by Tom Lloyd
‘Yeah well, stepping into this unknown black’ll be scary enough – right up until you hit the ground.’
As though to emphasise her point Toil prodded at the stone slab directly beyond the threshold and hissed angrily when the butt of her staff passed right through it without a sound. She held it there a moment longer then probed around, forward, left and right. There was a hidden space there, a void about a yard long and wide. Toil crouched and passed her staff to Lastani, wrapped the rope of her lantern around one wrist then got down on her knees.
‘Lynx, a little muscle here please?’
‘Ballast more like,’ muttered someone behind him as Lynx moved forward and took hold of her legs.
Toil eased her torso over the threshold. Her face was tight with anxiety and she took three short breaths before lowering her lamp then her face into the floor. She emerged a moment later, panting as though she’d been underwater, but Lynx could tell it was just nervous energy.
‘Shattered gods!’ was all she said before dipping back down again, her head, shoulders and chest all simply sinking into the cut stone slab that was some magical illusion.
She stayed that way for a few heartbeats, looking one way then the other judging by the movements, before she re-emerged and pulled herself back to her knees.
‘Well,’ Toil gasped, catching her breath for a moment. ‘It ain’t fucking that way, that’s for sure.’
‘You’re certain.’
‘Not unless the Duegar could drop a hundred feet or more. I could see a column supporting the path just beyond this, leading a long way down but it’s sheer-sided. Guess we go on in, there’s a walkway – just a yard or two wide, but it’s better’n nothing. I think it widens further in, might be more there.’
‘The upper hall’s big. Really big,’ Sitain pointed out. ‘Surely the entrance is further down? Remember Shadows Deep? They weren’t afraid of really big archways and the like – we’ve got to be looking for something a bit grander than a hole in the floor, don’t we?’
‘Shadows Deep was a city,’ Lastani pointed out, ‘this is a labyrinth with multiple entrances – each either a varied test of faith or some sort of competition. Either way, all the entrances leading to the one magnificent door would be somewhat pointless, no?’
‘She’s right – it’s all illusion up here.’ Toil stood and put the cord of her lantern back over her head. ‘We’re looking for a path into the unseen nearby. For the sake of all that’s sacred or even just half-decent in a good light, try not to fall over the edge in the process. It’s a long way down.’
Lynx heard Kas clear her throat and glanced back at the faces behind them. Teshen had been with Toil, Lynx, Sitain and Kas in Shadows Deep. No doubt Barra and Aben had done this before, Paranil too probably, if he was one of Toil’s comrades, though the man still looked terrified. As for the others, even the agents of the Monarch, Suth and Elei, looked antsy at what was coming next.
‘What is it, Kas?’
‘Company tradition,’ she explained. ‘Prayers before combat.’
‘Prayers?’ Toil and Lynx asked in the same breath. ‘What about Shadows Deep?’
Kas shrugged. ‘Safir usually does it, but we left him with the rest before we got there.’
‘Safir?’ Lynx echoed. ‘But he—’
‘Is the one who does it,’ Kas broke in sharply. ‘And right now, I for one would like to stick with tradition, okay?’
Her tone of voice made it clear she didn’t want any argument there, and given Kas wasn’t prone to whimsy when on the job, Lynx backed off.
‘Fine,’ Toil said a moment later, clearly exasperated. ‘Just be quick about it.’
Safir stepped forward and shouldered his gun before folding his hands piously at his waist. ‘Take a knee then, the lot of you.’
Lynx hesitated while most of the rest obeyed. He exchanged a look with Sitain who shrugged. The pair followed suit as Safir closed his eyes and bowed his head.
‘Hear us, our gods,’ Safir intoned, ‘in this our hour of need. Shattered though your mortal forms are, your spirits remain in this world to guide us, to sustain us and protect us from the indignities of fellow man and the machinations of spirits and demons.
‘In which case,’ Safir added after a pause, ‘you’ve done a piss-poor job, you feckless, broken shitweasels. My praise is reserved for the one act of your brother, Banesh, when he shattered your mortal forms and kicked you the fuck out of this world.’
Lynx looked up as Toil made a choking sound. Lastani could only gape as shock overrode any protests she might have had, Suth frowning beside her. Kas offered Lynx a wink as Safir continued, eyes closed and a look of calm focus on his face.
‘Veraimin, lord of light and heat,’ Safir declared, ‘impetuous and wilful child of power. Unending is the list of your misdeeds, but every drought I ever saw had your spirit of gleeful idiocy dancing across the scorched fields. Insar, gutless lord of cold and secrets – yet again your smug cockstain servants the Knights-Charnel are trying to kill us.
‘Catrac, lord of passion and endeavour, you who gifted mankind with its witless avarice … Well, you know what you did, so fuck you most of all. Ulfer, brainless thug of the earth and seasons – I blame you for wasps in particular and what was with the fever I got just after winter? Did I really have to shit myself in the middle of the tavern common room or was that your idea of funny?
‘And lastly Banesh, jester of change and chance, whose act shattered the gods and cast the fragments across the continent. Was the ocean too small a target to dump them all in and save us from the burning nightmare of mage-cartridges? And well done breaking yourself in the process, you misfiring cretin.’
There was a long moment of quiet, during which someone sniggered and Lastani emitted some sort of outraged squeak that likely only dogs could hear properly.
‘So we pray,’ Safir intoned finally, using the formal refrain of temple service.
‘So we pray,’ replied those of the Cards.
Lynx looked over the faces of the mercenaries. It seemed Kas had been right to suggest a prayer at least. The tension was gone from their faces as they eased their way back to their feet and readied their guns.
‘Well now,’ Toil said slowly, ‘if Brother Safir’s finished with his blessing, shall we be off?’
Safir bowed his head. ‘We’re in your hands, Lady Toil.’
Chapter 23
Toil led her scouting group out into the upper chamber with painstaking care. Behind her, the rest were mostly quiet, with Sitain and Lastani the only ones making any real sound at all. It didn’t take Lastani long to pick out the shape of the path ahead, her ice-magic casting a neat line of frost down each side of the path where it met the illusion. Toil was quietly impressed at the young woman’s precision and skill, but she kept it to herself as she moved down the now-slightly – treacherous walkway. With her staff she checked the path on either side, making long sweeps down into the unknown black to try and find hidden steps leading down.
On the other side, Aben copied Toil’s movements with a mage-gun while Sitain and Lynx kept close behind them – one looking out for Bade’s crew and the other ready to shoot if they were spotted. In the great black space of the upper chamber Toil’s Duegar lantern illuminated almost nothing, but it was an absence she was used to by now and had to restrain herself from moving ahead of Aben. While the man had been on several expeditions with Toil, he wasn’t as comfortable underground and took greater care over every step. Even more so now, when Sotorian Bade might be walking this same hall with a troop of Charnelers.
Out of nowhere the stink of burned flesh appeared in Toil’s mind. She mentally cursed but knew it was inevitable whenever the smug, self-satisfied smile of Sotorian Bade came into her thoughts. It had been the same in the palace great hall. Despite the riot of perfume there and the scents of food, one look had been all it took for that to turn to charred meat in her nose. But this time would be different. This time she was hunting him – and th
is time she was no fearful ingénue lost in the dark.
That knowledge made no difference, however. She still couldn’t help remembering her first time, her first taste of the deepest black in all its horror. How long she’d stayed in that tomb, Toil still couldn’t say. Perhaps only minutes, just long enough for Bade to have crept away – guided by what she now knew was a Duegar lantern. Long enough for him to get well clear of a girl who could only blunder slowly through the darkness – after that, the minutes or hours had barely mattered. She remembered little of it bar the smell of burned corpses, had no sense of time under that constricting blanket of darkness, but back then it had seemed like an age.
Eventually the tears had run out, the juddering of her heart slowed to a steady beat and her moans quietened. The darkness was all around her, but it made no move to take her and eventually her wits returned. There was only so long that a sane person could sit and gibber. After however long it was, Toil came through the other side of that valley of fear. Still afraid, still tired and alone, but also still the daughter of her parents. In that moment she almost felt their presence beside her.
Her mother, iron-willed and calm; her father, effusive and explosive. Brought up by two such people, inheritor of all they were, Toil took a long breath and reached out to put her hand against the edge of the tomb.
I am here now. I will not just curl up and die.
Her mother’s soft voice came to her from the darkness. ‘Succeed or fail – never accept either until you have tried. Never tell yourself you cannot, never presume that you will not – most of all, never let others choose for you.’
She remembered her father, the scars he bore and the looks some men gave him. A huge presence in all ways, a whirlwind of strength and energy when he returned home. A smile rarely far from his lips, a roar never far from his throat, but it was when he was still that Toil learned to listen hardest to him.
‘Look death right in the eye – don’t let the bastard blink. Some men spit in death’s eye, some men curse him. But death’s a rabid dog; you fix him with a look and run him through without waiting. One day the dog will be too fast for you and pull you down, save your tears for then. Until that day you stand tall, child of mine.’
Shakily, cautiously, Toil rose and stood tall. She could almost feel the great ursine warmth of her father beside her, the small smooth touch of her mother’s hand in hers.
‘Not today,’ she whispered to the darkness and in her mind it retreated a shade.
Toil took a step forward, hand reaching out for the tomb’s edge. She found it and ran her fingers along, shuffling her feet forward until she found something that felt like dead flesh.
Sovirel had carried a walking staff, she recalled – the perfect thing for a blind girl to feel her way. As the panic faded, a view of the tomb seemed to unfurl in her mind. She’d always had a good memory, now was the time to see just how good that was. Finding the bodies she fumbled her way over them, trying to ignore the warm sticky patches of scorched skin until her foot touched the dropped stick.
Moving slowly, Toil found the broken lamp without cutting herself, then felt at Sovirel’s belt for the mage-pistol he carried. It took her a long while, but at last she had the gun strapped to her waist and counted five cartridges in the pouch it bore. Five would have to be enough.
Most likely I’ll only ever need one, Toil realised. Either I kill whatever I shoot at, or I’ll never have time for a second shot. But maybe I’ll see Bade in the distance. Maybe the gods will grant me that.
Toil paused. ‘If any of you are listening to prayers, though,’ she said aloud, ‘I’d prefer to get out of here. Killing Bade can wait for another day.’
There was no reply to her prayer and Toil didn’t wait for one. Casting around with her stick and using the tomb as a reference point, she headed towards the door. She took the wrong line at first and found herself nearing the side wall, where the lesser artefacts were kept.
And here’s me looking death right in the eye, Toil thought with a crazed smile.
With the stick she shoved one off the shelf and hurriedly ducked, but nothing happened. Relieved, she felt over what remained there. Three items of varying size and shape, she could guess at none of them so she fitted the two she could into her pack and continued around the wall towards the door. It was a long slow journey there and down the tunnel beyond it, one brief burst of light as she threw a shard of stone down that before the darkness reasserted itself. She almost succumbed to fear and dismay when she discovered Bade had pulled up the rope, but again Toil felt her parents beside her, keeping her unbowed.
There were steps projecting out from the wall, she remembered that much. A good third had broken when they got inside, the stone slab hiding the stairway crashing all the way to the bottom, but a good climber might be able to use what pieces or crevices remained on the wall. She would try, there was nothing else to do. If she fell, she would die, but if she did nothing she would be just as dead.
Toil tucked the staff into her pack as best she could and started up the broken stubs of steps, eyes wide open as she faced the darkness down.
‘Some days, a man’s just got to admit he’s been buggered good and hard.’
The comment drew a nod from Chotel and a frown from Kastelian, but Bade ignored both as he continued to stare at his missing feet.
‘Aye, first point to Hopper,’ chirped Torril, the bearded man beside Bade who currently appeared to have no legs at all. ‘But you know what I always say underground?’
‘Whatever doesn’t kill us leaves us horribly maimed and disfigured?’
The bearded veteran shrugged. ‘Well, yeah, but also – first point’s better’n first blood.’
‘When have you ever said that?’
‘I’m saying it now.’
Bade looked away. They were standing in the upper chamber of the labyrinth while the majority of the soldiers transported their supplies back from the grand doorway. Bade was too busy feeling stupid to help even if he’d been so inclined, but the longer he stood there the more his frustration subsided.
He tapped his unseen feet on the step supporting him. ‘First point to Hopper,’ he repeated. ‘Lesson learned, eh, boys?’
‘Could have been worse,’ Chotel agreed, ‘and we’re now on track again.’
They had wasted a lot of time on the large square platform enclosed by pillars around the grand doorway – first checking for traps and then the mages, scholars and relic hunters trying to open the stone doors. Set into a cube of stone fifteen feet high, each door had four round handles. Each handle turned independently and bore four small symbols that could be lined up. They had worked hard and methodically only to conclude that the entire door was a dummy and the labyrinth designer was laughing at them from beyond the grave.
Now they were stood just outside the nearest labyrinth entrance, one that led up to an as yet unopened chamber. It had taken Bade just ten minutes to find the hidden steps once he was looking, located below the flagstone illusion on the inner side of the main path.
Without warning, a pair of dark, blade-like limbs flashed up from the floor around Torril’s waist. The man gave a yelp and stumbled backward – he would have toppled off the unseen edge if Bade hadn’t grabbed him and hauled him back. The limbs clacked down on the stone steps, once, twice, as a brief burst of inhuman chittering emanated up.
‘What’s Bug saying?’ Kastelian asked.
Bade started off down the steps once the runt maspid had turned and disappeared again. ‘Sounds like little Timen fell down the well and needs help,’ he said over his shoulder.
‘Eh?’
Chotel laughed and followed Bade. ‘Bug ain’t talkin’ words, she ain’t a person.’
‘So what was that?’
‘Catchin’ our attention.’
With his mage-gun lowered to tap against the steps before he put his weight on them, Bade moved down the flight with practised care. Once he ducked his head beneath the illusion everything went
black and he had to stop and blink hard to readjust. There was little to see even in the light of his Duegar lamp – just the suggestion of towering stone formations upon which the walkways had been constructed.
The stair he was on had been built up against the side of the main support, the sides of both going straight down with only the slightest of curves. It reminded him of giant trees he’d seen in the rainforests far to the south-west. Not terrain anyone chose to spend much time in other than the locals, he’d travelled fifty miles into one forest to find a Duegar temple that had been swallowed by foliage – an impressive feat given the temple spires were each seventy-odd yards high.
The steps led straight down into darkness, he could make out that much, but the lamp he carried was the smallest of the three he owned. There was a suggestion of depth and lines further below, but he knew in such low light his eyes could easily be playing tricks. All he was certain of was a central supporting column of rock around which the upper chamber ran – more than a hundred yards in diameter given the section of it they had travelled.
As they’d walked in the light above, Bade had checked the location of entrances on the map he’d brought, keeping his bearings. Not far from where they stood was the fake doorway to the main body of the labyrinth, an off shoot of the central column.
‘Light-bolt,’ he called back to Chotel behind. His lieutenant relayed the message and Bade waited for it to be passed all the way back before pulling a cartridge from his gun and replacing the sparker in the breach.
Once it was loaded he paused again, straining to see out into the darkness, but eventually he was satisfied he wasn’t going to hit anything nearby if he aimed almost down the length of the walkway.
‘Chotel, come down until your head’s just above the floor level. When I fire, duck down. Might be you get a better look than me.’
‘Got it, boss.’
