by Keri Arthur
Unless I did something about it—unless I diverted the queen’s attention away from the upcoming attack—the outpost forces would be overrun and slaughtered.
I continued out down the ever-narrowing mineshaft, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Rockfalls were more frequent and the pathway so slick with water and slime that I had to grab the roughly hewn walls to keep upright. Despite the heat in the air, my feet were so cold from constantly being in the water that I was beginning to lose feeling in my toes and it forced me to keep stopping so I could rub some life back into them.
Inevitably, I reached a rockfall that there was no getting past. But it had, at least, brought some of the inner sanctum’s wall down with it. The gap wasn’t quite wide enough for me slip through, but given the wet decay gripping the rock surrounding the fall area, I didn’t think making it bigger would be all that hard.
I squatted on my heels and carefully peered out. I was five levels above where I needed to be, but at least I could see the water now. It was a vast lake that lapped at the edges of the circular path that swept down into its ink and then disappeared. Its black surface was mirror smooth—I blinked. This was the black mirror Saska had mentioned. It wasn’t any sort of magic; it was a lake that was at least fifteen stories in depth and getting deeper. A lake the Irkallan feared to go near.
And that one fact made it the perfect place to hide the bracelets, because surely if the Irkallan could have drained this lake they would have rather than letting it slowly consume their home. And those bracelets, with their ability to control the thoughts and actions of others, were surely better left in some place where they were never likely to resurface than taken back to Winterborne where they’d undoubtedly be studied and perhaps learned from. Such technology had already proven to be dangerous in the wrong hands and—from what I’d witnessed over the last few days—there seemed to be more than a few such hands in amongst those of the Upper and Lower Reaches.
I studied the areas immediately above the water line, trying to find some indication of where the queen was. After a second, I spotted an arch that not only broke the symmetry of the rest, but also looked newer. If the Irkallan were constantly having to retreat from the water line, perhaps that newer arch was an indicator of where the queen and her breeders now lived.
The levels immediately above this larger arch were as still as the rest of them. Although I had no doubt there would be guards I couldn’t see, it was odd that there was very little in the way of movement in this place. Of course, that might just be because the sun would have risen by now and, while the Irkallan weren’t nocturnal, they did tend to be more active at night. It was a fact that might also explain why soldiers hadn’t flooded the tunnel when I’d killed those two Irkallan. Maybe there’d been no one close enough to hear their cries for assistance.
I leaned forward and saw that the curving path passed by this breach in the wall. Getting out of this mine shaft wasn’t going to present much of a problem, but working my way down the remaining five levels of the vertical tunnel to that larger arch would be fraught with danger. I really didn’t like my chances of doing so unseen.
My gaze returned to the unmoving surface of the lake. Five stories was a hell of a jump, but it was also a survivable one into water, especially when I was Sifft rather than an ordinary human. Stronger bones came with the heritage. And if I dropped into the water quietly enough, they’d barely see or hear me enter the lake. The problem was the water itself, and the fact that I wasn’t the world’s greatest swimmer. Hell, I could barely even dog paddle—a fact that had amused Ava and April no end whenever we’d spent our days off in the sea over at West Range.
But it was the best choice. Taking the winding pathway might be dryer, but it also came with a bigger risk of being seen.
I glanced at the wet and fractured rock. I needed to widen the seam by another foot, at the very least, if I was to have any hope of getting my shoulders and butt through it. Thin, I was not.
Wind, can you keep an eye on things outside and warn me if there’s any movement nearby?
Yes.
Thanks. I shoved my sleeves further up my arms and then got to work. It took a lot longer to break open a wide enough space to get through than I’d thought—not because the stone didn’t break away easily enough, but because I had to place each piece down carefully, ensuring it didn’t move or cause the main slide to shift in any way.
With that done, I swung the pack around and opened it up. I’d munched on the cheese and bread as I’d driven to the mountains, so there wasn’t much left, but it was doubtful I’d need the rest of it given getting out of this place was highly unlikely.
I dropped the food onto the ground, covered it up with some soil, and then shook out the cloth to ensure there were no crumbs left. While the M185 blocks appeared plasticky and were more than likely waterproof, I doubted the same could be said of the detonation timers and pop caps. I wrapped them carefully in the cloth, then tore off an edge of my soaked shirt to keep it in place. With that done, I repacked the bag, checked there was no one on the outside walkway, and carefully eased through the hole I’d created. Once I’d dragged the pack out after me, I shoved it on and kept low as I scrambled across to the edge.
It really was a long way down. There was no way known I was going to hit the water without making an audible splash. Could you ease my speed as I near the water?
Yes, the wind said, but wait—there is movement below.
I waited, staring down at the black water, my pulse racing and my gut churning. It wasn’t so much the fear of the situation or of being discovered, but at jumping feet first into that ink and never coming up. If I had to die in this place, I wanted to do so fighting the enemy and taking some of the bastards out with me, not by being sucked into the murky depths of an inky lake.
Right, the air said. All clear if you’re quick.
I thrust to my feet and stood on the edge, but didn’t immediately jump. I continued to eye the dark water, imagining in my mind how I needed to slip into the water, putting it out into the general consciousness of the air in the vague hope that it would be so.
Then, with as deep a breath as I could take, I stepped off the edge. The air didn’t interfere, and it certainly didn’t hinder the speed with which I dropped—not until the very last moment. I entered the water feet first and with very little noise, but the sheer iciness just about tore a gasp from my throat. It was only force of will that kept my mouth clamped shut. As I plunged deeper, the backpack’s bulk hit the water, acting like something of a brake and just about tearing my shoulders out of their sockets. Then my head was under, the iciness and darkness all around me, and disorientation and fear set in. I closed my eyes—I couldn’t see anyway, so there was no point in keeping them open—and concentrated on holding my breath, on not panicking as I waited for the moment when the fall stopped and the natural buoyancy of my body kicked in and told me which way was up.
It seemed to take forever.
But as my lungs began to burn with the need for air, I finally stopped heading down and instead began to float. I kicked my feet as hard as I could and surged upward, breaking the surface with a rather unwise gasp. Thankfully, it didn’t immediately appear there were any Irkallan around to hear it. As I sucked in deep breaths, I turned around to see where the ramp was. It was across the other side of the shaft, but I didn’t dare risk swimming—or at least, paddling—directly across to it. Instead, I gently kicked to the nearby wall and kept close to its shadowed side, trying to make as little noise as possible. By the time I reached the submerged portion of the walkway, my body was shaking with both the cold and effort, and my legs initially refused to support my weight. I staggered out of the water and then gently shook my arms and feet, trying to get my blood flowing again and some warmth back into my digits.
Be still, the air warned. There is a patrol above you.
I stopped moving but the water continued to drip from my body and uniform, and it was all I could do to cl
amp my lips down in an effort to stop my teeth from chattering.
From the level above me came the soft scrape of nails against stone. I carefully pushed back against the wall, trying to make myself as small as possible. The clicking of mandibles came from directly above me, but I dared not look. My skin might not be as pale as Saska’s, but it was still light enough to be seen by a keen eye even in this ink.
A heartbeat later came a second clashing of mandibles, this time to the right of the first. Obviously, they were having a discussion of some sort, and I wished I could understand what they were damn well saying…. The thought trailed off.
I had heard and understood the Irkallan queen twice now, but both times had been when my skin—my stained skin—had been in contact with my knife.
I quickly wrapped my fingers around the hilt, but for several heartbeats, nothing happened. Then warmth began to throb through the weapon—warmth whose beat uncannily matched the throbbing that filled this place—and then both the glass blade and hilt started to glow softly. Thankfully, the sheath countered the blade’s glow, but tiny beams of brightness were leaking out between my fingers, forcing me to tug my jacket sleeve over my hand in order to hide it.
“Movement,” one of the Irkallan said. Its voice was oddly broken, as if it were coming through a microphone that wasn’t working properly. The queen’s orders had come through similarly garbled, so obviously whatever magic was allowing the knife—and even the bracelets—to translate the Irkallan language had its restrictions. “Below.”
“Yes. The mirror, it moves.”
“Water drips?”
“No.”
“Cannot scent anyone who should not be.”
“No.” The Irkallan paused. “Should place guard?”
“Waste. Attack coming from above.”
So I was right—the outposts were on the move. And that really did mean that I had to get moving if I wanted any hope of stopping their forces from getting overrun.
“Yes,” the other Irkallan said. “Fight not ours.”
“No.” There was a whole lot of frustration in that one word.
After a few more minutes, the two of them moved away. I swung the pack off and fished around until I found the bracelet. Then I carefully tore off another strip of shirt end, found a suitably heavy rock, and tied it and the bracelet together.
Right, I said to the wind, can you take this bracelet into the middle of the lake and carefully drop it in?
Fingers of air wrapped around the bundle in my hand and swept it away. I bent, grabbed a handful of the wet ashy soil that stained the rocks here, and rubbed it over my face and hands. With the possibility of my skin giving me away so easily taken care of, I cautiously made my way up the ramp, keeping as close to the wall as possible. As it curved around to the next level, I saw the two guards on the level above me. Unlike the ones I’d come across in that wide tunnel, these two were armed, and although the weapons were shaped like the long staffs the Adlin sometimes used, these were made from metal rather than wood. They also had blunt ends rather than sharp, which suggested they were something other than a spear. They were strapped crossways across the Irkallan’s backs, and I hoped like hell that’s exactly where they remained. I had no desire to discover just what those staffs were capable of.
I continued creeping around until I reached the level of the larger archway. I padded across to the shaft wall and hunkered down, scanning both this level and the ones above me. Aside from the two Irkallan who’d heard my movements coming out of the lake, there were another two coming back down the circular path. Four Irkallan didn’t seem anywhere near an appropriate number of guards given the size of this place, but I guessed centuries of never being infiltrated had given them reason enough not to be overly concerned about such an event.
It at least gave me a fighting chance of getting close to my targets.
I edged toward the large arch, but the scrape of nails told me an Irkallan was approaching. I swore and quickly looked around. The walkway was an open space, and there was no place to hide other than a nearby smaller arch.
Anyone in there? I asked the wind.
Many. And stirring.
So I either killed the Irkallan who approached from the queen’s tunnel or I chanced my luck with those who were only just stirring.
No need for you to do either, the wind said.
I guessed that was true, although it didn’t mean there would be no effort on my part. Communing with the wind might not be stealing much of my strength right now, but it would soon enough.
I hesitated, and then said, Take the breath of those within the smaller room and make it safe.
The air moved away from me, leaving barely enough freshness to breathe. The stink of the place hit, so thick and heavy it was felt like a blanket was smothering my senses. I gagged, and heard the approaching Irkallan briefly pause.
I held my nose closed to stop some of the stench reaching down into my throat, and slowly—carefully—backed away. The footsteps resumed, faster than before.
I ducked into the small archway and pressed my back against the wall. The footsteps reached the walkway and paused again, and the clicking of mandibles bit through the air, the sound one of agitation. I didn’t move. I didn’t even dare wrap my fingers around my knife lest the slight glow give me away.
After another few seconds, the Irkallan moved away. I peered cautiously around the corner; it wasn’t just one, but three. One of them was huge and an odd almost blue color, while the other two were smaller and the usual lavender. Was the larger one a general of some kind? Or maybe even the queen’s consort? Did the Irkallan have such things, given they appeared to be a matriarchal society?
I pulled back and glanced around the room. When the air had said many, it hadn’t been kidding. The room was only as wide as the archway itself, but it was long. The entire length of the left wall and part of the end wall of the room were lined with sleeping pods that had been cut into the stone. There were five levels of them and, like the archways themselves, each one was perfectly lined up with its neighbors. My gaze ran the length of the room as I did the calculation—seventy-five Irkallan, just in this room alone. Holy hell….
I studied the doorway at the far end of the room. Where does that lead?
Into another sleeping quarters.
Are there Irkallan within?
Yes.
Will going that way enable me to get to the larger tunnel?
No.
Of course not. I mean, why would things be that easy? I peered around the archway again; the three Irkallan had disappeared. I checked the locations of the walkway guards and then quickly slipped into the wider archway.
Almost immediately I felt the stirrings of life. Not within the darkness, but in the earth itself. While the ground under my feet remained lifeless, I could hear the distant heartbeat of it, a siren call that almost seemed to be begging me to come closer, to hurry.
But the latter would be foolish in a place like this.
Slowly, carefully, I moved deeper into the wide tunnel. The walls here were as smooth and as black as any of the others I’d seen, but as I crept farther in, I realized that instead of glimmer stone, the veins in this tunnel were slivers of brown earth. I gently brushed my fingers across one—and was just about blown backward by the power and force of the voices that immediately answered. It was very evident the earth, while it had no real beef with the Irkallan themselves, didn’t like the deadness they were spreading beyond these blackened, lifeless mountains.
But that deadness wasn’t really surprising given the situation. Normal earth witches were trained almost from birth to shape earth and use the power within it without damaging the soil. The only time real damage had ever occurred was during the war, when the witches had drawn so much power from the ground that they’d killed an entire district. It was doubtful the witchlings born here in the Irkallan stronghold had any such training. From the little Saska had said, the women were kept in a constant state of pregna
ncy, and their offspring were taken away—or killed—at birth. That meant the stained children raised by the Irkallan would have had to find their own way around their developing powers, in much the same way as I had. Subsequently, their control would, at best, be patchy, and they were more likely to drain the earth even as they commanded it.
I continued down the tunnel cautiously, my fingers itching to brush the widening seams of live earth. But I resisted—I had no idea where the children currently were; if they were awake—as the Adlin young had been—then I risked one of them sensing my presence via the earth.
This tunnel ends in fifty feet, the air said. It opens up into the first chamber.
Something in the way that was said had the hair along the back of my neck rising. And what might that chamber be used for?
It is the chamber the breeders reside in. The wind paused. The women are also there.
I didn’t want to see that. Didn’t want to witness the atrocities I’d barely glimpsed in Saska’s thoughts. Is the queen also there?
No. She resides in the next chamber. There is a hall that links the two—the children are kept in the rooms that feed off this hall.
Leaving me with no choice but to go through the first chamber and all its breeders. Are there guards?
Twenty, at least, in the first chamber. Double that in the queen’s.
Meaning my chance of getting through unseen was right up there with my chances of survival.
If I were lifted along the roofline, would they see me?
Yes. They will feel the air movement. It is still and heavy in the chamber.
Which didn’t mean I couldn’t do it—just that I probably needed something to distract the guards from actually noticing my presence.
Can you steal the breath from them?
