by J. Thorn
I need to test this, she thought, looking down at the object of destruction. Find out how it works. She had, in the last five minutes, already figured out how such a thing could be held. A finger was needed around the circular catch that the wire had been attached to, and her hands fell comfortably around that part of the weapon, but she had no idea how the thing was triggered. At least you know what end the dangerous bit comes out of, she thought, making sure to point it away from her. The circular catch was probably what set it off, but she was nervous to even try it.
She considered, for a moment, throwing the stick up and out of the stairwell, but the thought of it going off, angered by a sudden jolt, worried her. Plus, Sorcha probably wouldn’t know to get out of the way.
“Too dangerous,” she said aloud. “I’m going to have to go further down,” she said, and she smiled as Sorcha gave her another woof. Seren thought that the young wolf almost understood her. “I’ll try to find some way back out down here.”
The reply this time was a long whine, followed by a rumbling, babbling noise that Seren thought was a new thing. Was Sorcha complaining? The thought made her smile.
Seren pushed herself up onto her feet, took a tentative step down the stairwell, and waited for the jolt of pain to come. It didn’t. Her ankle still throbbed but she could stand on it now, if she was careful. Ten minutes ago, she had sworn it may be broken, but now she stood there, testing it and finding it only pained her if she put too much weight on it.
That much is a relief, she thought. Just sprained, not broken. But tomorrow it’s going to ache like hell.
After another few steps, she found the pain more bearable. She shone her torch down into the darkness, her other hand holding the strange new weapon.
If something comes at you from down here in the dark, you’re helpless, she thought. Just a torch to poke in their faces. It would have to do. She couldn’t depend on the exploding stick, and she daren’t strap it to her back or her rucksack in case it went off. With that thought, and the image of the man falling to the ground with his head missing, she shuddered and held the torch higher, staring into the darkness below.
The stairwell ended after another turn. The bottom of the stairs was partially filled with rubble, and a rusted, broken metal door hung from its hinges. Beyond that, she could make out a large open space, and even some light further in, but the torch didn’t provide enough illumination to see beyond the doorway.
There was a slight breeze coming from somewhere beyond the door, and the flame of her torch brightened slightly as the flames licked backward, almost as though the fire wanted to escape back up the stairwell behind her.
You and me both, she thought. But there was no point in going back. Between her ankle and carrying the exploding stick, she wasn’t getting out of the stairwell.
As she stepped through the door, pointing her torch ahead of her, she felt a change in the air. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the lack of light, and she could make out the shadows of large objects across the open space in front of her and piles of smaller objects along the walls. She walked forward, slowly, waiting for the torchlight to reveal whatever bulky object blocked the thin line of daylight up ahead. Yellow flames crept up the side of a large metallic object that Seren thought could be as big as a shack, maybe bigger, but this thing had wheels. Big wheels. These weren’t the sort of wheels on carts, or on the rusted carcasses of ancient vehicles that lay in ruins at many roadsides, and not even the size of the larger vehicles that had huge containers behind them. No, these were bigger than even that—at least as tall as she was and covered with thick lines cut deep into the rubber tracks. The vehicle was built like it could charge into a wall and still come out better off. Layers of thick metal plating hid behind centuries of dust and grime.
Seren stepped around it, walking through the darkness and jumping at every slight sound around her. Things moved in the darkness, but not large things like people or wolves. Seren recognized the skittering of rats and other rodents.
There was another of the huge vehicles parked beyond the first, and then another, until finally Seren reached the other side of the large room and crouched down to peer at the thin line of daylight that stretched across that side of the room.
Not enough of a gap to crawl under, she thought, peering at the daylight under the gap. It was no more than three or four inches high and ran at least thirty feet along the wall. Then there was a gap of darkness about three feet wide and then another similar line of daylight. She reached out and tapped the wall, expecting solid stone, but felt the cold touch of metal under her knuckles.
Some sort of big door, maybe, she thought. But still not a way out if I can’t lift it.
There was a sniffing noise nearby, and she turned, lifting the torch.
Sorcha stood a dozen yards away. The wolf sniffed again and let out a huge sneeze that shook her whole body.
“How did you get in here?” Seren asked.
The she-wolf looked behind her and though the darkness, marked only by the dim light coming from the gap along the wall. Seren saw a doorway next to a large solid glass panel. Beyond that, another door was slightly ajar, letting in daylight.
“Good girl!” Seren said and grinned.
Then she heard a cough from the darkness behind her, far across the huge cavernous room.
Sorcha stooped low and growled. Seren froze, her mind hesitating between dropping the exploding stick and the torch and grabbing for her bow, or just trying to run for it.
Footsteps hurried away, heading further into darkness until the sound was gone.
Chapter 25
“They’re supposed to be here, already,” Hallis whispered as the three scouts crouched in bushes at the top of the rise. This was as close to the breach as they could safely go. The ground beyond the line of trees sloped down toward the breach, and the grass was not long enough to hide in beyond a dozen yards from the spot where they hid.
The trio wore mostly furs mixed with bracken and other dried grass. None of them were geared up for a fight apart from the knives and bows they carried. But combat was not what they were there for, not unless absolutely necessary. These were the eyes of the Cygoa, not the fists.
Hallis watched through the gap in the bush, picking out the distant figures of the foreign clan as they built their camp on the other side of the breach. That it was a foreign clan, and not three warbands of Cygoa warriors, had been a shock to the scouts. This bridge was supposed to have been held, and it had been reinforced with enough warriors to keep it that way. Instead they had found another clan. They had come to cross the bridge and scout the lands and movements of the people beyond the breach, not hide and watch them from the wrong side of the massive ravine.
“I’m more concerned about where the fucking bridge went to,” said Dernat, and Hallis nodded. “Are we in the wrong place?”
“Nope,” said Hallis. “This is it. Road leads right to it, ‘cept, no bridge. No warbands. No Andmar. Go figure.”
The road ambled down the hill fifty yards from their hiding spot, gradually sloping toward the open plains between the two woodland areas on either side of the valley, but when it reached the breach, a spot that also crisscrossed with a river, the bridge was no longer there. All reports Hallis had heard stated the bridge over the river also crossed the breach, making it possibly the only way currently across the massive fissure in the earth for a hundred miles in each direction.
Somehow that bridge was gone, and so were the hundred or more warriors that were supposed to be guarding it.
“There’s too many in the group on this side for us to take,” Dernat said, also peering through the bushes. “A dozen, I reckon. Hunters too, bowmen. They’ll sniff us out as quick as we’d sniff them out.”
“True.”
“We could probably take ’em if they weren’t hunters… We ain't got the distance on these guys,” continued Dernat. “And what’s that burning in a pile anyway? Bodies?”
“Yes,” said Hallis. �
��Bodies, but not ours. The clothing’s different.” Though Hallis wasn’t entirely sure. Not much of the clothing was left.
Then, as a gust of wind blew across the valley, he spotted the pile of shields and weapons, previous hidden from view by the trail of smoke from the fire. The shields were unmistakable.
“Shit,” he said. “Check those shields. Those are Cygoa.”
Dernat frowned. “Damn.”
“How many you reckon are in that pile?” Gus, the third scout asked. “Thirty? Fifty?”
“More’n that, I think,” said Dernat. “And there’s more on the ground beyond, see?” He pointed past the pile, to where some more of the shields had been laid across the sodden ground.
Gus sighed. “Well maybe that accounts for one of the warbands, maybe two. But Andmar and his boys as well? If these guys took them all out, then we’d best keep the hell away.”
There was a crack of twigs a few yards away, and the trio turned, none of them startled to see a fourth scout creeping toward them on all fours. This was Kella, the last member of their group and the only woman. She crept forward until she was in line with the three men and then spoke quietly.
“Two warbands came down this slope two days ago, straight toward where the bridge is supposed to be,” Kella said, pointing a dirty finger toward the breach and the clan gathered there. “From further up the hill, you can see right down into that camp, and you can see the ground is red. Bloody. Must have been a hell of a fight. But you can also see where the ground has broken up and collapsed down into that bloody great hole. Bridge went down there, I reckon. Collapsed.”
Hallis nodded. “Right then,” he said. “We got what we came for. We camp up tonight, back in the forest a good ways so those boys down there don’t find us, and then head back tomorrow at full pace. I reckon Morlan will wanna hear about this fast, especially if Andmar is lost. Boy, will he be pissed.”
Chapter 26
The trees crowded the edge of the road, leaning over and moaning with each gust of wind. Gideon felt the chill on his back and the sweat running down it. The man leading their party demanded silence once the night fell to protect them from predators, human and otherwise.
He had overheard his mother talking to Solomon. She had been worried about him and his sister, even though the Valk appeared to be much more interested in the flesh of warriors than that of women and children. Still, she did what mothers do—she protected her children the best way she could. Sasha sent Gideon with a second scouting party who would arrive sometime between the first scouts and the rest of the clan.
An owl hooted and Gideon turned around but did not stop walking. He was the third man from the end of the line and the other two kept their hoods up. The men appeared to Gideon as spirits, floating through the dark forest, and that brought another shiver to his bones. Up ahead, he heard a man cough, followed by a whispered curse, and then the party fell silent again.
Gideon wasn’t worried when the forest creatures stirred. It was the silence that frightened him to the core. He kept walking, following the lead of those in front of him, as the road turned to the east. Debris blanketed by ivy and fallen branches littered the side of the road turning it into more of a footpath. He imagined his father walking through here, just days before, his chest out and his head up. One day, Gideon hoped to have the courage of his father and his grandfather, but he still did not have the build or the confidence. He would, though. He could be a warrior, too.
They climbed through several brambles. The old asphalt crunched beneath his feet and Gideon was forced to walk around trees that had sprung up through the cracks and now split the blacktop like an overripe melon. He concentrated, listening for the owl, but it kept quiet. The stillness began to seep into his bones. Gideon sniffled, doing whatever he could to break the silence but not incur the wrath of the scout party leader.
The men stopped, and Gideon almost ran into the man in front of him. He waited for a command. The two men behind him stepped up, one on each side of him. Without a word, the party continued walking and they fell back into their single file formation.
A glimmer of something caught Gideon’s eye. He looked to the west and through the massive tree trunks fifty yards off the road. Had his mind conjured a phantom light?
Gideon continued walking, glancing into the forest. He looked down with one step and then out there with the other. Back and forth.
And he saw it again.
The boy swallowed hard and bit down into his bottom lip. Could it be…them? His mother had said they ate warrior flesh. Was he not now a warrior?
Gideon quickened his pace and tried to push the Valk from his mind. He attempted to ignore the image forming in his head—the white skin with black eye masks, the shaved heads, the sound of tearing flesh. Were they monsters or the worst evolution of men? It didn’t matter what they were. Gideon decided that he would not succumb to those beasts. He would fall on his own axe before he let the monsters take him.
The glimmer turned into a flash of light. Gideon quickened his pace until he could smell the body odor of the man in front of him. The others seemed not to notice or they didn’t care. They walked toward the light, as if it were luring them to their deaths. As the party walked past the nearest trees, Gideon saw movement. Shadows flickered.
“You were pretty damn close to pulling an arrowhead out of your ass.”
The words came from Gideon’s left and he immediately recognized his father’s voice. The leader of the party chuckled and walked into Jonah’s wide embrace.
“We weren’t sure how far from the breach you were, so we followed it as best we could.”
Jonah nodded and turned to look at the rest of the party. When his eyes fell upon Gideon, they flickered with pure love.
“Gideon, my son. What are you doing here?”
“Mom wanted me to. Solomon agreed.”
The rest of the camp began to stir as the scouting party passed Jonah, each man patting his shoulder as they passed. Within moments, the men had squirrels roasting over the previous night’s coals.
“What about her? And Keana? I thought you would protect them in my absence?”
Gideon rolled his eyes and then regretted it. Had they been at their home, he would have expected a harsh scolding from his father—or worse. “They will travel with Solomon and the rest of the Elk.”
“The scouting party arrived a few days back. I was not expecting anyone else until all the clans got here. You should have lit torches. Had I had an archer on watch with me, you may have been shot.”
Gideon thought about the words his father used and yet he would have welcomed an arrow instead of the sinister feeling in his stomach as they passed through miles of darkened forest. He’d rather bleed than come face to face with the Valk.
“I’m sorry, Father. It was careless, but with the rain as it has been, all our torches got wet.”
Jonah chuckled and then put an arm around his son. “It’s not a problem, son, I’m sure the scout leader did as he could, and making some noise on your approach was enough to alert us. Why don’t you go and get yourself some squirrel before the rest of the men wake up? There will be daylight soon.”
“Not soon enough.”
“What do you mean?”
Gideon paused, unsure of how much he wanted to worry his father. The Elk and the rest of the clans would be on their way, vulnerable to whatever stalked the forest. His mother. His sister.
“The forest, here. I do not like it. It’s not like the forest back home.”
“Nobody does,” Jonah said, his head shaking as he offered his son a wide smile. “Tis the home of bandits and thieves. We’re spoiled, with our village and forests around them, enough to forget that not all places offer such freedom.”
Gideon opened his mouth and then shut it. There was no need to worry his father any more than was necessary. Jonah had many responsibilities, the most pressing being the murderous Cygoa on the other side of the breach. The clans would be here in a few days
and his father would have to somehow provide a safe crossing without a metal bridge to span the gap. The Valk were real, and Gideon had no doubt that they would appear again. But, for now, he decided it would be best to allow his father to focus on the most pressing threat first.
“Yes, Father. Bandits and thieves.”
Chapter 27
Seren hurried toward the open door and stumbled as the pain in her ankle erupted once more. She cried out but gritted her teeth. Whoever was back there could locate her if she made too much noise. She couldn’t move fast enough, and every yard seemed to take forever, even with Sorcha urging her onward. The young wolf had scampered across the distance in just a few seconds. She stopped at the entrance, looking back, almost as though she was wondering what was taking Seren so long.
But Seren was struggling. The pain in her ankle increased with every step, and it felt as though all her energy was leaving her. But then there was another sound from far across the huge, dark interior, and fear drove her onward. It wasn’t a loud noise—probably just a piece of junk falling over after being disturbed by whoever had fled—but Seren’s mind turned it into something else. They had fled, or so she thought, but now they were back, with many others, and they were coming for her.
The darkness all around left her with her own imagination as to what was hiding there. Images of demons, of crazed raiders with painted faces, monsters from the tales told to her as a small child to scare her into staying close to the village or camp, and other things that lived in the dark, underground places of the old world.
It was that fear that made her forget the pain and discover a hidden well of energy that had not been there a few moments before. It drove her forward. Her nerves prickled so much that she could feel her control slipping. Panic was creeping in, and she didn’t know if she would be able to hold on.
