Cross was the only one still on the main floor. The crowd was gone, and more White Spider sentries were on their way.
Cross moved to leap down, but his eyes caught on the Vuul, still down in the pit, silent and still.
“
Guys…” Cross said.
The Vuul stared back at him. Its muscles tensed, and its anvil-like fists clenched. Even with the chaos in the background Cross heard those steel-like bones tighten. The Vuul’s blank expression didn’t change, and his solid white eyes didn’t blink.
Cross had no doubt the Vuul could kill all four of them.
After a moment, however, the Vuul stepped back, and he nodded to the open door that led to the tunnels beneath the arena.
“
Let’s go,” Cristena said.
“
Wait…” Graves began, but Cristena was quick to cut him off.
“
You can stay here if you want,” she snapped. “I don’t care one way or another.”
Cross leapt down into the pit. He landed with less grace than usual, righted himself, and followed Cristena out of the arena. Graves and Stone were right behind them.
She led them into a dark and narrow network of subterranean passages, the underbelly of the White Spider. The air down below was cloying and tight, and it smelled of sweat, urine and fear. They heard the growl of the Spider’s sentries in the distance behind them.
Cristena guided them through a veritable labyrinth of short and claustrophobic tunnels that wound up and around. Side passages led to torch-lit rooms filled with weapons, chemicals and bodies; Cross guessed that serving narcotic drinks and staging violent pit brawls weren’t the only shady activities the proprietors of the White Spider were involved in.
Cross’ heart pounded as they raced through the tunnels, but after a few minutes he didn’t hear any sounds of pursuit. There was no telling how deep or how far they’d gone.
Finally, when the smell of sewage had grown so strong that Cross had to use smelling salts on himself to keep from getting sick, Cristena stopped.
They stood at a four-way intersection of greasy and slime-coated tunnels. Vents released gouts of superheated steam into the dank underground air, and a narrow stream of mucus, grime and muck slithered down the tunnel in a nauseating flow. Dank brown water oozed down from the ceiling like gritty rain. Thick sewer grates stood in the diagonal walls of the intersection, and an ancient and rusted iron ladder led straight up, where it vanished into darkness.
“
The ladder will lead you to the surface,” Cristena said. “So do me a favor and get out. You’ve done enough damage.”
“
Damage?” Graves said, exasperated. “Honey, we just saved your life.”
“
Thanks for nothing, then,” she bit back. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“
No, you didn’t,” Stone interjected. “But we’re asking for yours.”
Cristena laughed. She was exasperated, Cross thought, maybe surprised, and undoubtedly angry. With all of that, Cross was glad that all she did was laugh.
“
That’s a pretty funny way of asking for my help,” she said with a mean-spirited smile. “Of
course
I’ll help you! You busted in on my fight, started a mass panic, and you made it so that there’s no chance I’ll ever be able to talk my way back into the Spider ever again. I owe you SO much!” The smile faded. “I hope there’s something horrible waiting up there for you. I really do.”
Cristena stalked past them, back the way they’d came.
“
Why did you help us escape?” Cross asked her. He saw the spider in his mind, the white spider from the field on that day that he and Snow had visited their mother’s grave. The same spider he’d seen in Krugen’s, when he’d learned that Cristena’s husband was among those lost in the search for Red. The same spider that was the name of the place where they’d found Cristena.
I’m
supposed
to be here
, he thought.
That’s the deal with the spider, it has to be.
Cristena hesitated.
“
Because I know why you’re here,” she said. She still faced the other way. “And I want you to succeed.”
“
Then come with us,” Cross said. “We need your help.”
Cristena turned around, slowly, her boots sloshing in the muck.
“
I already told you,” she said quietly. “I’m not interested.”
“
Yeah,” Cross said. “I can see that. You’re busy trying to get yourself killed.”
“
Go to hell,” Cristena answered.
“
Look,” Cross said, and he stepped closer, leaving Stone and Graves so he could speak with her alone. “I get it. I really do. I’ve lost…everything…in the past few days. My spirit. My sister. My hope. But this
has
to be done. I don’t think I’m going to live through this.”
He hadn’t actually realized that until that very moment, and his insides coiled up like rope at having said it aloud, because he believed it.
Cristena regarded him stoically. She was strong, but he could see the strings that held her together coming unraveled. She was almost ready to die.
Almost.
“
If we have to die,” he said, “I want our deaths to mean something.”
Cristena smiled bitterly.
“
You’re such a romantic. I think I pity you.”
“
Look, enough, all right?!” Cross said. “Just cut the crap. We need your help. I’ve
needed
your help. Remember when I asked you to be our tracker back in Thornn? Well, my
sister
became our tracker instead, and now…she’s gone. We have no chance of finding Red unless someone helps us, and right now that someone has got to be you. Maybe you’ve given up on living, but there are a lot of people who haven’t. If you’re too selfish to see that…” Cross took a breath. “Then I don’t know what to tell you.”
They stood silent.
“
Nice speech,” Cristena said after a moment. “You do that a lot?”
“
No,” Cross smiled sadly. “I’m actually pretty impressed with myself right now.”
They waited. Stone and Graves looked on, silently. Cristena’s eyes focused on something only she could see there in the greasy waters.
“
Cross?” she said after a moment.
“
Yeah?”
“
Why did you try to save me? I would’ve been all right in that fight, you know. I could’ve taken him.”
Cross thought for a moment.
“
I know,” he said.
“
Then why?”
Cross hesitated.
“
A little spider told me to.”
“
I’m sorry?”
“
Don’t worry about it.”
“
So is she with us?” Stone asked from behind them.
“
She
is capable of answering for herself,” Cristena said coldly. “Thanks.”
“
This is our Squad leader, Abraham Stone,” Cross said. “That gnarly looking blonde fellow is Sam Graves. Gentlemen, this is Cristena…”
“
Da’avros,” she said.
“
Cristena Da’avros.”
“
Your new tracker,” she added.
“
Pleased to meet you,” Stone said. “And now we need to move. With what Captain Impulsive here just pulled,” Stone said with an eye on Cross, “we’ll need to exercise a bit more caution from here on out.”
“
A bit
more
caution?” Cristena said dryly. “Why don’t we start with
any
caution. Period.”
“
We’re cautious,” Graves said defensively.
“
No offense, but if what happened up there is your idea of being cautious…well…”
“
You can say it,” Stone smiled. “We’re dead.”
“
Yeah.”
FOURTEEN
PALE
Cristena quickly took charge, in part because she knew Dirge better than any of the rest of them, but also because she simply had an incredibly forceful personality. Besides having been competently trained in the arts of tracking and combat, Cristena was also a powerful witch. Unlike Cross, she’d never had any institutionalized magical training, but had instead received tutelage from a shaman. Also unlike Cross, Cristena was highly opinionated and very sure of her own abilities.
While common sense dictated they should remove themselves from Dirge as quickly as possible, Stone pointed out that they still needed basic supplies and ammunition, as there would be little to be found in the way of civilization once they left Dirge and entered the Bone March.
“
If only you could’ve been a bit more…subtle…when you decided to ‘help’ me,” Cristena pushed. She’d grown noticeably colder towards Cross since she’d agreed to go with them.
She’s still not happy about her decision, and she’s going to blame me for everything from this point on. Terrific.
The market was a busy place. It was located inside of a series of hollowed-out buildings made of cracked sandstone and supported by steel girders that had turned red from rust and age. Vast tarps made of red and gray cloth were hung over the roofs of the open buildings, forming a makeshift tent that linked the ruined structures together. Thick and unused chimneys filled with refuse and bat colonies doubled as additional support for the fading structures. The vendors, traders and smugglers who populated the market set up their wares in tents, on open tables, or on rugs spread out on the ground. The market was filled with dusty haze, like the inside of a barn or a saw mill.
Cross had the uneasy feeling they were being watched while they shopped. Stone more or less handled the negotiations, with Cristena’s occasional help. Cross and Graves had to step up from time to time to provide their assessment of equipment for sale, much of which was in less than passable condition.
The local militia, who were as interested in satiating the vampire authority as they were with actually maintaining peace, were notoriously crafty at rooting out insurgents and malcontents, and Cross knew that under close scrutiny they’d ultimately be detected for who they really were. The fact that an active search had likely been initiated for them didn’t calm his nerves any, but thus far they’d noted no major alarm had been raised, which was surprising considering how much damage they’d done at the White Spider.
They got less than the desired trade value for Winter’s equipment, but it was still enough for them to acquire a healthy amount of fresh ammunition, some rations, and spare blankets and coats for the cold northern weather. They also purchased a durable camel that could carry everything they’d purchased. The pack brutes were accustomed to survival in the inhospitable Bone March, so the camel would greatly reduce the wear and tear on the horses they planned to acquire next. Cross thought that the brown-furred camel was about the ugliest thing he’d ever seen.
After they wandered the bazaar for a time, Cross knew for certain they were being followed.
He’d been more than willing to sign his suspicions off as paranoia until the third time he saw the same pale woman watching them in the bazaar. She had alabaster skin but was otherwise difficult to get a good look at, as if the air bent around her and the shadows crowded her space. She dressed in an over-sized black and blue cloak that smothered what appeared to be a tiny frame.
Cross first saw her in the crowd when they’d purchased fresh blankets from a diminutive Gol trader. He saw her again when they haggled over the price of dried rations with a local dealer whose half-Doj bodyguard stood nearby, intimidating shoppers with his six muscle-bound arms. Cross saw her for the third time when he perused what passed for an alchemy dealer, a battered and overcrowded table packed with chemical vials, Bunsen burners and a very small supply of basic powders and salts. With all of the banned substances in Dirge there wasn’t much to be had from the alchemist, and everything of any value was buried in piles of discarded clockwork components and spare automaton parts. Cross tried his best to look interested at the wares while he watched the pale woman.
“
Graves,” he said, not looking up from the copper wiring he inspected. The speckled merchant who ran the table had finally left Cross alone.
“
I see her,” Graves said quietly beside him. “She’s not being very careful.”
“
Which means?”
“
We’re meant to see her,” Graves said. “She could be a diversion.”
“
I don’t suppose it could mean that she actually
is
trying to hide from us, and we’re just
that
good.”
“
Um…no,” Graves said.
Stone and Cristena had gone off in search of map paper and compasses, which had a propensity to randomly break down in the magic-soaked wastes of the Bone March. They regrouped in short order, and Graves told them about their tail.
“
Damn,” Cristena said. “She’s Raza.”
“
Huh?” Stone said. “Never heard of them.”
“
They’re new to Dirge. Monks who’ve sold their services to the Ebon Cities in exchange for immortality. They’re like constables. And they’re onto us.”