The Whispers of War [Wells End Chronicles Book 2]

by Robert Beers

  Hodder started to pull away, but then he nodded, “Yeah, now that you mention it, that's it. Seems like the right thing to do is, give up, I suppose. But, what do I give up on?” He slid back into his previous position against the wall.

  Stroughten murmured into his sleeve, “Life, I guess.”

  Wuest's answer died in his throat as a shout came from the darkness beyond where the girl and the wolf had gone. “Get over here, quick! Now! I mean it, now!” A bark, like that of a large dog, came out of the darkness on the heels of the girl's shout.

  The three men shared glances with each other and then, as one, they rose and shuffled listlessly off into the direction of the call.

  After crossing the last bridge, the tunnel began to rise slightly as it curved to the right. They could see nothing beyond the apex of the curve. As they walked up the incline, the sound of scratching and someone grunting softly became audible. At the top of the incline, a line of light gleamed across the bricks of the floor, stretching from wall to wall and illuminating the figures of Thaylli and the wolf. They were worrying at something against the far lower left corner.

  In spite of the growing lethargy, Wuest, Hodder and Stroughten found themselves irresistibly drawn by curiosity to see what the struggle was all about. As they drew closer they could see the girl was fighting to pull a lever set within an alcove in the wall. They could now see that massive twin doors set across the mouth of the tunnel caused the darkness. The wolf had her nose against the base of the left-hand door and was scratching at the bricks below it.

  Thaylli looked up at the trio's approach, “What took you so long? Help me, this lever is stuck fast.”

  Wuest couldn't understand what all the fuss was about, “Why?

  Stroughten yawned, “Oughta give up now. Ain't no good fighting something if it ain't gonna give right away.”

  “What are you talking about?” Thaylli released the lever and rounded on the men, “All you have to do is reach over and help me pull this lever. It has to be the one Adam told me about. If we pull it the doors will open and we can get out of this tunnel.”

  Hodder muttered something unintelligible and sat down. Stroughten yawned again, and Wuest scratched his head, “Why?”

  Thaylli tilted her head as she studied the trio closely, “What's come over you? When you first came out of that sewer you practically begged me to let you come along. Now it seems all you want to do is lay down and die.”

  “Not die, sleep.” Hodder matched Stroughten's yawn.

  “Well, you're not going to sleep now!” Thaylli stamped her foot, “And if you don't get up and help me open this door, I will sic her on you!” She pointed at the wolf which exposed her teeth in a snarl.

  The looks she received from Wuest and Hodder were ones of intense disinterest. Stroughten released a muffled drawn out snore.

  “Aaugg!” Thaylli screamed and ran over to the prostrate Stroughten, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking them as hard as she could, “Get up now, you lazy bastard! Get up! Get up! Get up! You're not going to leave me stuck inside this tunnel, and if you try to,” She hissed the last phrase, “I'll make every second of your life a misery! Get up!”

  Stroughten groaned, thrashed his arms and muttered, “G'way, lemme sleep.”

  “No! I'm never going to let you sleep ever again!” Thaylli leaned over and yelled as shrilly as she could directly into the man's ear, “Geeeettt uuuuppp!”

  That produced results. Stroughten rolled away from Thaylli's grasp and sat up fingering his injured ear. “Why'd you go and do that for? You near deafened me.”

  She sniffed, crossing her arms under her breasts, “If you don't want me to do it again, you'll help me pull that lever.” She turned and pointed at the implement in question.

  Stroughten looked across the floor to where Thaylli pointed and shrugged, “Sure, why not? Iffn it'll get me some peace.”

  Again, Thaylli was struck by the change of attitude. Stroughten, the dumpy one, was somewhat easy going, but now he almost couldn't be bothered to scratch an itch. Wuest, and the lanky one, Hodder, were barely moving at all. It was as if the three of them had been put under some kind of spell.

  Stroughten slouched over to the small alcove that held the door's lever. He slipped his hands around the ancient brass and gave the lever a half-hearted tug. “Sorry,” He pulled his hands out of the alcove and began to turn away, “ain't gonna move.”

  Thaylli roughly shoved him back to face the alcove, “Try harder this time. Put your weight into it.”

  He shrugged again and gripped the lever with both hands, turning his head to look at Thaylli over his left shoulder, “Ain't gonna work.”

  “Do it anyway.”

  The wolf added a growl for emphasis.

  The emphasis was lost on the now thoroughly bemused Stroughten, but he put his weight into the pull regardless. At first the lever remained stubborn, but as he continued to lean backwards the lever gave, just a little to begin with, but then it slammed open with the ring of brass on steel.

  A line of bright green appeared at the joining of the two doors and slowly widened, sending the scent of fresh grass and wildflowers into the tunnel.

  “Oh, just smell that!” Thaylli breathed deeply of the scented air as it rushed in to push aside the tunnel's dank atmosphere.

  The doors continued to move inwards, opening in a slow, stately pace. As the gap between them widened it revealed more and more of the verdant growth covering the land beyond their panels. No porch extended past the threshold. Vines covered in heavily scented blooms vied for space with thickets of Cassia and Acacia. About a dozen yards away from the tunnel's entrance the ground flattened and the yellow flowered evergreens gave way to groves of Oak and Madrone.

  Uttering a very unwolflike bark, the she wolf darted between the doors and ran onto the grass just beyond the threshold where she proceeded to roll in a display of absolute ecstasy.

  Wuest, Hodder, and Stroughten watched Thaylli as she followed the wolf into the outside. They shared glances with each other and then, as if by mutual unspoken agreement, they rose and strolled into the sunlight. Hodder was the last to exit, and as he stepped over the threshold a click sounded, the doors halted their slow swing inwards and reversed direction.

  The wolf finished her roll, sat up and looked toward the sky, murmuring in wolfen.

  Thaylli crossed the grass to the wolf's side and looked up, “What do you see?”

  Drinaugh sniffed the air. Yes, there was definitely the smell of something magikal coming from below. The something else that hovered in the background eluded him. Perhaps if he dropped lower to the ground...

  Wuest looked up to see what interested the girl and the wolf. What he saw momentarily drove the lethargy from him, “A Dragon! Bardoc's beard! A bloody, bleedin’ Dragon!”

  Hodder and Stroughten looked up at Wuest's shout in time to see Drinaugh backwinging to slow his landing. Hodder gulped, unable to utter a word. Stroughten's eyes widened, and then he began to laugh in that quiet, self-absorbed manner of the harmlessly insane.

  “Drinaugh!” Thaylli exulted, as the young Dragon settled onto the sward. “Drinaugh, you're here!”

  The young Dragon smiled, more than pleased to see the young human female who rode his back into Grisham's market square. She wasn't his friend Adam, but she was Adam's mate and that was close enough. With her was one of the wolves that accompanied him. He leaned down to put his head at the level of Thaylli's as she ran to him. “Why, hello, this is a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect to find anyone here, but to find two friends is wonderful.”

  Thaylli reached her massive friend and threw both arms around his neck and hugged it fiercely, “Oh Drinaugh, you're here. You don't know how good it is to see you, especially after that dreary tunnel.”

  “You came out of that?” Drinaugh looked past Thaylli to the now sealed tunnel entrance. “Interesting,” His nostrils dilated as he sniffed, “You're carrying a human child,” He said it as a statement of
fact.

  Thaylli blushed as she released the young Dragon's neck, “You know that just by sniffing me? I guess there's a lot about Dragons I don't know.”

  “Oh, that's all right,” Drinaugh smiled, “there's a lot about humans I don't know. We can share with each other. Are those three human males your friends?”

  “Them?” Thaylli looked over her shoulder to where Wuest, Hodder and Stroughten stood, “No, they're just three men who attached themselves to the wolf and I while we were coming through the tunnel. I really don't know who they are.”

  “Why do they smell of magik?” He didn't mention the stink of the sewers that still hovered about the three.

  Thaylli looked back at the trio, “So, that's the problem? They've been magiked?” She turned her attention back to the Dragon, “Drinaugh, something happened back in the tunnel. They began acting as if nothing mattered to them, nothing at all, except giving up. I had to threaten them to the point of acting like a perfect harridan in order to get them to do the simplest thing.”

  “Hmmm,” Drinaugh moved past Thaylli, being careful not to step on the girl, and bent down to sniff each of the trio in turn. None of them fled, which registered with the young Dragon. His earlier experience with the citizens of Grisham and with Shealauch's near fatal wounding had taught him that his preconceptions needed expanding. Not all humans were alike, somewhat like Dragons in a way. Based on what had happened when he carried Thaylli into Grisham's market square, at least one of the three should have been fleeing not realizing Dragons weren't dangerous, but all they did was stare at him with their mouths open. It was intriguing.

  He turned his eyes back to Thaylli, “They are indeed under the influence of magik, but no spell has been cast, at least, not on them. The scent would be far stronger, as if they'd been immersed in the magik. This smells as if they'd just walked through it, like passing through a cloud of smoke.”

  “Can you do anything about it?” Thaylli asked, “I mean, they're not anyone I'd like as a friend, but we can't leave them like this.” She waved a hand at the three, “They'd starve inside of a week.”

  The wolf, who had finished her roll, padded over to sit next to Thaylli. “I smell you, Skylord, it is good that you are here. My packmate's she will indeed be safe on her journey now.”

  Drinaugh looked down at the wolf, “I smell you, friend wolf. I saw your pack from the air, far to the sun's bed. What has separated you?”

  “This one stayed to guide Bright-Eye's she through the man-thing's hole. It stank, and left it's stink on me, but it will be gone, in time,” the wolf groomed a paw as if in illustration of her complaint.

  “What are you two talking about?” Thaylli asked, slightly miffed that she couldn't understand what the Dragon and wolf were saying.

  Drinaugh excused himself from the wolf and turned back to Thaylli, “Oh, we're just getting reacquainted. Wolves really do have immaculate manners. She is as pleased to see me as you are. Did you really come through one of the tunnels out of Grisham?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, this is marvelous,” The young Dragon enthused, “You must tell me all about it. While I was being taught Human/Dragon history, my instructor told me of the time we Dragons helped the Human Emperor with his plans for the tunnel system. I had no idea it still existed. You Humans tend to lose so much of your past.”

  “Maybe later,” Thaylli temporized, “Right now we need to do something about them,” she indicated the still transfixed Wuest, Hodder and Stroughten with a nod of her head.

  Drinaugh arced his neck in the direction Thaylli's companions, “Of course,” He said, “let me see now, my instructor in Human magik mentioned something about that...” He looked back at Thaylli, “Can I sniff them again?”

  Thaylli hid a smile behind her hand, “Sure.”

  All the trio did was stare open-mouthed as the young Dragon sniffed each of them in turn. Drinaugh's head alone was nearly as large as the lanky Hodder was tall, but none of the three showed the slightest sign of fear. To the contrary, Hodder's face held a bemused smile as the massive nostrils passed over him. “A Dragon ... bloody, bleedin” Dragon ... who woulda thought...”

  Wuest and Stroughten remained mute.

  Drinaugh finished his inspection and backed away, “Interesting,” he said, primarily to himself, “Yes, it should work, Gashlauch said as much back in class...”

  You know what to do?” Thaylli asked.

  “Yes, I think so,” Drinaugh answered. “I mean, I'm pretty sure. Gashlauch, my Elementary Magik Instructor mentioned situations like this occurring during the Magik War, it seemed the residue of particularly powerful magiks and spells cast in combat would affect some species, mostly non-magik Humans. Fortunately, most of the effects were nonfatal and wore off when the victims were removed from the saturated area. I think this happened to your companions.”

  Thaylli looked puzzled, “Then why wasn't I affected?” She asked. “I'm as non-magik as they are.”

  Drinaugh smiled, “But the child you carry isn't.”

  Thaylli dropped her eyes to her belly, “My baby?”

  “She is made in part by Adam's seed, is she not? I would say it was that magik that protected you.” Drinaugh pointed at Wuest, Hodder and Stroughten, “We can talk about that later, after we've moved your companions to a safer place. It's getting late and you should consider resting for the night.”

  “Yes,” Thaylli rubbed her belly, wondering when she would begin to really show, “I would like that.” She?

  * * * *

  Upon leaving Captain Bilardi's office, Adam and Ethan split off to their respective billets and gathered what belongings they felt could be safely taken through the tunnels. By mutual agreement they decided to keep mum concerning their intentions. Any guardsman or officer crossing their path would only be told about a scouting mission, the details of which needed to be kept secret.

  They met at the pub where Thaylli used to work. Ethan convinced Adam to wait until closing time before slipping off to the tunnel entrance in the cellar.

  Fainnelle brought a pitcher of brown ale to their table and set it down while glancing over her shoulder, “You two plannin’ on going out that hole?” She nodded in the direction of the cellar stair as she whispered the question.

  Adam and Ethan traded looks. Ethan reached out for the pitcher and began to pour ale into his tankard, “We were planning to, yes. Why the whisper, Fainnelle?”

  She looked over her shoulder again. The pub was full, with the continuous background buzz of voices mixed with clanks, clatters, and the occasional spurt of laughter. A scent of old sausages and stale beer hung in the air. “There was these men,” she began, “Not our usual custom, you know?” She placed both hands on the table and bent forward. “I think they was Churchmen,” The words came out as a barely audible whisper, “They was askin’ questions about Thaylli.”

  “Churchmen?” Adam asked, “Why would Churchmen be coming into a pub? And why would they be asking about Thaylli?”

  “Why, indeed,” Ethan said, after draining off a good portion of his ale. “They're usually found skulking around school grounds and whore houses.”

  “Ethan,” Adam hissed, “What are you saying?”

  “What I'm saying, junior, is that in my experience, the difference between a Churchman and a thief, is that the thief is at least trying to pursue an honorable career.” He picked up his tankard, “And Bardoc alone knows why he puts up with them.”

  “Aren't there any good Churchmen?”

  “Of course there are, dear,” Fainnelle patted Adam's shoulder and then went back to her duties.

  “She's right there, lad,” Ethan grunted, as he poured himself another tankard of ale. “The priest who oversaw the Church in Swaledale was a good man, and I mean, good. He embodied everything you think of when the old stories of the working Priests are told. That old man was the one who taught me my letters.”

  Adam poured some of the ale into his own tankard. “What changed your
opinion? Listening to you, I get the feeling there isn't much lower.”

  “Than a Churchman, you mean?” Ethan put his tankard back onto the table and smiled ruefully, “Forgive me my cynicism, Adam, I shouldn't lump the good in with the bad, but I'd bet you a cartload of gold, if I had it, to a copper secant that there aren't a handful of good Churchmen in this whole forsaken city. You ever hear of a Magister Mallien?”

  Adam finished his sip and then put down the tankard, “No ... wait, yes, he runs the Church in Grisham, doesn't he? I don't know anything else about him though.”

  Ethan snorted, “Count yourself lucky you don't. There are some who say his holy fatness is the real power in Grisham. Where the Duke is mad, this man is pure evil. He's got a mind as quick as any, personal tastes as twisted as a snake, and the ability to indulge in them. I wouldn't be surprised if those fellows sniffing out this pub were his agents looking for information to lead them to a young Blademaster of my acquaintance. Probably Mallien's own Inquisitors.”

  “Me?” Adam's eyebrows climbed into his hairline, “You think they were looking for me?”

  Ethan signaled for service, “Wouldn't be surprised.”

  “Why not?”

  Ethan sat back against the booth's bench, “While you were cutting a swath through the Guard Officers’ swordsmanship, I was keeping my ears open. The best way to survive as a conscript is to have a good share of the currency armies’ use the most of, information. I kept up the practice after I met you and became your Sergeant. You wouldn't believe noncoms, they're worse gossips than the officers’ wives. Some of the last gossip I heard centered on Mallien and his interest in a rumor that began circulating about a month ago—the one regarding the heir of Labad.”

  Adam had begun to lift his tankard, but put it down in disgust, “Oh, that.”

  “Yes, that,” Ethan stared at Adam levelly, “It's going to dog you, lad, until you turn and face it. We all have choices to make in our lives. For most of us, they're pretty routine and about as exciting as breathing. You, on the other hand, are one of the few who've been chosen, by destiny, Bardoc, or whatever. I really don't care one way or the other, and that choice will not be denied.”