The Whispers of War [Wells End Chronicles Book 2]

by Robert Beers

  Bilardi turned his head to the right and then to the left, making small sounds of amazement, “By Bardoc, have you ever seen such a thing?”

  Ethan grunted, “Not too shabby, even if I do say so. The brickwork looks all right, that's a good thing.”

  “Good thing, indeed,” Adam said, as he sent out his Wizard sense. Ethan was right. The brickwork was solid enough to hold for centuries more. “Would you mind giving us a bit more warning the next time you plan on experimenting?”

  “Oh, sure, sure,” Ethan replied, but he looked insufferably pleased with himself.

  They turned back into the tunnel and continued their hike. The smell of fry-up persisted along the path and after another hour of walking, they found out why. Flickering blue light appeared at the edge of vision and grew closer with each step. Eventually another sewer mouth came into view. Along with it came something else.

  “I thought I saw one of those before.” Adam pointed to a bowl-shaped sconce protruding from the tunnel wall directly across from the sewer mouth.

  Ethan walked past Adam and examined the sconce while Bilardi leaned over and peered into the flame-lit sewer. Ethan reached up, poked a fingertip into the sconce and sniffed it. “Right,” He murmured. “Adam, hand me your lamp for second, will you?”

  Adam handed him the lamp. “One of those was on the wall across from the other sewer. I'll bet all the intersections are like that.”

  “Probably.” Ethan tore a small piece from his tunic and lit it, using the flame in Adam's lamp. Then he reached up with the burning fabric and held it over the sconce. A soft, yellow light bloomed against the tunnel wall as golden flames danced up from where Ethan had dipped his finger.

  Features of the tunnel wall came into focus as the light spread; reinforcing buttresses, like the ribs of a giant whale, curved down the wall. To Adam's eye, it looked as if they were set about twenty yards apart. The sconce that Ethan had lit sat against one, its width, twice what he could reach if he extended his arms out to their full length.

  At the top of the curve, the buttresses met at a single capstone, carved into a blunt diamond shape, small side down.

  “They must all connect,” Bilardi muttered, as he ran a hand over his chin. “That fire has to still be moving through the system.”

  Ethan shook his head as he handed the lamp back to Adam, “No, it's probably stopped by now, that stuff goes up quickly. These little blue flickers will die out soon, and the place can start building up a whole new stink.”

  Bilardi cast a fish eye at Ethan. “You are an incredibly cynical man, do you know that?”

  “One of my most endearing qualities,” Ethan replied.

  “Shall I get the two of you a room?” Adam said, with a smile.

  “I think this is as good a time as any to break for a bite.” Ethan walked over to the wall opposite the sewer mouth and squatted, rummaging into the small pack he had pulled from his back. “Anyone want to join me?”

  Bilardi looked at Adam and shrugged. Adam replied with the same gesture, and they joined Ethan, each of them finding a soft spot on the brick floor of the tunnel. Packets of trail rations came out, along with a couple bottles of a light red wine.

  “What's this?” Adam reached out and picked up one of the bottles.

  “Hmm?” Bilardi mumbled around a bite of meat pasty, “Oh, the wine. Yes, well, I've never liked drinking just water with my meal. Even humble fare like this pasty,” he held it up for an example,” washes down much better with a fine wine.”

  “Really?” Ethan reached out and took the other bottle. “What do we have here?” He examined the label closely, “Good year, and not a bad growing region. Not quite Wool Coast quality, but promising.”

  He looked over the bottle at Bilardi. “Shall I open one?”

  The half-eaten pasty waved in assent, “By all means.”

  Adam and Bilardi held out small stoneware beakers as Ethan poured.

  They munched and sipped for a while quietly, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Adam swallowed the last of his cheese and looked over at Bilardi, “How is your father's recovery coming?”

  Bilardi's face revealed and quickly stashed a guilty look. “Not as good as I would have liked.”

  “How so, if you don't mind my asking?”

  Bilardi looked guilty again.

  Ethan settled back against the tunnel wall, anticipating a good story.

  “Father...” he began, pausing to sigh, deeply, “is less than grateful for the part you played in his rescue. He has been in a foul mood since that night, but I can forgive him that. It was an assassination attempt, after all.”

  “He doesn't blame me, does he?” Adam blurted. “Bloody hell, I was the one who...” He swallowed his words before he confessed to doing the wizardry responsible for the Duke's healing.

  “He blames everyone for not doing enough to protect him from the assassin's bolt, but for some reason he is fixated on you,” Bilardi pointed a forefinger at Adam. “Ever since I described the hilt of your sword to him...” His voice trailed off for a moment. “You know,” he continued, “I think my father believes you're the scion of Labad, the next Emperor.”

  Adam held up both hands as he shook his head. “Oh no, I'm not going through that again. I don't care what anyone says, all I am is what you see.”

  “And what is that?” Ethan drew out the question in a slow drawl.

  “Yes,” Bilardi added. “I'd like to hear the answer myself.”

  Adam looked at both of them in disgust, “I grew up poor, in a small village on the far northwest coast. My sister and I are orphans, and we never knew our parents, but the couple that raised us treated us like their own. Does that sound like the background of an Emperor to you?”

  “Yes,” Bilardi said, “as a matter of fact, it does.”

  “It's the classic story,” Ethan added. “Poor orphans, raised by a hardworking couple, thrust into a dire situation, eventually find out their royal lineage and save the kingdom. Fits you like a glove.”

  “Oh, please!” Adam snorted. “You don't really believe that tripe, do you?”

  Ethan and Bilardi looked at each other for a moment and both of them erupted into laughter.

  “Oh Adam, you should see your face. Of course we don't. I mean, you're a fine officer, and all, but the coming Emperor?” Bilardi gasped out the words between wheezes.

  Ethan rubbed his eyes. “We had you going lad, I'll say that.”

  “Funny,” Adam grunted, “very funny.”

  Bilardi stood. “Come on, Adam. It's all in good fun. You have to admit, that is a very fancy sword. I can see how a man like my father, one who believes all the old superstitions, would be drawn to think like he does.”

  Ethan stretched out his arms and yawned, “Well, Emperor or not, we've still got a mission to finish, and I'd like to do it while I've still got a few hairs that aren't gray.”

  “Might as well,” Adam stood and shouldered his pack; “we must be close to the city wall by now.”

  He looked sharply at Bilardi. “I don't have to worry about your father demanding my head, do I?”

  Bilardi shook his head, “That's not his way. He will push and prod at me to do something about you, but he will never directly issue a command like that. If you were a member of the underground, or a militant, then the headsman would already be measuring your neck. My father may be a man, who is ruled by his passions, Adam, but he's not an idiot. The men in the guard admire you too muchfor him to do anything directly, but it would be wise to keep a watch on your back.”

  “That is, if the Ortians don't overrun us first,” Ethan remarked cynically.

  Adam slapped his forehead. “Deity, I forgot all about that! Come on, let's pick it up. I need to see if this tunnel is usable. If it is, then the others probably are as well.”

  “Why the sudden rush?” Bilardi matched his pace to Adam's.

  “Thaylli. I don't want her in the city if the Ortians break through. If these do ha
ve an end, I want her safe.”

  Bilardi nodded, “I can see that. I'd feel the same way, if I were in your shoes. Mind you, we can't send anyone through until their safety has been established and each entrance is guarded. I want your promise in this, Adam.” He turned and fixed Adam with a level stare. “No one, I mean no one, goes through these tunnels without my permission. Is that understood?”

  Adam didn't answer.

  “I want your promise, Captain!”

  Adam took in a deep breath and then answered quietly, “You have my promise that I'll do the right thing.”

  “Good,” Bilardi replied, “Just so long as we understand one another.”

  Behind them, Ethan looked at Adam's back, and smiled.

  Adam was right in his estimation that they were close to passing beneath the city walls. The tunnel dipped once, into a long shallow descent, and then climbed steadily for a good quarter mile. At the top of the climb, they paused for a moment to catch their breath.

  “Oouff! I've been spending too much time sitting in my office,” Bilardi said, as he massaged his thighs, “My legs feel like they're made of water.”

  “At least the return trip will be downhill.” Ethan looked to his left and then walked over to inspect the sconce light on the tunnel wall. “I sure would like a chance to inspect how this system works,” he muttered, “I only lit the one, but they're all burning.”

  Bilardi finished working his thumbs into his thighs and straightened. “Some secret of my ancestors, I suppose. If you want, I'm sure the old plans are in the Library.”

  “Do either of you hear that?” Adam cupped his right ear as he strained to catch what was on the edge of his hearing. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Something was going on in the tunnel beyond the range of the flickering wall light.

  Both Bilardi and Ethan strained to hear. Ethan turned his head to either side. “Sorry, Adam. All I get is the sound of that lamp,” He pointed to the wall sconce.

  “Perhaps it's nothing but nerves,” Bilardi looked around and behind them.

  “No,” Adam shook his head vigorously, “I hear something. It reminds me of the time when Milward and I...” He cut off his words.

  “When you and that old Wizard ... what?” Bilardi drew his sword. “Are you saying there's something, unnatural, in these tunnels? I remember that Dragon in the market square. Could it be one of those things?”

  “I don't know what it is,” Adam said, heatedly. “But a Dragon would knock on your door, not sneak through a tunnel. No, whatever this is it's worse than Dragons, a lot worse.”

  Ethan drew his own sword. “You didn't say anything about Dragons back when you and your sister sobered me up. They really exist?”

  “The one that shattered Grisham's gate sure existed,” Bilardi said. “His woman was riding on its back.”

  Adam's sword came out of its scabbard with the sing of magiked steel. “I didn't know anything about them back when Charity and I found you. There, hear that? Tell me you can hear that!”

  Ethan and Bilardi stiffened.

  “I hear it, a chittering sort of squeaking.” Bilardi hefted his sword. “What is that?”

  “I just hope it's not rats,” Ethan said, quietly, half to himself.

  “Don't like rats?” Bilardi looked at Ethan out of the corner of his eye.

  “Hate them. They turn my guts inside out, can't help it. One runs across me in the dark, and it's a wonder I don't have to change the sheets.”

  They drew closer to the sound. A wall sconce lit a sharp turn in the tunnel, the first they had seen since entering. The chittering coalesced into a myriad of individual squeaks and squeals. Ethan's grip on his sword tightened, whitening his knuckles.

  Bilardi smiled. “I hate to say it, Sergeant, but that sounds like rats.”

  It was rats, a river of them, streaming along one of the sewer outlets, but this one was dry, and cut through the tunnel floor, leaving an expanse of several feet that could only be crossed by jumping.

  “Gods!” Ethan expelled the curse in one whooshing breath and staggered back. An involuntary shudder coursed through his body. He spun around and hid his face against the tunnel wall.

  “It's all right, Ethan,” Adam called out, as he looked over the edge into the stream of gray-brown bodies. “They aren't interested in climbing out.”

  Bilardi sheathed his sword and stepped up beside Adam. “He's right. In fact, it seems to me that they're running away from something. Look at that, will you?”

  “I'd rather look at the Lord of the Pit,” Ethan's voice echoed off the tunnel wall.

  “I think you're going to have to, eventually.” Adam turned away from the dry sewer and walked over to stand next to Ethan. “We have to cross that space to finish this job, and I don't think you'll want to jump it with your eyes closed.”

  “I can't. By Bardoc himself, I can't!” Ethan shook his head as his fist thudded against the wall.

  Bilardi watched the flood of rats for a moment longer and then moved over to where Adam and Ethan stood. “Yes, you can. Listen to me, Sergeant. You alone, of all the men in the guard, stood up to that monster, Gros, and beat him senseless with your bare hands. Now, I may be missing something here, but isn't he a bit more dangerous than a few rats?”

  “It's not that, Captain. It's deeper, something I can't control, always been this way, and I don't know why. Gods, I wish Circumstance was here,” Ethan turned, exposing his face. His eyes held a haunted look Adam had never seen in the man.

  “Circumstance, is that a name?”

  Ethan nodded, and wiped his face with a hand, “Ellona's adopted son. He ... has some unique ways of dealing with things like rats, and Garlocs.”

  “Is he a Wizard?” Something in Adam stirred at the mention of the boy.

  “I don't know,” Ethan replied, wiping his face once more. “He could be, but I've seen Wizards,” He flicked a glance at Adam, and then looked down, “but there's something different about his way of doing things, something special. He'd clear out those damned rats.”

  “This is all very interesting,” Bilardi said, as he rubbed his chin, “but this Circumstance,” a brief smile appeared as he said the name, “of yours is not here. You are, and we need you to fight this fear of yours, Sergeant. Look, the hardest thing a man can do his face his nightmares, but when he does he usually finds them to be little more than fairy tissue. I'll go over with you, if you want.”

  Ethan swallowed and turned to the Captain. “You really mean that, don't you?” He gave a weak smile at Bilardi's nod. “All right,” he said, straightening his back, “You want to get onto the other side of that sewer? Come on then, let's go!”

  He took hold of Bilardi's arm with a grip that numbed the Captain's forearm. Stepping quickly away from the tunnel wall, he broke into a run, pulling Bilardi along with him. Just before they reached the drop off, they leapt, and flew over the surging rats with a yell.

  The two men hit more than a yard beyond the other edge. Ethan released his hold on Bilardi's arm just as they did, and ran a couple of more yards before stopping. He turned with a look of chagrin and shook his head. “I'm sorry about the arm, Captain. I hope I didn't hurt it.”

  Bilardi rubbed some feeling back into his forearm, letting out the breath he was holding, and then grinned. “Glad to oblige or we'd still be over there watching rats.” He pointed at the sewer. “You notice none of them paid us any attention while we passed by overhead?”

  Ethan stared at the Captain for a moment and then forced his gaze onto the sewer and its furry contents. He stood that way for several long seconds. Both Adam and Bilardi waited, neither wanting to interfere with the man's inner struggle.

  Eventually, Ethan closed his eyes, and lowered his head to his chest. When he looked up, the glint was back in his eye. “You know, they really are little things, aren't they? One of them could have been Gros’ mother, distant cousin, at the least.”

  Bilardi barked out a laugh, “come on, Ad
am. Get over here and we'll see where this thing ends. I'd like to get back before the snows come.”

  “But it's only early fall.”

  “Exactly.”

  After Adam cleared the jump and Ethan offered apologies, which were graciously accepted, the three men continued through the tunnel. They crossed three more of the dry sewers, each of them requiring a healthy jump to clear. After the third, Ethan stopped, and turned back, dropping to a knee as he peered closely at the sewers edge.

  “What is it, what do you see?” Bilardi dropped to a knee beside him.

  “One of the paving stones shifted slightly under my feet. I'd been wondering why these intersections have no bridge, and now I think I may know why.” Ethan reached down and grasped the edge of the stone. It, and a couple of dozen more like it, formed the edging on either side of the dry sewer. The stone came up as he pulled, with a grinding sound and the scent of old axel grease. Twin rods, approximately six inches in length were attached to the stones backside and fitted into slots liberally coated with the grease.

  Ethan pulled the stone free of the slots and placed it to the side. “Check the others. I'd wager most of them are the same as this one.”

  Adam and Bilardi did so and true to Ethan's guess, the other stones fit into the tunnels foundation in the same manner as the first.

  “So, what does this mean?” Adam dropped the stone he had shifted back into place. “Is there a bridge somewhere that can be packed away, and then put back when it's needed?”

  “There's got to be,” Ethan answered as he looked closely at the exposed lip, “It makes perfect sense, when you think about it.”

  “It does?” Adam looked over at Ethan.

  “Of course, that's got to be it.” Bilardi began running his hands over the left hand wall.

  “What does?” Adam was beginning to feel liked he had stepped into the middle of a long running conversation.

  Ethan walked quickly over to the opposite wall and began the same searching technique as Bilardi, “It could be any one of them.”