Too Cold to Bleed
Page 49
“Hey,” Bergnon said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get them free, and be quick about it.” He moved past her and broke the nearest padlock open with three blows of the back of his hatchet. The cell door swung open with a metallic grind, the occupants shying away from him.
Ruah walked up to the next cell and smashed the lock open. She barely heard the croaked words of thanks from the townsfolk; she was numb to their hugs, their kisses, their touch. Her eyes were bound in a dark fog to the sight of Hal and Selby, still in that embrace to the rear of the long-house. His arms were wrapped about her, her arms reaching up his back, their heads on each other’s shoulders. Selby was facing her, bruised cheek on Hal’s shoulder. She opened her sunken eyes and stared right at Ruah before turning away, burrowing her head into Hal’s neck. Ruah shook herself from her cloud. She looked right at Selby’s back, and gripped the haft of her hatchet tight.
“Roo,” Bergnon called, “come on.” He walked past her and smashed another cell open, and then the next.
Ruah stood there and felt a sickness grow in her. She turned, and walked out of the long-house and into the courtyard of the fortress. The sight of the guardsman stepping out of the recess by the gable wall jolted her senses.
A lamp shone her way. “You!” the guard snapped, breaking into a run, sword drawn.
“Fuck it!” Ruah snarled, and ran towards the guard.
The guard dropped his lamp and raised his sword in a two-handed strike, ready to slice across Ruah.
She dropped her hatchet and grabbed hold of a shovel leaning against the wall of the building. She swung it hard, its reach longer than the guard’s sword, and found herself laughing at the noise it made as it crashed into the man’s head. The guard lurched to one side, and fell stiff into the mud. Ruah stepped over the unconscious man, raised the shovel up above her head, and then crashed it down onto his head, once, twice and then again. And then once more, just to stop his legs twitching.
“Roo!” Bergnon hissed from the door of the long-house. “Get back here!”
She looked over her shoulder and spat. She looked down at the mess she had made of the guard. Another shout caused her to look up, seeing a head poking from a tent flap. “Shit.” She bent down and grabbed the dead guard’s sword, before turning around and picking up her hatchet. She ran back towards the long-house and slipped inside the door past Bergnon.
“What the hell was that?” he asked, closing the door behind her and sliding the plank across it to fix it shut.
She shrugged and leaned against the wall, staring hard at the fearful eyes of the townsfolk before her. She looked down at her clothes, and realised she was covered in blood.
“That really her?”
“That Twisty?”
“She saved us.”
“Twisty’s here?”
“Freed by the cripple.”
“Who? That rotten little fucker?”
Ruah ignored the words and just stared beyond the filthy, stinking crowd to where Hal still embraced Selby. Fucking hell! Enough of that shite!
Shouts sounded outside the door to the long-house. Shouts of "Break it down" and "Burn it to the ground" sounded from the other side. But Ruah paid little heed to it. She just stared at Hal and Selby, and let the dark cloud swallow her.
The smell of foetid, sulphurous air wafted over them all as they rushed down the stairs. Kalfinar led the way as Evelyne directed them to the fourth level beneath the entrance hallway to the keep. As they wound their way down the tight staircase, a coil of panic grew in Kalfinar’s stomach. The amulet about his neck was growing uncomfortably hot, and he knew there was a dark power in the depths. When they reached the fourth sub-level Evelyne pointed them towards a long, dark hallway.
“Olmat’s down there, in the temple,” she said, her voice trembling from weakness. As she pointed out to the hallway, the sleeves of her thin shirt slid down her arm, exposing the long purple scars that ran up from her wrist.
Kalfinar reached out and tenderly took her arm, bringing her into a gentle embrace. He kissed her cheek. What terrible fear you must have felt. What selflessness, to sacrifice yourself for us all.
She smiled back at him, though it was not a smile of joy. The curved line of her pale lips was edged with sadness, her eyes full of shame.
Kalfinar reached up and touched her cheek, then kissed her forehead. “At the end of the hall?” She nodded, and Kalfinar stepped into the darkness of the hallway.
A scream sounded from the levels below. The shrill cry of pain caused the party to freeze.
“What the fuck was that?” Murtagh asked, her words bit off quick with fear. “What the–”
“Yara,” Evelyne said, her head dipping. “It’s Yara.”
“Who the fuck is Yara?” Murtagh replied.
“She’s a friend.”
“Sounds like she’ll be a dead friend soon,” Jukster grunted.
“Enough!” Kalfinar snapped at him. He looked back to Evelyne. “We need to press on.” Yara’s scream sounded again, before cutting off sharply.
“Go,” Evelyne said.
Hot, stinking air washed over Kalfinar as he entered the small nimbus of light cast by the lonely lamp flickering in a rust-splotched sconce. He stepped up to the pair of tall black doors and reached out his left hand. He gripped the sword in his right hand and placed his left palm onto the door. The amulet about his neck burned against his flesh and a rush of black, oily nightmares flooded his mind, and the fear of his terrible dreams was reborn. The door ground open with a deep creaking.
A stinking, dry heat hit Kalfinar in the face. He looked inside, seeing row after row of tall dark columns supporting a high ceiling. Lamps burned from twisted sconces on each of the pillars, casting light out into the centre of the room. The spaces between the columns, however, were cast in darkness. At the far end, the room opened up around an altar set several feet into the rough rock face. A black flame of about ten feet in height undulated and swayed in a carved recess of rock.
“What’s that?” Broden asked as he stepped up beside Kalfinar.
“That is the source of Balzath’s power,” Valus whispered. “He’ll have fled here, weak after his exertions.”
Harvind and his Maracost wove symbols of protection over their hearts at the sight of the flame.
Kalfinar walked further into the room, eyes scanning the darkness for any betrayal of movement. As he stepped closer to the altar, he noticed the bloodstains on the floor, sticky and dark where someone was bled into the stone that led into the base of the flame.
“Grunnxe has been sacrificing the townsfolk to bleed their strength into Balzath,” Evelyne spoke quietly from behind him.
“He must almost be fully restored by now,” Valus said. “The flame is tall, and full of vigour.”
A pale light illuminated the space between the columns. Kalfinar stepped around the last of the black columns and saw his old friend entombed within a tall crystalline structure. His back was arched and his head tipped back, his old face twisted in a torment of agony. He stepped up to the mineral prison and reached out. The surface was cold and hard. A faint pulse could be felt against it. I feel your heart beating, old friend. He turned away from the crystalline prison and looked across at the other side of the great hall. Entombed in similar fashion was the Horn of Dajda. Kalfinar’s heart ached at the sight of the small girl, her green eyes shining bright within her tomb, and her curly brown hair like that of the daughter in his dreams, the one he had never met.
“Kal!” Ferdus hissed from the rear of the party. “Sounds like they’re on to us.” Ferdus’ eyes were framed by deep-furrowed brows. “If you’re going to do something, best get to it now.”
“Valus.” Kalfinar turned to the Lihedan dedicant. “Can you free Olmat?”
She moved towards the crystalline structure and laid her hands upon it, closing her eyes.
“Hurry,” Kalfinar urged, looking back to where Ferdus, Murtagh and Jukster flanked the door. Harvind an
d his remaining five Maracost fighters stood before the two tall, black doors, weapons ready. “Evelyne, get behind a pillar. Stay out of sight.”
“Give me a knife,” she urged, her eyes showing no weakness.
Kalfinar looked at her wrists, then back to her face.
“If she cannot free Olmat, then at least Dajda will be free.”
He pulled free the knife sheathed at his back and reversed it, handing it to her. “It won’t come to that.” He wrapped one arm about her and pulled her into an embrace.
“If it does,” she said, “I will see you again.”
“Kal!” Broden called, “we need to go.”
Kalfinar smiled, then turned to face the sound of bodies rushing towards the door. He freed his hatchet and waited.
The doors ground open, and a rush of bodies, Raven Man and Solansian, spilled into the hall.
Jukster swung his sword up into the belly of the first man, near cutting him in half. The man teetered backwards, his guts spilling, and tripped up two others.
Murtagh ducked under the rush of a Raven Man and cut free his foot, dropping him before reversing her sword and jabbing its point down into his chest.
Ferdus’ hatchet caught the downward cut of another Raven Man. He pulled his hatchet to the left, creating an opening, and drove his sword point through the man’s eye.
Harvind and his Maracost dove into the fight with savagery, their weapons whirling and sending up a mist of blood as metal clanged and shrill cries of dying haunted the air of the room.
Kalfinar engaged a big Solansian, meeting his sword thrust with a downward cut, deflecting it to the side. The big Solansian was quick, and cut back, near splitting Kalfinar in half. He jumped back, slipping on a puddle of blood, and fell over. The Solansian followed up with a lunge, but Broden’s sword thumped into the big man’s neck and dropped him.
“Get up!” Broden shouted, wiping a spray of blood from his face.
Kalfinar stood and rushed one of the two Raven Men carving Harvind off from the main fight. Kalfinar thumped the blade of his hatchet between the back of the man’s shoulder and neck, before turning and wading into the mass of sharp metal. He lurched to the left, avoiding the thrust of a sword point, and cut across the wrist with his hatchet. The weapon fell from the Solansian’s arm and Kalfinar drove his sword under the man’s ribs. The Solansian vomited blood and folded over, wrenching the sword from Kalfinar’s grip.
Another Raven Man rushed him, shoving him onto his back and rolling over on top of him. Kalfinar’s hatchet spun from his hand, resting just out of reach. He held the Raven Man’s wrists, holding the trembling knife point just out of reach of his face. He leaned his head back and saw Valus was still touching the crystal around Olmat. His eyes fell on his hatchet, and he knew he could not reach it. He strained, teeth gritting as the Raven Man’s strength caused his arm to bend. I’ll wager this fucker didn’t have to climb down a bastarding cliff tonight. Kalfinar drew up his right leg and twisted his hip, pulling his knee up under the Raven Man’s struggling form. He pulled his right foot up towards his left hand, and found the space between their two bodies. The Raven Man’s blazing eyes looked to the side and widened as Kalfinar’s leg hooked back and thrust the Raven Man over. Kalfinar used his momentum and rolled on top. The Raven Man’s mouth opened, revealing the stump of a tongue behind filed teeth. A wordless cry erupted from his mouth as Kalfinar twisted the knife around. The glinting point of metal trembled as it worked its way around, slow but sure. Kalfinar thrust his other hand down to the flagstone, crashing the Raven Man’s hand into the ground. He released his grip and punched the Raven Man’s mouth. Kalfinar grabbed the pommel of the knife with both hands, putting his full body weight behind the blade and driving it through the man’s face, grinding the knife point into the stone below. Kalfinar looked up just in time to see the rush, and leapt back from the sword thrust, scrambling on his hands and feet to escape the Solansian.
A roar sounded behind the Solansian and the man fell over screaming. Broden stepped up and finished him. “Do I always have to save your arse? I’ve enough to worry about without you always falling over.”
“Thanks,” Kalfinar replied as Broden kicked his hatchet over to him.
“May as well take his sword. You’ve misplaced yours.”
Kalfinar reached out and grabbed the fallen man’s sword. He stood and saw another Raven Man come at Broden. “Broden!” he shouted. The big man reacted in the instant, rolling. He came up and staggered, clutching at his back. His hand came away bloody and he stumbled onto one knee.
Kalfinar rushed at the Raven Man, his sword thrust being blocked, but his hatchet opening the man’s cheek and sending him crashing in a mist of blood to the floor. He looked back to Broden.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” the big man said as he drew himself up onto both feet. “Poked me a bit in the back. I’m fine.”
A massive flash of blue light flared in the room with a deafening bang. Kalfinar was knocked off his feet. As he stood, the rush of air being sucked back towards the rear of the room almost sent him over again. His ears rang, and muffled noises sounded about him. He rubbed at his eyes and focused towards the rear of the temple. Valus was lying on the ground, and next to her was the small form of an old man. Olmat.
“Kal!” Broden called, and Kalfinar turned. He saw the blazing eyes advance, sword level with his body. He slammed the sword point away from his chest and rolled around the Raven Man, using his momentum against him, drawing his sword down across the man’s back and folding him to the ground. He stepped up and ran him through, twisting the sword as he drew it free.
“That’s another time.” Broden winced as he laughed.
Kalfinar turned back and looked at the melee before him. They had almost held them off.
Ferdus brained a Solansian with a blow to the head before stepping back from the advance of a huge Raven Man swinging a mace. Jukster dropped the big Raven Man with a sword up under the armpit, before pulling it free and taking the head from another.
Harvind was all that remained of his crew, the Maracost’s face slick with blood as he pulled his sword free of the body and kicked it over onto the ground.
Murtagh drew her hatchet blade across the throat of the Solansian she was fighting. She looked at Kalfinar, chest heaving and wet with blood. She smiled at him, and then looked to Jukster. “Still alive?” she asked.
“Still alive.” The big man smiled, the purple scarring on his head almost in perfect symmetry with the smear of blood on the other side of his face.
Kalfinar looked back to Broden and saw his cousin was paling. He walked over to him. “Turn around.” He turned Broden, and saw a slick of blood running down his back and onto his legs. Kalfinar lifted the white scout's garment his cousin still wore and tore the bloody puncture hole open. The wound was above his right hip, and a couple of inches deep. “It won’t kill you,” he said, turning to face Broden. His cousin’s eyes were peering at the entrance to the temple.
“No. But they might.”
Kalfinar looked around to see Grunnxe standing in the entrance to the hall. At his rear were countess Solansian and Raven Man soldiers. Behind them were two iridescent demons. “Desverukan. Shit!”
Ruah looked about her and saw fear. The townsfolk had wild, terror-gripped eyes, hollowed out from whatever torture they had endured these last weeks. Sobbing echoed about the long-house, and shouts of alarm rose with every crash against the door. The soldiers on the courtyard side had given up trying to kick the door open, and had now taken to trying to chop through the damn thing with axes. The sound of the splintering wood drew her attention from the rising panic, and she turned to face the door. A sliver of dark metal showed through the crack in the wood. She gritted her teeth, jaw muscles flexing, and tightened her grip on the haft of her hatchet. Movement to her right drew her eye and she saw Hal step away from where Selby huddled in the nearest of open cells. He stepped out past the barred cell and towards Ruah and Bergnon.
r /> “Not looking good for us, is it?” he asked as he drew his sword and stood before the door.
Ruah didn’t even want to look at him. She focused her eyes on the fracture in the door. The pounding of the axes stopped.
A flaming torch dropped in from the small window at the top of the far gable wall. It spun in to a chorus of panic, and landed in a heap of soiled hay on the ground, sparking into wild, fiery life.
“Stamp it out!” Bergnon shouted to the townsfolk shying away from the flames at the bottom of the long-house. Black smoke curled up and rose towards the wooden ceiling. “Stamp it out! Damn it,” he sighed and headed towards the fire.
Ruah watched as Bergnon stormed down towards the flames. Something moved at the top of her vision. She glanced up, and through the smoke she saw a bowman at the small gable window. “Bergnon!”
Bergnon turned at the exact moment the arrow was loosed. It speared through the smoke and thumped into flesh, sending him crashing into gathered townsfolk, bowling them over and disappearing from view into a distant cell.
“Get down!” Hal shouted to the townsfolk as the bowman nocked another arrow. He ducked and picked up a simple wooden bench that lined the wall alongside the door. “Get behind me, Roo,” he hissed.
Ruah leaned against the wall behind Hal as the bowman loosed another arrow. A young man Ruah recognised as one of the tanner’s apprentices dropped face-first on the ground with an arrow in his upper back. His eyes rolled about his head before settling on Ruah’s. He took a short breath in, made to scream, choked on blood and then flopped into the mucky hay covering the floor.
“Hal!” Selby’s shrill cry sounded over the cries and screams of the townsfolk.
“Stay down, Sel,” Hal replied, his voice cracking and rising in pitch as desperation clawed at his throat. Desperation, and the thickening plume of black smoke. “I’m coming to you. Here,” he handed the bench to Ruah, “hide behind this.”