The Best of Men - an epic fantasy (Song of Ages Book 1)

by Wilf Jones

  ‘Well done. Again.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she yelped. This time she felt like a fool. ‘It was just so unpleasant in there, something was… I don’t know.’

  Together they fumbled around in the dark searching the floor for the lighter. Sigrid’s hand closed upon something.

  ‘Found it,’ she said, but almost in the same instant Ruspa said the same.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘Not your lighter but something. Why don’t you light up, then I can see?’

  This time Sigrid heard only a clicking noise and a soft curse.

  ‘Lost the damn flint. I have another but I’ll never get it fitted in the dark. Unfortunate. A pity you panicked.’

  ‘A pity you didn’t hold on to it a bit tighter.’

  Sigrid was beginning to dislike this little man. Did he never make a mistake? He was silent for a few seconds but then carried on as if Sigrid had said nothing.

  ‘So our best course is to continue along this main corridor. It looked to me as though it was beginning to incline slightly upwards. An encouraging sign, I think. But we must remember on our return to keep to the left to avoid the other way.’

  ‘Suits me.’

  They moved on. Sigrid was glad to leave the argument behind. He was in the right: she had panicked but what worried her most was that she had no idea why. There were no eyes in the dark, no slithering creatures at her feet, there was no scrape of a drawn sword echoing in the depths. It was just a tunnel. But so cold, and so silent, and the way the light from Ruspa’s oilcan had sunk into the darkness as if good honest light had no power there made her feel that, unheard and unseen, something of truly ill intent lay in wait. Down there, just beyond the reach of common senses, something evil had been willing her to take just one more step. As she moved slowly forward, close in Ruspa’s wake, even though nothing could possibly be seen, she kept looking back over her shoulder. She could discern no movement, the echoes of steps were all their own. Nothing followed. The object she had found at the entrance to that dark way nestled in her pocket, disregarded for now.

  Ahead, not only did the corridor begin to incline upwards but after only another twenty yards or so it turned sharply right. Here the blackness that fettered their senses became less complete, a greyness developed with each step and after another turn, this time to the left, they could see soft beams of light filtering into the passage from high up on the right hand wall. They hurried forward.

  This time not a tunnel but an opening into free air, clogged by dirt and broken rock as at the other end. Some scrabbling at the detritus of several centuries found them no rotten wooden door this time: instead the daylight crept in between the bars of a rusted iron gate.

  Ruspa gave them a tug. There was some movement but not enough for a quick exit.

  ‘Berta could shift them,’ Sigrid told him, ‘Or that Garaid lad.’

  Ruspa slid back into the passage. ‘Or perhaps there’s some better opening further on. We may find an escape not so dependent upon muscles.’

  But no: further ahead the light waned and they reached an impenetrable wall of fallen stone and mortar. It was the end of their exploration.

  ‘We’d better get back to ‘Berta then,’ Sigrid suggested.

  ‘Yes, let’s get back into proper daylight. Twenty minutes of this gloom and darkness is more than enough. And let’s make sure we keep to the left and well away from that hell hole.’

  Sigrid was surprised. It hadn’t occurred to her that Ruspa felt as bad about the place as she did. He seemed such a cold person, she hadn’t considered he might have feelings of any sort.

  All through the night the furtive digging down in the tunnel continued. Blind the prisoners had to rely on touch alone but eventually their labour gave reward. The gap into the tunnel was widened and was now sufficient for the mightiest of girths; at the other end the bars that yet denied them freedom had been loosened to ‘Berta’s satisfaction, ready for one final effort. They waited only for the heat of noon once more. It was an uncomfortable wait.

  General disappointment greeted the unmistakable sound of more Halfi arriving and the continuance of construction work. There was renewed hope when in the late morning they heard many of the Halfi joking and laughing as they left their work and by the sound of it left the village too. Things seemed to be moving in their favour. Angren spread the word that they all should be ready to go at his signal. Not one prisoner dissented, not one thought the chances any better to wait and see.

  They welcomed a gusty wind that blew up shortly before noon. It took away some of the heat and encouraged the guards to leave their buffeted tower sooner than normal. They were startled by sudden, sporadic explosions and by a frightening roaring noise in the distance. A glance up at the sky revealed the source. A great pall of smoke billowed above the trees. Thankfully downwind of their camp, the forest was burning.

  It was time. There were no guards to watch as one by one the prisoners crawled into the tunnel. Ruspa went first with ‘Berta and Angren just behind, and the rest following in no particular order. Bibron Farber saw the last of them through. As Garaid disappeared into the darkness the Captain stepped back into the compound to take a last look at their prison. The walls seemed higher than before, the earth more bare and the eerie silence uncomfortable. He snorted, spat his good riddance into the dust and then, with grim satisfaction, made a rude gesture with his right arm in the direction of the main gate.

  ‘Up yours, you bastards!’

  He would have liked to yell it out but common sense prevailed and the curse came out as little more than a whisper. As he plunged through the hole that would take him to freedom the thought occurred to him that the silence they left behind might just be a problem.

  A few moments later two of the Halfi climbed back up to their viewing point.

  They had all been warned about that other passageway. Most of the prisoners clung to the right hand wall of the passage unwilling to learn any more about it. Angren, on the other hand, despite his discomfort at being underground, decided he had a duty to perform. Walking just behind Ruspa and his lighter, the weapon-master peered ahead. After only a few minutes in he thought he could make out a dark patch on the left hand wall. Bizarrely, in the uncertain light it seemed as though the darkness of the tunnel was seeping into the passageway before them. This was probably an illusion but it added to his sense of unease. But Angren had a solution for nervousness: his much practiced method was to ignore the feeling and carry on anyway. This attitude often made others think him brave.

  At the opening Angren asked to borrow Ruspa’s lighter and holding it high above his head he stepped boldly over the threshold. Nothing much happened. He took twenty paces down the slope, his foot slipping only once on the slimy floor. Surprised to be out of breath, he stopped to take a rest. All he could see was the worn smooth grey stone flags at his feet and the muddy brown walls. Both the way ahead and the way back to his friends were equally shrouded from his sight. He took another five or ten steps without bettering the situation, and then without any warning the lighter went out. The suddenness made him yelp.

  Back in the passageway Sigrid who had been the foremost of those tracking his progress shouted out ‘Angren! Angren!’ but by the time the noise of her cry had diminished they all could hear his steps toiling back up the slope. They couldn’t see him but recognised his chuckle as he came close.

  ‘Something up, Sig? I thought I heard you shouting.’

  ‘Well I thought I heard you screaming.’

  ‘Just a little surprised when the lighter thingy went out. Couldn’t see any reason for it, though I did think the air was a little tight.’

  ‘Tight?’ said Ruspa.

  ‘You know, hard to breath. To be honest I was just thinking of turning round when the light went. Here, can you get it lit again?’

  They fumbled around
in the dark trying to locate each other’s hand.

  ‘As I said to Sigrid,’ Ruspa reminded them as he flicked the lever causing green sparks that caught the oily wick and gave them sight once more, ‘It is very likely the air down there is poisoned.’

  Angren frowned. That didn’t quite explain it. ‘Actually, it was more as if the air was getting less, thinner, as though the goodness was being sucked out of it.’

  ‘Amounts to the same thing.’

  ‘Does it? Well anyway, I think that’s why the tunnel seems so unpleasant. I don’t think there’s anything down there to give us any trouble.’

  ‘No demons or monsters waiting to attack then?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so ‘Berta,’ said Angren, but then added with a laugh, ‘Mind you, I don’t always get it right. So, just in case, let’s get out of here and find some better air.’

  No one objected to that and Ruspa set off again at an increased pace, seemingly keen to put some distance between himself and the mysterious tunnel.

  They all crowded round when they reached the bars, so much so that Angren had to urge them back to give ‘Berta and Garaid some room to work. There was a little grumbling about this, and the echoes of so many people together bounced off the walls like the growling of some angry old dragon. More than one of them looked back into the gloom towards that other tunnel wondering whether the echoes might have a different source.

  ‘Shush, you lot,’ ‘Berta whispered so loudly that everyone heard. ‘I want to listen.’

  The light of honest day illuminated her face but long grass and weeds screened the world beyond from view. The wind was still blustering and the roaring sound of the fire in the distance continued. Birds in a panic flew high in the sky calling in many voices. But there was no sound of human activity. They all listened for a good five minutes but there was nothing to be heard and they began to breathe a little more easily.

  ‘Right ‘Berta, Garaid, lets have those bars down,’ said the Captain. ‘I’ve had enough of being a captive.’

  There was a general ‘aye’ to that and so the two of them put their backs into it. It didn’t take long. Angren, not a weakling himself, couldn’t help admiring the pair of them. Garaid grunted a bit with the effort of pushing and then pulling as they struggled to loosen the bars from the earth that had encased this gate for so many years, but ‘Berta took it all in her stride and gave the impression she wasn’t much challenged. The joints where the three cross bars met the five verticals, well enough rusted to be brittle, soon gave way to their combined strength, and, with something of a clang and clatter, the uprights were free.

  Angren stepped up. ‘Good work men.’

  ‘Berta gave him a black look.

  Angren shrugged and then grinned. ‘You know what I mean. The pair of you make a good team. Right, now for a little less power and a bit more stealth. Get everyone through while Ruspa and me take a good look around. C’mon, while it’s still quiet.’

  And without waiting for assent or dissent, Angren and Ruspa scrambled through the open gateway and disappeared into the scenery.

  ‘Well,’ said the Captain, ‘You heard the man. Let’s get out of here.’

  And so they did.

  DEMONOGRAPHY

  Tumboll 3057.7.26

  ‘Berta took a few moments rest after her efforts. She took a few deep breaths of the promised free air and thought it pleasantly smoky. She watched the others emerge from the tunnel squinting in the strong light. It took a little while to get everyone out and ‘Berta couldn’t help wondering exactly how much time they would have before their escape was discovered. Clearly Bibron was equally worried. He posted lookouts at once but then returned to the hole to help the rest. So far the noise of their egress didn’t seem to have attracted attention.

  Of those already free most of them followed ‘Berta’s lead and took the opportunity to get their breath and calm down a little after the perceived threat of the passageway and the tunnel; but there were a few among them who were all for getting away immediately. A big man called Scortha was their leader.

  ‘What are we waiting for? Let’s go. We’ve got to get out of here before they notice we’re gone. We should make for those hills in the eastern end.’

  Garaid was scandalised. ‘Just hang on a minute. Not everyone’s out yet,’ he growled, ‘and don’t you think we should wait for Angren?’

  ‘What the hell for? I didn’t ask him to go scouting. It’s his look out if we’re gone when he gets back.’

  ‘Listen here, you scumbag, it’s down to Angren and a few others that we’re out of there. I didn’t notice you volunteering to help.’

  ‘Why bother volunteering when the arrogant bastard wanted to do it all by himself?’

  ‘Berta decided it would be a good idea to stop resting and take a stroll. She took a stroll towards Scortha and Garaid, wondering whether she’d be in time to prevent the fight.

  ‘Arrogant bastard, you reckon,’ snarled Garaid.

  ‘On the nail. He might be a friend of yours but I’m not wasting time waiting for that Aegardean shit.’

  Bibron had sidled up alongside Garaid. ‘Berta wondered which of the three of them would start it.

  ‘Tell me, Scortha,’ Bibron said in a steady voice, ‘Let’s say we go now and don’t wait for Angren. How far do you think you’re going to get before the Halfi realise we’re gone? Not far I guess. And where exactly are you going to? So far we haven’t a clue which way’s up and which way’s down. So how long do you think it’s going take ‘em to track us down if we’re wandering around like witless fools?’

  ‘Berta grinned. If Bibron really was trying to act the peacemaker he might have left out the ‘witless fools’ bit. Scortha didn’t seem too impressed.

  ‘What’s witless, Farber, is hanging around here waiting to get caught again. We just need to get away from here as fast as possible, head for somewhere we can defend ourselves.’

  ‘Oh and then what?’

  ‘Figure out a way of getting off the Island.’

  ‘You gormless clod,’ said Bibron, now somehow forgetting that he was trying to calm things down, ‘what were you thinking of: hitching a lift on a cloud? What we need is weapons, food and a boat in that order. And what we don’t need is an idiot like you telling us what to do. So why don’t you just shut it?’

  Scortha was not easily cowed.

  ‘Shut it yourself. I don’t know who you think you are. You might have been the Captain when we were on the River but now you’re just a fat bastard I don’t have to listen to, alright?’

  It took the efforts of both Garaid and ‘Berta to keep them apart but the furious argument that followed only came to an end when Angren and Ruspa came rushing back to see what was going on.

  ‘What the buggering hell are you lot trying to do? We could hear you squabbling half a mile away. You might be interested to know that there’s a village just on the other side of those trees, and right next to that the gates to the compound we’ve just escaped from. Anyone’d think you lot want to get back in there. Now listen—’

  He stopped, looking over their heads at the mound behind them that covered over the roof of the passageway. The quickest of them spun to look just as the two young boys Angren had spotted whisked off into the undergrowth.

  ‘After them,’ yelled one of Scortha’s supporters and some were ready to go but Angren shouted them down.

  ‘Stay where you are.’ He was incensed. ‘For Gods’ sakes! They’re just children.’

  ‘But they’ll give us away.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter: we’re off anyway. Right now! We’re going to attack the village – don’t worry, it’s nearly deserted by the look of it. There’s about twenty huts, big moot house in the middle. Now we’ll need weapons if we’re going to get out of here—

 
‘As I was saying,’ put in the Captain, ‘An’ food an’all.’

  ‘And the only way we’re going to get either is if we go in and take them. I reckon we go in fast, and we go in hard.’

  Garaid at this moment clambered out of the passage with the iron bars of the gate gathered in his brawny arms.

  ‘Here then,’ he said to Angren, ‘Reckon you might need one of these.’

  ‘No thanks, give it to ‘Berta’ Angren replied, fumbling with the belt to his trousers, ‘I already have something to scare them with.’

  ‘Berta guffawed and Sigrid squawked with laughter. ‘What, down your trousers?’ she said, ‘Well it certainly scares me.’

  ‘That I will remember. Actually I was thinking of this.’ And out came the whippy sword he had described to Garaid back in the compound. ‘Berta was amazed but others, she could tell, were envious. It was going to be difficult for them all but worse for some. A quick weapon count found them a few more hidden daggers but nothing much else.

  As they got themselves ready for the off ‘Berta took a moment to look at them all. They were an odd crew: men and women already bloodied and bruised, some of them experienced warriors, some plainly not. She saw faces set in grim determination and faces pale with terror. Few of them, she guessed, had any real hope of survival. A good job they had people like Angren and Bibron and herself then. Angren looked at her as though guessing her thoughts.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘Time to be doing. Those with the iron bars in the lead with me, knifemen second up and the rest of you get anything you can: belts, rope, wooden staves, anything you can pick up on the way, even if it’s just a pocketful of pebbles. Let’s go.’