“Guess there’s only one way to find out, then,” Ayrion said. “We’ll need to organize a few teams to search the place while we set up camp.”
“Aye,” Bek said as he turned and headed back to the front. “There’s nothing more annoying than unwelcome guests.”
As if on cue, a pack of vulraaks charged from one of the halls and hit them before they had time to even draw their swords. Ayrion shouted as one of the creatures sank its teeth into his neck.
Everything spun, and suddenly he was back with his torch in hand, staring at an empty room. He threw the torch to the ground and drew both blades. “We’re about to have company.”
Chapter 58 | Ayrion
AT LEAST A DOZEN of the pale creatures poured out from the back of the Justice House, eyes as hungry as rabid dogs seeking their next meal.
“To arms! To arms!” Ayrion shouted as he kicked a fallen chair into the first of the creatures. The furniture brought down one of the vulraaks at the front, tripping those just behind. The creature skidded to a stop at Ayrion’s feet, and he plunged his blade through its back. Yanking it back out, he opened the throat of the next.
Beside him, Bek roared as the first wave hit, his hatchets chopping apart creatures with every strike.
Ayrion’s magic filled him as he entered his dance with death. His blades cut through the air as they sought new victims. He felt like a puppet on its strings as his magic seemed to take over, his visions helping him weave in and out of the creatures’ attacks.
“Don’t let them get their teeth in you!” he shouted at Bek.
“Don’t need to tell me!” he shouted back.
Vulraaks fell at Ayrion’s feet. Body parts covered the floor. He spun left as one lunged for his legs. With a single stroke, he took off the top of its head, painting the stone with blood. He sidestepped to the right and kicked the legs out from under another as he opened the fronts of two more with a swift backswing.
Behind him, he could hear Abiah hollering and the distinct echo of boots on stone as villagers charged across the rubble to their aid. Abiah’s winter cap flew off his head as he lifted a large broadsword and swung at the closest creature.
By the time their reinforcements had arrived, Ayrion and Bek had all but finished off the assault. The fighters formed a circle and waited, weapons raised, as they stared at the dark corridors.
When nothing else came, men and women began clapping each other on the back and waving their swords.
Ayrion turned around. “What are you cheering for? You act like we’ve just won the battle. That was hardly enough to be considered a decent scouting party.” He turned to Abiah. “Organize some men to do a thorough sweep of the building before we start bringing in the supplies. No fewer than five per group. We don’t want any more surprises. Find out where those came from.”
The stocky taverner wiped the top of his head and nodded. “Aye, General, I’ll see to it right away.”
“And quit calling me general.”
“Yes, General,” he said, this time with a salute and a smile as he marched across the debris, grabbing his winter cap on the way out. “Willem! Where are you, boy?”
Ayrion rolled his eyes. “And let’s get these lit,” he said, holding out a torch.
“I’ll see to it,” Tameel said as he and Zynora walked over to join them.
Ayrion turned to Bek. “We need to get a hunting party together and go look at those mines. How far outside the city would you say they are?”
“They’re not.”
“How’s that?”
“The northeast section of the city is built around the main shaft. It’s the oldest part of Belvin. The town started out as a mining camp. Lot of good men have lost their lives in there.” Bek wiped the remaining blood from his hatchets and placed them back in their loops.
“I’d like to see it with my own eyes before we decide anything.”
Bek nodded.
“Anyone wounded?” Zynora asked.
“I don’t believe so,” Bek said, looking around.
“Then Tameel and I will stay here and help Abiah organize the unloading. No need for us old people to go traipsing about the city.”
Ayrion nodded. “Keep your eyes and ears open.”
“Don’t you worry about us,” Tameel said, patting his crossbow. “Those creatures will think twice before messing with us.” He took Ayrion by the arm and directed him away from the others. “Don’t you think you might have been a little harsh back there?”
“No,” Ayrion said, a little surprised by Tameel’s reaction. “They need to take this seriously. They need to realize how dangerous this is.”
“I understand that, but they’re scared, and they need encouragement. A victory, no matter how small, is still a victory. They look up to you, Ayrion. Getting angry with them for taking pride in a win ain’t the best way to build a relationship.”
“I’m not here to build relationships. I’m here to keep them alive long enough to kill Argon. They should be scared. Blazes, Tameel. I’m scared.”
Tameel glanced over his shoulder at the people scattered about the room, sifting through the mess. “Well, don’t tell them that.”
Chapter 59 | Ayrion
BEK BROUGHT THEIR small company to a halt on the outskirts of the original town. There were about thirty armed fighters on horseback, including Ayrion and Bek. Not their full force, but enough to make Ayrion feel safe about taking a quick look at the mine to see what they were up against.
In front of them lay the miners’ community. Even though part of Belvin, it was clearly a separate entity of its own, resting inside a sunken valley. It looked as though it had at one time been home to a small lake that had long since dried up, leaving room for the antiquated town.
The community was nothing more than a large grouping of shanties, mining offices, and old warehouses where the ore was loaded and stored. On the east side of the warehouses were rickety-looking docks that led out to Virn Run.
Bek led them down the hill and into the maze of narrow one-lane streets that crisscrossed like a spider’s web throughout the empty village. The dilapidated shacks were in varying states of disrepair, hardly worth living in.
On either side of the dirt path were rows of knee-high picket fencing, each made of little more than tree limbs haphazardly shoved into the ground and held together by horizontally spliced ones. They looked more like rows of unkempt teeth than fencing.
The wind howled through the streets, carrying with it the smell of death and lost hope. Ayrion had thought the smell had been coming from the shanties, but the closer they got to the mine, the more potent it became.
Once through the labyrinth of shanties, Bek brought them to a stop at the edge of one of the warehouses just in front of the mine. The entrance wasn’t as large as Ayrion had expected, maybe nine feet tall and wide enough to fit three people at a time. The hole was dark enough that even Ayrion was having a difficult time seeing what was inside.
A cart rail stretched from the warehouse to the mine for hauling dirt, rock, and ore. Only one loading cart still stood upright on the metal beams. The others had been tipped over and their contents spilled out across the packed dirt. Scattered pieces of coal lay untouched beside the four-wheeled haulers, waiting for the miners to return to work.
“There’s the smell,” Bek said, pointing toward the front of the mine.
Just inside the entrance was a mound of discarded bodies, most too ravaged to recognize.
“I wonder how far in we’ll have to go to reach their nest,” Ayrion said, more to himself than expecting an answer.
“I’ve never been in there,” Bek said, staring at the dark hole, “but they say it runs deep.”
“Why not just collapse it?” one of the men behind them asked. “Bury them all and be done with it.”
Ayrion turned. “Is there more than one way in?”
The man looked at the mine, then shrugged. “No idea.”
“If there’s more than one way
in, then it wouldn’t help us much to collapse it. We’d just be making it that much harder for us to reach their nest. And even if there were no other tunnels leading to the surface, I have a feeling that Argon wouldn’t have all that much difficulty making one.”
“What do you think?” Bek finally asked.
Ayrion sighed. “I think I’d rather be anywhere but here.” He stared at the mine a moment longer, then turned his horse around. “Let’s get back to the Justice House and muster the troops.”
The early-afternoon sun was bright in the sky by the time they had managed to gather every able-bodied man and woman to march on the mine. Ayrion left a small contingent of guards behind—led by Tameel—to watch over the wagons, horses, and supplies. All the younger children had been left with Nell and a few other women back at the rover camp.
“Why not go in with a small scouting party first?” Abiah asked, constantly glancing over his shoulder at his son as if wanting to make sure the boy was still there. “You know. Find the nest before marching everyone inside?”
“I thought about that,” Ayrion said, “but if we did take a small group in and were spotted, we would lose the only advantage we have. More importantly, how many have the training to make it in and out alive? Our army is made up of farmers, shopkeepers, and tradesmen. They aren’t military. Other than Bek, I doubt we even have a handful of competent trackers. If those of us who are able went in there and were killed, what do you think the rest would do?”
“Run for the hills,” Bek said with a snort.
“Could be right,” Abiah said.
Ayrion nodded. “At this point, it’s all or nothing. Our best shot is to go in with everything we have and try to find the nest.”
Abiah winced. “Is it too late to change our minds and move to Keldor?”
Bek chuckled.
Ayrion was too nervous to chuckle. Too nervous to do anything but focus on what lay ahead.
The ride from the Justice House to the old city took less time than Ayrion had hoped, and by the time he’d finally gotten his hands to quit shaking, they were once again outside the old shanty village. Even with their full force of a hundred strong present, it didn’t give him much comfort, especially considering the frightened faces.
A silent tension fell across the ranks like a heavy mist, dampening their spirits as they quietly made their way through the ruins of the old mining community. The light chatter that had been a constant while walking through the main part of town had all but faded.
Ayrion brought the company to a halt just outside the last of the warehouses. On his left, Bek spun his two hatchets while performing a few practice swings. Behind him, with his winter cap pulled snug around his ears, Abiah chatted softly with Willem, who held a long dagger in one hand and an unlit torch in the other. The lanky boy stood a good head taller than his father and looked about ready to soil his trousers.
The smell of fear was in the air, maybe not as pungent as the half-chewed carcasses littering the opening of the mine beside them, but strong enough to make Ayrion wish he were anywhere else. Had he been this scared as the Guardian Protector? From the flashes of his previous life that had surfaced so far, he had led men into battle. Had losing his memories given him a different perspective, possibly robbing him of his courage? Or was this what it was always like?
Ayrion passed the word back to light the torches. All the way down the line, flames burst to life. Ayrion drew his swords. If he waited much longer, he was going to talk himself out of doing this. With a nod to Bek, he started in.
As expected, the mine was dark and damp, but it was also somehow familiar in a way he didn’t understand. He wondered if it had to do with him being Upakan. Tameel and Zynora had told him that his people lived underground in the ruins of the Lost City. Was this similar?
The sound of feet crunching loose rock filled the tunnel, making it seem even smaller than it was. The smell of decay was strong enough to taste, lessened only by the burnt pitch from their torches.
The main shaft seemed to go on forever. Surprisingly enough, they encountered no resistance, no sign that there was even a single vulraak living there. The only clues as to the nature of the inhabitants were the scattered bones and the smell. Clearly, the creatures stayed well away from the entrance during the day.
Up ahead, the tunnel forked. One chute to the left, the other right. The thought of splitting their group didn’t sit well with him, but he wasn’t sure if there were enough hours of daylight left to check every dividing branch.
“Left,” Bek said as he took a knee at the entrance to the tunnels and moved some of the loose soil and rock around with one of his hatchets.
“How can you tell?” Abiah asked, pushing forward to see what the big trapper was looking at.
“The amount of disturbance.” Bek stared down the left tunnel. “They don’t seem a bit worried with trying to hide their movements.”
“That’s because they don’t expect someone as stupid as us to come traipsing in after them,” Zynora said a few rows back.
Bek stood and wiped his knee. “One can hope. I definitely get the sense that Argon is a rather arrogant son of a faerie.”
Ayrion smiled. “Gave you that impression, did he?” He took a moment to listen down both passageways, but other than the flicker of the torches and the constant echo of rocks shifting around them, he heard nothing. “Left it is.”
Ayrion ordered a small contingent to stay behind to watch the second pass as the rest headed down the left fork. He hoped the nest wasn’t too far in. From the smell alone, he’d thought they were already neck-deep in it.
The way forward was slow and tense as they followed the double rails farther into the mine’s bowels. After having traveled awhile without the first trace of the creatures, Bek touched Ayrion’s arm, and they came to a stop.
“What is it?” Abiah mumbled nervously as he scooted forward to see what was going on. “Do you see something?”
Bek held up his hand. “Quiet.”
Everyone strained to hear what it was that Bek thought he heard. After a long moment of silence, the trapper lowered his hand. “Might be nothing.” Without another word, the big fur-cloaked man dropped to his hands and knees. Ayrion lifted his weapons and scanned the dark shadows ahead, but even with the help of his Upakan eyes, he didn’t see anything. He looked down at Bek, who was now prostrate on the ground with one ear pressed against the rail.
“Not exactly the ideal spot to be taking a nap,” Abiah said.
“Quiet, I can’t hear.”
Ayrion looked at Abiah, and the taverner closed his mouth.
After a moment of complete silence, Bek stood and brushed the small pebbles from his knees as he scanned the darkness ahead. “They’re not far. And they’re coming fast.”
Abiah grunted. “How could you possibly tell that from sticking your head in the dirt?”
“The rail. Metal carries vibrations.”
“How would you—”
“My father was a miner.”
“Oh, I, uh—”
Shouts rose from somewhere behind them.
“What was that?” Abiah said, raising his sword and pulling Willem close.
Ayrion gritted his teeth. “They must have been waiting farther down that second shaft. But how did they know we were coming?”
Bek looked at Ayrion. “What do we do? Fight our way forward or fight our way back?”
Ayrion had to make a spur-of-the-moment decision. If this was a trap, then pressing ahead wouldn’t do them any good. For all they knew, the tunnel led to a dead end. And if they didn’t get out of there now, they were going to be fighting a battle on two fronts, completely surrounded.
“Back!” he shouted to those behind them. “We go back!”
Ayrion’s fighters turned and ran toward the fork. Ayrion and Bek brought up the rear, knowing that it was only a matter of time before they could be facing vulraaks from both sides.
The shouts and cries and clanging of steel gr
ew fiercer as they neared the fork. Ayrion shuffled his feet to keep from stepping on some of their downed comrades, their bodies ripped apart by the creatures. Up ahead, his fighters were struggling to keep the vulraaks in the second tunnel. If he had taken a small scouting party instead of their entire group, they’d already be dead. But thankfully, the narrow tunnels and their numbers had managed to keep the vulraaks from surrounding them completely.
Before Ayrion and those near the end of the procession had made it back to the fork, the vulraaks tore out of the tunnel behind them.
Ayrion, Bek, and Abiah turned to meet the approaching horde.
“Come greet my hatchets, you white faeries!” Bek shouted. He didn’t have to wait long. The vulraaks were hungry for blood, and they tore at each other, trying to be the first to sink their claws into them.
The creatures hit them like a wave against the side of a cliff. Ayrion’s movements were sharp and precise, not wasting energy on flashy technique when a simple block-and-thrust would do. To the left, Bek shouted as he fought to keep from being completely overrun. Abiah remained surprisingly close-lipped, no doubt pouring all his energy into fending off those that got by the other two.
Ayrion swung, slicing a vulraak almost in two. Entrails poured out, cushioning its fall. He stabbed a second in the neck, using his other sword to keep its claws from reaching him.
As fast as he could kill them, more were there to take their place.
Every inch of retreat was a battle. One step at a time.
“On your left!” Ayrion shouted at Bek. The big trapper spun and buried his hatchet in a creature’s skull.
“Thanks!” he said, and jerked it back out and chopped another down.
Ayrion cut the head from one while sweeping the legs out from two more. His leather jacket was helping stave off the worst of the vulraak’s claws, those that made it past his steel.
Plague of Shadows Page 43
