Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments (35 page)

It was still firmly twilight so they walked their horses for the first half-hour, packs on their backs in case they needed to abandon their steeds. The mercenaries finally mounted only once the ridge was back in sight again, skirted by a ghostly veil of mist as the morning sun caressed the peak. It was an uneven line of ground that Lynx wouldn’t have much noticed at any other time. An obstacle, little more, but the idea that there would be a road beneath it almost eclipsed his apprehension at walking that path.

It was still hard to imagine a city under the ground. His mind constantly returned to the cramped, airless mine tunnels where he’d worked ten-hour shifts at To Lort prison. Just remembering that time, digging at the rock with shackles weighing him down, seemed to tighten a collar around his throat and choke his breathing. The smell of greasy skin, mud and coal rose like a cobra in his memory.

They made good time once they were in the saddle, riding parallel to the ridge and pausing only on the edge of a shallow escarpment where the view opened out. A small valley, perhaps a mile or two long, stretched out beyond – blasted lifeless and grey by the presence of the firedrake. In the distance Lynx could make out a spot of white – nothing more than that, but a shape that moved over the dark and dead landscape. Then he realised there was more than one, smaller than he’d expected for either, but so bright he could make out no detail.

‘They get bigger,’ Toil said as Reft pointed. ‘When they’re roused, they’re bigger.’

Reft grunted in response. Though Lynx couldn’t read anything in the big man’s expression he saw Kas nod and smirk.

‘Coldest black!’ Teshen hissed. ‘Time to go.’

All faces turned behind them to see where he was looking. Riders coming up fast – still a way off, but closer than anyone would have liked. The mass of black and white uniforms was clear enough and as they watched a cavalry troop with plumed hats broke from the pack to stream forward.

‘Lancers!’ Toil yelled, slamming her heels into the horse’s flank.

They leaped forward almost as one, charging across the top of the escarpment until trees narrowed their path and they were forced to slow. It was still a fast pace to maintain and Lynx just had to hold on and follow, heart juddering in his chest as the horse laboured beneath him.

‘We can’t outrun lancers!’ Anatin yelled over the drum of hooves. ‘We’ll have to turn when they catch us!’

‘Fuck that!’ Toil replied. ‘Look, there.’

She pointed up ahead. Lynx couldn’t make out much other than a high outcrop of stone abutting the ridge, a lone tree at its peak. The hump of grey rock was draped in strips of scrappy grass, which made Lynx think of a flayed skull, but the others charged straight for it. He glanced back. The lancers were covering the ground fast and he realised he couldn’t hesitate any longer. He spurred the horse forward and leaned low in the saddle as he raced to keep up. Toil was out in the lead, guiding her horse over the uneven terrain with as much skill as Teshen close behind her. The rest followed at a remove, Reft and Sitain at the rear as they struggled to match the pace.

By the time they reached the outcrop Lynx could see Toil was right. The brow of the skull was a low overhang with a twenty-foot void beneath, as though the face had been shot clean through. As Lynx reined in, Toil was already on foot and scouting around the entrance.

‘What’re you doing?’ Anatin asked as he unhitched his saddlebag and slung it over his shoulder.

‘Looking for spoor,’ she called back, not looking up. ‘No good if this is something’s nest these days.’ She continued on into the dark space until Lynx could barely see her, before giving a small yelp. In the next moment he’d slipped from his saddle and brought his gun up, advancing on the cave. He stopped abruptly as Toil reappeared, relief on her face.

‘Looks clear, think we got lucky.’

He glanced back at the path where the lancers would be following very soon. ‘How’s that, then?’

‘This is Wisp forage ground,’ she said, pulling her mage-gun from the scabbard on her horse and her pack onto her back. ‘Follow me and watch for the tripwires.’

With a slap on the rump of her horse she sent it back the way they’d come and headed on inside. The other mercenaries looked at each other dubiously. Lynx doubted any of the others would have met a Wisp either and there was enough fanciful rumour about the underground-dwelling race that he doubted anyone knew anything real about them. When the alternative was waiting for the Knights-Charnel, however, lingering would do no good.

‘Come on,’ Teshen said finally, heading after Toil. ‘No lancer’s following on foot without orders, but we don’t want to get pinned down.’

‘I see in the dark better’n most folk anyway,’ Sitain muttered as she followed with the rest. Soon it was only Lynx again, standing dry-mouthed with a crawling sensation on his neck. He drew his gun and held it so tight his knuckles went white, but the feel of the wooden stock under his fingers only reminded him of the pickaxes he’d once wielded.

He couldn’t say how long he was stood there. It was probably only moments until Toil headed back out again.

‘What’s the hold-up?’

‘Caves,’ Lynx croaked.

‘Scared o’ the dark?’ she asked, a brief laugh dying when Lynx’s expression tightened further.

She edged forward, mage-gun slung over one shoulder. ‘We don’t have time for this.’

‘I know,’ Lynx croaked, throat so tight he could barely breathe. Some part of his mind was raging away at the back of his head, screaming for him to move and get to safety, but that part was locked behind walls of stone and bars of iron.

Toil slowly reached out and put her hand on Lynx’s arm. He flinched but managed not to smash the butt of the gun into her head the way every instinct screamed for him to do. His body was so rigid with the conflict of emotion that Lynx couldn’t even speak, but Toil drew herself closer with the care of horse trainer.

‘We need to move,’ she whispered as softly as a lover. ‘Do you hear me, Lynx?’

Toil moved closer still, one hand on his arm and the other rising slowly to touch him on the cheek. Her skin rasped against the dark stubble, strong fingers resting tenderly along the line of his jaw.

Somehow he found the strength to suck in a breath and nod. Toil brought herself right up to him, close enough to kiss, and suddenly the musky scent of her skin filled his mind. The spice of her sweat on the air overlaid the cold stink of mud and stone. It felt like a flame moving close to his face – thawing the icy hold fear had on his body.

‘Come with me,’ she whispered.

Lynx nodded and she turned away, one hand slipping down to his and tugging him along behind her. Lynx stumbled forward a few steps then the spell was broken. He gasped for air and found strength in his body once more, blinking at the gloom behind him until the jagged shapes of fallen stone suddenly resolved themselves.

He almost barged Toil over as she stopped in front of him and her free hand slammed against his chest.

‘Tripwire,’ she said, pointing down. A white length of cord was strung between two great lumps of rock, spanning three feet of space. ‘You good?’

‘I’ll manage,’ he croaked.

Toil nodded and released her grip on him, picking her way over the tripwire. Lynx followed as closely as he could, able to make out little in the weak light that crept inside, but a second tripwire was obvious enough too and once they headed up a shallow slope of grooved stone he found the rest of the mercenaries on a broad shelf. There Toil stopped and pulled her lantern from her bag. It had a long loop of rope attached to the top and she slipped her head and one arm through so it hung at her hip.

Through the jangle of his thoughts Lynx remembered that he’d seen it hanging from her horse the previous day. The wall of blackness behind the others seemed to be a yawning maw waiting for him and he closed his eyes against it, fixing on the strange lantern to distract himself. It was a cylinder about a foot long and half that across – a solid case of brass with some strange fretwork cut into the outside. Inside that was some dark shiny substance like tinted glass or jet, so he’d not realised it was a lantern.

‘Not lighting it yet?’ Anatin demanded, pointing past the shelf to the darkness beyond. ‘We can’t see a damn thing past here.’

Toil gave him a look Lynx couldn’t make out and grasped each end of the lantern. She gave it a small twist and … And nothing happened.

‘Seven fiery hells, we’re all gonna die,’ groaned Ashis, her head sagging.

‘Stow that,’ Anatin snapped, drawing his guns. ‘We’re not—Hey, where are you going?’

Toil had headed straight past him, lantern at her waist and gun held loose in her hands. She turned and faced them all. Lynx realised there was a now strange tint to the air, her skin taking on a very faint glow as she smiled at them. Beside her the huge pale face of Reft seemed to loom like a phantom above his dark clothes.

‘Like I said, the Charnelers won’t have a lantern like this. But if you want to stay and fight, go for it.’

She headed off and Sitain hurried along behind, the mercenaries frowning at each other in the darkness but wasting little time in following. There was a faint light, Lynx realised, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. The lantern was emitting nothing, it remained barely an outline in the dark, but a pale glow now seemed to trace the curves of the rock as they walked. He glanced back and saw the darkness had returned to where they’d been standing, while just beyond he could see a sliver of light from the cave entrance.

It was a tunnel, he realised as the outline ahead tilted right. Wide enough for them to walk three abreast, it continued for a dozen yards before dropping away in stepped sections of grooved slope that spiralled gently down into the belly of the earth. With a heavy feeling Lynx pulled his tricorn from his head and flattened it again, shoving it in the side of his pack.

‘This some sort o’ lichen?’ Olut asked from up ahead.

‘Something like that,’ Toil replied. ‘The lantern’s good for a few days underground, but we’ll get up in the daylight before it runs out anyway.’

‘The lantern’s working?’

‘Of course!’ spluttered Sitain. ‘Can’t you see it is?’

‘They’re not night mages.’ Toil laughed, looking askance at Sitain who was walking alongside her. ‘They can’t see like you do in the dark.’

‘You all can’t see this?’

Toil shook her head. ‘Not so well as you, nothing like it I’d guess. We can only see an outline of the walls.’

‘Gods,’ Sitain breathed. ‘I knew I was better than others at seeing in the dark, that only makes sense, doesn’t it? But this … It’s beautiful, every line of rock is shining. I could read your book, Lynx, if you wanted me to.’

‘No one likes a show-off,’ Kas called.

‘If our new Jester of Sun can lead us through all this, I’m inclined to forgive a little showing off,’ Anatin muttered.

‘Aye, fair point,’ Kas said, relenting. ‘Show off as much as you like, Jester, so long as you keep an eye out for maspids as well.’

The spiral stair descended for two full turns, so far as Lynx could estimate. He was finding it hard enough to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, his whole body trembling at the descent, but when the rock abruptly opened out around them even his fear faded into the background.

He heard someone gasp beside him as the mercenaries stumbled to a halt, looking up and around in wonder. Only Toil thought to have a gun ready, but after a brief sweep of the great tunnel they found themselves in she lowered it again and waited for the others. The air was cool, but lacking the crispness of dawn they had just left. Above their heads the tunnel reached up to a remarkable height, Toil’s lantern only just managing to grasp the rough lines of a curved roof that seemed to undulate in echo of some organic form a good fifty feet above their heads.

Their view was aided by veins of the pale blue rock exposed on the tunnel walls, glowing in a way that seemed bright after the dim stair. These strata lit the way in both directions, revealing a long empty tunnel twenty feet from wall to wall, while opposite them stood a rounded opening in the rock that revealed some sort of room beyond. Some quirk in the rock had permitted a strange overhang to form above that, a loop through which someone or something had threaded a steel bar that held a rudimentary grille. The builders –
Wisps?
Lynx wondered with a faint thrill – had dug down into the powdery earth underfoot too, creating a trench in which the grille fitted neatly.

‘What’s this?’ Anatin asked, taking a few steps forward until Toil caught his arm.

‘Wisps,’ she replied. ‘Keeping out the wildlife.’

‘Out of what?’

‘Let’s find out.’

‘What about the Charnelers?’

‘They won’t follow.’

‘You’re betting our lives on that?’

Toil grinned wolfishly at him. ‘If they do, this tunnel’s long and straight. They don’t need to do a lot of catching up before they shoot us down.’

‘That’s supposed to reassure me?’

‘Nope, but we’ll see them coming if they do have torches; time enough to stand back and fire burners from a safe distance. They’d be mad to follow us underground; they’ll make better time following the ridge to the main ruin on horseback and run fewer risks. You want to stand guard, that’s fine. I’m going this way, introduce myself to the natives.’

‘
Introduce
yourself?’ Anatin said, raising an eyebrow and nodding at the gun she carried.

Toil sighed. ‘Oh for … Don’t you think we’ve got enough people trying to kill us?’

‘The thought did occur.’

‘Damn right. The Wisps live here – we start just running round these halls, stirring up nasties and blowing the shit out of their tunnels, they might have something to say about it. If we announce ourselves it’ll help if they’re deciding between friend or foe – and maybe we can borrow their knowledge of the tunnels too.’

She headed for the heavy steel grille and knelt, releasing some sort of catch at the bottom and trying to haul it up. The weight was considerable and in the end it took three of them to raise it to above head height, but once it was up, Reft supported it alone while the others passed under. Closing it up behind them Toil was careful to replace the catches that held it shut. Her lantern illuminated a broad circular room with a single sloped pillar in the centre. Aside from the pillar it was empty; a second archway and a half-dozen alcoves in the rock walls were the only features.