Death's Angels tc-1

by William King

  “You wouldn’t care to be more explicit, would you?”

  “Someone is waking an old and evil power.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I am surprised that you do not — although come to think of it, the presence of that blade of yours might insulate you from things.”

  “You can feel the spell being cast?”

  “Yes, and if we do not stop it, we shall soon have something worse than the Ultari to deal with.”

  “Adaana’s Scales, how can we prevent it?”

  “It might already be too late but we will do what we can. I have prepared something. We must go below the mountain.”

  “Another fine bloody mess, Halfbreed” said the Barbarian. He was not best pleased by the way things were going, Rik could tell. “Leaving a won battle behind when there is plunder on the ground, to go traipsing around a lake. And will anybody tell us what’s going on? I don’t think so.”

  “Why don’t you ask your girlfriend?” Rik suggested. The Lady Asea’s beast strode at the head of the column accompanied by Sardec’s, and the ripjack pack. A long line of wyrms bearing Foragers straggled out behind her, weapons at the ready. Most of the soldiers looked no more happy than the Barbarian. From behind them, he could hear the bellows of wounded wyrms and the screams of the dying.

  “I think I can guess,” said Weasel.

  “So can I,” said Rik.

  “I don’t suppose you’d care to enlighten me,” said the Barbarian.

  “Look at the path we are following around the lake. I am sure you can remember where that leads.”

  “Not the bloody mine! Why are they going there?”

  “The Lieutenant’s a tactical genius,” said Weasel. “Nobody expected it. Least of all us.”

  “A surprise attack? On a bloody mine?”

  “He’s being sarcastic, you stupid northern bastard,” said a voice from the gathering dark.

  “I’ll give you bastard,” muttered the Barbarian. “When I get my hands on you.”

  Rik did not like this at all. Something felt very wrong. A strange chill filled the night and it was not merely physical. It was like the sensation he had experienced when Severin summoned the Crimson Shadows, only far, far stronger.

  Worst of all, the sensation grew stronger the closer they came to the entrance to the old mine. He had a feeling that he knew what was going on. Zarahel had begun his ritual. He felt sure that he could almost track the Prophet simply by heading in the direction that made him feel most uneasy.

  He looked at the others, wondering why they did not feel it like he did. Perhaps because they lacked his tainted heritage, perhaps it was because they were of pure human blood. Another thought struck him, and made him uneasier still. Or perhaps it was because they had not tried to read the forbidden books as he had.

  Seeing the open mouth of the mine did not make him any easier. It had been cleared once more, and yawned before them like the entrance of hell. He thought of his last visit here, and his trip down below, and his encounter with the demon and the sorcerer. He was not keen to repeat it.

  Get a grip, he told himself. When you get to the bottom of this you will find Zarahel and Bertragh and then you will kill them, if you can. Nothing else matters. You must prevent them telling the Terrarchs what they know about you and the books at any cost, or it’s the Inquisition’s chambers for you.

  But what good would that do if he was already dead, his soul devoured by demons? And then there was Asea. What did she know? He glanced at the sorceress. Her two servants and the ripjack pack hovered near her. She was of the First. She had lived for millennia. He doubted that she intended to die here. She would have a few more tricks up her sleeve. She would not fall victim to the Ultari. But if she lived, what then? What if she went looking for the soldiers who had sold the forbidden books? What if she already knew?

  “Break out your lanterns, men, we are going in,” said Sardec. There was a good deal of grumbling but no one questioned the order. Asea was there and they were all still in awe at what she had done earlier and flushed with victory over the hill-men. No one was going to object to anything while she was present. Her odd armour and her silver mask made her look like an Elder God stepped once more into the world. Perhaps, in a sense, that was what she was.

  “Sir, the mine may well be dangerous,” said Sergeant Hef, surprising them all. “We torched it only a short while ago.”

  “And someone has done a lot of work to reopen it in that short time, Sergeant. That should tell you something about the importance of what is going on here.” He looked expectantly at Asea. She appeared to consider for a moment and then spoke.

  “Men, more rests on you now than you can guess. Beneath us, this very night, wicked sorcerers are opening the very gates of hell. If they succeed then the forces of Darkness will sweep over us all. A horde of demons will over-run us, and then sweep down like an avalanche from these mountains and crush our homes and our loved ones. There is still time to stop them, a very short time. We must act now or there will be no escape from this place for any of us. We can go into this mine and overcome the evil which seeks to break loose here. Or we can flee and be devoured by it, as we certainly shall be if we run. I am going in. Are you with me?”

  It was a short effective speech and it laid out the options with frightening clarity. Perhaps the Foragers felt the strangeness of the night more than Rik had given them credit for. “Aye,” they shouted, and he was surprised to find he was shouting with them.

  “Should we make it through, I shall see each and every one of you rewarded as you deserve,” she said, which got a louder cheer. “There will be gold in it for you, and more than gold. I give you my word as one of the First.”

  Rik looked at Weasel and the Barbarian. “Let’s make sure Zarahel and Bertragh get the reward they deserve,” he said.

  “I am with you all the way on that,” said Weasel.

  “Me too,” said the Barbarian.

  Sardec moved among the men, picking out those who were to go below and those who were to remain on the surface with the wyrms in case the tribesmen returned. He was not surprised when he was picked to go below. He was surprised that the Lieutenant chose to leave some men on the surface.

  He’s optimistic, thought Rik. He’s making plans as if we were going to come back. Then he realised that it was all the Lieutenant could do. He noticed that one of Lady Asea’s servants had unpacked the metal flask they had seen earlier and had it strapped to his chest. Even in the gloom Rik could sense the alien power trapped within the thing. It did indeed look like the First had something planned.

  He had some preparations of his own to make, and bent over to make sure the carefully wrapped package he had purchased from Karl was still intact. He checked his pistols, particularly the one with the special and very expensive bullet.

  “Time to go,” said Sergeant Hef, tapping him on the shoulder. He saw that Weasel, Leon and the Barbarian were all among those picked to go below as well. He doubted that was chance. After all, they had been below before and survived.

  They joined the line of men with lighted lanterns who shuffled uneasily into the mouth of the mine. Lady Asea bent and said something to the leading ripjack. Uneasily the surviving members of the pack headed into the gloom. First Lady Asea and her servants, then Sardec and then the chosen Foragers followed the beasts down into the waiting darkness below.

  “I am scared, Rik,” said Leon. He was a small silhouette in the gloom at Rik’s side.

  “I don’t blame you,” said Rik. “I am terrified myself.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The mine was even gloomier than Rik remembered. He felt like he was being watched from all around. There was a pressure in the air that had nothing to do with depth beneath the ground. He felt the weight of the mountains and the weight of something else, alien and inimical, pressing down on him.

  They were a long way below the surface now. Asea led them quickly, quietly and efficiently, sending the rip
jacks snuffling along first one path and then another, waiting for their return at junctions, before ordering them to range ahead once more. Her two servants accompanied her always, and seemed as much at home in the darkness as she. He wondered exactly how human they were and what their presence here portended.

  They had gone off the path their original venture had followed, and moved deeper beneath the earth, winding further down with every step while the ceiling became lower and the oppressiveness of it all increased.

  The mine was much larger than he had originally realised. In their previous trip they had seen but the smallest part of it. There seemed to be endless galleries and tunnels. Something had worked down here for centuries to make them so big. Exactly how old were they? These mountains had been inhabited for a long time and not just by men. He remembered the map among the documents they had sold. It seemed that it had not lied.

  He heard soldiers breathing sharply and moving uneasily. There was not enough room in here to swing a bayonet or fire a shot. If the demon they had fought before was to come on them now, they would be sitting ducks unless the sorceress and her henchmen could protect them. Like most of the men he had slung his rifle over his back and went with bayonet in hand. At least he had his pistol, although he was not sure whether it would be wise to use it in this confined space. Ricochets could prove deadly.

  If they continued much further they might find themselves on the roads of some subterranean hell. Just as the thought struck him, he noticed that they stopped. A low mutter rippled down the line.

  Up ahead they had found light and something far more sinister.

  Zarahel sensed the intruders. He felt puny human spirits and the presence of others far more powerful. Excellent, he thought, directing some of his servitors to action through the psychic link they shared. Their souls would provide fine fodder for a reborn god.

  Rik could not believe his eyes. The tunnel had ended, passed through an opening and emerged into something far different. If he had not known better he would have sworn they were in a city, one buried deep beneath the earth and built by nothing human at all.

  All around them were walls of smoothed stone, caked and mortared and overlaid by something slick as varnish, shiny as the carapace of some monstrous beetle. Reluctantly he touched it with his fingers. It felt faintly sticky. Patterns of phosphorescence covered it. He felt sure that they were alien runes that contained their own cryptic meaning.

  The tunnels were long and circular as if made by the bodies of some great worms and then left smooth by the slimy secretions of strange moist bodies hardening on them. He intuited that he was having a premonition of the truth brought to him by some sorcerous sense other than one of the five normal ones.

  “What the hell is this?” the Barbarian asked.

  “I have not the slightest idea.” Rik said. Like the rest of them he moved forward to get closer to the Lady Asea. He strained his ears, desperate to hear what she might say, to get some explanation of their uncanny surroundings. She was speaking to Sardec but her words were pitched in such a way that he suspected that she intended for them to be heard by all. They were not reassuring.

  “…lair or a city, a hidden fortress of the elder race.”

  “It’s astonishing,” said Sardec. “So perfectly preserved. It looks like it was just abandoned.”

  “Perhaps it is not. Perhaps it is just re-inhabited or being prepared for it.”

  The ripjacks milled around, yipping and hissing and frothing madly. They seemed on the edge of going crazy, and Rik could understand why. Strange scents filled the air, strong and musky. If he could catch them, how much stronger must they seem to the tracking beasts.

  “It’s like the inside of a termite hive,” said Sergeant Hef.

  “A whole mountain made into a termite hive,” muttered Leon.

  “Let’s not imagine the size of the termites.”

  “Always looking on the bright side, eh, Rik?” said Leon. Despite his joking words, he was unable to keep the fear from his voice.

  Rik was thinking about the thing he had fought in the mine and trying unsuccessfully not to imagine a city of them. What must this place have been like when it was occupied and filled with those creatures, accepting sacrifices from the people who lived on the surface above, devouring flesh and souls and working the Shadow alone knew what unholy magic?

  There were undercurrents of stark fear in every man’s voice. The wrong thing said now might set them all running back up into the mine in terror. All of them knew they were in the presence of something larger and more frightening than they had ever imagined facing. They were ready to flee or to fight at the slightest provocation.

  Rik looked around once more. The tunnels ran off in every direction, some going lower, some higher. Others emerged from the ceiling or descended into the floor like pits. These were like streets designed for creatures not bound by gravity, he thought, or who could, like spiders, crawl up and down the face of walls.

  They had emerged on the outer limit of some vast web of tunnels. From here they could either follow the outer ring or descend deeper towards the centre. In the middle, he thought, they would find the spider that had spun the great structure. It was a thought he felt best to keep to himself.

  Asea spoke once more to the ripjacks. With ever greater reluctance the savage beasts snuffled for a scent and then led them deeper and deeper into the maze.

  “Ready your weapons, men,” said Sardec. “I want every rifle loaded. If something jumps us, they are in for a nasty surprise.”

  Almost immediately he regretted giving the order. It made him sound like a nervous fool. Of course, the men had already loaded their muskets. A glance around told him that no one seemed to have noticed his slip.

  Sardec pushed on through the corridors, the Lady Asea beside him. The ripjacks moved just in advance of them, reluctantly, profoundly frightened. The Lieutenant did not blame them. He felt the oppressiveness of their surroundings, although apparently not as strongly as the Princess of the First. Perhaps Moonshade did indeed insulate him from the sorcerous miasma she appeared to be ensnared in. Perhaps he was just less sensitive than she.

  The men were reluctant to move. He could sense it in their talk and in their tone. He pushed on, trusting them to keep up. They were like a herd, he thought, hanging together now for protection. None of them wanted to be left behind. All of them wanted to be close to the sorceress, as if this gave them a better chance of survival. They were probably right about that.

  The long circular corridors seemed more organic than designed and laid out with a strange symmetry that was not the product of a Terrarch or even a human sensibility. Now and then odd teardrop-shaped blisters or pods marked the walls, but they looked half collapsed. Inside a few were faint phosphorescent shapes. He felt sure that these were old, and somehow non-functional. There did seem to be more of them the further they progressed into the demon god’s lair.

  Occasionally what looked like a long, living cloud of luminous gas snaked through the corridors. They never came closer, nor did they appear dangerous. Once Asea sent the ripjacks towards one but it retreated into the distance with a speed that was surprising, and every indication of intelligence. Asea recalled the hunting pack before it could go too far.

  “What are we looking for?” Sardec asked the sorceress.

  “You will know when you see it.”

  The answer was not a great help, he thought, but then perhaps she did not know herself. Perhaps she would not understand the cause of this great disturbance until she was within sight of it.

  “Is there not some divination you could perform that would help?”

  “There are several, but I feel it best to conserve my strength for the coming conflict.”

  There was no arguing with that.

  With a thought, Zarahel directed the reborn sacrifices through the tunnels of the lair. They were armed with the old weapons, ready to fight in the old ways. He let them know they were not to kill their foes if
they could help it. There was a better use their souls and their juices could be put to. He gave his attention back to the summoning. The way was fully open now. More and more power flowed into him. He sent it coursing down the pattern to the sacs on the walls. New life went with it. The Spider God continued to emerge.

  Rik looked around frantically when he heard the scream. A horde of tribesmen and women poured out of side-corridors. It took him a moment to realise that there was something profoundly wrong with them. They moved slowly. They were naked and their skins were grey. A strange greenish-red witch-light burned in their eyes.

  All of them had what appeared to be massive jewelled pendants dangling from their necks. Many of them had other things attached to their bodies and those things were deeply disturbing to see. Some of them had massive crab-like claws, shiny and glittering like the carapaces of beetles attached to their arms. Armour of the same stuff covered some of their bodies. Their movements had an odd jerky inhuman quality that was almost insect-like. It was as if something that was inhuman wore their flesh.

  Rik knew what had become of those people who had disappeared into the mine now.

  That was all he had time to think about before lifting his rifle and snapping off a shot. Shooting into that tightly packed mass there was no way he could miss and he saw a man go down, knocked over by the force of the musket ball. Almost at once the man began to get up, pulling himself to his feet, despite having taken a wound that Rik would have sworn was fatal. There was no time to worry about that now. He reckoned they had time for one more shot before the fighting became up close and personal.

  He rammed powder and bullet home and fired in the direction of the war-cries and half seen bodies he could see through gaps in the drifting powder smoke. Shouts and sounds of fighting from up front told him that they were attacked from that direction as well. This was no random encounter then but a carefully planned ambush.