“Ryan, stop," he said, quietly. Armand turned around to look. “You saved us again, yesterday. I will clean the camp.” He was a bit unsteady, but slowly walked over to Armand’s bedroll, and knelt to roll it up.
Armand snorted, and turned back to watch the sunrise.
Gregory took quite a while to pack the camp, but he refused to let anyone else help. As he worked, he ate, and he drank water. By the time that he finished rolling up all the bedrolls and blankets, he seemed much stronger. He ate another biscuit while he packed the blankets. He took out a small bottle of brandy, when he was done, and drank two small mouthfuls while leaning against his horse.
When he turned back from storing his bottle, his eyes held strength once again. He stared at his left hand, and wiggled his fingers.
“I take it this miracle is from William’s flower juice?” Gregory asked. Ryan nodded. “Thank you. I’m sure it’s why I am regaining strength so quickly.”
Ryan turned to look east. The chasm was lined up perfectly with the sun. As it rose over the horizon, it was perfectly framed between the walls. Gregory saw a glint of metal near Armand, and wandered over to it. He reached down and picked up his rent and twisted shield, gravel streaming off of it.
Armand looked at him, then turned his back on Gregory and walked back next to the horses to get another biscuit.
Gregory looked at the sunrise for a moment, squinting, and turned back to the group. “Let’s go.”
They walked the horses no more than two hundred yards before there was a gap in the right wall of the cut in the mountain. Twenty yards from them stood a proud, ornate arch. It held the weight of the peak above it, and led into the mountainside. As they walked over to it, Ryan realized that the entire canyon was smooth-walled, carved and smoothed by hand out of the living rock.
There was a spotless, shining metal bar on the right side, somehow anchored into the side of the mountain itself. The horses were skittish, and refused to go beyond the arch. The group tied their horses to the metal bar. Ryan quickly reached into his pack and pocketed what was left of William’s vial of healing balm.
Armand peered into the darkness, shrugged, and looked to Gregory.
“Kevin,” Gregory said, “get the torches from my saddlebag.” Kevin rummaged around in the bags for a moment, then handed two torches to Gregory. He pulled a flint out of a belt pouch, struck it with a knife to light the torches, and handed one to Armand.
Torches raised, the knights led the squires into the blackness beyond the arch.
* * *
They hadn’t gone far before Armand began muttering.
“This floor has no dust on it,” Armand said. “I would have thought we were the first ones in here for dozens of years.”
“The guardian mentioned ‘the Bourne’,” Gregory said, stroking his chin. “He said that they were the only ones allowed to pass.”
“Do you think they live here?” Kevin asked.
“Perhaps, squire.” Gregory patted Kevin’s shoulder. “We’ll find out soon enough, I daresay.”
They continued in. Ryan reached out touch the wall. It had been carved, too, but it was very smooth. Light reflected off of it as if it had been polished.
Gregory stopped. “If we see the swords, I suggest we grab them and run.”
Armand snorted. “I sincerely doubt that the guardian outside was the last one we will see.”
Ryan shook his head. He’s right, of course. He thought to himself. Something’s keeping the dust from settling.
“Well, let’s get those swords and go,” Gregory said. “I feel like the mountain’s weight is resting on my shoulders down here.” The corridor turned to the right, and started sloping down. Gregory paused, sighed deeply, and then led them downwards.
As the pathway straightened out, they saw a pair of sparkling eyes up ahead. They stood still for a moment, whispering.
“Looks like eyes to me,” Armand whispered.
“I don’t know, they’re glowing,” Gregory replied.
“We’d better go check it out.” Armand nodded to the squires. “I don’t trust them to be quiet.”
Ryan bristled internally at the criticism, but managed to remain silent.
Gregory nodded. “You squires wait here,” he whispered, handing his torch over to Kevin. Armand stuck his arm out and Ryan grabbed the torch from him.
Ryan jumped at the sound of Armand drawing his sword.
The knights started to slide down the corridor. The last sound Ryan was able to hear was Gregory slowly pulling his sword out. After that, the knights moved silently, despite being in armor.
Despite Armand’s abrasive comment, Ryan was impressed. I doubt I could have been that quiet, he admitted … but only to himself.
After a few moments, they were far enough into the dark corridor to be out of sight. The only time Ryan knew they were there was when one of them stepped in front of one of the glowing eyes.
Ryan found that he was holding his breath. He let it out, quietly, and tried to loosen the tension in his shoulders. Waiting was difficult, especially in the featureless corridor, and the time seemed to stretch from moments into hours. Even though he had relaxed somewhat, he still nearly jumped out of his skin when Armand stepped back into the torchlight.
“They were torches, not eyes,” Armand said ruefully, but he was no longer whispering. Kevin let out his breath. Armand raised his eyebrows at Kevin, and then continued. “There’s a doorway just beyond. Gregory is checking it out, but he wants you up near the sconces.”
They walked up to the sconces, steps echoing in the corridor. Ryan tried to walk more quietly, but found the stone floor to be an impossible taskmaster. No matter how he changed his steps, he could hear them echoing off of the walls.
They came up to the winking ‘eyes’ — lit torches sitting in wall sconces, one on each wall. There was an opening in the right wall, just beyond the pair of torches. There was faint music coming from the space beyond.
They stepped up to the doorway. Gregory was standing just beyond, trying to see what was beyond. Light flickered on the edge of the doorway. Ryan could see just far enough through the door to tell that it wasn’t another passageway, but rather the entryway into a large room or cavern of some sort.
Is that flickering from the torches behind us? Ryan asked himself, twisting around to look at the torches.
But those torches had gone out. Ryan spun around to look at the doorway, and saw that the flickering remained—the light must be coming from inside the chamber. Suddenly, the faint music coming from the chamber beyond the doorway stopped. All Ryan could hear was some sort of gibbering.
It sounds … wet, Ryan decided. Like a person who just came up for air, but … crazy. His eyes widened as he heard some sort of splashing footsteps. Gregory motioned to them, and they stepped through the door. An otherworldly scene struck their eyes.
The walls arched up and out of sight. There was a small lake on the inside of the chamber, perhaps two hundred yards across. Water was dripping into the lake from huge stalactites, presumably hanging from the ceiling, but it was too dark to tell. The water glowed a faint orange, illuminating them from below. The waves caused the light to flicker like torchlight on the wall. Other than the small dark shore next to the door, and another dark crescent on the right-hand wall, the water reached to the edges of the chamber.
A small island in the middle held a large bonfire. It was quite a distance away, but even from here Ryan could tell that the creatures dancing around the fire weren’t quite human.
They were too short for one, and they had thick greenish skin on their naked backs. Their underbellies were white. Yet, despite all that strangeness, they walked on two legs, and had arms and heads like a human. They danced with each other, using tall sticks as props to spin plant in the dirt and twirl around. The soldiers could hear gurgling laughter.
“Are these the Bourne?” Kevin whispered.
Gregory nodded. “That’s a good question.”
Armand’s shoulders moved. Ryan guessed he would have snorted if there were no need for silence. “I think the better question is: ‘do they want to eat us?’”
Ryan nodded.
Kevin pointed down to the water. There were glowing ripples spreading off of a swimmer that was headed towards them. It had clearly seen their torch by now.
“Do you think they’re friendly?” Ryan whispered.
Armand shook his head, and drew his sword again. “Nothing’s been friendly so far.”
Including you. Ryan couldn’t help the thought, nor could he help the flash of bitter feelings that came with it.
Gregory drew his sword, and the squires imitated him.
The creature came out of the water. Up close, it looked less human. It seemed to have scales on its back, and they dripped slime from the stagnant water. It was about three and a half feet tall, and it blinked rapidly in the light, overly large eyes watering. It had very large, flat feet, with webbed toes.
It looked from face to face, meeting the eyes of each person in turn. It made a strange gurgling sound.
It sounded like it said ‘Bourne,’ Ryan thought. It gestured at the water’s edge, then held up a hand, palm forward, jabbing its flat palm at Armand, then Gregory. It pointed back to the water and repeated the sound and the gestures, but pushing back towards the two squires, each in turn.
The dancing on the island stopped; the creatures had turned to watch what the humans would do.
Armand smiled threateningly, and walked forward towards the water. The Bourne became more agitated, and, just as Armand raised his leg to put his foot into the water, it pulled out a sword that was no bigger than a long knife, and lunged for Armand’s leg.
It was fast, too fast for Armand, who struggled not to yell as the short sword’s point penetrated past his long chain mail hauberk and pricked his thigh. The links of the mail held the broad part of the blade back, but it did sting. Armand attacked.
The creature stepped under the blow and grabbed Armand’s sword arm. It attempted to pull Armand away from the water, but he simply lifted his sword arm, pulling the creature into the air. He turned to Gregory and gestured at the dangling green thing, which was struggling to reach Armand’s chest with its short sword.
Gregory stepped forward and sliced through its body in a single stroke.
There was a loud gurgling from the dying creature’s throat, and the dozen or so Bourne that were on the island quickly jumped into the water. They sliced through the water faster than any human could swim.
Must be their webbed feet. Ryan mused.
Gregory turned and strode toward the corridor, then stepped aside, motioning for them to go first. Armand led the way out, the squires on his heels. Gregory wheeled around and brought up the rear.
They turned left and ran past the torches, which burst into flame as he passed beyond them.
They had turned too late. The strange creatures’ feet slapped the ground right behind them, and one of them jumped more than a dozen feet to knock Gregory over. Ryan skidded to a stop and turned around, joined a moment later by Kevin and Armand.
Several of the creatures swarmed over Gregory, poking at him with their sticks. He struggled mightily, but to no avail. They had cords with them that they used to bind his feet and hands so quickly that he was tied before his companions could react. A piece of scrap cloth appeared out of nowhere and was shoved into Gregory’s mouth. The short green men then lifted Gregory’s bound and gagged form off the ground and carried him back to the lake room.
Armand followed them at a dead run, but struggled to keep up with them. Once they got Gregory into the water, they swam quickly. The three soldiers thundered onto the shore to see a single one of the Bourne standing knee deep in the water.
It pointed to the shoreline, gurgled “Bourne!” and held its hand out palm first, pushing rapidly at each of them in turn. It then turned and jumped into the water, swimming after its comrades. They had avoided the island, and were instead swimming to the other dark crescent shore, on the right hand side of the room.
“I think they don’t want us to go into the water,” Kevin said.
Ryan nodded, and turned to see Armand’s reaction.
“To hell with that!” the knight said, and strode into the water. “They have our commanding officer.” He turned to look at them, and threw his shield on the ground. The clatter of the metal striking the stone floor echoed around the chamber. “Now we get him back! No mercy!”
Interlude
The corpse reeled into a clearing under some sort of monastery. It was fairly small, but made of a dark gray stone that seemed to give it weight, importance. The falling snow landed lightly on its shoulders.
As the corpse reached the center of the courtyard, its desire to move forward simply ceased. It stopped, considering.
This is where he was supposed to be.
With palpable relief, he sat down on the ground in front of the building, and contemplated. No memories were left. No desires pushed into its consciousness. It sat and watched the snow fall onto the building. The evergreen trees slowly turned white.
It was strange not to be cold, but it seemed appropriate. There was a muted, quiet feeling about the monastery, and the corpse's ability to feel was muted, its desires finally quiet.
Later, as the clearing darkened, candles were lit in the stained-glass windows on either side of the door. A scraping sound broke the silence of the snowfall, and a monk came outside to light an oil lantern hanging next to the door. He lifted the cover, and pushed the taper in, and adjusted the height of the wick. As he turned, he saw the mound of snow that had almost completely covered the corpse.
"AYE-ah!" He came rushing down to the corpse, snow billowing from around his knees with each step, and brushed off of the corpse's head and shoulders. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you knock?"
Although muted by the snow and wet, the smell of death wafted up to the monk's nostrils. The corpse opened his mouth, but no noise came, just the rattle of breath that did no good to its dead body.
"Ahh,” the monk breathed, nodding in understanding, looking into the unblinking eyes of the corpse. He took hold of the corpse's right elbow with his left hand coaxed the dead man to standing. It wasn't easy, for the corpse felt no desire to stand. Nor did it feel the desire to walk, or to enter the monastery, or to lie down in a clean bed in a room with many other clean beds—but that is where the monk led him, and so he went.
The beds sat, empty, waiting to be used. Pillars, carved as sculptures of naked men and women, held the beautiful wooden ceiling above them. Or perhaps the sculptures were of Gods.
The corpse stared up at that sculpted ceiling, and felt no compulsion. Finally, he smiled.
Up the Side
Renek awoke in the Singers’ medical tent. As soon as he was fully conscious, he jumped and started moving his hands frantically all over his body.
“Relax, Renek,” Hesiod said, laughing. “They shielded you from the rocks.” He laughed again. “It wasn’t enough to keep all of you conscious, but they made sure that there wasn’t anything damaged on the inside. You’re going to have a pretty bad black eye, though.”
Renek smoothed a hand over his face. It was, indeed, a bit tender. He frowned deeply. “He didn’t do anything," he said bitterly. “Nothing. He just stood there with his mouth hanging open. Hand me my sword, would you?”
“James?” Hesiod asked as he reached over for Renek’s sword. “He’s never seen anything like a real battle, much less one with experienced magic wielders.” He smiled apologetically, and handed the sword over. Renek worked on the hilt, tightening the wires and knots that held the stone pommel on. “At least you and William were there to save the army from those things today.
“But what about tomorrow?” Hesiod continued, dropping his voice. “They still outnumber us. We lost one of our Singers today.” Renek drew in his breath sharply.
“Yes,” Hesiod nodded. “Exhaustion. He killed him
self to keep that lightning barrier going as long as he did.” He sighed. “So we lost one of the Sorcerers, and they’re the only thing keeping us from total annihilation.”
Renek nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Hesiod leaned in close. “I think we’ve got to go get those swords,” he whispered. “They’re our only chance.”
Renek nodded, making his mind up. “When do we leave?” he said, swinging his legs out of the bed and sitting up.
“Tonight, after dark,” Hesiod said, smiling in satisfaction. “I’ve got a pack of food for each of us.
“It will be dangerous,” he added. Renek raised his eyebrows.
There was a clap at the tent.
“And today wasn’t?” Renek said quietly, sighing. “I’m afraid it’s more dangerous to stay here, at least in the long run.” His eyes narrowed. “Especially with James as commanding officer.”
More loudly, he called “Who’s there?”
A foot soldier drew the curtain aside. “Sir, if it please ye, there are some of us out here that wants to say thank ye for gettin’ rid of those rock things.”
Renek nodded, and motioned for him to come inside. The man stepped in, followed by two dozen more. Renek’s eyebrows rose, and Hesiod laughed.
“Is that all you have, soldier? We have at least enough space for another half a man.” The old politician laughed sarcastically, though he smiled broadly.
“Oh, no, sir,” the man said, wide-eyed with sincerity. “There be an hundred more of us outside. There was too many. We drew lots to see who would come in first to see if he were all right.” He turned to Renek. “You do be all right, don’t you?”
Hesiod laughed again, clapping the man on the shoulder.
* * *
They arose several hours before dawn, and rode out of the camp as quietly as they could. They even muffled their horses’ hooves, and timed their departure so that they would have a smaller chance of being spotted by one of the several guards.
Legend of the Swords: War Page 22
