d be terrible at, dissolved the
monarchy, and put a council of the wisest dwarves he could find in
charge. He was still a figurehead because dwarves like tradition, but
it all appeared to be moving in the right direction.
Beside him sat Diana, the half werebear who used to be a
Roman goddess, although to suggest that she’d hated the gods too
would have been an understatement. I wasn’t entirely sure of
everything that had happened between her and the various
pantheons of the time, but it had left a lasting resentment.
Next to her was Medusa, her snakes all springing to attention
as I entered the room. Unlike the stories, she couldn’t turn people to
stone with a look, it was a conscious decision on her part. She’d
been in a relationship with Diana for some time now and the two
were very much happily in love. They both worked with Tommy as a
sort of bridge between Avalon, the Realms, and Earth governments.
Speaking of Tommy, he was sat opposite Medusa, and turned
toward Morgan and I, a smile on his face. It had been a few years
since he’d been taken by Merlin and Arthur, and subsequently
tortured. He’d been marked with runes designed to make him kill
those he loved. His family and me for a start. Zamek and the
dwarves had changed the runes so they now made him want to kill
the person who put them there. That person was now dead.
Essentially freeing Tommy from ever having to lose himself to his
werewolf beast form.
Next to Tommy sat Sky. She had both Native American and
white European ancestry, and as a child she’d been the only survivor
of a massacre against her tribe. Sky had been raised by Hades and
Persephone as their own, and now worked with Avalon to keep the
peace. Her necromancy powers were some of the strongest I’d ever
seen, my own included. She was the first one to her feet, as she
walked over and hugged me.
“It’s been a while,” she said with a smile.
“Too long,” I said. “How’s everything?”
She nodded. “Good. Selene and Astrid?”
 I smiled; couldn’t help myself. “Really good. Astrid is seven
now.”
“Slinging magic around yet?” Tommy asked with a chuckle.
“Not yet,” I said. “When she does, I’ll make sure to send her
to your house so she can burn that down instead.”
Tommy laughed as the fire door to the side of us opened, and
Mordred walked in. He spotted me, and walked over, hugging me
tightly. “It’s been far too long,” he said, slapping me on the back of
the shoulder.
“I get the feeling we all need to meet up more often,” I told
him, and looked behind at the closed door. “No guards? No Hel?”
“My wife has informed me that so long as I don’t cause any
international incidents, I should be fine without an Avalon royal
guard following me around,” Mordred said, glancing back as if
mentioning her name might bring Hel through the doors.
Hel was one of the kindest, smartest, and generally all-around
awesome people I’d ever met. But I would not ever want to be on
her bad side.
“Hel said so long as I was here, he should be fine,” Morgan
said. “And the rest of us too. We’re here to keep Mordred from…
breaking everything.”
“I don’t break everything,” Mordred said, almost pouting. He
considered his words for a moment as Morgan glared at him. “Okay,
a lot of things. And I haven’t done that in a while.”
Morgan continued to glare.
“Nate blew up the White House,” Mordred said, pointing at
me.
“Seriously?” I asked.
Mordred shrugged.
“And I didn’t blow it up,” I muttered to myself as Mordred and
Morgan took their seats. “I set fire to it.”
“And blew it up,” Diana said.
I sighed and took my seat, taking one of the three bottles of
water and pouring myself a glass. “Okay, I blew it up a little bit.” I
sipped the cool water and looked around the room.
 “We can all catch up later,” Morgan said. “We need to discuss
why we’re here today, and what’s going on in this part of the
country.”
“Something bad, I assume,” Zamek said.
“Isn’t it always?” Diana said with a hint of something I
couldn’t quite place. Anger? Annoyance? It was subtle, but judging
from Medusa’s reaction to put her hand on Diana’s, it wasn’t just me
who noticed.
“Seriously though, Morgan,” Sky said. “You told us we needed
to help, but you didn’t say why.”
“It’s coming don’t worry,” Morgan said.
The door to the room opened and the lady from behind the
bar walked in, closing the door behind her and taking a moment to
ensure it was secure. She walked across the room, all of us watching
her every step, which made things a lot more awkward than was
probably necessary.
Morgan got to her feet. “Thank you for coming, Cheryl.”
Cheryl nodded and took a seat beside Morgan. I could feel
the questions on the lips of every single one of us, but Diana spoke
first, “No Remy?”
Morgan stood and looked down the table at us. “We’ll get to
Remy, I promise. He’s already involved.”
“What the hell is going on, Morgan?” Medusa asked.
“Cheryl here is going to explain what’s going on,” Morgan
said, taking a seat as she motioned for the woman to stand.
Cheryl looked between all of us, nervous energy practically
bouncing out of her as she drummed her fingers on the table. “Your
friend Remy was here,” she said. “The foxman. He was here at the
request of myself and a few others within my community. He had a
team with him, people who Morgan had sent to help us. We haven’t
heard from him, nor the rest of his team, in four days. I didn’t
expect to hear from them for several days anyway, so I thought
nothing of it. Forty-eight hours ago, a reporter arrived here looking
into the murders that took place over the years in the camp close to
our village. He had guards with him. None of them have been seen
since. I tried to contact Remy and his team last night, got nothing. I
contacted you all immediately.”
“What happened to Remy?” Diana asked, her voice a low
grumble of menace.
“We don’t know,” Cheryl said.
“Morgan,” Diana said, as her nails grew long and sharp,
puncturing the wooden table as though it were made of paper. “Why
did you wait hours to contact us?”
Morgan looked over at Diana, and when she spoke, her soft
tone held a hard edge, “Remy knew the risks. We all do. He came
here to help, and he’s missing. If you listen to Cheryl’s story, we can
figure out what the hell is going on here and hopefully find Remy
and his people. We all know Remy well enough that the likelihood of
his death is almost zero at this point.”
“He’s your friend too,” Diana almost shouted, getting to her
feet as Medusa stood beside her, whispering something only they
could hear. “Or do we just leave our friends behind now?”
“He’s a professional,” Morgan said, getting back to her feet,
anger written across her face. “Which is behaviour I expect from you
too.”
Medusa looked back at Morgan with a ‘seriously, now’
expression on her face.
“Sit down,” Mordred said softly. “Please.”
Everyone turned to look at Mordred who hadn’t even glanced
away from his hands. He looked up and sighed loudly. “All of you.
Sit. Down.”
“Remy could be hurt, or worse,” Diana said, her hardened
stare faltering. “Morgan has—”
“And we will find him,” Mordred said, interrupting Diana with
nothing but compassion in his voice as he looked over at her.
“Morgan, this is a shitty way to tell us one of our friends is missing.”
“If I’d told you on the phone, how would you all have
reacted?” Morgan asked, holding Mordred’s gaze and practically
radiating anger. Apparently, something was going on that I hadn’t
been made aware of.
 “We’d have rushed here to find him,” Zamek said, speaking
for pretty much all of us.
“We don’t know what’s going on,” Morgan said. “Which is why
Cheryl is going to tell us. After that is complete, and we actually
have a goddamned plan, we can find Remy and the rest of his team.
Six of my people are missing too. I want them all back.”
Diana sat with a long exhale of breath, and Medusa a
moment later.
“Morgan,” Mordred said.
Morgan looked down as though just realising she was
standing, and retook her seat.
“Now,” Mordred continued. “Cheryl, please do tell us what the
fuck is going on.”
 CHAPTER THREE
Nate Garrett

“How old do I look?” Cheryl asked.

“Is now the time for…” Diana started, but Medusa placed a
hand on hers and she stopped talking. “Sorry.”
“At first glance, I thought you were in your sixties,” I said.
“But I think that’s what you want people to believe.”
“I am one-hundred-and-four years old,” Cheryl said.
“Something is happening in my village that I have ignored ever since
those murders in the eighties. I ignored it because I was afraid, and
when nothing happened for twenty years, I told myself it was just a
one off. But since those murders, people started to go missing in the
hills and forest close to the camp. Drownings, falling off cliffs, heart
attacks in perfectly healthy people.”
“I did some research,” Morgan said. “All deaths were ruled as
accidents. It’s stated that those victims were people who didn’t know
the terrain, weren’t equipped, or were in ill health, but those
accidents all happened in good weather conditions, usually in the
summer and spring months. All cases quickly closed by the local
police. All inquests quickly dealt with by those who carry out such
things.”
“Quick question,” Zamek said. “What murders in the eighties?”
“There’s a camp not far from here,” Cheryl said. “In the late-
seventies, it was done up with an eye to let it out for corporate
events. In 1982, a bunch of yuppies from London came for some
sort of team bonding thing. Ten men, four women. They were meant
to be there for a week. After three days, one man was found walking
the main road to this village. Everyone else was dead.”
 “What’s a yuppie?” Zamek asked.
“A young, usually wealthy professional,” Tommy said. “They
weren’t all arseholes, but, well, they got that stereotype for a
reason.”
“Bunch of arseholes went to party in the woods and someone
killed them all,” Zamek said. “That about it?”
Everyone nodded.
“Thanks, carry on,” Zamek said.
“The man was questioned and arrested for their murders,”
Cheryl said. “Officially, he was deemed to have snapped due to
bullying of some kind, and hunted down and killed everyone in the
party. He never made it to trial, having taken his own life in his
police cell here in the village.”
“How convenient,” Medusa said.
“I was a nurse for the NHS at the time,” Cheryl said. “One of
the few in the village, so I assisted the coroner. I saw those reports
of the injuries the victims sustained. Some were drowned, some had
their heads crushed, their bones shattered, many were killed by stab
wounds from… we don’t know. A sword maybe. Bladed weapons
were definitely used. It was horrific. The photos of the crime scene
look like something out of a horror movie.”
“Were they all killed at once?” I asked.
“They were dotted around the camp,” Cheryl said. “No one
tried to leave the area though. That couldn’t be explained, it was as
though they could only stay in the area of the camp itself.”
“How does that link to your youthful looks?” Tommy asked.
“I don’t know,” Cheryl said. “I just… I don’t age. Actually, I’ve
looked exactly like this for nearly fifty years. And it’s not just me,
there are many of us in town who were around back then who
haven’t aged. Any time I bring it up, I’m told it’s because of the
residual magic in Wales. Is that even a thing?”
Everyone looked over to me.
“I have no idea,” I said. “If there’s residual magic in Wales, it’s
the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Maybe my father picked this place for that reason,” Mordred
said. “Maybe Wales is like a sponge for magic.”
 “If that’s the case,” Sky said, “why isn’t Wales on the news
every night because there are millions of people who don’t age?
Doesn’t seem likely. More likely is whatever happened in that camp
triggered something that’s had an effect on the landscape. Anyone
been to check on it?”
“It’s off limits,” Cheryl said. “Too dangerous, apparently. We
had people come out to look. Said there was nothing out of the
ordinary, but it was prone to sinkholes and the water of the lake had
an unusually large amount of toxins, which may make it dangerous
to people.”
“Toxins?” Zamek asked. “What kind of toxins?”
“The reports are sealed,” Cheryl said. “Only the village council
see them.”
“And the village council are?” I asked.
“Ten people. Six men, four women, who are just like any
other council,” she said.
“Are they all your age?” I asked.
Cheryl shook her head. “Most would have been there when
the murders took place, yes. Four of them would have only been
born when they happened. All of them have always lived here, their
families always lived here.”
“What about the law in town?” Tommy asked. “They good
people or dodgy?”
“I always thought they were good,” Cheryl said. “Those who
were around when the murders happened, resigned from the force
as normal and settled here. They haven’t aged either. Those in the
police now are all from outside of the village, except the Chief
Inspector, he was born here too. He was about ten when the
murders happened.”
Medusa drummed her long fingers on the table. “So, we have
a lot of people who should have died a long time ago still looking like
they did when a bunch of rich arseholes got murdered. Displaced
life-force maybe?”
“Some kind of ritual?” Sky suggested.
“I’m not ruling anything out,” Morgan said. “Whatever
happened here is linked to those murders. Finding Remy and my
people means figuring out what the hell is going on.”
Mordred looked to Cheryl. “If we fix this, you might die.” He
was never one to beat around the bush.
Cheryl nodded slowly and smiled. “I’ve lived a long time.
Whatever kept me looking like this can’t be natural. No one wants to
talk about it, and anytime someone does, they’re quickly silenced.”
“What about your husband, or any family member who are
similarly affected?” Tommy said. “This whole village might die.”
“We need to know the truth,” Cheryl said. “I would prefer you
find that out without wiping us out, obviously.”
“You might not like the truth,” Diana said.
Cheryl’s smile was tinged with melancholy. “People rarely do.”
“How many people in town think the same way you do?” Sky
asked.
“I don’t know,” Cheryl said. “I don’t know who is and isn’t
aware of what’s going on, although I’d find it hard to believe they
were oblivious to the fact that people who live here aren’t aging. I
didn’t like to think about it for the longest time, and then I’d hear
that someone who asked questions was no longer in the village, and
I thought that self-preservation was better than knowing the truth.
I’ve lived in blissful ignorance for decades, or maybe it was just
blissful fear.”
“And you didn’t talk to your husband about it?” Medusa
asked.
“Tried a few times,” Cheryl said, tearfully. “He didn’t want to
talk about it. Said it was…” She shook her head. “Told me to drop it.
I love my husband, but that was the only time in our marriage I
wasn’t sure he was still the man I married.”
“So, you put it all out of your mind and just went on,”
Mordred said. “Because it was easier.”
Cheryl stared at Mordred for a moment before nodding once.
“I get it,” Mordred said. “I really do. It’s hard to look at
something and say it’s wrong when no one else seems to have a
problem with it. Even so, you might not like how this story ends. I
know you’ve said you want the truth, but honestly, do you?”
 “I need to know what’s happening here,” Cheryl said after
several seconds of uncomfortable silence.
“It’s okay,” Morgan said, placing a hand on Cheryl’s shoulder.
“Thank you for being honest with everyone.”
“What’s crime like in town?” Medusa asked. “I mean, is there
a lot? Is there a possibility that a gang is behind it?”
“Crime is almost non-existent,” Cheryl said. “Maybe
vandalism, a few more serious things every year, but other than
that, it’s a peaceful village. Certainly, no gangs or the like.”
“I have a question,” I said as Cheryl stood. “Those few others
in your community. Who are they?”
“I’m not sure they want to be named,” Cheryl told me.
“They’re afraid. One of them is on the council, another is an ex-
copper. Morgan said that you’re discreet. I would rather not have
those people who agree with me outed to the village. I don’t know
what would happen.”
“Discreet is my middle name,” Mordred said.
We all waited for Morgan to return after escorting Cheryl out.
“Discreet is my middle name?” Sky said.
Mordred shrugged. “I didn’t think she’d appreciate me telling
her how good we are at making things go boom.”
All eyes turned to me.
“That’s fair,” I said.
“So, we may or may not have walked into a fucking hornet’s
nest,” Tommy said. “As per usual.”
“How bad is this, Morgan?” Zamek asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” she said as she retook her seat.
“How likely is it this room is bugged?” Mordred asked.
“None,” Zamek said. “I checked it the moment I arrived. If
they’ve bugged this place, it’s the most advanced system ever
known to anyone. Ever. You can speak openly.”
I took the lead. “We walked into this village to find Remy and
your missing people,” I said to Morgan. “And it turns out this whole
village might be against us. Or pod people. Probably somewhere
between the two.”
 “We need to find Remy,” Diana said. “Everything else is
secondary. We don’t leave people behind.”
“And we won’t,” Morgan said. “But we need to know who took
him and my people, and where they are. We start stomping around,
we could bring problems down on their heads.”
“Do you have a plan?” Sky asked.
“We’re going to go to the camp first,” Morgan said. “Whatever
is happening here, it was the last place I had contact with anyone. It
was also the last place the missing journalist and the team he
arrived with were seen.”
“You know anything about the journalist or their team?”
Zamek asked.
“Eric Pointer,” Morgan said. “Lives in London, works for World
News.”
“A rag,” I said before I could stop myself.
“Yes, it’s a shit-heap of a paper,” Morgan said. “And yes,
they’ve run multiple stories about how the humans were corrupted
by us, about how the war was all the fault of Avalon, and about how
Avalon are still running things, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to
die.”
“Maybe just poked hard,” Mordred said. “If he was sent here
because of that paper, it was to do a story about how it’s Avalon’s
fault people died there. Maybe it is. My father was involved in every
horrific thing you can think of, it’s not out of the realms of possibility
that he was involved in the murders of a bunch of yuppies nearly
fifty years ago. That said, if Merlin was involved, I’d rather know
about it before it gets plastered all over the second-highest read
paper in the UK.”
“There’s a depressing statistic,” Tommy said.
“People always want someone to blame for their own
inadequacy,” Sky said, more than a little bitterness in her tone.
“Okay, before we start down this road,” Morgan said. “Let’s
get back to the matter at hand.”
“Sorry,” Mordred said, with a gesture for her to continue.
“Eric was given this assignment, and a team of ex-soldiers
were sent with him,” Morgan said. “I’ve looked into them, they’re a
private security firm hired by the paper to make it look like their
reporters need constant protection when they look into a story about
Avalon. It’s all optics. Except, he might have actually needed the
protection in this instance.”
“No bodies?” Medusa asked.
“The local police did a search and found nothing,” Morgan
said. “We’re going to do our own search when we’re done here. I
assume you’ll be able to find traces should there be any, even forty-
eight hours later.”
You could practically hear Tommy and Diana roll their eyes at
the suggestion of anything otherwise.
“When do we leave?” Diana asked.
“Now,” Morgan said. “But whatever we find, we regroup and
figure out how to proceed. I refuse to put anyone’s lives in jeopardy
by rushing in unprepared.”
While she didn’t look directly at Diana, I was pretty sure she
was talking about her.
Everyone filed out of the room, but I remained seated and
waited for what was an inevitable discussion with Morgan, who sat
similarly unmoving.
“You have something to say?” she asked when we were
alone. “You want to tell me I should have informed you? You want to
tell me I should never have let Remy and my team go there? That I
shouldn’t have waited so long? What is it I need chastising for,
Nate?”
I looked over at her. “Are you okay?”
Morgan blinked a few times then stared at me. “What?”
“Are you okay?” I repeated.
“I… I don’t know how to answer that.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a particularly difficult question. Your
operation went wrong, your people are taken, or worse. Are you
okay?”
“I thought you’d be angrier than you are,” she said after a few
seconds of uncomfortable silence between us.
“I’m plenty angry,” I told her. “Not with you though. Someone
has my friend, has your people, maybe they’re dead, maybe they’re
not. I doubt Remy is. I’m sure his ghost would start haunting us.
When I find the people who did this, I’m going to show them why
it’s unwise to make me angry.”
Every word I said was uttered with a calmness that I knew
from experience made people uncomfortable. Turns out, few people
like it when you start telling them you’re going to unleash hell on
someone and you do it in a conversational tone.
“No, I’m not okay,” Morgan said. “My people are missing.
Remy is missing. I sent them here.”
“They children?”
Morgan blinked again. “What? No, of course not.”
“Then you sent people who knew the job, knew the risks, and
did it anyway,” I told her, getting to my feet. “Everyone here has
sent people to battle at some point. And at some point, not all of
those people came back. You know this. We all know this. I know it’s
Remy, so it’s different for all of us after what we’ve been through
together, but I also know Remy. Wherever he is, he’s pissing
someone off right now.”
A slight smile crept across Morgan’s lips before vanishing.
“I’ve done this job a long time, Nate. I’ve lost people. I asked Remy
to do this. To go with my team. He knows this place, he spent time
here over the years, and if there was something here to do with…”
“Merlin,” I finished. “Or Arthur. That’s why you asked Remy.”
“After the war, we all went down different paths,” Morgan
said. “I couldn’t ask you, you’re building a life, a family, you’re
creating a community in Nidavellir, and I didn’t want to involve you
in this. Mordred is a king now. Tommy and the others all have their
hands full making sure humanity and the rest of us stay friends.
Judgement is off in the realms hunting. Layla, Chloe, Piper and the
like are all trying to balance having a life with having spent their
twenties at war. Remy was one of the few I trust, and also knew
about Merlin and Arthur. He’d be able to see if either of their past
bullshit was responsible. More importantly, he was one of the few I
knew who wouldn’t say no. He worked for Avalon under Merlin’s
rule, and he’s always looking for ways to make amends in his own
head.”
 I sighed. “He still could have said no.”
“And we both know he wouldn’t.”
“You used that to recruit him.”
“I don’t know,” Morgan told me. “I definitely would have if it
wasn’t Remy. But I’m scared that subconsciously I manipulated him.”
I laughed. “Remy? You think you manipulated Remy? No one
on Earth or the realms can tell him what to do. He fought people
who considered themselves gods, and he did it with little more than
a sword, a gun, and an attitude that was designed to piss off people
more powerful than him. Remy does what Remy wants to do, and
that’s always been his way. So, let’s find him.”
Morgan stared at me for a moment again. “I never found my
place after the war. I wasn’t there when you killed Arthur, or when
Merlin died, or when their empire fell. I was in realms far apart from
there, fighting those dirty little fights that needed to be done.
Making sure Avalon’s darkness didn’t spread through the realms.
Sometimes I feel like I’m still fighting a war from which I never got
closure. I wanted answers. I wanted to know why Merlin did all of it.
Why he aligned with a monster. With monsters.”
“Because he was power mad,” I said. “That’s all it ever was
with Merlin. Who could give him the most power. I think in the
beginning he probably had good intentions but at the end of the day,
he willingly allowed his son to be tortured and broken by
psychopaths. He might not have known what was going to happen
until it was too late, but he stood by Arthur even after he found out.
Everything following that was a fast spiral downhill. There’s no
answers to his behaviour that will make things better. He made his
choice and he chose poorly.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t lay awake at night trying to figure out
if there was anything I could do to stop all of it before it happened,”
Morgan said. “I could have killed Arthur. Back when we were young.
Could have snuck into his bedroom and slit his throat at night.
Problem solved.”
I got to my feet. “We both know that’s not true. You’d have
been killed. Besides, none of us knew that Arthur was a monster
until it was far, far too late. We didn’t even know that Merlin was a
monster. We all just thought he was an arsehole. Don’t beat yourself
up over it. Let’s find Remy and your people, and punch those who
took them in the face.”
“That will make me feel better,” Morgan said.
“And if it helps, wherever Remy is, you know he’s making
someone’s life difficult.”
 CHAPTER FOUR
Remy

Remy sat in his cell feeling quite happy about his current
predicament. He was in a cell, true. He was in a dungeon
somewhere. Also true. Had no way of knowing where that
somewhere actually was. Not specifically, anyway. Yet, he had
people bring him food, water, and he had the company of the
reporter Eric, who, after his initial spiralling period settled into being
the perfect dungeon mate. The man was quiet, easy to talk to, and
didn’t hate people who weren’t human.
He worked for World News, of which Remy wasn’t personally
a fan except to use as a make-shift birdcage liner, and even then,
he’d be concerned about what the bullshit on the page did to the
birds. Even so, Remy didn’t hold it against the young man. Eric had
enough problems apart from working for a far-right shit heap of a
newspaper, and Remy didn’t feel like adding to them.
He’d been in the cell for, at his best guess, four days now. It
was hard to be exact without a window but the lights were dimmed
once a day, and Remy figured his captors would stick to the usual
day times.
Speaking of his captors, they were a weird bunch. They all
wore masks of deer or badgers, or that one who wore a red-fox
mask. Red and black robes were the order of the day. It was pretty
obvious they were a cult. Remy had seen more than his fair share of
them over the centuries, but at least this cult were polite. Except for
two. One wore a black cat mask, although it looked more like a large
panther-type cat than a domesticated one. Remy was sure they were
male, just from their scent. They said mocking things, hit the cell
bars with a metal bar of their own. They prodded Remy with said
bar, or knocked his food out of his hands as he ate. Remy did not
care for that one.
The other was the fox. This one never spoke, just stood back
and watched the others. There was something unnerving about
them. They were… unscented. In Remy’s long experience, nothing
good had no scent.
He found it weird that he’d been left in his rune-scribed black-
leather armour, but it was that or go naked, so maybe they just
thought it better to not start undressing their captives.
“You awake?” Eric asked.
Remy opened his eyes, let out a breath and sat up. “What’s
up, Eric?”
“Why do you always sound so cheerful?” Eric sounded like
someone had just told him he had to find a proper job that would
make people proud.
“It’s a new day, Eric,” Remy said. “And with a new day comes
fresh opportunities.”
“We’re in a dungeon.”
“Yes, but there are still opportunities,” Remy said. “Take, for
example, the man who is about to enter our little home.”
Keys jingled outside of the dungeon, and the large wooden
door was pushed open with a loud creek.
“Mealtime,” the man in a deer mask said, pushing a cart over
the uneven stone floor, making quite the racket in the process.
Remy smelled the porridge, the toast, the tea, and hoped
they’d brought the jam he’d asked for. It turned out these people
had never really kidnapped before, and Remy got the distinct
impression now that they had, they weren’t really sure what to do
next.
“Good morning,” the man said, pushing a wooden tray under
the bars of the cell.
Remy picked the tray up and placed it on his bed. There was
a bowl of porridge, four slices of toast, a little butter, some tea,
sugar, bottle of water, and a small pot of cherry jam.
“Thank you,” Remy said to the deer man. “I appreciate it.”
 “They’re our kidnappers,” Eric said, clearly frustrated with the
whole thing.
“Yes, but they have done nothing to hurt us,” Remy said.
“They killed people,” Eric shouted.
“Technically, we didn’t,” the deer man countered quickly.
“We’ve never killed anyone, it was—”
“That’s enough,” a voice boomed, and two more people
entered the dungeon.
The first was a woman wearing a badger mask. “Good
morning,” she said, revealing that it hadn’t been her who had
spoken. She, like everyone in the masks, had a Welsh accent. “I’m
sorry about all of this, but we really are trying to figure out how to
proceed.”
“I won’t tell anyone about what happened here,” Eric said as
his tray was pushed into the cell.
“We both know that’s not true,” the badger woman said. “I
don’t begrudge you for trying, but you have to see it from our side.”
Eric launched himself at the bars of his cell, gripping them.
“I’m a reporter for fucks sake,” he shouted. “Someone is going to
miss me. Someone will know I’m here.”
“We’ll deal with that when it arises,” the badger woman said
sadly.
The deer man nodded to Remy, who made a similar gesture,
and watched as he pushed the cart out of the room. The badger
woman followed behind.
That left only the cat-masked man in the room – the person
who had spoken with the booming voice. He walked up to Eric, who
still had his hands around the bars, and Remy mentally hoped that
Eric would move them.
The man moved much quicker than even Remy had
anticipated, smashing his metal bar against one of Eric’s hands.
The reporter dropped to his knees and screamed in pain as
the cat man laughed and watched.
“Sadist,” Remy said softly.
The cat man’s attention snapped toward Remy. “You say
something, you little freak?”
 “You’re dressed up like a cat,” Remy said while sipping his still
hot tea. “I’m not one to kink shame or anything, but…”
The cat man stood in front of Remy’s cell door as two more
people, both in deer masks, ran into the room, opening Eric’s door to
tend to his quite probably broken fingers.
“You didn’t need to do that,” one of the deer-mask wearers
said.
“Fuck you,” the cat man snapped, not looking away from
Remy, who continued to drink his tea. “Do you know what this robe
means?” the cat man asked, motioning to his black robe.
Remy shrugged. “That you like to hide in the shadows and
sulk?”
“You broke my hand,” Eric shouted as he was gently sat back
on his bed while being attended to.
“You’ll just have to learn to write with the other one.” The cat
man laughed at his own joke. “Hey, little fox fucker. What are you
anyway?”
Remy finished his tea and placed the cup back on the tray
before getting off his bed and standing just beyond the cell door. He
looked up at the cat man’s mask. The man was at least three feet
taller than Remy and outweighed him by a whole adult person. He
had tattoos on the backs of his bare forearms – a sun on one, moon
on the other. They were, in Remy’s estimation, terrible.
“Did you get someone blind to do those tattoos?” Remy
asked. “Or did the tattooist just not like you?”
The man smashed his bar against the cell door. “The fuck you
say, little fox?”
“My name is Remy Roux,” Remy told him. “You know, when I
was a young man, before I became the bundle of awesomeness you
see now, I lived in France. My father was a rich arsehole who liked
nothing better than to bully people. Anyway, he’s dead. He died
hard. He deserved it, of course, but even so. I think the moral to my
story is that it doesn’t cost you anything to be nice, but it costs a lot
to be an arsehole to people who can’t defend themselves.”
The cat man stared at Remy for a moment before bursting
into laughter. “You are a funny little fox. I think when all this is done,
I may keep you as a pet. I’ll put a nice pretty dress on you and
parade you in front of friends at social gatherings. How’d you like
that?”
“I like red,” Remy said. “No frills, it makes me look frumpy.”
Someone in the cell beside Remy’s sniggered before catching
themselves, and Remy was sure it wasn’t Eric.
“That funny?” the cat man asked. “You a funny little fox?”
Remy raised his hands. “I have my moments. I mean, I’m not
a fully grown man playing dress up as a cat, but we don’t all get to
do what we love.”
The man slammed the bar against the cell door again.
“You know, you have the key,” Remy said. “You could just
open the door and come in. Maybe teach me a lesson.”
“You’d like that,” the cat man said.
Remy winked at him. “The question is, would you like that?”
The man reached through the bars to get to Remy, who
moved quickly, grabbing the man’s hand, and snapping his thumb
like a twig.
The man screamed, and tried to pull his arm out, but Remy
pushed it up against the bars on his side. He sank his teeth into the
three fingers starting with the little one. Remy might be small, but
he had a powerful bite, and with one crunch, the man’s three fingers
came away in Remy’s mouth.
Remy released the screaming man’s hand, and stepped back,
spitting the fingers through the bars of the cell as blood poured out
of the man’s hand. The two masked kidnappers ran out of Eric’s cell
and helped the cat man, with one of them gathering the fingers
from the floor.
“Guess you’ll have to learn to wank with the other hand,”
Remy said as the cat-masked man was led from the cells.
The remaining kidnapper looked up at Remy, who grinned,
showing his blood-covered maw to the clearly terrified human. The
deer-masked man clutched the three bloodied fingers, and hurried
out of the room.
“How’s the hand?” Remy asked as he watched the door close
behind the fleeing kidnappers.
 “They injected it with pain relief,” Eric said through gritted
teeth. “Hurts like hell. They’ve wrapped the broken finger with the
one beside it. You… you bit his fingers off.”
“I did,” Remy said. “Broke his thumb too.”
“You think they’ll come back and get revenge?” Eric asked,
wincing as he moved his hand.
“I don’t much care,” Remy said, revealing the set of keys he’d
pickpocketed from the cat man. “I think we’re going to get out of
these cells.”
“And run?” Eric asked.
Remy looked over at the human in the cell beside him. “Now,
why ever would we do that?”
“You want to stay?” Eric’s voice held nothing but shock at the
mere idea of not running as far and fast as possible.
“They have my stuff,” Remy told him, reaching through the
cell, and going through each key on the set until he found the right
one. He pushed the cell door open, stopped, went back to his bed,
and used the bottle of water to wash his face and rinse the blood
out of his mouth. He put the jam on his toast and took a bite before
leaving his cell and opening Eric’s.
“You coming?” Remy asked.
“You don’t want to leave,” Eric said, cradling his hand against
his chest as he got to his feet. “You want your stuff. You can get
new stuff.”
“You misunderstood,” Remy said. “They have my stuff and I’m
going to get it back. My things are important to me.”
“More important than being alive?” Eric asked, still not having
stepped over the threshold of his cell. “They grabbed you once, they
could do it again.”
“I was unprepared before,” Remy said. “And whatever
grabbed me was not one of those masked idiots. It was something
else. Something a lot more dangerous.”
“And you want to stay for it to come back,” Eric asked.
Remy sighed; he was getting a little fed up. “Eric, if you want
to run, run. Flee into wherever the fuck we are and run right into
more trouble. Me, I’m going to find my gear, find out where we are,
find out what’s going on, and then I’m going to kill anyone who gets
in my way. Or, at the very least, make them wish I’d killed them.
Probably not the badger lady, or the deer guy who brought me tea.
They were nice.”
“They kidnapped us,” Eric said.
“This isn’t being kidnapped,” Remy said. “This is fucking
amateur hour in kidnapping terms. No one has beaten me or tried to
remove my nails with a pair of pliers. No one has even tried to tear
out my teeth. It’s like they have no clue what they’re doing.”
Eric’s eyes widened in horror.
“One time, I was hooked up to a car battery,” Remy said
almost wistfully. “Now they knew how to torture people. These guys
are just people who seem out of their depth. Except the cat and fox.
The cat likes hurting people, and the fox is… wrong. I plan on
finding out why. You came for a news story, why don’t you stay and
get one.”
“I won’t be much help with fighting,” Eric said, finally taking a
step out of the cell.
Remy’s smile broadened. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. I’m
perfectly happy hurting everyone for both of us.”
Another random document with
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 behind the vent; adipose fin none; anal fin moderately long; caudal
subtruncated. Pseudobranchiæ none.
This singular genus, one of the “Challenger” discoveries, is
known from four examples, obtained at depths varying between
1600 and 2150 fathoms, off the coast of Brazil, near Tristan
d’Acunha and north of Celebes. All belong to one species, I. murrayi.
The eye seems to have lost its function of vision and assumed that
of producing light. The specimens are from 4 to 5½ inches long.
Paralepis.—Head and body elongate, compressed, covered with
deciduous scales. Cleft of the mouth very wide; maxillary developed,
closely adherent to the intermaxillary. Teeth in a single series, unequal
in size. Eye large. Ventrals small, inserted opposite or nearly opposite
the dorsal. Dorsal fin short, on the hinder part of the body; adipose fin
small; anal elongate, occupying the end of the tail; caudal emarginate.
Three species; small pelagic fishes from the Mediterranean and
Atlantic.—Sudis, from the Mediterranean, has a dentition slightly
different from that of Paralepis.
Plagyodus.—Body elongate, compressed, scaleless; snout much
produced, with very wide cleft of the mouth. Intermaxillary very long
and slender; maxillary thin, immovable. Teeth in the jaws and of the
palate very unequal in size, the majority pointed and sharp, some very
large and lanceolate. Eye large. Pectoral and ventral fins well
developed; the rayed dorsal fin occupies the whole length of the back
from the occiput to opposite the anal fin; adipose and anal fins of
moderate size. Caudal forked. Branchiostegals six or seven.
 Fig. 270.—Plagyodus ferox.
This is one of the largest and most formidable deep-sea fishes.
One species only is well known, P. ferox, from Madeira and the sea
off Tasmania; other species have been noticed from Cuba and the
North Pacific, but it is not evident in what respects they differ
specifically from P. ferox. This fish grows to a length of six feet, and
from the stomach of one example have been taken several
Octopods, Crustaceans, Ascidians, a young Brama, twelve young
Boar-fishes, a Horse-mackerel, and one young of its own species.
The stomach is coecal; the commencement of the intestine has
extremely thick walls, its inner surface being cellular, like the lung of
a reptile; a pyloric appendage is absent. All the bones are extremely
thin, light, and flexible, containing very little earthy matter; singular is
the development of a system of abdominal ribs, symmetrically
arranged on both sides, and extending the whole length of the
abdomen. Perfect specimens are rarely obtained on account of the
want of coherence of the muscular and osseous parts, caused by the
diminution of pressure when the fish reaches the surface of the
water. The exact depth at which Plagyodus lives is not known;
probably it never rises above a depth of 300 fathoms.
 The other less important genera belonging to this family are
Aulopus, Chlorophthalmus, Scopelosaurus, Odontostomus, and
Nannobrachium.

Fig. 271.—Pharyngeal bones and teeth of the

Bream, Abramis brama.

Third Family—Cyprinidæ.
Body generally covered with scales; head naked. Margin of the
upper jaw formed by the intermaxillaries. Belly rounded, or, if
trenchant, without ossifications. No adipose fin. Stomach without
blind sac. Pyloric appendages none. Mouth toothless; lower
pharyngeal bones well developed, falciform, sub-parallel to the
branchial arches, provided with teeth, which are arranged in one,
two, or three series. Air-bladder large, divided into an anterior and
posterior portion by a constriction, or into a right or left portion,
enclosed in an osseous capsule. Ovarian sacs closed.
The family of “Carps” is the one most numerously represented in
the fresh waters of the Old World and of North America. Also
numerous fossil remains are found in tertiary freshwater-formations,
as in the limestones of Oeningen and Steinheim, in the lignites of
Bonn, Stöchen, Bilin, and Ménat, in the marl slates and
carbonaceous shales of Licata in Sicily, and of Padang in Sumatra,
in corresponding deposits of Idaho in North America. The majority
can be referred to existing genera: Barbus, Thynnichthys, Gobio,
Leuciscus, Tinca, Amblypharyngodon, Rhodeus, Cobitis,
Acanthopsis, only a few showing characters different from those of
living genera: Cyclurus, Hexapsephus, Mylocyprinus (tertiary of
North America).
Most Carps feed on vegetable and animal substances; a few only
are exclusive vegetable feeders. There is much less diversity of form
and habits in this family than in the Siluroids; however, the genera
are sufficiently numerous to demand a further subdivision of the
family into groups.
I. Catostomina.—Pharyngeal teeth in a single series,
exceedingly numerous and closely set. Dorsal fin elongate, opposite
to the ventrals; anal short, or of moderate length. Barbels none.
These fishes are abundant in the lakes and rivers of North
America, more than thirty species having been described, and many
more named, by American ichthyologists. Two species are known
from North-Eastern Asia. They are generally called “Suckers,” but
their vernacular nomenclature is very arbitrary and confused. Some
of the species which inhabit the large rivers and lakes grow to a
length of three feet and a weight of fifteen pounds. The following
genera may be distinguished:—Catostomus, “Suckers,” “Red-
horses,” “Stone-rollers,” “White Mullets;” Moxostoma; Sclerognathus,
“Buffaloes,” “Black Horses;” and Carpiodes, “Spear-fish,” “Sail-fish.”
II. Cyprinina.—Anal fin very short, with not more than five or six,
exceptionally seven, branched rays. Dorsal fin opposite ventrals.
Abdomen not compressed. Lateral line running along the median line
of the tail. Mouth frequently with barbels, never more than four in
number. Pharyngeal teeth generally in a triple series in the Old World
genera; in a double or single series in the North American forms,
which are small and feebly developed. Air-bladder present, without
osseous covering.
Cyprinus.—Scales large. Dorsal fin long, with a more or less
strong serrated osseous ray; anal short. Snout rounded, obtuse,
mouth anterior, rather narrow. Pharyngeal teeth, 3. 1. 1.-1. 1. 3, molar-
like. Barbels four.
 Fig. 272.—The Carp, Cyprinus carpio.
The “Carp” (C. carpio, “Karpfen,” “La carpe,”) is originally a native
of the East, and abounds in a wild state in China, where it has been
domesticated for many centuries; thence it was transported to
Germany and Sweden, and the year 1614 is assigned as the date of
its first introduction into England. It delights in tranquil waters,
preferring such as have a muddy bottom, and the surface partially
shaded with plants. Its food consists of the larvæ of aquatic insects,
minute testacea, worms, and the tender blades and shoots of plants.
The leaves of lettuce, and other succulent plants of a similar kind,
are said to be particularly agreeable to them, and to fatten them
sooner than any other food. Although the Carp eats with great
voracity when its supply of aliment is abundant, it can subsist for an
astonishing length of time without nourishment. In the winter, when
the Carps assemble in great numbers, and bury themselves among
the mud and the roots of plants, they often remain for many months
without eating. They can also be preserved alive for a considerable
length of time out of the water, especially if care be taken to moisten
them occasionally as they become dry. Advantage is often taken of
this circumstance to transport them alive, by packing them among
damp herbage or damp linen; and the operation is said to be
unattended with any risk to the animal, especially if the precaution be
taken to put a piece of bread in its mouth steeped in brandy!
The fecundity of these fishes is very great, and their numbers
consequently would soon become excessive but for the many
enemies by which their spawn is destroyed. No fewer than 700,000
eggs have been found in the ovaries of a single Carp, and that, too,
by no means an individual of the largest size. Their growth is very
rapid, more so perhaps than that of any other Freshwater fish, and
the size which they sometimes attain is very considerable. In certain
lakes in Germany individuals are occasionally taken weighing thirty
or forty pounds; and Pallas relates that they occur in the Volga five
feet in length, and even of greater weight than the examples just
alluded to. The largest of which we have any account is that
mentioned by Bloch, taken near Frankfort-on-the-Oder, which
weighed seventy pounds, and measured nearly nine feet in length,—
a statement the accuracy of which is very much open to doubt.
Like other domesticated animals the Carp is subject to variation;
some individuals, especially when they have been bred under
unfavourable circumstances, have a lean and low body; others are
shorter and higher. Some have lost every trace of scales, and are
called “Leather-carps;” others retain them along the lateral line and
on the back only (“Spiegelkarpfen” of the Germans). Finally, in some
are the fins much prolonged, as in certain varieties of the Gold-fish.
Cross-breeds between the Carp and the Crucian Carp are of
common occurrence. The Carp is much more esteemed as food in
inland countries than in countries where the more delicate kinds of
sea fishes can be obtained.
Carassius differs from Cyprinus in lacking barbels; its pharyngeal
teeth are compressed, in a single series, 4–4.
Two well-known species belong to this genus. The “Crucian
Carp” (C. carassius, “Karausche”) is generally distributed over
Central and Northern Europe, and extends into Italy and Siberia. It
inhabits stagnant waters only, and is so tenacious of life that it will
survive a lengthened sojourn in the smallest pools, where, however,
it remains stunted; whilst in favourable localities it attains to a length
of twelve inches. It is much subject to variation of form; very lean
examples are commonly called “Prussian Carps.” Its usefulness
consists in keeping ponds clean from a super-abundance of
vegetable growth, and in serving as food for other more esteemed
fishes. The second species is the “Gold-fish,” Carassius auratus. It is
of very common occurrence in a wild state in China and the warmer
parts of Japan, being entirely similar in colour to the Crucian Carp. In
a domesticated state it loses the black or brown chromatophors, and
becomes of a golden-yellow colour; perfect Albinos are
comparatively scarcer. Many varieties and monstrosities have been
produced during the long period of its domestication; the variety
most highly priced at present being the so-called “Telescope-fish,” of
which a figure is annexed. The Gold-fish is said to have been first
brought to England in the year 1691, and is now distributed over
nearly all the civilised parts of the world.

Fig. 273.—Cyprinus auratus, var.

Catla.—Scales of moderate size. Dorsal fin without osseous ray,
with more than nine branched rays, commencing nearly opposite to
the ventrals. Snout broad, with the integuments very thin; there is no
upper lip, the lower with a free continuous posterior margin.
Symphysis of the mandibulary bones loose, with prominent tubercles.
 Mouth anterior. Barbels none. Gill-rakers very long, fine, and closely
set. Pharyngeal teeth, 5. 3. 2.-2. 3. 5.
The “Catla” (C. buchanani), one of the largest Carps of the
Ganges, growing to a length of more than three feet, and esteemed
as food.
Labeo.—Scales of moderate or small size. Dorsal fin without
osseous ray, with more than nine branched rays, commencing
somewhat in advance of the ventrals. Snout obtusely rounded, the
skin of the maxillary region being more or less thickened, forming a
projection beyond the mouth. Mouth transverse, inferior, with the lips
thickened, each or one of them being provided with an inner
transverse fold, which is covered with a deciduous horny substance
forming a sharp edge, which, however, does not rest upon the bone
as base, but is soft and movable. Barbels very small, two or four; the
maxillary barbels more or less hidden in a groove behind the angle of
the mouth. Anal scales not enlarged. Pharyngeal teeth uncinate, 5. 4.
2.-2. 4. 5. Snout generally more or less covered with hollow tubercles.

About thirteen species are known from rivers of tropical Africa

and the East Indies.
Discognathus.—Scales of moderate size. Dorsal fin without
osseous ray, with not more than nine branched rays, commencing
somewhat in advance of the ventrals. Snout obtusely rounded, more
or less depressed, projecting beyond the mouth, more or less
tubercular. Mouth inferior, transverse, crescent-shaped; lips broad,
continuous, with an inner sharp edge of the jaws, covered with horny
substance on the lower jaw; upper lip more or less distinctly fringed;
lower lip modified into a suctorial disk, with free anterior and posterior
margins. Barbels two or four; if two, the upper are absent. Anal scales
not enlarged. Pectoral fins horizontal. Pharyngeal teeth, 5. 4. 2.-2. 4.
5.

A small fish (D. lamta), extremely abundant in almost all the

mountain streams from Abyssinia and Syria to Assam.
Capoëta.—Scales small, of moderate or large size. Dorsal fin with
or without a strong osseous ray, with not more than nine branched
rays. Snout rounded, with the mouth transverse and at its lower side;
each mandible angularly bent inwards in front, the anterior mandibular
edge being nearly straight, sharpish, and covered with a horny brown
layer. No lower labial fold. Barbels two (rarely four), or entirely absent.
 Anal scales not conspicuously enlarged. Pharyngeal teeth
compressed, truncated, 5 or 4. 3. 2–2. 3. 4 or 5.
Characteristic of the fauna of Western Asia; one species from
Abyssinia. Of the fifteen species known C. damascina deserves to
be specially mentioned, being abundant in the Jordan and other
rivers of Syria and Asia Minor.
Barbus.—Scales of small, moderate, or large size. Dorsal fin
generally with the (third) longest simple ray ossified, enlarged, and
frequently serrated; never, or only exceptionally, with more than nine
branched rays, commencing opposite or nearly opposite to the root of
the ventral fin. Eyes without adipose eyelid. Anal fin frequently very
high. Mouth arched, without inner folds, inferior or anterior; lips without
horny covering. Barbels short, four, two, or none. Anal scales not
enlarged. Pharyngeal teeth 5. 4 or 3. 3 or 2.-2 or 3. 3 or 4. 5. Snout
but rarely with tubercles or pore-like grooves.
No other genus of Cyprinoids is composed of so many species as
the genus of “Barbels,” about 200 being known from the tropical and
temperate parts of the Old World; it is not represented in the New
World. Although the species differ much from each other in the form
of the body, number of barbels, size of the scales, strength of the
first dorsal ray or spine, etc., the transition between the extreme
forms is so perfect that no further generic subdivision should be
attempted. Some attain a length of six feet, whilst others never
exceed a length of two inches. The most noteworthy are the large
Barbels of the Tigris (B. subquincunciatus, B. esocinus, B. scheich,
B. sharpeyi); the common Barbel of Central Europe and Great Britain
(B. vulgaris); the “Bynni” of the Nile (B. bynni); B. canis from the
Jordan; the “Mahaseer” of the mountain streams of India (B. mosal),
probably the largest of all species, the scales of which are
sometimes as large as the palm of a hand. The small, large-scaled
species are especially numerous in the East Indies and the fresh
waters of Tropical Africa.
Thynnichthys.—Scales small. Dorsal fin without an osseous ray,
with not more than nine branched rays, commencing nearly opposite
the ventrals. Head large, strongly compressed; eye without well-
developed adipose membrane, in the middle of the depth of the head.
Snout with the integuments very thin; there is no upper lip, and the
lower jaw has a thin labial fold on the sides only. Mouth anterior and
lateral; barbels none. Gill-rakers none; laminæ branchiales long, half
as long as the post-orbital portion of the head; pseudobranchiæ none.
Pharyngeal teeth lamelliform, with flat oblong crown, 5. 3 or 4. 2–2. 4
or 3. 5, the teeth of the three series being wedged into one another.
Three species from the East Indies.
Oreinus.—Scales very small. Dorsal fin with a strong osseous
serrated ray, opposite to the ventrals. Snout rounded, with the mouth
transverse, and at its lower side; mandibles broad, short, and flat,
loosely joined together; margin of the jaw covered with a thick horny
layer; a broad fringe-like lower lip, with free posterior margin. Barbels
four. Vent and anal fin in a sheath, covered with enlarged tiled scales.
Pharyngeal teeth pointed, more or less hooked, 5. 3. 2–2. 3. 5.
Three species from mountain streams of the Himalayas.
 Schizothorax.—Hill-barbels, with the same singular sheath on
each side of the vent, as in the preceding genus; but they differ in
having the mouth normally formed, with mandibles of the usual length
and width.

Seventeen species are known from fresh waters of the

Himalayas, and north of them. Other genera from the same region,
and with the anal sheath, are Ptychobarbus, Gymnocypris,
Schizopygopsis, and Diptychus.
Gobio.—Scales of moderate size; lateral line present. Dorsal fin
short, without spine. Mouth inferior; mandible not projecting beyond
the upper jaw when the mouth is open; both jaws with simple lips; a
small but very distinct barbel at the angle of the mouth, quite at the
extremity of the maxillary. Gill-rakers very short; pseudobranchiæ.
Pharyngeal teeth, 5. 3 or 2.—2 or 3. 5, hooked at the end.

The “Gudgeons” are small fishes of clear fresh waters of Europe;

they are, like the barbels, animal feeders. In Eastern Asia they are
represented by two closely allied genera, Ladislavia and
Pseudogobio.
Ceratichthys.—Scales of moderate or small size; lateral line
present. Dorsal fin short, without spine, not or but slightly in advance
of the ventrals. Mouth subinferior; the lower jaw does not project
beyond the upper when the mouth is open; intermaxillaries protractile
from below the maxillaries; both jaws with thickish lips; a small barbel
at the angle of the mouth, quite at the extremity of the maxillary. Gill-
rakers very short and few in number: pseudobranchiæ. Pharyngeal
teeth 4–4. hooked at the end (sometimes 4, 1—1. 4).

About ten species are known from North America; they are small,
and called “Chub” in the United States. C. biguttatus is, perhaps, the
most widely-diffused Freshwater-fish in the United States, and
common everywhere. Breeding males have generally a red spot on
each side of the head.
Other similar genera from the fresh waters of North America, and
generally called “Minnows,” are Pimephales (the “Black Head”),
Hyborhynchus, Hybognathus, Campostoma (the “Stone-lugger”),
Ericymba, Cochlognathus, Exoglossum (the “Stone Toter” or “Cut-
lips”), and Rhinichthys (the “Long-nosed Dace”).
 The remaining Old World genera belonging to the group
Cyprinina are Cirrhina, Dangila, Osteochilus, Barynotus,
Tylognathus, Abrostomus, Crossochilus, Epalzeorhynchus,
Barbichthys, Amblyrhynchichthys, Albulichthys, Aulopyge, Bungia,
and Pseudorasbora.
III. Rohteichthyina.—Anal fin very short, with not more than six
branched rays. Dorsal fin behind ventrals. Abdomen compressed.
Lateral line running along the median line of the tail. Mouth without
barbels. Pharyngeal teeth in a triple series.
One genus and species only, Rohteichthys microlepis, from
Borneo and Sumatra.
IV. Leptobarbina.—Anal fin very short, with not more than six
branched rays. Dorsal fin opposite to ventrals. Abdomen not
compressed. Lateral line running in the lower half of the tail. Barbels
present, not more than four in number. Pharyngeal teeth in a triple
series.
One genus and species only, Leptobarbus hoevenii, from Borneo
and Sumatra.
V. Rasborina.—Anal fin very short, with not more than six
branched rays. Dorsal fin inserted behind the origin of the ventrals.
Abdomen not compressed. Lateral line running along the lower half
of the tail, if complete. Mouth sometimes with barbels, which are
nevermore than four in number. Pharyngeal teeth in a triple, or single
series. Air-bladder present, without osseous covering.
Rasbora.—Scales large, or of moderate size, there being
generally four and a half longitudinal series of scales between the
origin of the dorsal fin and the lateral line, and one between the lateral
line and the ventral. Lateral line curved downwards. Dorsal fin with
seven or eight branched rays, not extending to above the anal, which
is seven-rayed. Mouth of moderate width, extending to the front
margin of the orbit, with the lower jaw slightly prominent, and provided
with three prominences in front, fitting into grooves of the upper jaw;
barbels none, in one species two. Gill-rakers short, lanceolate.
Pseudobranchiæ. Pharyngeal teeth in three series, uncinate.
 Thirteen species of small size from the East Indian Continent and
Archipelago, and from rivers on the east coast of Africa.
Amblypharyngodon.—Scales small; lateral line incomplete.
Dorsal fin without an osseous ray, with not more than nine branched
rays, commencing a little behind the origin of the ventrals. Head of
moderate size, strongly compressed; eye without adipose membrane;
snout with the integuments very thin; there is no upper lip, and the
lower jaw has a short labial fold on the sides only. Mouth anterior,
somewhat directed upwards, with the lower jaw prominent. Barbels
none. Gill-rakers extremely short; pseudobranchiæ. Pharyngeal teeth
molar-like, with their crowns concave, 3. 2. 1.—1. 2. 3. Intestinal tract
narrow, with numerous convolutions.
Three species of small size from the Continent of India.
To the same group belong Luciosoma, Nuria, and Aphyocypris,
from the same geographical region.
VI. Semiplotina.—Anal fin short, with seven branched rays, not
extending forwards to below the dorsal. Dorsal fin elongate, with an
osseous ray. Lateral line running along the middle of the tail. Mouth
sometimes with barbels.
Two genera: Cyprinion, from Syria and Persia, and Semiplotus
from Assam.
VII. Xenocypridina.—Anal fin rather short, with seven or more
branched rays, not extending forwards to below the dorsal fin. Dorsal
short, with an osseous ray. Lateral line running along the middle of
the tail. Mouth sometimes with barbels. Pharyngeal teeth in a triple
or double series.
Three genera: Xenocypris and Paracanthobrama from China;
and Mystacoleucus from Sumatra.
VIII. Leuciscina.—Anal fin short or of moderate length, with from
eight to eleven branched rays, not extending forwards to below the
dorsal. Dorsal fin short, without osseous ray. Lateral line, if complete,
running along, or nearly in, the middle of the tail. Mouth generally
without barbels. Pharyngeal teeth in a single or double series.
Leuciscus.—Body covered with imbricate scales. Dorsal fin
commencing opposite, rarely behind, the ventrals. Anal fin generally
 with from nine to eleven, rarely with eight (in small species only), and
still more rarely with fourteen rays. Mouth without structural
peculiarities; lower jaw not trenchant; barbels none. Pseudobranchiæ.
Pharyngeal teeth conical or compressed, in a single or double series.
Intestinal tract short, with only a few convolutions.
The numerous species of this genus are comprised under the
name of “White-fish;” they are equally abundant in the northern
temperate zone of both hemispheres, about forty species being
known from the Old World, and about fifty from the New. The most
noteworthy species of the former Fauna are the “Roach” (L. rutilus,
see Fig. 21, p. 50), common all over Europe north of the Alps; the
“Chub” (L. cephalus), extending into Northern Italy and Asia Minor;
the “Dace” (L. leuciscus), a companion of the Roach; the “Id” or
“Nerfling” (L. idus), from the central and northern parts of Continental
Europe, domesticated in some localities of Germany, in this condition
assuming the golden hue of semi-albinism, like a Gold-fish, and then
called the “Orfe;” the “Rudd,” or “Red-eye” (L. erythrophthalmus),
distributed all over Europe and Asia Minor, and distinguished by its
scarlet lower fins; the “Minnow” (L. phoxinus), abundant everywhere
in Europe, and growing to a length of seven inches in favourable
localities. The North American species are much less perfectly
known; the smaller ones are termed “Minnows,” the larger “Shiner”
or “Dace.” The most common are L. cornutus (Red-fin, Red Dace); L.
neogæus, a minnow resembling the European species, but with
incomplete lateral line; L. hudsonius, the “Spawn-eater” or “Smelt.”
Tinca.—Scales small, deeply embedded in the thick skin; lateral
line complete. Dorsal fin short, its origin being opposite the ventral fin;
anal short; caudal subtruncated. Mouth anterior; jaws with the lips
moderately developed; a barbel at the angle of the mouth. Gill-rakers
short, lanceolate; pseudobranchiæ rudimentary. Pharyngeal teeth 4 or
5.-5, cuneiform, slightly hooked at the end.
 Fig. 274.—The Tench (Tinca tinca).
Only one species of “Tench” is known (T. tinca), found all over
Europe in stagnant waters with soft bottom. The “Golden Tench” is
only a variety of colour, an incipient albinism like the Gold-fish and
Id. Like most other Carps of this group it passes the winter in a state
of torpidity, during which it ceases to feed. It is extremely prolific,
297,000 ova having been counted in one female; its spawn is of a
greenish colour.
Leucosomus.—Scales of moderate or small size; lateral line
present. Dorsal fin commencing opposite, or nearly opposite, to the
ventral. Anal fin short. Mouth anterior or sub-anterior; intermaxillaries
protractile. A very small barbel at the extremity of the maxillary. Lower
jaw with rounded margin, and with the labial folds well developed
laterally. Gill-rakers short; pseudobranchiæ. Pharyngeal teeth in a
double series.
A North American genus, to which belong some of the most
common species of the United States. L. pulchellus (the “Fall-fish,”
“Dace,” or “Roach”), one of the largest White-fishes of the Eastern
States, attaining to a length of 18 inches, and abundant in the rapids
of the larger rivers. L. corporalis (the “Chub”), common everywhere
from New England to the Missouri region.
Chondrostoma.—Scales of moderate size or small. Lateral line
terminating in the median line of the depth of the tail. Dorsal fin with
 not more than nine branched rays, inserted above the root of the
ventrals. Anal fin rather elongate, with ten or more rays. Mouth
inferior, transverse, lower jaw with a cutting edge, covered with a
brown horny layer. Barbels none. Gill-rakers short, fine;
pseudobranchiæ. Pharyngeal teeth 5 or 6 or 7.-7 or 6 or 5, knife-
shaped, not denticulated. Peritoneum black.
Seven species from the Continent of Europe and Western Asia.
Other Old World genera belonging to the Leuciscina are
Myloleucus, Ctenopharyngodon, and Paraphoxinus; from North
America: Mylopharodon, Meda, Orthodon, and Acrochilus.
IX. Rhodeina.—Anal fin of moderate length, with from nine to
twelve branched rays, extending forwards to below the dorsal.
Dorsal fin short, or of moderate length. Lateral line, if complete,
running along or nearly in the middle of the tail. Mouth with very
small, or without any barbels. Pharyngeal teeth in a single series.
Very small roach-like fishes inhabiting chiefly Eastern Asia and
Japan, one species (Rh. amarus) advancing into Central Europe.
The thirteen species known have been distributed among four
genera, Achilognathus, Acanthorhodeus, Rhodeus, and
Pseudoperilampus. In the females a long external urogenital tube is
developed annually during the spawning season. The European
species is known in Germany by the name of “Bitterling.”
X. Danionina.—Anal fin of moderate length or elongate, with not
less, and generally more, than eight branched rays. Lateral line
running along the lower half of the tail. Mouth with small, or without
any, barbels. Abdomen not trenchant. Pharyngeal teeth in a triple or
double series.
Small fishes from the East Indian Continent, Ceylon, the East
Asiatic Islands, and a few from East African Rivers, The genera
belonging to this group are Danio, Pteropsarion, Aspidoparia,
Barilius, Bola, Scharca, Opsariichthys, Squaliobarbus, and
Ochetobus: altogether about forty species.
XI. Hypophthalmichthyina.—Anal fin elongate. Lateral line
running nearly along the median line of the tail. Mouth without
barbels. Abdomen not trenchant. No dorsal spine. Pharyngeal teeth
in a single series.
One genus (Hypophthalmichthys) with two species from China.
XII. Abramidina.—Anal fin elongate. Abdomen, or part of the
abdomen, compressed.

Fig. 275.—The Bream ( Abramis brama).

Abramis.—Body much compressed, elevated, or oblong. Scales of
moderate size. Lateral line present, running in the lower half of the tail.
Dorsal fin short, with spine, opposite to the space between ventrals
and anals. Lower jaw generally shorter, and rarely longer than the
upper. Both jaws with simple lips, the lower labial fold being
interrupted at the symphysis of the mandible. Upper jaw protractile.
Gill-rakers rather short; pseudobranchiæ. The attachment of the
branchial membrane to the isthmus takes place at some distance
behind the vertical from the orbit. Pharyngeal teeth in one or two
series, with a notch near the extremity. Belly behind the ventrals
compressed into an edge, the scales not extending across it.
The “Breams” are represented in the temperate parts of both
northern hemispheres; in Europe there occur the “Common Bream,”
A. brama; the “Zope,” A. ballerus; A. sapa; the “Zärthe,” A. vimba; A.
elongatus; the “White Bream,” A. blicca; A. bipunctatus. Of these A.
brama and A. blicca are British; the former being one of the most
common fishes, and sometimes attaining to a length of two feet.
Crosses between these two species, and even with other Cyprinoids,
are not rare. Of the American species A. americanus (“Shiner,”
“Bream”) is common and widely distributed; like the European Bream
it lives chiefly in stagnant waters or streams with a slow current.
Aspius.—Body oblong; scales of moderate size; lateral line
complete, terminating nearly in the middle of the depth of the tail.
Dorsal fin short, without spine, opposite to the space between the
ventrals and anal; anal fin elongate, with thirteen or more rays. Lower
jaw more or less conspicuously projecting beyond the upper. Lips thin,
simple, the lower labial fold being at the symphysis; upper jaw but little
protractile. Gill-rakers short and widely set; pseudobranchiæ. The
attachment of the branchial membrane to the isthmus takes place
below the hind margin of the orbit. Pharyngeal teeth hooked, 5. 3.-3 or
2. 5 or 4. Belly behind the ventrals compressed, the scales covering
the edge.
Four species from Eastern Europe to China.
Alburnus.—Body more or less elongate; scales of moderate size;
lateral line present, running below the median line of the tail. Dorsal fin
short, without spine, opposite to the space between ventrals and anal;
anal fin elongate, with more than thirteen rays. Lower jaw more or less
conspicuously projecting beyond the upper. Lips thin, simple, the
lower labial fold being interrupted at the symphysis of the mandible.
Upper jaw protractile. Gill-rakers slender, lanceolate, closely set;
pseudobranchiæ. The attachment of the branchial membrane to the
isthmus takes place below the hind margin of the orbit. Pharyngeal
teeth in two series, hooked. Belly behind the ventrals compressed into
an edge, the scales not extending across it.
“Bleak” are numerous in Europe and Western Asia, fifteen
species being known. The common Bleak (A. alburnus) is found
north of the Alps only, and represented by another species (A.
alburnellus, “Alborella,” or “Avola”) in Italy.
Of the other genera referred to this group, Leucaspius and
Pelecus belong to the European Fauna; Pelotrophus is East African;
all the others occur in the East Indies or the temperate parts of Asia,
viz. Rasborichthys, Elopichthys, Acanthobrama (Western Asia),
Osteobrama, Chanodichthys, Hemiculter, Smiliogaster, Toxabramis,
Culter, Eustira, Chela, Pseudolabuca, and Cachius.
 XIII. Homalopterina.—Dorsal and anal fins short, the former
opposite to ventrals. Pectoral and ventral fins horizontal, the former
with the outer rays simple. Barbels six or none. Air-bladder absent.
Pharyngeal teeth in a single series, from ten to sixteen in number.
Inhabitants of hill-streams in the East Indies; they are of small
size and abundant where they occur. Thirteen species are known
belonging to the genera Homaloptera, Gastromyzon, Crossostoma,
and Psilorhynchus.
XIV. Cobitidina.—Mouth surrounded by six or more barbels.
Dorsal fin short or of moderate length; anal fin short. Scales small,
rudimentary, or entirely absent. Pharyngeal teeth in a single series,
in moderate number. Air-bladder partly or entirely enclosed in a bony
capsule. Pseudobranchiæ none: Loaches.
Misgurnus.—Body elongate, compressed. No sub-orbital spine.
Ten or twelve barbels, four belonging to the mandible. Dorsal fin
opposite to the ventrals; caudal rounded.
Four species from Europe and Asia. M. fossilis is the largest of
European Loaches, growing to a length of ten inches; it occurs in
stagnant waters of eastern and southern Germany and northern
Asia. In China and Japan it is replaced by an equally large species,
M. anguillicaudatus.
Nemachilus.—No erectile sub-orbital spine. Six barbels, none at
the mandible. Dorsal fin opposite to the ventrals.
The greater number of Loaches belong to this genus; about fifty
species are known from Europe and temperate Asia; such species
as extend into tropical parts inhabit streams of high altitudes.
Loaches are partial to fast-running streams with stony bottom, and
exclusively animal feeders. In spite of their small size they are
esteemed as food where they occur in sufficient abundance. The
British species, N. barbatulus, is found all over Europe except
Denmark and Scandinavia.
Cobitis.—Body more or less compressed, elongate; back not
arched. A small, erectile, bifid sub-orbital spine below the eye. Six
barbels only on the upper jaw. Dorsal fin inserted opposite to ventrals.
Caudal rounded or truncate.
 Only three species are known, of which C. tænia occurs in
Europe. It is scarce and very local in Great Britain.
Botia.—Body compressed, oblong; back more or less arched.
Eyes with a free circular eyelid; an erectile bifid sub-orbital spine. Six
barbels on the upper jaw, sometimes two others at the mandibulary
symphysis. Dorsal fin commencing in advance of the root of the
ventrals; caudal fin forked. Air-bladder consisting of two divisions: the
anterior enclosed in a partly osseous capsule, the posterior free,
floating in the abdominal cavity.

Fig. 276.—Botia rostrata. From

Bengal.
This genus is more tropical than any of the preceding, and the
majority of the species (eight in number) are finely coloured. The
more elevated form of their body, and the imperfect ossification of
the capsules of the air-bladder, the divisions of which are not side by
side, but placed in the longitudinal axis of the body, indicate likewise
that this genus is more adapted for still waters of the plains than for
the currents of hill-streams.
Other genera from tropical India are Lepidocephalichthys,
Acanthopsis, Oreonectes (hills near Hong-Kong), Paramisgurnus
(Yan-tse-Kiang), Lepidocephalus, Acanthophthalmus, and Apua.

Fourth Family—Kneriidæ.
Body scaly, head naked. Margin of the upper jaw formed by the
intermaxillaries. Dorsal and anal fins short, the former belonging to
the abdominal portion of the vertebral column. Teeth none, either in
the mouth or pharynx. Barbels none. Stomach siphonal; no pyloric