With a rush, the fire spread across the ceiling of the cave ahead of us, and suddenly the cave didn’t seem quite so warm. Ice flooded my body as my mind took in the dancing, flickering flames sweeping across the ceiling, my body calling forth reserves I didn’t even know I had.
“Hawke?”
“I see it!” I shouted. Bits of rock, finally free after being held back for who knew how many years, began to fall around us as we sped along beneath the flaming ceiling. Pebbles bounced off of my shoulders and back as I put my head down in a full sprint. A terrific cracking filled the air, a deep, rumbling groan that echoed through the cave and shook every part of my body. I risked a glance up just in time to step out of the way of a flaming timber as it crashed to the ground, torn free from its centuries-long place by the colossal weight that at any moment was going to come down on my head.
The flames vanished above us as we passed out from beneath the supports, but I didn’t stop running. The rumble was louder now, a deep-set roar that shook the ground. The gravel danced beneath my feet and made it hard to keep my footing. The rumble increased, and the ground bucked upwards beneath me. I threw myself forward, tucking my head against my chest and biting back a yelp of pain as I tumbled across the ground, bouncing and shaking as dust swirled around me, filling my eyes and mouth as I skidded to a stop on my side.
For a moment, I just lay there, the last echoes of my and Rocke’s inadvertent destruction fading to faint tremors beneath me. I sucked in a hesitant breath, only to begin hacking and coughing as dust filled my lungs. I pulled my shirt up over my mouth, my chest still heaving with every breath, and tried to ignore the sharp pains in my side and arm as loose rock cut into them.
“Rocke?” I asked after a minute, sitting up and trying to peer through the cloying dust. “Rocke? You all right?”
A series of coughs answered me, followed by a something I couldn’t quite make out. Then a loud, somewhat clear voice broken only by a cough. “I’m okay.”
“Good,” I said, wincing as I pushed myself up to my knees. The light from my helmet wasn’t enough to cut through the thick haze of smoke and dust just yet, and I couldn’t make out his headlamp. “Where are you?”
“My light’s out,” he said, coughing again. “I think my helmet took a pretty nasty hit for me. Give me a second, and I’ll light up a flare.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, using my staff to push myself to my feet. “Just keep talking: I’ll try to find you.”
“Got it,” he said. It was hard to tell where he was through my earplugs, but I made a rough guess and staggered toward his location, using my staff to pick over the ground in front of me.
“Any idea how long we’ve been down here?” I asked as I moved forward.
“No,” he said. “An hour, maybe? It’s kind of hard to tell.” I adjusted my course.
“One hour underground, and we manage to collapse a cave,” I said, letting out a dry laugh as my hands shook. “You know, this is why I was skeptical when you called this a ‘vacation.’” A shape ahead of me moved, and I felt a brief spike of alarm until I made out the familiar jacket through the dust.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” Rocke said, the cracked halves of his safety helmet sliding away from his head as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, one hand blocking out my headlamp. “First, I ask you to track down something that turns into a fight with a necromancer. Now, I get you tangled up with Aztecs. At this point—” He paused, letting out a dry cough. “At this point I’d be surprised if you took anything from me that wasn’t just a straight ‘hello.’”
“The thought’s sounding appealing,” I said as I slumped to a stop next to him, resting my weight on my staff. “How’re you doing?”
“A little sore, but I’ll manage,” he said, shifting his weight slightly and pulling himself into a crouch. “I’m a little banged up, but I didn’t lose my gun. Small miracles, I guess,” he said with a slight cough. “Should’ve brought some water.”
“I’ve got some, I think,” I said, checking my harness. It didn’t look too much the worse for wear after my tumble, and the canteen that had been strapped to my back was still full. There was a shiny new dent in its side, but the container itself was still solid. I passed it to Rocke.
“Think we got them?” I asked as I looked back at the wall of rock separating us from the tunnel we’d just been in. Huge boulders, some bigger than my Rover, had come down between us and the cave we’d spent who knew how long navigating, cutting us off completely. I tried to keep my mind off of how close those tons of rock had come to cutting us off as well as I checked the sides of the cave. There were no gaps. We wouldn’t be going back. Not without a lot of digging, anyway.
“I hope so,” Rocke said, pressing the metal of my canteen back into my hand. I took a small sip and swished it around inside my mouth before spitting the thick sludge that resulted out on the ground with disgust.
“I’m going to be coughing this stuff up for weeks,” I groaned, taking another sip of water and finding an acceptable amount of grit to swallow. “Assuming we find a way out of here.” The dust was finally starting to settle, and the smoke seemed to have faded as well, leaving the air mostly clear in the path of my headlamp.
“Hawke?” Rocke asked.
“Yeah?”
“Turn off your headlamp.”
“What?” I asked, glancing down at him. He covered his eyes.
“Just do it.”
I shrugged and flipped the light off, my pulse jumping as the darkness settled in around me. “All right. Now what?” I asked.
“Look,” he said. Rock shifted as he moved. “Up the cave, the way we’re headed.” I turned orienting myself solely on guesswork and then …
I paused, squinting and then opening my eyes wide as they adjusted. Up ahead, somewhere in the distance, there was a faint, pulsing reddish glow. It was so weak that it was almost impossible to pick out, but it was there, reflecting off the sides of the cave. Which meant, I realized, that it wasn’t weak; it was just distant. Distant and bright enough to be seen from as far away as we were.
Or big enough.
“You see it?” Rocke asked, and I nodded.
“I see it,” I said, flipping my headlamp back on. The weak light seemed almost like the sun after the dimness of the distant red. “I guess we’re not done yet. But at least we have somewhere to go. You need a hand?”
“No, I’m all right.”
“Good.” There was a faint click and Rocke’s flashlight came on, clutched in his hand beneath his now dusty and dirty .44. He played the beam across the cave in front of us, and I noticed that the gravel bank we had been walking on now sloped downward, or had just gone level, merging with the cave floor at some point during our run. “Merge” didn’t seem to be the right word, “overtaken” was more accurate, the gravel having spread across the entire width of the cave forming—
“A road,” I said, as I played my light across it. “We’re on a road.”
“It gets better,” Rocke said, playing his flashlight up the walls of the cave. “Now we know what that scaffolding must have been for.”
I followed the path of his beam, and my eyes widened as I stared up at a giant stone relief of … something. A large cat, maybe. Whatever it was, it was huge, dominating the wall of the cave from top to bottom. A ring of what looked like hieroglyphics surrounded it, strange figures and symbols I had no hope of reading.
“We must be getting close to the actual outpost,” I said as we moved further up the tunnel, our flashlights illuminating more carvings etched on the walls of the cave. The red glow was getting brighter, and I reached up and turned off my headlamp. A few moments later, Rocke followed suit, and we paused for a bit as our eyes adjusted to the faint light.
There was something else in the air too. Not just the faint, tangy scent of magic, but a metallic odor I couldn’t quite place. We continued upward, the light growing brighter and the scent growing stronger as we followed the
tunnel.
But it wasn’t the only thing I could sense.
Down in the tunnels, the feel of necromancy in the air had been like a wet, oily sheet being dragged over my insides. Now, it was more like a heavy blanket, slick with grease and doing its best to smother me beneath a tide of nausea. A faint shiver of revulsion swept through me as I felt something pulse.
“Hawke?” Rocke asked. “You okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. “We’re close.” Up ahead, I could see the cave opening up, its walls giving way at last to a massive, empty space. “Very close.” I could feel it pulsing in my head now, like oily waves breaking on a beach of white sand, a sickening, twisted sensation that ebbed and flowed but always came back.
Rocke slowed and ejected the magazine from his gun, stowing the near-empty collection of bullets in a pocket and replacing it with a fresh one. I nodded, more for myself than him, and pulled the pistol he’d given me from my pocket, pulling the slide back to chamber the first shot.
“Remember, aim for the chest,” Rocke said as we resumed our way up the cave. “A headshot will probably down them, but unless you’re really, really confident in your shooting, aim for the largest target. Even if you don’t hit any bone, the runes on the bullets should mess them up.”
“And when I run out of runed bullets?” I asked, mentally reminding myself that I only had nineteen.
“Then you can shoot for the head,” he said. “Probably won’t do much without any runes, but hey, it can’t hurt.”
“So I’ll just be wasting bullets?”
“Probably.”
“Maybe I’ll just throw the gun at them,” I said, the momentary humor pushing back the oppressive feel in the air.
“Shoot all the bullets first,” Rocke said, flashing a faint grin in the dark. “It’ll be cheaper when I bill you.” I let out a chuckle. It felt good, cleansing even. But only for a moment. Then the slimy push of something sick was back.
The red glow was more intense now, and Rocke slowed as we approached the widening exit to the cave. We still couldn’t see where the light was coming from, but it was bright enough that we could make out faint shapes, dark edges that looked like walls or buildings. The cave around us seemed to be getting more ornate, the walls straighter. The pulsing red glow seemed to make the shadows stand out even more—sharp, twisted things that were probably the result of the hieroglyphic carvings but looked ominous all the same.
Rocke took a step closer to me and leaned over slightly, motioning for me to bend down. “You smell that?” he asked, his voice low.
“The magic?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “The other scent.”
It was stronger now, and my nose wrinkled as it fought against the scent of magic and this new, metallic smell. It reminded me of the way my hands smelled after handling change or an old baking pan— a strong, metal-scent that made my teeth itch. I grimaced as I realized what it was.
“It’s blood,” Rocke said
I nodded. “A lot of blood to be that strong,” I said, a second, sick-to-the-stomach feeling rising alongside the one the cave was already producing.
“Yeah,” Rocke said.
I swallowed a faint pulse of revulsion that was fighting to get out of my throat. It wasn’t the thought of the blood itself making my body break out in a cold sweat. It was the knowledge of where it had come from.
The glow was bright enough that we could make out the area past the opening now. The path beneath our feet leveled out as we reached the cave’s end, and wherever we were coming out, it was somewhere above the source of the glow. The pulses of light rose past the edge of what looked like a stone balcony in front of us. I almost stumbled as my foot hit hard stone, and I paused, looking down at my feet and confirming that I was indeed walking on stone. Dirty, dusty stone, but stone nonetheless.
The cave ended with two gigantic pillars, each carved with the snarling image of a jungle cat, glaring down at us as if they could come to life at any moment. The red glow seemed to shine on their teeth, and I tightened my grip on my staff, pressing my fingers against the wood.
The balcony was clearer now, and as we took our first few steps out of the cave, the light pulsed again, giving us a clear view of what we’d stepped into. My jaw dropped as I took in the stone buildings around us and the elevated road that we stood on.
The cavern was hundreds of feet across, easily the size of a city block. From what I could see just from glancing around between slow pulses of light, it was arranged like an amphitheater, with half-circle rows of buildings built in tiered levels around a central point. Rocke and I appeared to have entered at one of the highest points, although a quick glance above us showed that there was at least one more level above ours.
“It’s the outpost,” I said quietly, and Rocke nodded. I could see the faint outlines of buildings of all shapes and sizes around us; squat, square constructs of indeterminate purpose. Worse, I could see the numerous dark holes that marked openings in each one of them, shadowy locations the dull light didn’t penetrate. I felt a shiver crawl up my spine as I stared at the openings, like a giant creature with too many legs was winding its way up my back. I gave myself a quick shake as I tried to drive the feeling away. Even if something was watching us—which was what it felt like—there was little we could do about it.
I moved forward across the stone walkway, eyes on my feet. The stone was slick underfoot, several hundred years’ worth of stone dust giving it a slippery coat that made me take every step with caution. Rocke seemed less bothered by it, moving past me and pausing just long enough to point at a series of tracks in the dust. Someone had been this way, and recently.
The light pulsed again, brighter this time, and I crouched as I reached the stone barricade that marked the edge of the level we were on. Rocke slid up against the wall nearby, his gun raised. We rose slowly as one, peeking over the stone wall and down into the center of the outpost.
I had been right in my initial estimate. The outpost had been built just like an amphitheater, with tiered, circular levels descending down toward the center, putting the next level of rooftops about four feet below the road Rocke and I crouched on. But where I’d been wrong was in my estimation of what was in the center. In an amphitheater, there would be a stage or a podium, maybe a central building.
This was definitely the latter.
The red glow came from the top of a small ziggurat rising from the lowest level. I felt my eyes widen as I picked out dozens of skeletons clustered around its peak, lined up in simple rows. One of them moved forward, its bony feet clattering against the stone steps as it reached the peak. The whole cavern seemed to dim for a moment, then the light pulsed again as something flowed out of the Wraith, spiraling into the air and then down into the peak of the pyramid. I stared at the swirling cloud as my mind caught up with what I was seeing, bile rising in my throat as I realized what it was.
Blood, I thought as the pulsing light faded again and the Wraith stepped back, returning to its place among the others. It’s depositing blood. I swallowed, forcing my instinctive reaction down my throat as another Wraith stepped up to the center of the pyramid. Again the swirling vortex of blood, the pulse of necromantic blood magic pouring over me as more life was ripped away to power whatever had been built here.
The Wraith stepped away, and as one, the group dispersed, bounding down the sides of the pyramid with long, easy leaps. Rocke stiffened, his gun coming up, but none of the Wraiths turned for us, instead vanishing into the shadows. Behind them, the peak of the ziggurat slowed its pulsing, each burst of light dimmer now, the cavern fading more and more into darkness with each pulse.
But not quickly enough that my stomach didn’t churn at the sight of what was at the apex of the pyramid. A solid circle—no, a pool of blood dominated the peak of the structure, easily six feet across and who knew how deep. Strange, violent glyphs were carved around the outside and across the steps leading up t
o it, pulsing in time with the pool itself.
“So that’s where all the blood’s been going,” Rocke said as he moved over towards me in the dying light.
“Why don’t they just use a storage rune?” I asked, clenching my sides to keep my stomach from emptying itself. The nausea was constant, unyielding now. Even my eyes felt scarred, as if just looking at the runes had filled them with some oily, sticky mess.
“I don’t know.” Rocke shook his head as he peeked back over the top of the wall. The cavern was growing darker around us as the pulsing continued to fade in intensity. “Maybe they never figured out how to. Or maybe just storing the blood was easier for them.”
“All right,” I said, closing my eyes and feeling a bit of the nausea fade away. I let out a relieved breath. “What about how we stop it?”
“I have no idea.” Rocke took another glance over the wall. “If we had the time to look at all the runes around it, I might be able to depower it or just destroy it, but that thing’s carved from stone. We’d need dynamite, which I don’t have.”
“Me either,” I said. “Just flares and survival gear.”
“Well, now I know for next time,” Rocke said, shaking his head. “Our other option would be to destroy all of the Wraiths and then try to find a way out of here. But I counted more than twenty down there, and that’s at least one for each bullet I have. Not an option I want to take.”
I shook my head as a fresh wave of discomfort rolled over me, my body shaking slightly. Rocke frowned and put a hand on my shoulder, steadying me. “You all right?”
“I’ve been better,” I said, letting out a shaky breath. “I’m just reacting to the blood magic. I feel like I’ve got the flu.”
“I’d forgotten all about that,” Rocke said, shaking his head. “We need to get you out of here.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. I brushed my hair back with one hand, feeling the damp, cold sweat matting my hair. I probably looked like hell—which fit, because I was definitely feeling like it. “No,” I said again. “It’s not going to kill me. It’s just an opposite—”
Dead Silver Page 40
