“I would normally say, 'ladies first', but if there’re goblins on the way down, I'd rather face them,” he said as he walked past her. She fell into line at his shoulder, and Aisling squeezed past him, Martaina at her side.
“I brought another ranger,” Aisling said as she passed. “What do you want us to do?”
“Aisling, you go scout ahead of us, let me know what's coming,” he began. “Martaina, I want you to keep an eye down the side tunnels as we pass; let us know if there are soldiers. If you see any, spur our army to kill them. Pursue if necessary. Draft some other rangers to go with you if you feel like you need help, but keep it quiet. I don't want the goblins to know we're coming.”
“Maybe you should have avoided using a rock giant as a battering ram then,” Erith mumbled, barely audible.
He glared at her for a beat before turning back to Aisling. “Let me know if there's any hint they know we're coming. Vara,” he said and the elf appeared, “did anyone get away from you at the gate to the mountain?”
“No,” she said with shake of her head so vehement that it tossed her ponytail around. “The mountain gate was open when we snuck in so I placed our force in the tunnel before breaking invisibility and attacking. We hit them from behind before they knew what was happening. Between us and your friend the walking boulder, there was no escape.”
“Good,” he said, not breaking his pace down the tunnel. “Where's Fortin now?”
“At the back,” Terian said, a few paces behind Cy. “He barely fits in these tunnels.”
“Have him be our rear guard. I want warriors spread out along the line. It's a long way to the depths of the mountain. Lots of side tunnels where trouble could crop up, and I don't want us vulnerable.”
With a nod, Terian dropped back to issue orders to the formation. The tunnels were narrow – only big enough for a few people to walk side by side. The walls had a shine of phosphorescence from the algaes living on the rock. The light of a spell that gave him vision in the darkness was the only thing that allowed him to avoid a sudden drop as the floor stepped down. He smiled in memory of the last time he had missed that step, and remembered what had happened after.
Aisling appeared from the shadows to his right and he halted. “There's a half dozen goblins walking patrol routes between here and some sort of keep built into the cave walls. If you want to keep this party quiet, I recommend you do something about them.”
“J'anda,” Cyrus called quietly, and the enchanter emerged from behind Vaste. “I need you up front in case we get anyone who decides to run. Niamh,” he said to the druid, “can you send some vines to slow them down if need be?”
“Absolutely,” she said with a nod. “I can even make it a small patch instead of a big old mess of 'em.”
“Eyes open, then. We're going to charge down the tunnel and kill them as we go.”
Cyrus descended the tunnel. He rounded a corner to find a goblin looking at him in shock from just behind the wall. He reached out, grabbed the goblin and impaled it on his sword before it had a chance to respond. Squeals down the tunnel told him that it had not been alone.
Vines burst from the dirt on either side of the tunnel walls and grabbed firm hold of two goblins. Cyrus struck both down with casual slashes as he passed.
“This seems easier than last time,” Erith said.
“We have more people and we're not sneaking,” he replied. A shock ran through him. “I met you here for the first time, didn't I?”
“Aww,” came her mocking reply, “you remembered.”
“Yeah, I remember,” he said. “I remember you told me I'd only get three healing spells for the entire expedition.”
She shrugged. “What can I say? I lied. I'm a sucker for a hopeless case like you.”
“Hopeless now, am I? What does it say about you, who followed me here –”
“Children, perhaps keep you voices down so we don't bring down a whole army of goblins upon us?” Vara looked daggers at both of them.
“My apologies.” He waved her off.
“You threw a goblin head at me last time,” Erith said with a pouty look.
“I actually decapitated the goblin with such skill that it hit you,” Cyrus whispered back.
“Bullshit,” came Vara's succinct reply. “I remember those days; you were not so elegant with your sword strokes as to be able to accomplish such a feat.”
Cyrus exchanged a look with Andren. “Did Vara just say 'bullshit'?” The elf nodded. “You've been hanging around me and my ilk for too long, shelas'akur.”
She rolled her eyes. “You shouldn't use words you don't know the meaning of. Which, if you followed that simple rule, would actually cut down on the amount of pointless conversation spewing from your drivel hole.”
“I know more than you think,” he replied. “You remember that nice little elven town where you tried to drown me in the local watering hole in the middle of the night? Nalikh'akur?”
She regarded him with suspicion. “What of it?”
“Nalikh'akur?” he asked. “'Last Bastion'?”
“So which is it?” she asked. “Is 'akur' 'last' or 'bastion'?” She did not smile. “And what does 'shelas' mean, out of curiosity?”
“I don't know,” he admitted, “but do you think it's impossible to figure out?”
“Well, it's been roughly a year and you're still in the dark, so yes, I believe it may be impossible for you to figure out.” She surveyed the crowd around them. “Unless anyone would care to throw him a hint? Anyone? You?” Her gaze turned to Andren, who shook his head when she stared at him. “I didn't think so.” She turned back to Cyrus. “Good luck in your search for the answer. Your best friend won't even tell you, and he knows.”
“While I think I speak for all non-elves here when I say I'd love to understand the tantalizing mystery that Vara is torturing Cyrus with,” Vaste spoke up, “I suggest we instead focus our efforts on the pack of goblins that's lingering ahead of us.” He pointed down the tunnel as it widened into a small chamber. “Right there. Looking at us. They're pointing. Their faces are covered with awe... and... they're running.”
Cyrus bolted after them, Vara and Alaric on his heels. Twin flashes of light from spells cast by J'anda and Niamh streaked by on either side of him, but Cyrus honed in on the first goblin. A lance sailed over his head and perfectly speared the rear goblin, but a half dozen more were still running. “Nice job, Longwell,” Cyrus yelled, running to catch the shorter creatures.
“I thought you sent scouts ahead to apprise us of their positions?” Vara yelled, slashing into a goblin trapped by Niamh's vines as they pursued down the tunnel.
“I did!” He beheaded one mesmerized by J'anda as he passed it. Four to go.
“There is no time for recrimination! Clear the way!” Alaric shouted and thrust his palm forward. A blast of concussive force shot by Cyrus, sending a stir of air as it blew by. It hit a goblin squarely in the back, knocking him to his knees with such force that he flipped. Another burst from Alaric missed, blasting an inch of solid rock off the tunnel wall.
Vara answered with a stun blast of her own. It grazed one of the remaining goblins, spinning him off balance into the wall, where she knelt and killed it.
A shadow moved in the distance, just in front of the last two goblins, reaching out for them as they ran down the tunnel. A figure emerged, dark blue skin almost invisible even with his spell-enhanced eyesight, and two daggers stabbed into the sides of the goblins as they passed, causing both to stumble. The feral shadow stepped delicately out of the way to let them drop, then pounced on one after another, stabbing them until dead.
Cyrus slowed to a walk. “Aisling,” he said, “I thought you were going to tell me when there were goblins ahead.”
She picked over the bodies and he saw her slip two coins into a small purse at her belt. “These weren't in the main passage as I went down. They must have come out of a side tunnel after I passed.” She shrugged. “I wouldn't worry, though; they won
't be telling anybody about us.”
Alaric nodded. “Well done, lass. I was beginning to worry they'd get away.”
“Yes, well done indeed,” Vara said with an icy tone. “I could have leaped forward and killed them both if not for this lumbering beast in my way.” She pointed at Cyrus.
“Lumbering beast?” he said with a look of great offense. “I thought I was the strongest man you know?”
Her eyes became narrow slits. “Perhaps you are, but it would be in addition to being the most petty, vain and self-reverential man I know.”
“If you don't want him,” Aisling said with a sly smile, “I'd be glad to take him – over and over –”
“Oh, stop it,” Cyrus said. Vara shook her head in irritation. “We have work to do, more ground to cover, innocence to prove and all that.”
“Agreed,” Alaric said. “We also have several miles to go before Aisling's last uncomfortable statement purges itself from my memory,” he said without looking at the dark elf. “The sooner we begin, the better.”
Elements of the army began to catch up to them as the tunnel narrowed once more. “How are we doing?” Cyrus asked Terian, who had rejoined them at the front of the army.
“We're starting to spread out,” the dark knight reported. “These tunnels were not meant to be invaded by an army of over a thousand. I don't know for certain, but I have to guess that Fortin and the rear guard are at least a mile behind us.”
“What's slowing us down?” Cy asked, brow furrowed.
“Lots of attacks out of side tunnels,” Terian replied. “We've managed to run them all down so far, but elements of our force keep splitting off to deal with these ancillary threats and it costs us time.”
“I want every element accounted for, and every single person accounted for within each element.” His grip tightened around his sword. “We will not leave anyone behind.”
“Are you sure?” Terian asked lightly. “Enterra seems like a great place to spend... uh...” The dark knight's voice faded as he thought the better of his jest. “...about five minutes before deciding to go somewhere that doesn't suck.”
Cy ignored him, marching down the corridor. The cave walls twisted and turned at bizarre angles, like a snake bending back on itself. No rock jutted out from the sides of the cave, but neither were they smooth or polished. Whoever had tunneled it had made it functional but not aesthetically pleasing. A smell of sweat and stale air lingered.
Upon reaching a corner Cyrus halted and peeked around. “Damn,” he breathed. “Glad I remembered.”
“What?” Vara asked, leaning past him to look. She crossed his midsection, her neck not far below his face. The faint smell of lilac wafted up to him and he shut his eyes for a moment. She glanced for a few seconds, withdrew and sighed. “Damn. That's the complex where the Emperor and Empress are?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I counted about ten guards around the top wall – if we screw this up, they'll seal the gate and we'll be stuck here until we can bring up Fortin.” He frowned. “If we can bring up Fortin. They can hold that position against attack for months against conventional enemies.” Around the corner lay a long stretch of open tunnel leading up to a ten foot high wall built across a wider chamber. A small gate with a portcullis lay in the middle of the wall and goblins stood arm to arm across the parapets. “This will require coordination and precision.”
“I would have assumed given our efforts thus far, haste and violence would be in order.” Her eyebrow crooked and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“Perhaps some combination of all,” he replied. “Where's Aisling?”
She slipped from the shadows in front of him with a bow in hand, arrow already notched. “I can take two, perhaps three of them before they realize what's happening and take cover.”
His eyes fixated on the bow in her hands – it was almost as tall as she; a long length of hickory, with a taut string running down it. The only concession to beauty was a carving of a leaping fox running along the top end of the handle. “Where did you get that?”
She shrugged but did not bother to hide the impish smile that dotted her features. “I told you I had one.”
He shook his head. “All right, you take two of them.” He turned to Vara. “Can you hit any of them with that stun spell of yours?”
She shook her head. “The tunnel is too long; they are out of my range.”
“But not mine,” Alaric said, making his way forward to take a look. “Three of them are clustered together at the right side of the wall; I may be able to hit all of them with a force blast.”
“J'anda,” Cyrus called.
The enchanter made his way forward and snuck a peek around the edge. “Two, perhaps three if luck favors us. I think you would want me to go first?”
“Before the others start flinging arrows and spells at them?” Cy smiled at the enchanter. “We have a means of dealing with somewhere between six and nine of them, depending on how fortunate we are. I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't feel that fortunate.” A quick look around revealed shakes of the head. “Niamh? Vines?”
She looked around the corner. “I can get one, maybe two of the ones close to the wall on the side Alaric's not attacking, otherwise, no. They're pretty far off the ground.”
Cy nodded. “Now we've got between seven and ten sewed up. Still not feeling lucky. Any other rangers close to the front of our line?”
Aisling shook her head. “They're helping keep the side tunnels secure. Arrows tend to hobble runners. I can deal with the last ones.” She turned to J'anda. “I'm going to start shooting in thirty seconds, so get your targets mesmerized by then.” Without waiting for a response, she melted into the shadows.
The enchanter turned to Cyrus in alarm. “She's not serious? We haven't settled this plan yet!”
“Aisling?” He looked at the shadows with undisguised annoyance. “Yes, she's serious,” he said to J'anda, “move!”
The dark elf slid into the shadows at the bend, hands already in motion, casting an incantation through unmoving lips. A faint light surrounded one of the goblins, then another, and then a third.
Cyrus watched as one of the goblins fell to his knees without warning, then dropped off the wall face first. “Alaric, Niamh,” Cy muttered warningly.
The Ghost stepped around the corner and unleashed a blast of force from his hand that caused Cyrus to sway. Another goblin near the back of the wall fell, and Cyrus could see a thin arrow shaft protruding from his eye. Alaric's blast hit the goblins on the far right side, flinging two of them off the wall like stick men in a hurricane wind, limp bodies broken against the rocks behind them.
“Got two,” the old knight said through gritted teeth. “The other one moved to check on his fallen comrade before my spell hit.”
Niamh's hands waved with fervor, and roots burst forth from the tunnel above the left side of the wall, enveloping one of the goblins, pulling him against the roof of the tunnel.
“Two left!” Cy yelled, watching as the last goblins dodged behind parapets. The portcullis began to descend as he, Vara and Alaric ran to cross the ground between them. It closed, leaving the three of them standing in the shadow of the wall. Cyrus drove his fingers under the bottommost iron segment and tried to lift. Alaric and Vara joined him, adding their strength to his own, but the portcullis did not budge. “They'll have warned the defenders in the keep. We have to get this thing open now, before they swarm out or we're screwed!”
“One more try?” Alaric suggested. “On three... one... two... three...” At the count of three, the portcullis jolted, moving upward with their insistent pushing.
A clanking noise could be heard behind the wall, and Cyrus stopped pushing. The portcullis continued to move upward. “Where are the goblins?” he asked. Vara and Alaric ceased their lifting efforts, and still the portcullis continued to rise.
A small mass hit the ground in front of Cyrus, followed by another, each with a muffled thump. After staring a
t them for a moment, he realized they were bodies – goblin corpses.
With catlike grace, Aisling dropped down after them, landing with a nimbleness that Cyrus could have predicted. “I killed the ones that were mesmerized too,” she said as she sheathed her daggers. “Niamh's vines choked the other one to death. I snuck in while you were distracting them.”
“Once again, lass, well done,” Alaric nodded. “Your tactics of distraction and deception are... quite impressive. But I have to ask, must you stab them in the back unknowing?”
She shrugged, an air of unconcern. “It's the fastest way.”
“And the most treacherous,” spat Vara.
“War's not a pretty thing,” Aisling said to the paladin, tensing as if bracing for an attack. “And we can't all be tall and graceful and strong as you.”
“Enough,” Cyrus said. “Beyond this door is an antechamber to the throne room. It's big enough we can reassemble and prepare for the assault on the Emperor and Empress.” He walked to the handle and turned it.
“Are you quite certain you should do that?” Alaric asked. “Perhaps we should have Aisling scout the room first?”
“You're right,” he agreed. His fingers left the knob but it continued to turn of its own accord. A moment of curiosity – How is the door handle turning itself? – flashed through his mind, replaced by the horror of realization as the door opened and he found a goblin looking up at him, mouth agape, sharp teeth gleaming.
Cyrus brought his sword down in a flash, but the goblin let out a startled cry that turned into a scream as he twisted away from Cyrus's blow. The short sword caught the goblin between the ribs and caused him to squeal in agony, throwing himself backward off of the warrior's sword. Cyrus looked past his foe to see a room half the size of the Great Hall at Sanctuary, balconies around the edges, and goblins staring down – dozens, maybe hundreds of them scattered throughout the room, all staring at the open door – and him.
The Sanctuary Series: Volume 02 - Avenger Page 31
