She’ll watch us till we’re gone.
He saw Chelsea, too. The guards wouldn’t harass her either, as she was a Citizen. The last image of Harpsborough Aaron saw before he left was that of Chelsea and Alice holding hands.
Arturus moved with the hunters and their silent procession. His pack was heavier than usual. He had brought with him some woodstone torches of the type that Rick made because they lasted longer than Copperfield’s. He had also brought enough food and water for three days along with a medical kit. Galen had said his razor could double as a knife, so he kept that in his pocket. He thought bringing all of this was a bit much, but he had been warned that they might not be able to return from the Carrion at will.
He counted the missing rivets of rustrock as they followed along the old road.
One day, I could repair this road. There is a quarry of rustrock towards the Pole. I could dig out some and put the rivets back in.
He wondered if that had been done already. Maybe if he studied the rustrock road markers he could find subtle differences between those made by the builders of the road, and those who repaired it.
Who were the people who built this road, anyway? Was it the King on the River who had ordered it built? Someone else? Someone older?
They moved off of the road when they made it to the fork.
He recognized other landmarks here as well. The crawlway made of crystal. The dark room with the hound sign. Kyle, Wistan, and Mabe, who hadn’t been with the original group, shuddered when Aaron showed them the hound’s burrow.
“Beast?” Kyle asked.
“Might have been,” Aaron answered. “But he was dead before I even got to Hell.”
The words were comforting, but Arturus remembered Fitch’s tale. Fitch believed that the great hound’s body had never been found.
He heard the woman’s singing as they approached the barrier. As before, the notes she sang were only the ones he expected. If he emptied his mind and only listened, he could tell it was just the whistle of the wind.
The chill air brought goose bumps up on Arturus’ flesh.
The hunters stopped at the Carrion barrier.
“Julian’s been waiting for three days,” Aaron said. “He may not have much longer. He may already be dead. The Carrion is a place from our nightmares, from the history of Harpsborough. I don’t need to tell you all about the journey Michael and Klein took to bring our people out of this damn place. I don’t need to tell you how much they fear it. But we’re men, the same as they. We’ll survive it, the same as they. Little Julian went in here almost every day for the last year. It simply cannot be that dangerous. We’re to rescue the boy, if we can. We’re to find the food, if we can. We have to make sure that it’s safe to keep getting the food, too.
“That means that we may have to stick around in the Carrion even after we’ve found what we’re looking for. If it’s too dangerous, we’ll have to find some other way of getting wheat. No matter what happens, no matter how dangerous it gets, we are not to lead the devils back to Harpsborough. We cannot let them find that there is a door in one of the walls which protect us. If we do not return in five days, Michael will have the door filled up behind us. We’ll be stuck in that foul place forever then, so let’s not do it.
“Any questions?”
The hunters held their weapons at the ready. Arturus heard the clicks of rounds being pulled into chambers.
Aaron opened the door, the stone grinding along. It hit the Carrion marker stone. The crawlway was small, dark, and deep.
A cool breeze came through. He felt Galen’s hand on his shoulder.
“Alright, Turi,” Aaron said. “You’re our tunnel rat, so you go first.”
Arturus emerged, pushing his body out of the crawlway. The Carrion air was cool on his skin. He found himself on a narrow shelf in a dark room. There was light, certainly, but barely enough to make out the walls. Huge portions of this chamber were covered in shadow.
The passage is not hidden on this side.
Any demon that happened upon this place might easily find its way out of the Carrion.
Julian, what were you thinking?
Arturus knew that he could not call the rest of his group in unless he made sure there were no devils here. He lowered himself down from the shelf. The fall was longer than he was tall, so he had to drop the last few feet.
He unslung his rifle and waited for his eyes to adjust.
Slowly, shapes appeared in the shadows of the room. They were mounds of loose stones, perhaps graves. He moved across the chamber as quietly as he could and checked the two exits. The exits themselves were archways, designed by Hell’s architect to have huge central keystones made out of violet hellstone. He could see no enemies beyond. He moved back to the mounds. They had been laid out some time ago, by human hands perhaps—or a devil’s. The stones themselves were healing together, and some had already completely fused. Arturus guessed they were at least a decade old. The stone had healed enough that, should there be corpses within, he doubted they could escape without a long and careful effort.
Twelve of them, and one unfinished.
He inspected the mounds just long enough to make sure they were safe and then began to make his way back to the shelf. He moved, walking backwards, as quickly as he dared. A loose stone skittered away from one of his footfalls.
Arturus dropped into a crouch, shouldering his rifle.
The exits seemed clear. He listened as hard as he could. His heart was an engine in his chest, powering him like Rick’s battery powered their stone grinder. The woman’s song was clear now, loud in his ears and beautiful.
But he could hear nothing else.
He stood and continued backing up. Not daring to look away, he stretched out his hand behind him. It touched rock.
Arturus leapt up, using one arm to hold himself up on the ledge. He ran his rifle butt into the stone by the crawlway twice to signal the hunters. Then he let himself drop back down to the floor and re-shouldered his rifle.
Their crawling seemed loud to his ears now but so too did the song.
Aaron was the first one through. Arturus offered his hand to guide him and his knee to support him. The Lead Hunter came down gracefully from the shelf. The man quickly drew his weapon and moved to one of the exits.
Just like Galen would do.
Galen was the next through, jumping down as silently as a hound to the stone below. He immediately covered the other exit.
The hunter called Wistan was next, and he gratefully accepted Arturus’ hand and knee. The rest of the hunters followed suit, spreading out into the room. Johnny Huang was last.
Aaron moved back from his exit and pointed first at Wistan and then to Mabe. The two stepped forward. At Aaron’s direction they slung back their rifles and drew pistols.
Silencers. They’ll be able to kill, and as long as we don’t have to shoot, we won’t call other devils towards us.
It might be difficult to gauge when he should open fire and when he shouldn’t. He wouldn’t want to allow anyone to die, certainly, but he wouldn’t want to shoot too early, either. Galen would be furious with him for embarrassing himself in front of the Harpsborough hunters.
I’m still a child.
Galen would be mad? That was what he was worried about? He bit his lip solidly to try and wake himself from his dream world.
If I fail, we’ll all be dead.
Mabe and Wistan moved shoulder to shoulder towards the right exit. The rest of the hunters followed as silently as they could. Arturus could feel his legs shaking as he walked. Only then did he admit to himself that he was terrified.
They traveled carefully through the Carrion wilds. Every joint that popped, every hushed curse, every time someone’s rifle butt brushed against the stone, Arturus cringed. The sounds assaulted his ears, even more so when they were from his own missteps. But though he tried, he could never make himself watch his footfalls.
The Carrion was a place of darkness. There was almos
t always enough light to see but never much more than that. Most of the rooms had black pools and pits of shadow, created by rock walls or outcroppings that blocked the sources of the low illumination. The features of this place were unfamiliar to him. Stone blocks were usually formed into brick patterns, and in several places he found more of the gravel funeral mounds. Most of the arches that framed the exits and entryways of the chambers had the same overlarge violet keystones he had seen in the first room.
As they progressed deeper into the Carrion, the hellstone itself deepened into a purple so dark it was difficult to distinguish from black. Occasionally bright violet veins would run through it, casting light onto the nearest of objects and shadows upon the farther.
Hell’s architect had left odd stone stairways, sometimes leading up to other levels, sometimes leading down. A few led straight into the ceiling or stopped in the middle of a chamber without any landing whatsoever.
The Carrion’s chill air became even colder as they moved on.
The chill must be coming from some water.
After a few more rooms he could hear the river. Wistan and Mabe steered for it. They led the hunters into a room only six feet tall and lined by wide sandstone pillars. The exit was four feet tall, so they had to duck to make their way through.
Arturus noticed the landscape was changing again.
It’s always different by the water. The river keeps its own house.
The river chamber was huge, perhaps a few hundred yards across, and he could not see how long. He could make out the far walls in only a few places. The river was lower than they were now, running through the center room. It was the one thing Arturus could see clearly. A skystone vein ran through the hellstone that made the bed of the river. Normally skystone shined out a very bright blue light, almost neon. But here, the vein was so muted that the blue was a far deeper hue. Its light was the only source for the chamber. The air chilled further as Arturus ducked through the entryway.
He shivered, the hair on his arms standing on end.
There was a walkway on a ledge which led down along the wall towards the water. Mabe and Wistan were slowly edging along it, and after checking to make sure that Aaron and Galen were still behind him, Arturus followed.
Stone banks and hills cast long shadows across the chamber. The rush of the water affected the skystone’s light, causing it to wave back and forth along the ceiling and walls. This caused the shadows to move too, often making Arturus start.
As they crept along the walkway, he could see his own shadow, along with Wistan and Mabe’s, sliding across the wall on the far side of the river.
His heart skipped a beat.
There’s no light behind me.
Wistan and Mabe froze.
Arturus quickly held up a hand to warn the hunters behind him. A few hadn’t even made it into the chamber yet.
His eyes focused on the shadows.
Other silhouettes appeared as the first few faded out of view. Most of them moved on two feet. A few were so hunched over that they used their arms to help walk. Even though their shadows rippled along the wall, distorted by the river’s light, Arturus could make out their stub wings.
Dyitzu.
The shadows kept disappearing, but more were taking their places.
There might be over a hundred.
He looked behind him. Aaron’s eyes were wide, hypnotized by the procession.
Patrick’s breathing quickened.
Arturus’ eyes shot back to the dyitzu shadows. He studied them intently, watching for any sign that they might be able to hear Patrick.
The man’s breaths became gasps.
He’s hyperventilating.
Arturus tore his gaze away from the shadows and looked pleadingly towards Galen.
The warrior had already moved back in line and was whispering into Patrick’s ear. The hunter was nodding, his facial features obscured by the low light.
Galen and Aaron shared a glance, and the Lead Hunter waved them back out of the room. Arturus moved forward and tapped Wistan on the shoulder. He too was breathing heavily, but at least he was doing it quietly.
Wistan looked back, and Arturus pointed him towards the exit. Mabe followed them as they crept quietly back the way they had come. They left the low ceilinged pillar chamber behind them too, without a word.
Aaron grabbed Arturus by the wrist and brought him together with Mabe and Wistan. He spoke in the softest of whispers.
“How many?”
Tears were coming down Mabe’s cheeks. He didn’t look sad at all, just overwhelmed.
“Hundreds,” came Arturus’ hushed reply. “There could be hundreds.”
The hand on his wrist was shaking. Arturus looked down at it. Aaron withdrew the hand, and looked towards his men.
He’s afraid, too.
“Should we go back?” Johnny asked the inevitable question.
No one thought to call him a coward.
“Soon,” Aaron whispered. “Very soon. We certainly aren’t going any farther. With so many devils I’m sure Julian couldn’t have been coming out this far. We should look closer to the Carrion barrier.”
Galen shook his head. “Julian’s devilwheat had been watered.”
“You’re not seriously suggesting we go back in there?” Johnny’s whisper was just a bit louder than Arturus was comfortable with.
Galen shook his head, and placed a finger to his lips to quiet the man. “Along the river would be too dangerous. Below it though, that’s where we should look.”
“There was a stairway down a few rooms back,” Arturus remembered.
“Yeah, by a pile of stones,” Mabe agreed.
Aaron nodded. Arturus wondered if the low light made him look more or less worried than he actually was.
“Alright,” Aaron said finally. “Take us back.”
Mabe and Wistan led them, their pistols drawn, down the staircase. Johnny slipped on a stair and fell, landing on his ass with a clatter.
“Jesus,” Aaron whispered.
They huddled in silence on the stairwell, Wistan and Mabe looking down while Duncan and Fitch looked behind them. After a few minutes, Aaron ordered them to continue with a wave of his hand.
The stairway ended on a sandstone landing. They moved slowly through another archway into the maze of corridors below.
It wasn’t long before Mabe admitted he was disoriented. He pointed down two passages alternately and then held his hands up, miming indecision. Aaron and Galen huddled. Arturus found he could overhear their whispers if he held his breath.
“But the ceiling there is made of hellstone,” Aaron was saying, “if water was seeping through there it would have healed already.”
“Trust me,” Galen responded. “That way is beneath the river.”
“But if it was, that devilwheat wouldn’t have been watered for very long. Maybe only since the settling. I don’t like our chances.”
“Humor me.”
“This isn’t the time for hunches.”
“I think I can smell it.”
Aaron thought about this for a moment and glanced back down the passageway they had come down. His frown seemed more serious in the darkness. He caught Mabe’s attention and motioned him towards the passage Galen had counseled.
If we’re under the river, then those dyitzu are right above us.
The next room had twelve passageways leading out. Mabe threw up his hands in frustration.
Galen walked up to a ledge, leapt up upon it, and placed his hand against the stone above him. He shook his head, waving them on.
What’s he doing? Can he feel the vibrations of the river?”
In the next room Aaron knelt down, offering to be Galen’s stepping stone. He did so again in the room after.
In the fourth room Galen nodded.
The chill. He can feel that the stone is cooler beneath the river.
“The river is right above us,” Galen said. “Turi, Wistan, Mabe, did you all see any hounds while you we
re up there?”
They glanced at each other and all shook their heads.
Galen nodded. “Follow me.”
They stopped from time to time while Galen checked the ceiling. He felt it with the back of his hand, and occasionally touched the floor as well. Arturus, though, doubted this was necessary. The area beneath the river had its own distinct look. The river kept its own house and basement, he figured.
The rooms were wide and spacious, making their ceilings seem low and ominous. The larger rooms were all pitch black, but their spin off corridors and cubbyholes were lit with a bright yellow luminescence, casting long paths of light through the rooms they traveled.
Galen stopped them in one of the long dark rooms with a raised hand. The shadow of that hand moved along the far wall, almost causing Arturus to draw his gun.
He listened.
Drip. Drip. Drip. . .
There was a long pause. The hunters began to shift back and forth on their feet. Avery unslung his AK.
Drip. Drip. Drip. . .
This time Arturus thought he knew where the dripping was coming from. He couldn’t say for certain, of course, because of the way the echoes of the chamber distorted the sound, but he believed it was coming through a particularly narrow archway. Like so many other of the Carrion arches, it was marked with a large violet keystone. Galen must have agreed with him, because he led the hunters through the arch.
The next room was long and black, similar to the others. It was lit only by one cubbyhole, maybe a hundred yards or so away.
Drip. Drip. Drip. . .
They moved towards the sound.
Arturus thought to try and check the ceiling for cracks, but it was too dark to see any. He could barely distinguish the hunters from the shadows about him, even when they were only a few feet away. He saw a mound, though, oddly circular, lit by the barest hint of light. Just beyond that he could see the falling water droplets.
Drip. Drip. Drip. . .
A glint of light passed through each droplet as it fell, though it was too dark for him to make out what crack it might be dripping from or even the pool it was falling into.
Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong) Page 25
