Haladras (21 page)

“What’s he found?” said Endrick. “The remains of some poor
soul who attempted to scale this beast? A mountain fairy, better still.”

The companions turned their mounts and went over to see what
the excitement was about.

“I found it,” he proudly declared as they approached. “Knew
it couldn’t be far. Well hidden it is.”

Lin stood on a large flat stone that was almost entirely
embedded in the ground. Beside him, the cliff face. Nothing at all of interest.
Nothing at all to spark an ordinary man’s excitement. Lin was stamping his foot
as he shuffled about on the stone, motioning for them to draw closer.

“What is it, my friend?” said Krom. “What have you
discovered?”

“The way in, of course,” replied Lin hastily. “Here, help
lift it.” Lin commenced digging about the edge of the stone with his fingers.
“Don’t just stand there. It’s not going to dig itself out.”

With hesitation and a fair amount of skepticism on Skylar
and Endrick’s part, they went to work digging about the stone. They labored for
only a few minutes before Lin let out, “Ah ha! Here it is. Here it is.”

Skylar stopped his digging to see what Lin had found. Carved
into the side of the stone, which had been buried, was a kind of notch, a
rectangular indentation. Lin shooed the companions away, then he inserted his
hand into the notch, and began trying to lift the massive stone.

Nothing happened as Lin strained against the immovable rock.
Skylar was not surprised. Did Lin actually expect to lift the stone out of the
ground? Even as Skylar thought this, though, a grating noise came from the
stone; faint at first, then louder. A thin line, a gap, appeared between the
stone and the ground. Slowly, the gap grew, until Skylar realized that the
stone was a sort of lid. Lasseter and Krom hurried to Lin’s side and helped him
lift it fully.

When the stone lid was removed, a large gaping hole, walled
on four sides by rock and accessible by a stone staircase, remained. The stairs
led downward a few meters before disappearing into the dark.

“There’s our shortcut under the mountains,” said Lin with a
hint of pride in his voice. “Shall we?”

They had a hard job coaxing the paquas down the stone steps.
When at last they were all down and lanterns were lit, they found themselves in
a narrow tunnel that pointed due west. The ceiling, though short, provided just
enough headroom for them to ride their paquas.

“Thousands of tunnels like this one run beneath the
Boldúrins. The aboriginal people of Fenorra excavated them hundreds of years
ago, long before the formation of the empire. Expert miners. Many of them built
colonies beneath these mountains. You shall see a few remnants of these on our
journey.”

Indeed, within the space of several hours, they came across
two such relics. In the dark they saw little, though. Only that the tunnel
walls and ceiling suddenly broke away, opening to caverns whose full grandeur
their latern’s light could not reveal. At these times, the echo of the paquas
clomping on the stone floor grew to a quiet din.

When they came to the second cavern, they were forced to
stop for a brief repose and to water the animals. Those early people being
clever and industrious, had managed to build reservoirs fed by invisible
springs trickling out of the rocks. Their paquas drank thirstily.

Thus the day waxed on. Skylar nearly fell asleep on account
of the dim green lantern glow and the monotonous scenery.

“There’s another cavern just ahead,” said Lin several hours
after their last stop. “We should rest there for the night.”

Krom voiced his consent. Within a quarter of an hour, the
now-familiar sound of their echoes growing as they neared a cavern reached
their ears. Then, just as before, the walls and ceiling disappeared, and the
air grew less stuffy. Krom dismounted his paqua. Skylar followed, grateful to
give his backside a rest.

Without warning, everything went black. There was a
scuffling sound. Several shouts. Then Skylar felt someone seize him from behind
and gag his mouth.

TWENTY

I
N VAIN, SKYLAR
struggled to
free himself from his unseen captor. Many hands seemed to be holding his arms.
His legs were free, though. And he made good use of them, kicking blindly in
the darkness. Several kicks with his booted foot made contact. Shouts of
protest erupted from behind him.

“Hey!” shouted one.

“Stop that!” yelled another.

“Tie up his feet,” rejoined yet another.

A cold object slid in beneath Skylar’s chin.

“Stop struggling or we’ll slit your throat,” hissed a surly
voice in his ear.

He froze.

“That’s better.”

 The sound of scuffling had ceased now. Skylar wondered
if his companions were unharmed. Then an orange glow from a torch flame infused
the scene. The faces of a dozen or more rough men became visible. Lasseter,
Krom and Endrick were as equally guarded as Skylar, with two or three of these
men holding them fast.

The mens’ faces were heavily scarred and dark with dirt and
soot. All wore unkempt beards and long hair, though a few used bands tied
across their forehead to keep their hair back. Glints of yellow from earrings
and gold chains reflected in the torchlight. No uniform described their dress;
they wore an eclectic array of clothing. There were patchwork tunics worn
beneath leather jackets or jerkins; threadbare cloaks of various earth tones;
one very large ruffian wore only pants and a blaster strapped to his back;
another wore a robe of an intricate pattern. All were armed to their teeth with
daggers, dirks, clubs and blasters.

“Who are’s ya?” demanded the man holding the torch, his
voice grating the air like a knife blade on stone.

The man with the torch was looking at Krom when he spoke.
But Krom did not reply.

“Well?” said the man, holding the torch to Krom’s face. “I
asked you a question.”

“Who we are is no concern of yours,” replied Krom calmly.

“Ah!” exclaimed the ruffian man. “No concern of mine, is it?
And I suppose it’s no concern of mine where’s you be going to?”

“We are traveling to Arsolon, if you must know.”

“Merely traveling, is it? Funny route you’ve chosen. I’m
sure the boss would love to hear this story.”

“Come on, boys” he said as he whipped around and motioned
with his torch for his cohorts to follow. Skylar’s captors jerked him to the
side and forcibly ushered him behind his companions and the rest of the
ruffians.

Though only the torch of the lead ruffian lighted their way,
Skylar could see much of the cavern in which this band of men apparently lived.
Scattered all about were cots, bed rolls, hammocks, and various other makeshift
beds. A long table of sorts, constructed of wooden crates and shabbily fastened
planks, ran the middle of the stone floor. The smelly remnants of countless
meals, old and new, lay piled on the table; stacks of bones, overturned goblet
and jugs, broken plates, knives embedded in loaves of moldy bread. A large
beady-eyed rat stood on the table top, nibbling a potato peel. It glanced up
curiously as they passed and bore its razor sharp teeth in defense of its
spoils.

Their captors led them out of this main chamber into a
tunnel. A few dark portals along the tunnel led to other chambers or tunnels.
At the end of the tunnel, they entered another, smaller chamber.

It was a better-lit chamber than the other, with several
torches glowing from sconces on the blackened walls. A tidier chamber, too,
with a real bed, clothed in a fine down quilt and many feather pillows. Next to
this stood an oak wardrobe and desk. The subject of principle interest in that
subterranean chamber was a figure, lazily reposed on a throne carved into the
far wall. Before this lounging figure, the companions were made to stand.

He was reading a small leather-bound volume, from which he
did not immediately look up. The man’s dress and appearance echoed a refinement
lacking in the others. He wore a white silk tunic, loosely laced at the throat;
a green and gold striped vest; brown leather trousers; and tall boots. His
black hair, though long, was tied neatly back. He face was clean-shaven. On his
nose rested a pair of round spectacles, which he eventually removed as he
closed his book and looked up at his audience.

At first glance, the man’s face showed such a sign of
indifference toward them that Skylar felt a twinge of anger.

“Well, Boris? What have you brought me this time?” The man’s
voice sounded bored and impatient.

“Yes, Boss, yes,” sputtered the torch-bearing ruffian.
“Intruders, Sir. Come’s in from the east entrance, they did.”

The man called the Boss lifted his gaze a little, showing a
hint of real interest. “By the east entrance, you say?”

“Yes, Boss, that’s right.”

“Any weapons?” asked the Boss, leaning forward now.

“Aye, Sir. They carry swords.”

Boris pulled aside Endrick’s cloak to reveal the sheathed
blade hanging from his side. The Boss’s eyes flashed with eagerness.

“Bring it to me,” he demanded

Boris grabbed Endrick’s sword by the hilt and pulled it out,
then turned and obsequiously presented it to his master. The Boss studied it
for several moments before thrusting it back into Boris’ shaking hands.

“My name is Madrick,” he said, addressing the companions for
the first time. “You’ve made acquaintance with my men already. I trust they’ve
treated you with the same courtesy we pay all our intruders.”

Madrick smiled insidiously.

“Though, admittedly, our visitors are few. They always
belong to one of two groups: those seeking to unite themselves with our
infamous brotherhood of thieves, and those seeking to thwart us. The latter
never lives to tell a soul of their discovery.”

He smiled again and his men let out a chorus of disquieting
chuckles. Skylar’s stomach tied itself in a knot. Menace echoed from that
laughter, menace and eagerness.

“But you,” he continued, bringing the laughter to a halt
with startling abruptness. “I can’t make out what group you belong to. Never
has anyone come by the east passage. And never have we had a mere boy in our
midst.” He pointed to Skylar as he said this and his men resumed their previous
laughter. “You carry swords, but are dressed more like vagrants than warriors
or noblemen.”

Madrick stepped down from his platform and brought himself
face to face with Krom. He stared Krom in the eyes, narrowing his own as if
seeking to see something more. Neither Krom’s gaze nor his proud stance
faltered during the wordless interview.

“Why have you sought us?” said Madrick at last.

“We are but travelers,” replied Krom. “We journey to
Arsolon.”

“Travelers!” ejaculated Madrick. “You expect me to believe
that? Come now, I am no fool. Nor, do I believe, are you.”

“These tunnels are the fastest and surest way through the
mountains, are they not?”

“Indeed, but few there be who know of their existence. And
even fewer who dare to travel them. By your accent, I judge you are native of
neither the eastern nor western province. How can you know of the Boldúrin
tunnels?”

“Our guide—he lives in the valley just east of here.”

Madrick eyed the others. “And which one of you is this
guide?”

No one responded.

“Well?” demanded Madrick.

Krom turned to look down the line at Lin. Skylar and the
others did likewise. It was then that they all realized Lin was not with them.
Skylar looked behind them, then to his left. There was no doubt. Lin had
vanished.

“It would appear,” said Krom calmly, “that our guide has
eluded your men.”

“Good-for-nothings!” cried Madrick. “Boris, take two men and
hunt down this alleged guide. Bring him to me. I want this puzzle solved.

“Guards, disarm the prisoners and lock them in the dungeon.
We shall deal with them later.”

“And pray,” he continued, glaring hotly at Krom, “that my
men find your little guide. For should I find you’ve deceived me...all the
worse for you.”

With that, Madrick turned his back to them and strutted back
to this throne. Rough hands seized Skylar and hauled him back out of the
chamber into the dark corridor. He was forced through a portal and dragged down
a short flight of stone stairs, then tossed onto the cold stone floor of a jail
cell.

Krom, Endrick, and Lasseter were thrust inside just behind
him. Endrick tripped and fell over Skylar’s body.

“Gentle, you tunnel lovers,” cried Endrick. “No need for
inhospitality.”

Then came the squeak of the dungeon door as it closed, the
ominous clank as it locked shut, and the grunts and jeers of the ruffians as
they disappeared up the stairs, taking the only torch light with them. When
they had gone, all that remained was silence and darkness.

The dungeon reeked of human filth mingled with putrid flesh.
A smell which burned Skylar’s nostrils, churned his stomach and made him glad
of the darkness; the stench alone produced despair enough that the mere thought
of seeing its source sent chills over his skin.

Only Grim’s death had made him feel greater despair. They
had that kook Lin to thank for it.

“I’ll bet he’s in league with these louts. Probably having a
good laugh about it now.”

“Careful to judge a man, Skylar, before you command all the
facts,” said Krom. “We have no reason to believe he’s betrayed us.”

“No reason! How about the fact that he led us straight into
this den of thieves? If he knew these passages so well, how come he didn’t know
about these marauders? If anyone knew, he did. And how could he have escaped
when the rest of us were caught so easily? He was leading the way. He would
have been the first one snatched.”

“I suggest you keep your voice down, Skylar. We don’t want—”

“What difference does it make!” shouted Skylar, his cheeks
beginning to burn from his anger. “They’re going to kill us anyway. And they’ll
bring all this pointless questing to an end. Tarus may even exonerate these
murderers if he ever finds out.”

“Tarus may be pleased. Morvath I believe, will not. He wants
you alive. Else the Trackers that found you on Haladras would have poisoned
you. I would be surprised if Morvath has not played a hand in this band’s
existence.”

“Nor would I,” added Lasseter. “An excellent justification
for replacing Lord Denovyn and bringing in a regiment of His Majesty’s Guard.”

“Well whoever they are and whatever plans they have,” said
Skylar bitterly, “there will be nothing we can do to stop them once they’ve
slit our throats and fed us to the rats.”

“In that,” responded Krom in a low tone, “I believe you are
mistaken.”

It was impossible to know how much time had passed since
they were thrown into the dungeon. The occasional sound of a water drop hitting
the cold floor; the scratching of rats’ feet scurrying this way and that; the
faint sound of crass laughter from the main cavern: these were the only things
which distinguished one moment from the next. Had the silence been as profound
as the darkness, Skylar might have believed time had stopped altogether.

Then the sound of heavy boots marching down another tunnel
reached his ears. Skylar caught his breath. They were coming for the execution.
He knew it. The sound grew louder. He would fight. Fight to the death, he
decided. His pulse quickened at the thought. Maybe one of his companions, at
least, could escape. He sat with bated breath, listening, plotting.

They didn’t take my jetwing
, he realized.
I’ll put
it to good use—somehow.

Then, slowly, the sound died away. Whoever it was had
passed. Skylar exhaled, but continued listening intently. The muffled sound of
many voices issued from the tunnel, as well as the shuffling and stamping of
feet. Eruptions of laughter. Then the rumbling of many engines come to life.
The sound of the engines rose, then died away gradually.

“They’ve gone to their nightly thieving,” said Krom when all
was silent. “Now is the time for our escape.”

“Splendid,” said Endrick. “Shall we eat away the iron bars
with our teeth or break them in two with our bare hands?”

“Neither. Skylar, I trust you still have your jetwing?
Madrick’s men seemed to care little about searching us for other implements.”

“Yes, I have it. But what good will it do? I can’t fly
through a stone ceiling.”

“That’s not what I had in mind,” responded Krom, “I suspect
there are yet a few guards on duty. So, we’ll need to keep as quiet as
possible. We’ll need everyone’s help to make this work. Skylar, your jetwing,
please.”

Reluctantly, Skylar unclipped the jetwing from his belt and
held it out in the darkness.

“Thank you.”

“What do you have in mind exactly, Krom?” asked Endrick.
“Ram the door with our heads?”

“We torch the lock. These jets can produce enough heat to
melt that iron. We just need to hold it steady enough to direct the blast—”

“That won’t be necessary,” said a voice that made them all
start and look toward the door.