“I doubt there will be, Shield,” said Mhyarith. “The muridachs detest water and avoid it whenever possible.”
“First Mhyarith,” said Radobertus, bracing himself as if for a blow. “On behalf of the Empire, I apologize for this attack.” Mhyarith gave him a flat stare. “You are the guests of the Emperor, and came under attack while in his city.”
“Under other circumstances, perhaps, I would take offense,” said Mhyarith. She waved a hand in dismissal. “But the muridachs attacked both you humans and us. And you fought vigorously to drive them back. One can hardly be prepared for every contingency.” Her thin mouth twisted with disdain as she looked at the corpse of a slain muridach. “And the detestable ratfolk have ever been the foes of the umbral elves. In ancient days, when the umbral elves and the dark elves were still one, the dark elven lords began summoning other kindreds to this world to serve as their slaves and soldiers.” The disdain upon her face intensified. “Never mind that upon our home world, the dark elven princes summoned the spider-demons and were destroyed by them. But if the dark elven nobles have a defining quality, it is their utter inability to learn from experience.” A few of her guards laughed. “So, they summoned the wretched muridachs, and the vile ratmen have been a thorn in the sides of the umbral elves ever since. We will exterminate them if the opportunity ever comes.”
She said it coldly, flatly. Tyrcamber thought it a good reminder. The umbral elves might not have the malignancy of the dark elves, but they were no less ruthless.
“First,” said the woman in the green cloak.
Mhyarith blinked and looked at her. “Yes, Charanis?”
“I recognized the muridach leader upon the roof,” said Charanis. Her voice was the same timbre as the First’s, but much more melodious, almost beautiful. It seemed strange to hear that voice coming from the gaunt, gray-skinned face of an umbral elf. “It was Tynrogaul, one of the strike commanders of Kurphylon. He has led raids upon the borders of Sygalynon before.”
Mhyarith hissed. “The muridachs of Kurphylon. I should have expected this.”
“The muridachs have long been the foes of the Empire,” said Radobertus.
“They were our enemies before they were yours,” said Mhyarith. “And they will ally with the Valedictor in his war against the Empire. It would not surprise me if the Valedictor incited the muridachs of Kurphylon to attack us. Not that they would require much encouragement to act against us.”
“Whatever their reasons, they are here,” said Ruire. “What matters is how we shall proceed.”
“Agreed,” said the Shield. “I shall assemble a force, clear the muridachs from the inn, and find out how they entered the city. Their entrance to their tunnel shall be sealed, and the Chancellor and the First can continue their negotiations uninterrupted.”
“Men from the Order of Embers must accompany any force sent into the sewers,” said Radobertus. “The Emperor has promised security to the First and her embassy, and the Order must answer this attack with deadly force.”
“Tyrcamber,” said Rilmael. “You should volunteer to accompany the force. I think you will be needed there. I shall remain here and watch over the Chancellor and the First.”
“My lord,” said Tyrcamber, stepping forward. “I volunteer to accompany any force sent into the sewers.”
The Shield glanced at him, his face a mask, and Tyrcamber felt the crimson gaze of the umbral elves.
“Your warriors are enthusiastic, Master Ruire,” said the First. “Who is this?”
“Sir Tyrcamber Rigamond,” said Ruire. “One of the knights of my Order.”
“Ah,” said Mhyarith. “The one who slew the Dragonmaeloch in Tamisa, no? Word of that came even to our ears in Sygalynon.”
Tyrcamber shrugged. “I had help, my lady.”
“First,” said Mhyarith in a calm voice. “You will address me as the First, Sir Tyrcamber. Humans and the dark elves have nobles. The umbral elves have neither nobles nor commoners.”
Tyrcamber thought that sounded like a recipe for social chaos but knew better than to say it. He inclined his head in a polite bow. “As you say, First.”
“Sir Tyrcamber, you will lead the serjeants sent with the Shield’s force,” said Ruire. “Bring Sir Angaric as well. His skill with fire magic will be useful in an enclosed space.”
“First Mhyarith,” said Charanis. “I wish to accompany the humans into the sewers.”
Tyrcamber shifted, and Rincimar’s blue gaze swung to her.
“Very well,” said Mhyarith. “I would advise you to heed her counsel, lords of the Empire. Because of the short lifespan of humans, Charanis has been fighting muridachs likely since before any of you were born.”
Rincimar and Ruire exchanged a look, and Rincimar shrugged.
“As you wish, First,” said Rincimar. “We shall be glad to accept any help you wish to offer. I warn you that fighting muridachs will be dangerous, and any warriors you send to aid us may not return.”
Charanis offered a chilly smile. “As you say, Shield of Falconberg. But it is better to die fighting the muridachs than to be taken captive. What they do to their prisoners is…rather less than pleasant.”
With that cheery thought, the matter was settled.
Rincimar chose ten militiamen to accompany him, and Rudolf picked ten serjeants to follow Tyrcamber. Sir Angaric joined them as well, a faint smell of smoke and burned meat rising from him. He had been standing close to some of the muridachs when he had incinerated them. Militia crossbowmen and umbral elven archers covered the windows of the inn, waiting for any muridachs to show themselves, but Tyrcamber doubted it would be necessary. The muridachs preferred to attack and fade away rather than risk themselves in open battle.
A flicker of green caught his eye, and Charanis stepped next to him, regarding him with unblinking crimson eyes.
“What do you think, Sir Tyrcamber?” she said. “Will the muridachs await us inside the inn?”
He felt like the question was a test of some kind and decided that he did not care what the umbral elven woman thought of him.
“Doubtful,” said Tyrcamber. “The muridachs hate to fight in the open, and they only come out in the day when necessary. They will have fled back into the sewers. Where I suspect they are preparing an ambush for any pursuers.”
Charanis nodded. “That is my thought as well.”
Angaric grunted. “It is strange to take counsel from a woman before a battle.”
Tyrcamber resisted the impulse to groan, but Charanis’s smile turned into a smirk.
“Among humans, perhaps,” said Charanis. “But the umbral elves are free in the way that humans never will be. You love to place all kinds of restrictions upon yourself, to bow and scrape before your various lords and masters. Our liberty gives us constant conflict with each other, and the conflict makes us stronger. Therefore, umbral elves are free to do as they wish.”
“Except, perhaps, to defy the will of the First,” said Tyrcamber.
“The First is elected,” said Charanis, “and may be removed from office. More difficult to remove a Duke or a Count, is it not? But, come. The Valedictor would enslave us all.”
“And more immediately, the muridachs would kill us,” said Tyrcamber.
Charanis nodded, and they walked to join the Shield.
“I will go first,” said Rincimar, eliciting an immediate chorus of protests from the militia soldiers. The aldermen might hate the Shield, but it was clear the soldiers held him in high regard.
“We should go together, lord Shield,” said Tyrcamber. “We can cover each other then.”
Rincimar hesitated and then nodded. “Very well.” His hard smile returned. “Perhaps that shall prove the truth of my earlier words to you.”
Tyrcamber said nothing. Certainly, the Shield had conducted himself better than the aldermen during the battle. Rincimar had led from the front, wielding both sword and spell, while Vordin and Quentin and the other aldermen had hung back and cast Lance spells, a
nd not very effectively at that. Yet Rincimar was a fit, strong man, and Vordin was old, and Quentin had clearly not seen any vigorous physical exertion for years. And just because a man was a Dragon Cultist did not mean he was also a coward. Some of the cultists that Tyrcamber had faced previously had been men of great courage, though their valor had been twisted towards an evil end.
“Then enough talk. Let’s go,” said Rincimar.
They walked towards the door to the inn, which the muridachs had closed behind them. The serjeants and the militiamen followed, weapons ready. Charanis moved like a ghost, her boots making no sound against the flagstones of the market. Tyrcamber reached the door and tested the handle. It wasn’t locked or barred.
“Ready?” said Tyrcamber.
Rincimar nodded, and Tyrcamber yanked open the door. They went through it in one smooth motion, swords raised, magic held ready.
No enemies greeted them, but the stench of blood filled Tyrcamber’s nostrils.
“God and the saints,” he said with mingled horror and disgust.
The common room of the Dusty Merchant looked like the common room of many other inns that Tyrcamber had visited. Long tables and benches stood in rows where guests could eat and drink, and a pair of hearths provided light and warmth. Casks of beer stood stacked against a far wall. Several men, women, and children were tied up and slumped against the wall, likely the innkeeper and his wife and workers.
All of them were dead, and all of them had been partially eaten.
The muridachs had ripped them open and feasted on their innards. Thick pools of clotting blood marked the floor beneath them, and Tyrcamber saw where the muridachs had left footprints in their feeding frenzy. The dead men and women and children all had gags in their mouths, and to judge from the way their faces were twisted with horror, they had died in agony.
“Wretched creatures,” said Rincimar, fury in his voice. The rest of the soldiers filed into the inn behind them. “They will pay for this.” One of the militiamen doubled over and threw up in the corner, which did not improve the stench filling the room. The serjeants of the Order had better control, but their faces were like stone.
“We had best search the inn,” said Charanis in a cool tone. “The muridachs have likely retreated, but they may have left a trap behind.”
Rincimar glared at her but pulled himself together and nodded. “You are right.” He raised his voice. “Search the inn floor by floor and report back. Do not go anywhere alone.”
The men moved through the inn and returned soon enough. No muridachs had been found in the inn, though they had discovered the corpses of the muridach crossbowmen that Charanis had slain with her bow. The door to the cellar was in the kitchens, and Rincimar and Tyrcamber opened it and led the way into the inn’s basement. The cellar smelled of damp, with wooden pillars supporting the beams of the ceiling overhead. The walls were built of brick, and the floor was hard-packed earth.
And as Tyrcamber had expected, someone had dug a tunnel through the cellar’s wall. The muridachs had broken through the bricks, and a cold wind rose from the tunnel, colored by the faint smell of rot and excrement.
“I suggest, Shield,” said Charanis, “that you permit me to go first. I doubt that any of your men can move as quietly as I can.”
“Very well,” said Rincimar. “Scout and ahead and return to report. But.” He raised his free hand. “If you do not return within a count of five hundred, we will come in after you. I wish to lose no one else to the muridachs this day.”
“Nor do I,” said Charanis. Something that might have been a genuine smile went over her face, though it vanished swiftly. “Especially since I am the one going into the tunnel. I shall return swiftly.”
With that, she entered the tunnel, vanishing from sight.
Tyrcamber started counting, but he had only reached two hundred and thirty-seven by the time Charanis returned.
“This passage leads to a large brickwork tunnel,” said Charanis. “Likely it is part of your sewer system or a remnant of the previous city that once stood here. The muridachs retreated in that direction. Their trail is clear and obvious.”
“Lead the way,” said Rincimar. He pointed at two of his soldiers. “You and you. Spells of light so we can see.”
“The muridachs will see the light coming,” said Charanis.
“We have no other choice,” said Rincimar. “The muridachs might be able to fight in the dark, but we cannot. Sir Angaric, Master Ruire tells me you are one of the strongest wizards in your Order. Stay to the back, and when you see the muridachs, unleash your spells. Try not to burn any of us in the process.”
“My spells go where I direct them, lord Shield,” said Angaric with some pride.
“Best see that they do,” said Rincimar. He looked to Charanis. “Go.”
Charanis inclined her head, and they followed her into the narrow tunnel. It sloped down at a steep angle, and Tyrcamber had to brace his free hand on the rough wall to keep his balance. As Charanis had said, the tunnel opened into a large round passage built of brick, the faint odor of rot and excrement in the air. The floor of the tunnel was dry, with a layer of old silt. The smell wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t overpowering. Tyrcamber suspected the tunnel had not been used in some time, though it likely flooded when rain fell.
The musky smell of muridach fur lingered in the tunnel, and in the dim glow from the light spells, Tyrcamber saw their tracks in the dust of the floor.
“We will advance in that direction,” said Rincimar. “Try to keep quiet. Sound travels a long way down here.”
They started down the tunnel, boots rasping against the floor. Tyrcamber kept watch for foes, but none appeared. The muridach tracks left a clear trail, and here and there he saw small tufts of black fur, along with drops of dark blood that the wounded ratmen had left behind. Walking wounded, most likely. The muridachs tended to leave their wounded behind when they retreated. Or, if they were victorious, they ate their own wounded. Muridachs devoured humans and orcs and umbral elves alike, and they would not scruple from eating their own kin.
Twice they passed branching tunnels that led into the darkness, but none of the muridach tracks led into them. Tyrcamber tried to keep his sense of direction, and unless he was wrong, they were heading north. That was taking them in the direction of the River Ribar, perhaps the city’s riverside docks. Had the muridachs tunneled in near the riverbank? Or maybe their tunnel extended under the riverbed and emerged in the pine forest on the river’s northern bank.
Charanis held up a hand. “Hold.”
They came to a stop. Charanis turned her head, earrings glittering in the gloom as if trying to hear something better. Tyrcamber heard nothing but the harsh breathing of the men around him, but then a faint rasping noise came to his ears.
The sound of muridach voices conversing in their own tongue.
“They’re ahead,” said Charanis. “Not far. I will go ahead and take a look.”
“Sir Tyrcamber, accompany her,” said Rincimar.
Charanis frowned. “Why?”
Unease went through Tyrcamber’s mind. Why did Rincimar want him to accompany Charanis? Did the Shield want to get rid of Tyrcamber, hoping that the muridachs would kill him? Perhaps Rincimar really was a member of the Dragon Cult, and he feared what Vordin and Quentin might have said in the market. For that matter, Tyrcamber didn’t trust the umbral elves, and he suspected that Charanis might decide to kill him for some obscure philosophical reason.
“Because if one of you gets killed, the other can survive to report back,” said Rincimar.
Tyrcamber expected Charanis to argue, but she only nodded. “Your logic is sound. Come along, Sir Tyrcamber. Do try to remain quiet.”
Tyrcamber shrugged, sheathed his sword, and followed Charanis up the tunnel, moving as quietly as he could. The umbral elf made absolutely no sound, her movements slow and controlled. Step by step they moved into the darkness, leaving the glow of the light from the serjeants behind. But T
yrcamber saw another glow ahead, the steady pale light of a spell.
Charanis dropped to a crouch and beckoned for him to do the same, and Tyrcamber complied. They moved forward in slow silence, and Tyrcamber saw that the tunnel ended in a large vaulted hall. Perhaps it had been intended as a cistern or a reservoir, or maybe it was a forgotten cellar left over from when the muridachs had destroyed the first city of Falconberg. A score of muridachs milled around the chamber, arguing in their rough voices. In the far wall, Tyrcamber saw a tunnel that had been dug into the brickwork, a tunnel that led away to the north.
That was how the muridachs had gotten into the city.
Charanis gestured again, and they retreated. They straightened up when they saw the glow around Rincimar and the soldiers.
“Well?” said Rincimar.
“About twenty muridachs are in a chamber at the end of this tunnel,” said Charanis. “It seems they dug their way into the city and emerged here. I suspect Tynrogaul and the bulk of the muridach force withdrew through that tunnel, and they left behind a rearguard.”
“Then we shall deal with the rearguard and seal their tunnel,” said Rincimar. “Sir Angaric, how many of them can you strike at once?”
“It depends on how close together they are standing,” said Angaric. He gestured, and a fist-sized ball of swirling flame appeared over his free hand, seeming to grow a little larger with every revolution. “But quite a few of them.”
“Very well,” said Rincimar. “We shall advance to the end of the tunnel, and Sir Angaric will strike as soon as the muridachs come into sight. Then we’ll attack and seal off the entrance.” He glared at Angaric. “Do your best not to set any of us on fire.”
Malison: Dragon Umbra Page 9
