by Sally Green
She briefly touched General Davyon’s hand. We need to rest. I need to plan.
Davyon nodded once. Yes, Your Highness. And he quickly moved his hand away as if not wanting to hear or reveal too much. He spread the message to the group. Everyone looked relieved, some dropping to the ground.
Tanya made a pillow out of her bag and cloak, and soon was asleep. Most of the group were in similar poses. Catherine leaned back against the tunnel wall. It was only now when she was still that she saw how small the space was that they were in. The weight of rock above her must be immense, and it could crash down at any moment. It was a frightening thought but she pushed it away. The thing to fear was a demon attack. In the narrow tunnels there’d hardly be room for Ambrose and the other soldiers to draw their swords.
Ambrose was standing at the head of the group, on guard. Her gaze lingered on him. His hair was disheveled and sticking to his neck with sweat; his shirt, also wet with sweat, was clinging to his chest. His arm that she’d touched, that she’d cleaned of the mud, was relaxed at his side. His slender fingers that had touched her so gently were still—she would so like them to touch her again.
Ambrose turned and caught her looking at him. Catherine had hoped she was past the stage of blushing, but at least in the redness of the tunnel’s air it would be impossible to tell. He came over to crouch beside her and held out his hand for her to take. This was his new form of etiquette.
She had to control her thoughts before she touched him. She had to stop thinking of his skin. She had to think of leadership and getting out of here. She took a breath and put her hand on his.
How are you feeling, Your Highness?
Tired and a little nervous of this new way of communicating.
I think I might grow to like it.
Catherine looked at him in earnest. So you’re not angry with me for bringing everyone down here?
Never angry with you. But it seemed a rash decision! Though it has its benefits.
I had to try it. We’ve lost enough people already and I fear for Edyon and March, but I’m hoping that the rest of us will get through this.
And are you going to lead us back to the human world yet? Up there? He nodded to the new tunnel. Assuming that’s where it leads.
Yes, but if it does lead back to our world, then I think we won’t get out without encountering at least one demon at the end of the tunnel.
Hopefully just one demon—a small one. A friendly, kindly one would be nice. And he smiled at her.
Catherine returned his smile. Well, I’ll leave you to deal with him—friendly or otherwise. She looked down the tunnel. Still, I’d love to know what’s down there.
It doesn’t matter. The real fight isn’t in this world, it’s up there against your father.
You wish you were fighting?
I’m a soldier at heart. I always have been.
You’re a fighter then, not a lover? Catherine’s thoughts came as a surprise to her, and she took her hand away from Ambrose’s to compose herself.
But he put her hand on hers. Can’t I be both? Can’t I fight for you and love you as well?
I don’t know. I don’t know what to say. What to think.
Before we arrived in Rossarb I told you that I loved you. I love you still. I can be both, Catherine.
And through the red light Ambrose’s eyes were fixed on Catherine, his face serious and his lips parted.
His lips . . .
I’d kiss you with my lips if I could. And kiss your hands, your neck. I dream of holding you in my arms and kissing your body all over.
Catherine couldn’t help but imagine being held by Ambrose. How she would love to feel that. His arms round me, his lips on me.
Ambrose bent forward and kissed her hand. I love you, Catherine. He kept his head down and kissed her hand again. I’ll be both your lover and your fighter—if you’ll let me. Then he withdrew his hand and put it on his heart and moved away.
TASH
DEMON TUNNELS
TASH WAS lying on the warm ground, stroking her fingertips over the stone. The rough grains reminded her of sand. A beach. She’d been to the beach at Rossarb once. That was a few summers ago; she wasn’t sure exactly when. The beach had been deserted apart from a few fishing boats pulled up on the sand, slumped on their sides amid lines of ankle-deep smelly seaweed. Some gulls had squawked and swooped at her, and she’d shouted at them and flapped her arms to keep them back. She also remembered lots of pale crabs the color of the sand. She could only see the crabs because of their shadows, and they’d made her laugh as they scuttled out of her way as she walked. She’d knelt on the sand and waited to see if the crabs would come back. She’d waited a long time, but she caught one in the end, its shell hard like stone and its legs and claw waving at her.
The sand at Rossarb was pale yellow, warmed by the sun, and it had fallen through her fingers like salt. The grains of sand here in the demon world were red, and unlike Rossarb there were no animals, no birds, no crabs, not even seaweed. Not even sea! Though perhaps the tunnel did lead to something. Not the sea, surely. But an underground sea? Did all the demon hollows have tunnels? Did all the tunnels lead to a central point? Did they lead to a demon town? A demon city? Tash had always thought the demon hollows were more like the entrance to a rabbit warren, with lots of entrances but not that many rabbits. Perhaps she’d been wrong; perhaps there were hundreds or thousands of demons in the demon city.
Tash had never been that curious about the demon world before. She’d been busy doing her job—luring the demon out, letting it chase her, trapping it so that Gravell could kill it and collect the smoke.
Gravell had never talked much about the demons either. He’d talked about hunting them. He loved hunting on the Northern Plateau. He loved the forest and the snow, and he loved frozen streams best of all, always saying, “Solid water, that. My favorite.” Many times he’d walk across ice, and Tash would point out that he was breaking his golden rule of being cautious. He’d reply, “Just shut up for once and look at me! A man who can walk on water!”
Tash would never again be able to stand and shout at him, pretending to be exasperated while being surrounded by all the beauty of the world. She wiped her cheek. She really would have to find a way to stop crying every time she thought of Gravell.
The ice hadn’t ever broken under Gravell, but his usual caution hadn’t helped him in the end—who could have predicted getting caught up in a war?
In her head she saw Gravell with a spear in his guts, but mixed in that image were the many demons she’d seen killed by Gravell. Killed by his harpoons, just as he’d been killed by the soldiers.
Tash wiped her cheek again.
Did any of the demons feel sad about the demons that she and Gravell had killed? Did they cry?
She had never really thought of demons as anything other than a kind of animal. Pigs gave bacon, cows and goats gave milk, and demons gave smoke. The tunnel always sealed over when the demon died, and Tash’s thoughts always ended there too. Sealed over and gone, like the tunnel.
Whenever she and Gravell hunted demons, they never reappeared in the same demon hollow. But she and Gravell and the other hunters over the years must have killed many, many demons, so that meant many empty tunnels. Many empty tunnels that led nowhere. Could that be possible? Wouldn’t the earth collapse? And if the princess had to find a way out, was it a matter of trying each tunnel until they found one with a demon at the end of it?
Tash got up. She couldn’t sleep and she was fed up with thinking. She wanted to do something. She wanted to run. She wanted to get out, back to the plateau, back to the forests she knew. She picked her way over the bodies to Geratan, who was standing guard at the back of the group.
She mouthed at him, I need to pee. Tanya had shown her that she could communicate her thoughts if she touched someone, but she wasn’t sure if Gerat
an could see her other thoughts—that she had an urge to run and a curiosity about the sealed-up tunnel.
She walked up the tunnel they’d come down and when she looked back and could no longer see Geratan she sped up. It felt good to move fast.
Up and up, and on and on.
But then something began to feel odd. Different.
Tash slowed. What was it?
She put her arm up and touched the stone above her with her fingertips. The roof was lower. She was sure the tunnel had been higher when they came down it. She walked on, brushing her hands along the tunnel walls—and it was wider than this before.
And it seemed darker. It was red still, but dark red and becoming hard to see.
And now that she’d stopped running it felt colder as well.
Then she heard a noise . . . a very quiet chime. It was getting louder. Coming from down the tunnel, not up. Tash turned to look behind, bracing herself. Surely it couldn’t be a demon, as it would have had to get past the group to reach her. If it was a demon, then she’d have to run on up the tunnel. But she’d be trapped at the end. And . . . and then the source of the sound appeared.
Oh, for shitting shits’ sake. What was he doing here?
Geratan was jogging steadily toward her. His breathing was making a gentle chime, though his facial expression didn’t look so gentle. He slowed as he neared her, his head bent low to avoid hitting the roof.
Tash wondered if he was going to say something about her pissing, but he put his hand on the roof and thumbed back down the tunnel, indicating that she should go that way.
NOW! he mouthed for emphasis.
Tash gave him a very wide, very fake smile and turned and ran up the tunnel.
There was a crash of a gong behind her, which Tash assumed meant Fuck or Shits or, more likely as it was Geratan, Bother.
She ran on up the slope, bending forward so as not to hit her head. But soon it was too narrow to go farther.
The tunnel had changed. She hadn’t reached the demon’s lair at the top of the tunnel. That had gone. It was dark ahead. No red light at all.
The tunnel was shorter.
It was sealing up. Not just the entrance, but the whole tunnel.
Would she be sealed over if she stayed here?
“Would I . . . ?” she said, and was surprised that her voice sounded almost like her normal voice, not a clanging of metal pots.
“Shits,” she repeated to test her voice.
It was definitely almost like her normal voice.
She spoke quietly now. “Is the tunnel closing up?” She put her hands on the tunnel walls. Her voice was normal. And already the walls seemed to be pushing her arms in.
“Shitting shits!”
She looked at Geratan, who was having to crouch farther back, his shoulders too broad to fit, his head scraping the tunnel roof. “We’ve got to go back,” Geratan said. “Now!” His voice was normal, but that was strangely worrying. And already he had no room to turn round and he was shuffling backward, shouting, “Come on. Hurry!”
Tash could feel the wall almost pushing her from behind.
Geratan grabbed Tash’s hand, pulling her to him, and then he pushed her past him, her arms scraping on the rough stone of the walls. Geratan was having to squeeze sideways through the gap, shoving her forward as he shouted, “Run!”
Tash grabbed his hand and gripped tight. “Stay with me, Geratan.” And she pulled him with her to where the walls were a little wider. Here Tash sped up, still gripping Geratan’s hand. Then she heard his voice in her head: Keep going. We’re free of it now, but keep going.
Tash slowed only when she couldn’t touch the roof above her head. She said, “My name is Tash.” And it sounded like she was shaking a pot of spoons. She turned to Geratan. He had wide bloody scratches across his cheek, forehead, and both arms.
He touched her arm and she heard his voice. Are you all right?
Yes. But she quickly moved her arm away from his touch and forced a smile. She didn’t want him to hear that she was terrified of the tunnel.
They rejoined the others, but even here the walls felt closer in. Tash went to the princess and shook her awake, remembering to think clearly and only about the tunnel.
The princess opened her eyes and sat up. Tash put her hand on the princess’s hand and concentrated on her thoughts.
The tunnel we came down is changing. It’s sealing up.
The princess glanced up the tunnel, then her eyes were back on Tash. Sealing up?
Yes, like . . . like the way the entrance sealed over. The whole tunnel is filling up the same way.
But it’s rock. You’re sure this is happening?
Yes, it’s rock and, yes, I’m sure. I went up it and I’d say that half of the distance we’ve come down is already solid rock. I nearly got sealed in it, it was changing that fast. Geratan saw it as well. You can ask him.
I don’t need to ask him. I believe you, Tash. I just need to understand if we’re in danger.
Well, it’s beginning to make the storm and Brigantine army look like the easy option.
Tash heard a mix of words: positive . . . the group . . . Then the princess’s thoughts were clear again. If the tunnels seal and close up when the demon in them is killed, that means each open tunnel has a demon at the end of it.
Yes. That makes sense. Tash nodded.
And only ever one demon? The princess emphasized her question with a quizzical look and by raising one finger.
Only ever one in my experience.
Catherine smiled and put her hand on Tash’s shoulder. That means this new tunnel should lead to the human world and should only have one demon at the end of it.
I guess so.
You’re a wonderful scout and guide, Tash. Thank you for your help. Then the princess took her hand away and went to Davyon.
Tash sat back against the tunnel walls. It was hard rock. How could rock seal up? The sand on the beach filled in holes quickly; this was slower than that. A tree was hard but it changed, growing bigger, but that took years. Water moved round you unless it was frozen. Wax moved when it was warm, and this stone was warm. Perhaps this stone was more like wax?
And was the tunnel made by a demon? Did the tunnel fill in because the demon was dead? Why did the demons live at the end of the tunnels?
A clanging noise from Rafyon roused the group. Tash picked up her bundle of things and squeezed past the others to where the two tunnels joined together. Rafyon was pointing up the tunnel. At last they were heading out. One more demon to kill, and they’d be back in the human world. Tash didn’t want to be involved in killing anything, not anymore, but she put that thought out of her mind. If this tunnel was as long as the one they’d come down, then within another day they’d be on the Northern Plateau, back in the forests where she belonged. Though she’d never been there without Gravell.
She’d never been most places that she could remember without him. He’d been like the father she’d never had, or perhaps a big brother. Though of course she’d had a father and two big brothers who were complete shits. And Gravell had bought her, though really she didn’t like to think of that bit, except that in the end it had worked out and she wasn’t a slave. She could have left Gravell the first day and nothing would have happened, except that she never wanted to leave him; she had liked Gravell from the moment they met. He was the first person who talked to her as if she mattered, as if he thought she was important.
And now he was dead.
It always came back to that.
Gravell was dead.
Gravell hadn’t believed in an afterlife as some people from the east did, nor in any other stories of heaven and hell or living again. “Just wishful thinking,” Gravell used to call that. “Hoping that you can have another go at life, another chance; but this is it: this is the one and only. Make the
most of it.”
Tash didn’t believe in an afterlife either—in fact, she wasn’t sure what she believed in other than the world around her. Gravell had always mocked people who believed in gods or mystical things. He said look around, see the beauty, why make up stories about this when it’s all so beautiful and wondrous as it is? The animals, the forests, the plateau—they were the things he believed in. Was the demon world another variant, as strange to her as the sea, which she’d swum in once and knew was not a place for humans? The sea was a frightening place, but no more so than these tunnels that closed in. Demons seemed strange, but no more so than whales or fish or crabs.
Tash stroked her hand across the warm rough stone and wondered. What was she going to do? How could she make the most of this, her one life?
Tash was a demon hunter. She had killed many demons—nineteen or twenty, she’d worked out. She had called herself a natural-born demon hunter, but she would never hunt a demon again. Not for smoke, not to sell it for money.
But what could she do if she didn’t hunt demons?
She could carry on south and join a fair. She’d earned enough at the Dornan fair making deliveries, her fast running earning her good tips. Gravell hadn’t wanted her to do that, but he was always bad with money.
Anyway, whatever I do, I’m going to get out of here and get away from this lot.
EDYON
NORTHERN PLATEAU, PITORIA
EDYON WAS waking slowly. His body was warm, though his legs were cold and his feet were like blocks of ice. He curled up under his blanket. Then he remembered: he didn’t have a blanket. What did he have? What was over him, under him . . . next to him? He remembered the snowstorm, the Brigantines, the demon hollow, March, the dead demon . . . Oh yes, he’d fallen asleep cuddling up to a dead demon! And he was still next to the demon—it was still warm. Edyon shuddered. But he wanted, no, he needed to warm his feet. He gently moved his legs to wrap them round the demon’s body.
