Gan, on Fenj’s back, was huddled as low as his tall form would allow, Lorak considerably sheltered behind him. Brin flew directly behind his father carrying Trem and Kran. They were following the Snow Dragon, keeping close against the towering ice cliffs on their left. Ashta and Kija brought up the rear. Kija was alert for any sign of Ashta weakening as they fought not only the howling north wind but the sudden gusts and eddies which swirled up from bottomless crevices below them. The Snow Dragon, Meppi, warned them he was about to fly sharply upwards and they watched his manoeuvring ever more closely as the snow thickened.
Mim, clinging to Ashta with Khosa silent deep in her travelling sack against his chest, began to think they would reach the very stars themselves when Brin swerved ahead of them, angling his great crimson body down between two sheer ice walls. Mim blinked snow from his lashes, trying to see more clearly. He realised Brin’s wingtips only barely missed touching the sides as he flew. A concentrated jet of fire from the Snow Dragon was reflected again and again in the ice alongside them and then Ashta was slowing, as though preparing to land.
Mim rubbed his eyes free of the frozen snow and looked over Ashta’s head. He saw that Meppi had cleared a narrow ledge with his fire. The Dragons stood now on a lip of rock, its wetness from the melted snow already freezing again.
Meppi said: ‘Inside this part is where dwells the Damaged One. We have sung to him through much Time but there is no tunnel near, where we might reach him.’
‘Can we call him?’ Gan asked, as he slid carefully from Fenj’s back.
‘No!’ Meppi’s answer was sharp. ‘These who ride with you must make their way in – there is an opening below this ledge.’
Gan immediately peered down and if not for Lorak grabbing his arm, would have slipped straight over. He nodded thanks to the old man and looked at the ice behind them.
‘There is nothing we can fasten a rope to, to let us lower ourselves.’
‘I will hold a rope,’ Brin rumbled.
Kran pulled a coil of rope from his pack and handed it to Gan.
‘We will wait a brief time,’ said Meppi. ‘In case you have to return this way. But we must go higher and around this peak to the main entrance to the stronghold.’
‘The main entrance?’
‘It is sure to be the easiest place for those of our size to enter Gan.’ Fenj said. ‘And we thought the more distractions the better – it will give Tika more chance to get to the place where the Balance is concealed.’
Meppi drifted out over the chasm and searched for the place he had in mind.
‘It is directly below here,’ he announced as his talons scrabbled for a hold on the ice-covered ledge beside Ashta.
Trem wrapped a length of rope around one of Brin’s forearms, looped it once over the other, and the Dragon gripped the end in his jaws. Ashta’s agitation became apparent as Mim stepped forward to grasp the rope.
‘No.’ Gan put his hand against Mim’s chest. He glanced at Ashta. ‘You go with the Dragons Mim – one of us should be with them and surely it should be the Dragon Lord?’ Gan stared at Lorak who was leaning against Fenj for shelter from the driving snow. ‘You also Lorak, will go with the Dragons. You are not trained to the use of weapons – the five of us will not have time to keep watch over your safety, and we will be moving fast once we are inside.’
Lorak looked hard at Gan from beneath the snowy brim of his hat, then he nodded, climbing onto Fenj’s back without a word.
Gan pointed at Trem and the officer moved to take the rope and prepared to descend over the ledge.
‘Tug the rope to signal for the next of us to come down,’ Gan told him.
‘Sir.’ Trem, the rope secured around one arm and leg, stepped backward into swirling snow filled space.
After what seemed an interminable wait, three steady pulls came on the rope under Gan’s hands and he nodded to Kran to go next. When Sket and Motass had also vanished down the rope, Gan turned to the Dragons, Mim and Lorak.
‘Stars guide you, my friends, and protect you now.’
‘You also Lord Gan,’ Kija replied. ‘We will wait here only a short time and then we will go to the great gateway Meppi spoke of.’ She moved forward, lowering her head until her golden brow touched Gan’s. He stroked her beautiful face lightly with his gauntleted fingers, then turned to grasp the rope Brin held.
He gasped as the wind clawed at him, turning him to smash, like a plaything, against the glassy wall of ice. Gan fought the wind and the rope to twist himself back so that his feet could hold him clear. He lowered himself carefully, an arm length at a time, until at last he felt his ankles held.
‘Keep a hold the rope Sir, there’s no room to stand here.’
Gan peered down and saw only the top of Motass’s head and outstretched arms gripping Gan’s lower legs. As he let himself down the final distance, Motass guided his body through a small opening, a window, he realised as he squeezed his shoulders through.
Trem was standing by the door as Gan unwound the rope from his arm. The exposed skin of his face burnt and stung now that he was out of the relentless wind and snow. Sket pulled at one of his gauntlets and Gan grimaced as he flexed his fingers.
‘It’s a servant’s room Sir, but quite isolated. Officer Trem went along the passage a short way, and he says there be other storerooms, half empty, but none where it seems anyone lives.’ Kran explained quickly as he pulled Gan’s other gauntlet free.
Gan stared at the small hearth with its heap of dead ashes. He looked at the single chair and the table and lastly at the long, narrow bed.
‘This is where Bark has lived,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘All these Cycles, shut away in this cell.’
He tucked his gauntlets firmly under his belt and moved to Trem’s side. He looked out into the dimly lit passageway.
‘All the rooms to the turning are empty Sir. No servants or fighters.’
‘Did you look beyond the corner?’
‘The passage leads downwards. There are similar doors as along here, but no sign or sound of occupants, although I didn’t venture to check Sir. I thought I should wait till we were all inside.’
Gan nodded. ‘You and I lead, Trem. Sket, watch our backs.’ And sliding his sword free of its scabbard, he moved silently out of the room.
A faint metallic ringing told him that all swords had been drawn behind him as he went towards the corner. The light was dim but sufficient; glow lamps holding only one glower apiece were set at regular intervals along the wall. The five men made their way quickly but cautiously round the corner and on down a passage identical to the first. Gan stopped close to the first door then silently lifted the latch. He pushed the door open fast, keeping hold of it lest it bang against the wall. Empty. As Trem said of the first rooms, this one too seemed to be a long neglected storeroom, thick with dust and ancient spinners’ webs. He stepped back into the passage, closing the door gently again. With a glance at Trem, he moved on past the remaining doors to the next corner.
Ahead, the passage split, the right fork continuing a downward slope and seeming to be completely unlit. The left fork remained level and Gan guessed it was a quick route directly to the Guardian’s quarters. The rest of the Gaharnian forces would be in the lowest levels and Gan decided his party’s best plan would be to continue downwards. Hopefully they would at least disconcert or distract any of Rhaki’s fighters who might be already engaged with Soran’s group.
Gan took the right hand passage, unhooking a glow lamp as he passed. The path turned and twisted but led always down, and after perhaps thirty minutes, Gan stopped again. He looked at the floor ahead. There was a thick layer of dust over his boots and as Gan stooped, holding the lamp ahead of himself, it was clear that the dust in the passage had lain untrodden for a long time indeed.
‘I judge we must be nearly to the depth we were in the Delvers’ tunnels Sir,’ Motass said quietly.
Gan nodded. ‘Just pray this isn’t a dead end,’ he whispered back.
T
hey hurried on, a sense of urgency building in all of them.
‘Sir! Listen!’ Trem caught Gan’s sleeve.
Faint and distant cries came to them and the ring of metal, then the sounds ceased. Gan increased the pace and the five sped along the seemingly endless passage.
Soran and his Guards had watched Nolli stand before a solid wall of rock. She lifted her hands and the rock trembled into two halves, opening with only the faintest sigh. She turned to Soran.
‘You must go on now. Choose only paths to your left. I will follow, slow though I may be. Stars guide you all.’ She remained standing, Lanni’s arm round her waist, as Soran raised his sword before his face in salute then moved past the Wise One with his men behind him.
They travelled at the loping trot they were trained to, five Guards carrying lamps to guide their feet. But this tunnel had not been used since the days of the previous Guardian Kovas, and was as thick with dust as the one Gan’s group travelled. Several times the tunnel divided and each time, Soran led his men without hesitation to the left.
Soran estimated they had travelled a little more than two leagues when the way ahead was blocked by another wall of rock. The group stopped, looking to Soran. They had expected no further barriers. As they stood, Soran felt a faint buzzing vibration pass through his body and, as before, the rock opened smoothly in front of him.
Once more they settled into the steady pace of Gaharnian Guards until Soran suddenly gagged. Seconds later, the rest of his men had stopped behind him. Soran drew a more cautious breath and grimaced as the stink filled his nostrils. Drak came up beside the officer.
‘It is not the stench of Shardi, Sir.’
‘No, I realise that. I fear whatever smells this bad, will be proportionally worse than Shardi!’ He looked over his small band. ‘Prepare yourselves. Try to block your minds of whatever your eyes see, as the Healers and Seniors have tried to teach you.’
No sounds accompanied the awful stink at first, and Soran led his men onward. Then they heard shuffling and clattering. Soran stopped. The Guards drew close around him and he indicated they cover three of the lamps. They strained to decipher the noises ahead.
Finally, Nomis whispered: ‘It sounds like stabled beasts – kept in a group rather than individual booths, but it doesn’t smell like fengars, Sir.’
They remained listening a moment longer, Soran nodding as he agreed with Nomis’s interpretation of the noises. ‘The Guardian has Shardi at his command. We may expect worse than fengars I fear. Come.’
They moved quickly now, swords drawn and shields transferred from backs to forearms. The passage grew narrow. Soran swiftly indicated the remaining lamps be covered as light showed where the passage walls nearly met, leaving the barest space where a man might squeeze through. Keeping close to the sides, they crept to the opening and peered through. Soran bit his lip to keep himself silent while several Guards who glanced through turned hurriedly away and lost the contents of their stomachs.
Breathing as lightly as he could, Soran counted the number of monstrous creatures beyond. Most were lying down, but several stood on their hind legs and an argument was clearly escalating between two in particular. Soran took note of the claws, the tusks, the muscular limbs, as one of them half turned and lashed out with a hind leg. As its opponent moved back to avoid the taloned hoof, it threw its upper body forward, grasping the other’s head with its forelegs. Tusks scored grooves down a neck, but the first shrieked in fury and thrust its own tusks up into the chest of the second. One of the beasts lying down rose onto its hind legs faster than Soran would have believed possible and it rammed itself between its two snarling and bleeding fellows. Its head turned from one to the other and sharp guttural noises came forth. Soran realised it was using language, the human features of their faces belying the bestial grunts he was hearing. The one who had put himself between the two who argued, stamped on the floor. His head swung between the two and slowly they both backed away, lowering themselves to move on four limbs rather than upright on two.
Soran moved to see around the area where these creatures stood and lay. He could see a barred gate at the far end of the cavern and as he watched, a man moved into view for a moment then disappeared. Soran stepped back a few paces and gestured for his men to withdraw with him.
‘It would appear to be a holding cave for these – things. But there is a guard at the door. I count eighteen of the creatures. If any of you . . .’
Before he could continue asking for suggestions, there were shouts from within the cave. Soran swiftly returned to the crack in the rock wall. Four men in the black leather tunics of the Guardian’s fighters had entered the enclosure. All the beasts were up on their hind legs, crowding together, some silent, some squealing. The men held naked swords in one hand and three pronged lances in the other. One man came towards where Soran and his Guards were concealed, but his eyes were fixed only on the beasts. Two others took positions at the sides. The fourth man shouted for the animals to follow him and to remember they were to obey him as they would the Guardian himself.
With a certain amount of barging and glaring stares, the beasts followed him out of the cavern, the other three men flanking them. Soran held his breath as the last man out pulled the barred gate closed behind him. He let the breath out in relief as he saw the gate had not been secured on the further side. In fact, it had swung slightly ajar again as the sound of clattering feet and occasional snarls and grunts diminished.
It was a tight squeeze for all of them getting through the crack into the beasts’ enclosure. Soran went first and raced across to the gateway. The rest followed as swiftly as they could.
‘It’s my guess those things were not being taken out for exercise. I’d say they will be used to attack Lady Tika’s group. We must follow them closely now.’ He looked at each of his men as they stood around him. ‘At least we have seen these creatures and thus will not be taken by surprise at their monstrosity. We must pray there are none worse. Let’s go.’
Ashta was struggling as the Dragons rounded the central peak of the Guardian’s stronghold. Kija spoke urgently to Meppi’s mind.
‘Not far now, Kija. Another few wing beats and we will be sheltered.’
Brin dropped back to fly alongside Ashta, breaking the ferocious force of the ice-laden wind. Then they followed Meppi’s swerve to the left and it felt as if the wind had vanished. In truth, it still blew but to such a lesser extent it felt almost a balmy breeze. Meppi swung them up and onto a sloping ledge from where they looked down at the approach to the stronghold.
Mim saw, through much gentler falling snow, far below a thin strip joining this mountain with the main range beyond. Rubbing his eyes free of ice, he realised how only a few fighters could hold the entrance against any invading forces.
‘The gateway is directly below, where that span of rock meets this side.’ Meppi’s crystal prismed eyes flashed in the gloom of the mountain shadow as he spoke.
‘Well Mim, what’s to do?’ Lorak grinned evilly as he rummaged under his cloak. ‘If we be going straight in there, let’s have a tiny restorative sip first, eh?’
Kija groaned as Fenj murmured: ‘Splendid creature!’
Khosa’s head appeared cautiously from her travelling sack. ‘You do remember Tika must find the Grey One’s study?’ she enquired, sniffing daintily as a leather bottle arrived in Mim’s hand.
‘We remember,’ agreed Mim, holding the bottle angled so the Kephi could lap a few drops. He laughed as she sneezed, and gulped a mouthful himself.
‘Keep it with you boy. I have more.’ Lorak patted his cloak.
‘Tika is embattled already,’ Mim said. ‘We should waste no time. I will lead from here.’
‘No.’ Brin rustled his wings. ‘I lead, and you follow me.’
Mim began to argue but was overruled by both Kija and Fenj.
‘It will be as my firstborn says.’ Fenj’s tone brooked no further discussion. ‘And if it is the time for any to journey beyon
d, I wish safe journey and may the stars guide your path.’
Lorak grunted and slapped the huge black Dragon’s shoulder. ‘No need to go talking like that, Lord Fenj. I’ll wager you two hoppers that we’ll have many a good talk after this is done, you see if we don’t.’
‘You have great faith, Lorak of the Garden.’ Fenj’s eyes whirred the shadows-on-snow colour. ‘I accept your wager.’
Mim laughed aloud again, the hood of his cloak falling back. For a moment they studied the once-Nagum boy, then Brin gathered himself to lift from the ledge. Ashta rose directly behind him, Meppi nearly level with the pale green Dragon. Kija and Fenj moved into position and the five Dragons formed a close V formation. Brin flew further out from the mountainside then pulled in his left wing and dived, roaring out his deep bass call.
Lorak shut his eyes firmly as Fenj also called, the tone trembling through his massive frame and into the old gardener’s body. Mim’s eyes blazed as he watched over Ashta’s head Brin’s first blast of fire at the gate which was suddenly in front of them. Brin pulled up to circle back as Ashta and Meppi sent streamers of fire into the gate, then they too were flying upwards in a tight sweeping curve. As they came round again on Brin’s tail, Mim heard screams and yells fill the silence following Kija and Fenj’s attack on the gate.
This time Brin slowed and came low enough to land as he sent another scorching blast through what was left of the great gate. The iron hasps and studs crashed from the flaming wood and the remains of several black clad bodies lay motionless as smoke rose from them. Brin folded his wings tight to his sides and lunged inside bellowing his call and belching fire. Ashta was close behind him and moved up to his shoulder as they found there was plenty of space within the entrance.
Fighters came pouring from two passages, skidding to a halt as they saw what confronted them. Mim saw one fighter, grey flashes on his shoulder presumably marking him of higher rank, tumble into the chamber, take a cool look at what was happening and then sprint for another passage which clearly led upwards. Mim slid from Ashta’s back and raced after the man. Ashta roared and swung away from Brin to follow her soul bond.
Meppi followed Ashta as Brin reached the passages from which the fighters had appeared. A man emerged from an opposite passage and stood gaping at the sight of a great crimson Dragon in the entrance chamber. He was in different clothing from the black uniformed fighters and he stood, eyes popping and a faint wail issuing from his open mouth. Kija, behind Brin, studied him, her golden eyes whirring. A servant of some kind, no warrior this one, so she sent only a small jet of fire to scorch the stone in front of him. The wail rose to a shriek and he grasped handfuls of his long robe and fled back whence he’d come.
‘You watch the passages on that side Kija. I will guard these. Father, be sure no secret ways open near the gate lest they try to surprise us.’
‘Ashta and Mim,’ Kija began.
‘The ways are too narrow Kija,’ Brin said gently. ‘All we can do is wait for them now.’
Soul Bonds: Book 1 Circles of Light series Page 30
