by Tim Marquitz
Cael couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the hall as they hurried through it, slipping through a curtained alcove that sat hidden behind a great tapestry on the wall behind the throne. After moving through a short corridor that split three ways at its end, the princess led them to the right, into a long hall. After twenty paces, she stopped suddenly.
“Give me your sword, Falen,” she said to her husband.
He did so, passing it over by the hilt. The princess grasped it in both hands and slid the point into a slot in the ceiling, Cael had not noticed. She pressed it upward until there was a quiet click. Falen set his hand upon the wall to her left and pushed. A portion of the wall swung open without a sound revealing a dark corridor beyond. She withdrew the blade and passed it back to her husband.
Falen went in first, calling out from the darkness a moment later for them to follow. The sergeant went in after, pulling a torch from the sconce set just inside. The princess ushered her sons inside and waved for the rest to follow. At Zalee’s urging, Cael went in before her and made room for the rest.
The corridor dark, he could see little of its design. Behind him, the party fully inside, the princess closed the hidden door. It shut without sound. A sudden flash of light blinded him for a moment as the sergeant lighted the torch, its flickering brightness chasing the darkness away. His vision cleared and he saw they stood within a narrow hallway hewn from natural stone. It ran straight into the darkness beyond the orb’s reach.
The sergeant ahead, the party moved down the hall for what seemed an eternity, coming to stop at a metal gate that sat closed before a steel door. The sergeant grasped the bars of the gate, each as thick as Cael’s arm, and growled. He reached through the bars to strike the door with his fist, only the muffled slap of meat sounding out.
“The prince has sealed the tunnels,” Barold said as he spun about. His eyes seemed to glow against his dark face. There was worry in its lines.
“That bastard,” Falen said, turning to face his wife. “He would abandon his own family?” he asked, as though he thought even the prince above such callousness.
The princess bowed her head and Cael swore he could see tears welling in her eyes. Her husband pulled her close as Barold and Maltis stared at each other, saying nothing.
Zalee slipped past to the gate and set her hand upon it, and then the door in turn. She shook her head. “There is no way past. Is there another route to these tunnels of yours?”
Maltis shook his head. “None that would lead us beyond the walls.”
A growl bubbled low in her throat. “Then we must return the way we came and pray we have not lost our opportunity.”
Without waiting, she stormed off down the corridor. Cael ran to keep up, the shuffle of hurried feet at his back. Zalee led them back to the secret door and through the Great Hall, back out once more into the courtyard. Only there did she stop, raising a hand. The sounds of battle rang in their ears.
Cael could see no fighting, the cluster of tall homes and buildings leaving only the view of the cobblestone streets unimpeded, but he knew it was fierce. Zalee urged them on, winding her way back toward the gate they had come through earlier. The clash of steel and groans of the dying grew louder as they traveled on. He wondered why Zalee had chosen this route, knowing full well the Grol would likely have reached the level by then. The answer was there before him just a moment later.
Just beyond the open gate that led to the level below was the battle he had heard. Grol bodies littered the streets in lifeless piles. The cobblestones beneath them ran red, rivers of blood filling the cracks between the stones. Little more than a blur of movement above the carpet of dead, the Lathahn weaved his way amidst the clustered Grol, beasts dropping in crumpled heaps in his furious wake. The Pathran warrior at his side, she too waded through the invaders with graceful motions, leaving no Grol alive behind her. Neither fighter seemed to see anything but the enemy that stood in their path.
Though they kept their peace, Cael could see the pride on the faces of the Pathran emissaries. Sharpened smiles stretched their mouths. The princess reached out and pulled her children behind her by their collars, both having crowded in front of her as though to shield her from the battle. Falen took their place, but the princess’ eyes never left the fight before her. Cael could not read her thoughts as he could the Pathra’s, her expression guarded.
At his side, Zalee looked about a moment, seeming to come to a decision. She drew close to Maltis, pointing to the wall that loomed just behind the battle. “Keep the party together and make your way to the wall.”
The commander nodded and brought everyone in tight. Barold leading the way once more with Falen just behind, the group sprinted as best they could across the slick cobblestones, dodging bodies until they reached a narrow alley. The sergeant pushed on, the sounds of fighting dimmed somewhat by the nearby homes, and ran until he reached the great wall. As they clustered about, Zalee drew up from behind and came to stand beside the wall.
“As we cannot flee through the streets, the Grol army far too numerous to avoid, there is only one other path for us.” She pointed to the top of the wall. “We must travel above the streets.”
The commander looked at her with narrow, disbelieving eyes. “There is no way above them save for upon the walls, but even that leads us only from one side of the city to the other, with no way across to the next wall.”
“No way for you,” Zalee said. She pulled her boots and gloves off and handed them to Cael as the party stared at her, uncertainty thick in the air. “When it is time, send the children first,” she said, without explaining. She latched onto the wall and crawled up its side, disappearing at the top.
A moment later, the looped end of the silvery rope they’d used to sneak into Lathah dropped beside them. No one moved. Cael growled and motioned to the princess’ youngest child. He was reluctant to leave his mother’s side.
“Put your foot in the loop and grab ahold of the knot. Zalee will pull you up.” Malya stood by her son, protectiveness burning in her green eyes. Cael raised his hands, but persisted. “I have seen the miraculous take shape before my eyes, and have even witnessed the Sha’ree speaking with the Goddess Ree. If you would see your sons borne safe from here, you must have faith in Zalee.”
Malya stood a moment, saying nothing as she stared into Cael’s eyes. Finally her reluctance broke and she ruffled her son’s hair. “Go to the rope, Kylle. We will be right behind.”
The boy nodded and Malya watched as her youngest slid his foot into the loop and grasped the knot. Zalee wasted no time and pulled him up, the princess’ stare locked upon her son the entire time. He waved from above before moving away from the edge. The rope dropped down an instant after he was gone from sight. Malya sent her second son up, and followed behind, the limp king being hauled up next. Cael followed behind him.
On the roof, as Zalee pulled the rest of the party up, Cael looked out over the city. Fires burned wild, filling the air with swirls of thick black smoke. The Grol army still spilled through the shattered front wall, scattering without discipline once inside Lathah. Horrible sounds drifted to his ears: the clang of swords colliding, the sound of the butcher’s block as meat met steel, and the cries of men dying filled his head with horror.
The streets ran thick with furred bodies, a maelstrom of claw and tooth that tore its way through the paltry resistance that still stood. The twang of bows sounded in dim echoes, raining death upon the Grol, but with the walls down, the trade of lives was far from even. Cael could see a number of beasts dead on the ground, feathered with shafts, but alongside them lay a far greater number of Lathahns, their bodies torn apart. He turned away, his stomach churning at the cruelty so blatantly on display. He felt sorry for the people down below. He could see no chance of victory.
The last of the party on the wall, Zalee inched to the far edge and glanced over. Cael followed her gaze, steeling it against what he knew he’d see. Down below, the streets were strangely calm, the ma
sses of Grol spilling in through the center of the city where the walls had been taken down. Here where they still stood, the labyrinth of the levels keeping the battle from reaching the far corners. Stragglers scrambled about and soldiers hunkered down in preparation for the coming onslaught, but Cael could see no Grol among them.
Zalee cleared some space around her and began to whisper, her words little more than breaths amidst the chaos of the war around them. She stood rigid, her pink eyes staring off into the distance.
The princess, chiding her sons for standing too close to the edge of the wall, glanced to Cael. Unsure of what Zalee intended, he forced a smile that spoke of patience. He hoped it hid his uncertainty. Malya would know when they all did. One of the Pathra gasped and Cael spun to see why, his own breath catching in his lungs when he spied what the warrior had.
The dark smoke that rose up from the city around them had begun to drift toward them, gathering into what looked like roiling storm clouds. It no longer floated toward the sky, but seemed to hover thick at the apex of the wall. More and more of it came together, the murky darkness blotting out the ground below.
As Cael watched the clouds coalesce, he thought of the river at Pathrale and realized what Zalee intended. He glanced down again and was grateful the churning smoke blocked his view. Waeri and his people stared wide-eyed at the building clouds that stretched between the walls, seeming delighted. The princess seemed quite the opposite. Her expression was as dark as the smoke. The boys stared with broad grins stretching their faces, marveling at the whirling darkness. Malya’s husband stood near his sons as he too watched the smoke gather. There was the slightest glimmer of a smile upon his lips.
As the clouds compressed, their shifting softness beginning to take on the appearance of solidness, Cael thought he saw the shifting eyes of the goddess amidst the smoke, a reddened glint shimmering in the darkness. Cael smiled, hoping she could see him.
“We must hurry,” Zalee called out, a subtle rawness to her words. “Cael, go first and lead the princess and her children across.”
Called out on his words of trust, Cael knew he couldn’t hesitate. His experience at the river gave him a measure of confidence, but he couldn’t stop the trembles that rattled his body as he stepped out onto the clouds. His breath was frozen in his lungs until his foot settled, the smoke bearing his weight. Glad once more he couldn’t see through to the ground far below, he reached out his hand to the princess, his smile genuine.
With the fearless face only a mother could maintain, the princess stepped out onto the makeshift bridge before she allowed her children. Once she was sure it would hold them, she waved the boys forward. Smiles lighted their faces as they walked on the clouds. Malya, allowing no time for curiosity, walked as quickly as she dared. Her husband followed close behind, urging his sons on. At Falen’s back, the worried-eyed soldiers bore the king across, their steps exaggerated and cautious.
Cael stifled a laugh and hurried to the far wall as the rest of the party followed, Zalee coming last. As soon as she stepped onto the wall, the bridge at her back broke apart as though caught in a swift wind. The smoke churned and whirled, no longer bound to its unnatural form, and rose up once more into the sky.
Cael looked to Zalee to see her brow glistening with tiny drops of sweat. Her eyes seemed dim, their normal radiance subdued. She glanced at him, but looked away as their eyes met, stepping once more to the edge of the wall. He turned away to hide his concern amidst the awed faces of the party.
As before, Zalee whispered to the goddess and the smoke came at her call, forming the dark bridge across the open spaces between the walls. Cael watched at each crossing as Zalee grew more and more weary, frustrated that he could do nothing to help her. For her part, she weathered the effort in silence, but there was no hiding the suffering in her eyes, their pink having faded nearly to white by the time they reached the last wall.
Below them, the movement of Grol and Lathahn grew steadier the closer they came to the final level, a smattering of conflicts playing out in the crowded streets. Despite that, the walkways at the top of the walls set so far above the bedlam of the streets, they had not been noticed, despite the oddity of their travel. Cael gave thanks to Ree for that, hoping to one day learn the Sha’ree secrets so that he might tell her directly.
Zalee drew herself up and began her whispers once more. The clouds were slower to gather, but they did not refuse her summons. As she built her bridge of smoke, Cael noticed a sudden flurry of motion just below where they stood. He moved down the walkway to see more clearly past the smoke, leaning over the edge. The deep-throated growl of a Grol reached his ears just as his vision focused. His heart grew thunderous in his chest.
There in the maze of alleys between the houses, he spied the brown-haired girl he’d seen when he and Zalee had first come to Lathah. She ran parallel to the wall, heading in his direction, as she darted through the narrow alleys, swerving left and right to avoid the detritus that stood piled in her path. At her heels was a dark-furred Grol, scrabbling on all fours and howling. Despite the girl’s speed, Cael could see the beast was closing on her.
He looked to Zalee. Her face twisted in concentration, he knew he would find no help there. All eyes on the gathering smoke there was no time to plead for the party’s assistance. He darted to Zalee’s side and dug his hands beneath her cloak. If she noticed, she gave no sign. Her glazed focus was on the forming darkness.
He fumbled with the bag at her back and yanked the silvery rope out. With no time to tie it, he tossed the looped end around the nearest crenellation and ran the far end through the hole to keep it in place, dropping the rest down alongside the wall. He sucked in a quick breath and pulled his tunic up to protect his hands before slipping over the wall. He heard panicked voices call out to him as he went, their words lost in the wind of his descent.
He slid quickly down the rope, the heat of his passage burning at his hands despite the material of his tunic. The ground rushed toward him and he bit back a cry, wincing as he felt the rope tear at his palms. He gritted his teeth. It was too late to turn back.
He hit the ground hard and tumbled backward into the trash that littered the alley, the fetid piles buffering his fall. It exploded all around him, tumbling overtop as though a funeral of debris. Cael swept the garbage away just as the smell hit, and scrambled to his feet, grateful he had only a gentle throb at his knees in reward for his graceless landing. His eyes darted about to gather his bearings. He heard the snarling Grol approaching, the slap of the girl’s bare feet leading the way.
A thought was thrust into his mind right then, as sharp as a dagger through his eye. He had brought no weapon with which to challenge the Grol.
Already pounding its quickened rhythm, his heart grew even more tempestuous. He glanced about as he heard the girl approaching around the corner, his eyes landing on the rope. He dashed across the alley and snatched up the rope’s silvery end, running back to the corner. There was just enough slack so that the rope lay flat across the trash-strewn ground. He could see its silvery sheen, but there was no time to cover it up. His course had been set. He prayed to Ree he had made the right choice.
His plea barely formed, the young girl bolted around the corner and stepped lithely through the collected debris. She missed the rope by inches and Cael whispered thanks to Ree as she flew past. She glanced over her shoulder a few feet beyond the trap, perhaps spying him as she went by, and stumbled to a stop. The dark pits of her eyes stared at him, her cheeks flush with fear and the silver of her tears. She stood still as if stunned by his appearance.
Cael waved her on as he heard the grunted snarl of the Grol, almost upon them. She stared for an instant longer before she seemed to realize what he intended. Her lead having fallen away in just that short time, she dove for the meager cover of the trash.
Cael had no time to second-guess his plan because the Grol appeared around the corner, jagged yellow teeth and fiery red eyes leading the charge. It loped with fur
y, coming fast. Cael did his best to time the beast’s movement, pulling hard on the rope just before it reached the line.
A cold terror washed over him up as the rope snapped upward. He bore down, ignoring the stripped flesh of his palms, when he felt the first tug, the rope drawing a line across the Grol’s throat. Its eyes went wide and its clawed hands reached for the rope as it realized what had happened. It was too late.
Cael crouched low and dug his heels into the sodden ground as the Grol’s weight pulled hard against the rope. The beast’s head was snapped back by its sudden shift in momentum, its feet taking the lead as its hind quarters were flung into the air. Head over heels it spun, hurtling through the air like the acrobatic bards he’d seen in Nurin as a child. Only there was no graceful landing at the end of its spin.
Tossed upright, the Grol crashed face first into the white stone of the wall. A muffled crack resounded as its snout was bend downward at an odd angle, its weight only contorting it more as the rest of its body collided with the wall. It loosed a wet grunt at impact and fell backward. Showers of dark blood and yellowed teeth spewed volcanic from its mouth as it landed hard on its back. Its red eyes whirled in its head as though it were blind before coming to rest on Cael.
Despite the viciousness of its fall, the Grol rolled over onto its belly and pulled its limbs beneath it into a crouch. Blood spilled from its broken-toothed snarl and it hunched low, ready to launch at Cael.
Frozen by fear, his arms and legs in rebellion, he stared at the beast, unable to flee. An ear-piercing scream drew his eyes and he saw the girl hurl a fist-sized stone at the Grol. The rock slammed into the side of its head with a solid thud, bouncing away to disappear in the mounds of trash. Seeming more angered than hurt, the Grol spun and leapt at the girl who scrambled away with a shriek.
Cael knew she stood no chance. Her courage having ignited his own, he flung himself at the beast. Without conscious thought, he reached into his waistband and dug inside the bag stashed inside. His fingers closed about the rod and he dismissed it, digging deeper until he felt the cool surface of the crystal orb, remembering what the Sha’ree had told him of it. He pulled it free as he dove at the Grol.
