Ulian and Wulfthram started to check each entrance in turn. Ceriana watched them in an almost disinterested manner, noticing how each arch had buckled over time on account of the vast weight of rock pressing down on them. She wondered if the tunnels beyond were equally damaged and, if so, whether they were navigable or not. It would be beyond infuriating to find their progress stopped by something as mundane as a rock fall. Maybe they would not even get that far, as Ulian appeared to be having problems.
‘There are no symbols anywhere that I can find,’ he was saying, plainly agitated. ‘Nothing. I wonder if it was deliberate, a final protection against the likes of us, outsiders who have deciphered the symbols. Those that mattered would know the correct way in. The other four tunnels are probably dead ends, beset by traps of some sort. There are other examples of the Wych folk doing such things in antiquity.’
‘Well, that is no help at all.’ Wulfthram sounded exasperated .‘So we have a four in five chance of stumbling on some trap or other. Were these traps ever of the lethal kind?’
‘Oh without exception,’ said Ulian glibly.
Ignoring the ironic laughter and groaning from his companions, Wulfthram slowly went and sat on the stony floor.
‘Let’s rest for ten minutes and have some food and water; we all need to think as to what to do next.’
Ceriana sat next to her husband and nibbled a piece of dried bread without enthusiasm. She took her husband’s arm.
‘I want to thank you,’ she said, ‘for coming here, for doing this when you really didn’t have to.’
‘Oh but I did have to,’ he replied. ‘The current state of affairs cannot be left to continue. Whatever possesses you has to be driven out somehow.’
‘The way I see it is that there are three possible outcomes. The best one is that we return the stone, go home happy and resume our lives as we should. The second is that all of this is some mad and pointless enterprise; we are in the wrong place and so we go home with nothing changed.’
‘And the third?’
‘We die!’ she said with a soft laugh. ‘It would be an outcome of sorts.’
‘Other things may happen.’
‘Such as?’
‘The amulet protects you and the rest of us die.’
She stirred uncomfortably. ‘That will not happen; I will make sure of it.’
‘Will you?’ he smiled. ‘You had better know: you and your family will take over the majority of my lands on my death. Marry wisely when I am gone; I would not have Osperitsan in the hands of some drooling idiot.’
‘You will not die here, not if I can help it.’ Her chin was set firmly. ‘And as far as marrying a drooling idiot is concerned, I will just stay clear of the Grand Duke’s court.’
Wulfthram smiled. ‘Have you heard the rumours about him and you?’
Her back stiffened. ‘What rumours?’
‘Surprised that I have ears in the court in Tanaren City? There are a few actually. One is that the two of you were and still are lovers, though how you can carry on from a distance of hundreds of miles is a mystery to me. Another is that you both share the same father, the former Grand Duke having had an illicit tryst with your mother. and yet another is that, once your inheritance is secured in my will, the Grand Duke will use his prerogative to divorce the two of us and take you for himself. That is the only rumour I do not have difficulty disbelieving.’
She stared at him and, despite her best efforts, her large eyes were shot through with guilt. She hoped the darkness would help hide her embarrassment.
It didn’t. ‘Ah, so you did know something along those lines?’
‘He told me at the feast, at Erskon House, after the wedding,’ she stumbled. ‘He is the Grand Duke and swore me to secrecy. Believe me when I say it has been an agony for me. I am sorry. My loyalty is to you first and foremost, I swear it.’
He put his arm around her briefly. ‘It is not your fault. He put you in an invidious position. If those are his plans, though, I hope he is aware that there would be many ramifications up here. As you now know, we in the north are not easy to forget or forgive an insult.’
‘No, it is a folly of his. When my father comes here I will speak to him. I swear I will fight any such move all the way.’
‘You would refuse the Grand Duke for me?’
‘It is the principle. I will say it again, I am a Hartfield and for us duty always comes first. I am your wife and as you are my husband my loyalty will always be to you no matter what the sacrifice. One day maybe I will get to prove this to you.’
Wulfthram looked impressed. ‘Thank you, my Lady. Are you sure you have no northern blood?’
She grinned, thankful for his response. ‘The only part of the north I have ever had in me belongs to you, my Lord. Now to the present: we have no idea at all which tunnel to take?’
‘None at all.’
‘I will go and take a look at them.’
‘As you wish.’
Taking one of the lanterns, she moved towards the nearest entrance. Why on earth had she said that to him? What could she possibly see that Ulian couldn’t? She moved from one tunnel to the next, realising with a heavy heart that they were all near enough identical. This is it then, she thought. The journey ends here.
She was at the fourth tunnel now. She stared at it. It stared back. Her shoulders slumped. She went to move on to the final tunnel when like a wisp of bitter frost floating about her ears the voice came to her once more. It was little more than a soft echo but there was something in the voice that froze her to the core. It was not anger or even hostility; it was a voice that spoke of suffering, of an eternity of tormented loneliness, a soul confined to the utter dark unto infinity, never to find peace or a sweet release.
‘It is this one,’ she said, indicating the tunnel. ‘Do not ask me how I know; just understand that I do know.’
‘Then it is through here that we must proceed,’ Ulian said, giving her an understanding smile.
The tunnel itself was lower and narrower than its predecessors. Its floor was littered with loose stones and rubble, causing many stumbles, bruised toes and suppressed curses. There was also an all-pervading musty smell to it, whether due to age, decay or something else Ceriana did not know. There were also signs that some of the heavier piles of spoil had been partially cleared and moved to the sides. No one spoke about it but it brought the image of a sepulchral shaven-headed man in black straight to the front of her mind. Ceriana wondered where they were hiding.
Suddenly Wulfthram turned to the others. ‘Strogar, put out your lantern.’
‘Are you sure, sir? Will we have enough light with just your lantern?’
‘Probably not. I am putting mine out as well.’
Strogar looked at his baron as though he had lost his mind. But he obeyed his order and his face was lost to the darkness as his light went out.
‘Now to see if I am right,’ said Wulfthram and followed suit.
Momentarily they were plunged into a blackness deeper than anything Ceriana had ever experienced before, something that she imagined existed at the very depths of the ocean floor. Perhaps her husband had gone mad after all; she put her hand in front of her face expecting to see nothing. But she could see it! It glowed a faint mustard colour, almost as if it was luminous. Then she looked up.
Above her the entire roof of the tunnel was coated in something glowing a fluorescent yellow. There were patches of darkness here and there, usually circular in shape, but they were surrounded by something that reminded her of a macabre type of seaweed. It extended partway down either wall and continued before them for some considerable distance. The soft light emitted meant they could see far ahead of them and there, maybe a quarter of a mile ahead, was a small black rectangle which could only be an exit from the claustrophobic space they now inhabited.
‘A bizarre type of phosphorescent fungus,’ said Ulian. ‘I have heard of such things but have never seen anything like it myself before. And look, it is movin
g – ever so slowly – but if you watch carefully it is inching down the walls. What a strange thing it is.’
‘It is a living thing then,’ said Ceriana. ‘I do not know why, but somehow that makes me feel quite uncomfortable. Let us leave this place behind.’
They picked up speed; everyone, it seemed, was of a like mind. Ceriana stubbed her toe on a loose rock and for the thousandth time cursed her foolish choice of footwear. From behind her she heard Haelward make a sound of disgust. It was so strongly expressed she turned around to see what irked him so.
She hadn’t been looking up but realised that had been something of a mistake. From the strange mass above them tendrils were dropping – thin milky strands bulbous at their end. They were brushing the hair of the taller men at the back of the party; Strogar, especially, was shaking his head as these dangling filaments stroked his face and shoulders.
‘Artorus’s beard, these things are sticky.’ Haelward spat his distaste, holding his arm to his face and hair to ward off the assault.
‘Keth take me but they burn!’ Strogar had a note of panic in his voice.
Wulfthram had seen enough. ‘Run!’ he shouted.
Heads held down they bolted as fast as they could, all thoughts focused on getting out of the place. Ceriana stayed close to her husband who held one arm over her. Her eyes were fixed on the ground and she saw with a sense of shock that it was neither stones nor rubble she was disturbing with her feet.
It was bones.
There were many small animal bones that she kicked or crushed underfoot in her haste, but for all her mind’s attempts to deny the truth before her there were also much larger bones among them. And then she saw her first human skull. A thrill of fear passed down her spine.
‘Hurry everyone, hurry!’ she shouted, feeling more panicky with every passing second.
She kicked up a cloud of dust as she ran, spitting as it went up her nose. They were nearly out now and she put on an extra spurt to get there. The exit from the tunnel she could now see was backlit with a flickering red glow. Fire? she thought, Before she could dwell on this further, though, a bellow of fear behind her caused her to twist her neck backwards.
Strogar had been completely enveloped. An enormous man-sized polyp had descended from the roof swallowing him whole. He had been lifted from the ground as the yellow sac slowly heaved itself upwards again. The strange growth was changing colour, too; a livid green fluid was streaming through it, all of it being pumped into the sac which was now nearly full of it. Inside she could see Strogar struggling to free himself. He had his short sword out and was stabbing at the thing enclosing him with completely unsuccessful results. The thing was translucent and she could see his wide-eyed desperate face – the green fluid was up to his eyes and appeared to be choking him.
Drawing his sword, Haelward roared and thrust at the sac, shield held over his head as he held off dozens of other tendrils as they whipped at him, trying to force him backwards. Derkss drew his sword but immediately it was caught by the spidery growths, leaving him unable to swing it either backwards or forwards. In frustration, he released his grip whereupon the weapon was lifted to the roof and absorbed under the strange shifting mass above them. Haelward, meanwhile, had managed to force his blade partially into the green sac only to find it had become stuck. He was unable to pull it free until Wulfthram joined him and the two of them grasped the sword’s hilt and pulled together. Finally, as both men groaned with the exertion, it came free, causing the two of them to fall to the floor. A spurt of green liquid followed it, splashing to the ground where it smoked and hissed and sent forth a noxious steam.
Haelward’s sword was smoking, too, and they watched as the tip of the blade started to dissolve in front of their eyes. Inside the sac, Strogar was motionless now, the green fluid over his head. They saw the sac’s contents darken as streams of black blood started to fill it. With mounting horror they saw that Strogar’s face had started to melt. His eyeballs had gone and blood flowed freely from the empty sockets. The skin had started to shrivel and peel back from his mouth and cheeks, exposing more and more of the dead man’s skull. Above them the yellow growth was darkening as the man’s life juices were sucked from him, and the bulging sac was now nearly black in colour as the digestion process continued.
As one, the rest of the party ran, Haelward leaving behind his shield and now useless sword and pulling out a long stabbing knife instead. Wulfthram had his sword drawn and Derkss, like Haelward, was reduced to carrying his hunting knife. Ulian was in the lead and it was he who first burst out of the tunnel into the next chamber. Ceriana was right behind him.
Straight away she sensed they were at journey’s end. They were in a large circular chamber in which visibility was not a problem, for the walls were lined by many flaming torches. It had a high ceiling, very high – were they really that far underground? The ceiling was tiled in white and bore a strange geometric pattern but there were so many cracks and gaps in the tiles that its meaning was beyond ascertaining. The floor was not tiled, but even if it were they would not have been able to tell for it was covered in bones. At least a hundred people must have died in this place – without wind or scavengers to disturb them they were lying pretty much where they had fallen, inside their rusted armour with their weapons lying close by. One could not take a step without crushing something underfoot.
They huddled together, not wishing to disturb their grisly surroundings. In front of them was a raised circular plinth with a lip at its edge. Contained within this plinth were dozens, maybe hundreds, of beautifully carved objects of gold, silver and bone, all of them, it seemed, depicting some type of animal and nearly all studded with gems – rubies, sapphires, emeralds and diamonds. There was more wealth in front of them than was held in the Grand Duke’s treasury, but none of those present were thinking of that at present. For in the midst of the plinth was a throne. It was carved in onyx or a similar hard black stone and on it sat a figure. It was clad in full armour, bright silver in colour, and its pauldrons, gauntlets and high conical helmet glittered with tiny diamonds. Without the armour the figure would have been near invisible for its skin and flesh were almost transparent, a ghostly pale shade of tremulous silvery white through which phantasmal blood vessels and bones could be seen. The skull was clearly discernible, a thin pale cranium like a waning moon part obscured by cloud. The only clear feature was its eyes, large and flaming red, and they now seemed to be gazing at the intruders as a master chef might have looked at a cockroach in his kitchen.
But he was not alone. Surrounding the plinth were a ring of similar phantoms. They bore no armour and their full skeletons were clearly visible, clothed under transparent flesh. Unlike the seated figure, their eyes were an icy pale blue and burned with a hostile intensity. Ulian stepped in front of the others.
‘Only I here can speak some of their language. Perhaps I should converse with them.’
‘Perhaps not!’ came a voice from the shadows behind them. ‘Perhaps you should just give us what we want. We may even allow you to leave this place alive.’
Three figures strode forth and stood before them, paying no regard to the bones they crushed as they walked. Ceriana took an involuntary step backwards, hiding behind her husband. For the black priests had made their move and were here to reclaim what they believed was rightfully theirs.
48
Dawn rose, crisp, clear and cold. The forest mist, such a pervasive feature of the Aelthenwood, licked around the fetlocks and haunches of the horses as they stood impatiently in the grassy clearing. They were standing on a high plateau that overlooked a virtually unbroken vista of trees to their north; many of these trees were clad in their solemn late-autumn colours of russets, buttery yellows and browns; only the stands of evergreens, such as the pine forests that hugged the foothills of the mountains, defied the overall tone.
Morgan, perched as indelicately as ever on his patient piebald mount, watched a skein of geese pass high overhead, flying away to t
he south and west where the weather was warmer and feeding easier. He was musing on how much easier things would be if he had a pair of wings himself when Itheya rode up alongside him. She was back in her dark leathers and was equipped again with her bow and long knife. She followed his eyes to the distant geese, which were growing smaller by the second.
‘If I had more time, I would have taken you to the northern cliffs overlooking the sea. This time of year they are packed with seabirds ready to journey south. For the young, it is the first time they fly. If they do not make it to the sea, the foxes will get them. Then on the water there are many schools of whales coming close to the shore picking up the last remnants of the available food. We do not see them during winter. As a child, I used to spend many hours watching both whales and birds; to see the fledglings struggle so hard is quite an inspiration, even if they do not all make it. It is Zhun’s way – the death of some means survival for the foxes – and just as many birds return here the following year.’
‘Will you ever get the chance to see it again? You strike me as someone who needs time for quiet reflection. It sounds quite a sight, but will you ever get the opportunity to be alone with your thoughts, given that you may be leading your tribe fairly soon?’
She smiled sadly. ‘Probably not – my duties consume my time more and more. Maybe when I am old and toothless I may get the chance to return there – but not before.’
‘Responsibility is a burden on us all. It is like a growth on your face; you can ignore it for a while but it never goes away, and sooner or later you have to deal with it, take a hot knife to your face and grit your teeth against the pain.’
‘Speaking of such things, Master Cedric does not look too well. Yesterday was quite a hard ride even for me; we want to be across the mountains in two days and I am not sure he can do it unassisted. Come with me.’
She rode slowly up towards Cedric, who was hunched stiffly over his small horse. He had not spoken to anyone for a while and his tremor was as pronounced as Morgan had seen it.
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