by Oisin McGann
They all gazed at him in silence. The thought that they might walk right into an ambush at the cave had not occurred to them. Khassiel swore under her breath. Cullum grimaced and sat down to ease the pain in his leg. Jube leaned into the cab of his wagon and flipped the starter switch, and then walked around the front to crank the engine.
‘You talk like we have a choice,’ he said as he wound the motor into life. ‘I’m not turning back until I’ve done everything I can to get my mates out of that bloody hole.’
He fitted the crank handle back into its brackets on the bonnet and glared at Cullum and Khassiel: ‘What do you two say?’
The Noranians looked at each other.
‘We say, let ’em come,’ Cullum grinned. ‘I was bored out of my mind back at that camp anyhow. Haven’t killed anybody in weeks.’
* * * *
The Seneschal was the collective name for the race that inhabited the Tuderem ‘Nation’ – the network of caves, tunnels and chambers beneath Absaleth and its neighbouring mountains, the Rudstones. Confusingly, the individual members of this race did not have names, as they did not put great store in individuality. Even the idea of an individual member was difficult to pin down, as each was made up of smaller component bodies that shared a common consciousness. ‘Scout’ was the title given to a particular breed, and could refer to any one of that breed. There were others, such as ‘Chargers’, ‘Planners’ and ‘Carriers’, each a different breed with its own characteristics, yet each similar to the others and each made up of more than one creature that shared a single consciousness.
This extended even further. For each consciousness was also shared with the Crux, which seemed to be nothing more than a very large gathering of the same kind of creatures, all bunched up tightly together in the centre of the spherical chamber that they called the Hubquarters. This chamber was the size of a large house, but with no flat floors, only its curved walls and struts of stone that arched across the space, branching and joining with others so that they acted as a network of routes across the chamber. The Crux was gathered at the central junction of the main beams, a quivering cluster of small, multi-legged bodies.
Irregularly shaped crystal panels held the now familiar blue fungus, casting a dim but constant light from every side. The Seneschal moved with precision throughout this huge room; some gathered in ranks, resembling soldiers on parade, others flowing to and fro like scouts and messengers. There were many different kinds of creature to be seen, although all variations of the one they knew, some longer, almost like millipedes, others more spherical. The place had been in uproar when the ‘horde’ had first walked in, but after some introductions, there had been a convening of the Crux; decisions had been made and order restored.
The group had named their guide ‘Leggit’, in an attempt to relate to at least one of the pieces of this collective mind. It appeared to be sneakily pleased with this illegitimate label, and whispered it to itself when it thought the Crux might not be paying attention. They sat in the bowl of this great room, eating the last of their food as they all waited restlessly for Leggit to lead them out of the caves, as promised. All of them, that was, except Mirkrin, who had accepted the delay, along with the bizarre surroundings, and fallen asleep. Nayalla, in contrast, was trying to find out as much about the Seneschal as she could.
‘Have you ever had visitors before?’ she asked Leggit.
‘You are the first Barians to invade the nation,’ it replied, holding steadfastly to the conviction that they were a conquering horde. ‘We have waited for many lifetimes. Others have come from Outside, but they were merely animal denizens, easily despatched by our martial might.’
‘Probably rats and mice and the like,’ Paternasse guessed. ‘What about us? When are we getting…when are you going to throw us out?’
‘You will be expelled when the portal’s light has faded. Please be prepared to disassemble when the time comes,’ Leggit told him.
‘What does that mean?’ Noogan asked.
‘The portal to the Outside is very small. You must disassemble in order to fit through.’
‘Disassemble?’ Dalegin bleated. ‘You mean …’
‘Pull yourselves apart,’ Leggit said.
10 THE BLIND BATTALION
Mirkrin had been woken up so that the whole group could discuss the latest turn in events. The Seneschal were serious about disassembling them. Leggit shut its eyes, clenched up, grunted and broke up into four equal segments, each part with one bunch of eyes, a single arm and several legs. The segments had raw, moist flesh and what looked like suction cups over the parts of their bodies that joined together.
‘Like so,’ they all said before promptly reassembling themselves.
‘We can’t do that,’ Nayalla told it. She spread her arms in a helpless gesture. ‘This is as small as we get.’
One look at the segments told her she and Mirkrin would have great difficulty squeezing down to that size. The humans would certainly have no hope of fitting through any hole that required these little creatures to break apart.
‘We will brook no refusal,’ Leggit retorted. ‘You must disassemble or we will … we will disassemble you on your behalf.’
‘I’ve had enough of this,’ Dalegin said. ‘Let’s get out of this anthill. If they have a way out, we can find it.’
‘This place is a maze,’ Nayalla argued. ‘Getting them to take us there is still our best chance. Leggit? Where is this “portal”? If you lead us to it, we might be able to knock it through, make it bigger ourselves, so that we can get out without … disassembling.’
‘Damage the portal?’ the creature asked in horror. ‘Open the Nation’s borders to the Outside? Expose us to the savagery of the horde?’
‘But you keep saying we are the horde.’
‘And you say you are not. But we are not fools.’
‘Have we attacked you?’
‘You have invaded the Nation.’
‘It was an accident; now we’re trying to get back out again.’
‘Perhaps you are spies, come to explore and report back to your commanders.’
Nayalla threw up her hands in exasperation and Leggit jumped back in fright.
‘Enough is enough.’ Paternasse got to his feet. ‘As I see it, we’re on our own here. I say either this thing helps us now, or we find this “portal” ourselves.’
‘You are prisoners of the Nation!’ Leggit squealed. ‘You will submit to the will of the Seneschal!’
‘Stow it.’ Paternasse spat on the ground. ‘It’ll be a sunny day in Guthoque before I let a bundle of grubs tell me what I will and won’t do.’
‘Now, Paternasse,’ Mirkrin made a settling motion with his hands. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t upset them.’
‘Hang upsetting them.’ Dalegin stood up beside the older miner. ‘Let’s get out of here and find this bloody door. Noogan? What do ya say?’
‘I don’t know if we should be getting them worked up,’ the youngest miner said doubtfully. ‘We’re right in the middle of their place an’ all – and there’s an awful lot of ’em.’
‘Ah, you never had any guts!’ Dalegin sneered. ‘Let’s leave these hand-wringers here, Jussek. Let ’em rot. If we let this Myunan hag have her way, we’ll be down here turnin’ grey while she haggles with this vermin.’
‘Mind your tone.’ Mirkrin stood up and glared at the other man.
‘Or what, waxwork? You have somethin’ to say, say it. Stop your beatin’ around the bush. Come on!’
‘This isn’t helping …’ Nayalla put in.
‘You’d rather talk us to death, hag?’ Dalegin snarled. ‘Bloody Myunans, you’re all the same. You won’t get off your arses and do somethin’ straight – it’s always got to be sneakin’ around and lyin’ and cheatin’ your way out of things …’
‘You keep a civil tongue in your head when you’re speaking to my wife!’ Mirkrin growled.
‘… You can’t deal with any problem that you can’t lie or … or sn
eak your way out of …’ Dalegin ranted.
‘I’ve had all I can take of that sewer you call a mouth.’ Mirkrin stepped towards him.
Dalegin lashed out, catching the Myunan across the cheek with his fist. Mirkrin grabbed the other man’s wrist before the miner could draw it back again, his fingers melting and joining around it to hold it fast. Dalegin gasped, but Mirkrin was already stepping in and he brought his elbow up hard into the other man’s jaw, flipping Dalegin onto his back.
‘Will you stop this …’ Nayalla began, but was cut off as Paternasse charged her husband.
The two men went down, Paternasse getting a headlock on Mirkrin and squeezing. Mirkrin let him. The Myunan reached his arms back at an angle that would have dislocated a human’s shoulders, clutched the back of Paternasse’s head and pulled it towards him as he let the back of his own head go soft and envelop the old miner’s face. Paternasse suddenly found himself blind and unable to breathe. He let go of Mirkrin’s neck and heaved himself free of the Myunan’s grip, laying in thumps with his big, hard hands instead. One struck the dented flesh of the shape-changer’s shoulder and Mirkrin cried out in pain. Paternasse grunted with satisfaction, only to be caught on the bridge of the nose by a head-butt from the Myunan. They could make their flesh pretty solid too, when they wanted.
Nayalla sighed as she watched the two men lay into each other. She folded her arms and waited, keeping a weather eye on Dalegin, who lay stunned on the floor, in case he should recover enough to threaten her husband again. Noogan was not taking sides as yet, and she decided to take advantage of his indecision.
‘We’re trapped in a cave with no food, hardly any water, no way out and we’re surrounded by creatures who want to dismember us,’ she said to him. ‘It’s hardly the time to be turning on each other.’
‘Aye,’ Noogan nodded. ‘But it might do them some good to let off a bit of steam. Let them go at it for a while longer. I’m not about to get in Jussek’s way when he’s got a rage on ’im, anyway.’
The two opponents fought furiously, grappling each other to the floor again. The punches, kicks, knees and elbows were getting less energetic, the breathing more laboured. Soon they pulled apart and sat, heaving in breaths and glaring at each other. Dalegin sat up, staring sourly at Mirkrin.
‘That was a good scrap, lads,’ Noogan congratulated them. ‘Could o’ sold tickets to that. All done now, are yuh?’
He looked to Nayalla to support his peacemaking efforts, but she was not paying attention to the two fighters. Instead, her eyes were trained on the masses of Chargers that had gathered above and around them. Hundreds of them stared unblinking at the five figures in the middle of the floor.
‘Did we not say you were savages?’ Leggit said quietly. ‘You are powerful, but your violence is unrestrained, your troops without discipline. Your horde is no match for the elite cadres of the Seneschal. We have seen enough. The Crux has demanded your disassembling, to be effected immediately. If you will not carry it out of your own free will, the Seneschal have no choice but to expel you by force – piece by piece.’
The walls of the round chamber were crawling with the bizarre cave dwellers, the air alive with the sounds of hard sharp feet and multitudes of voices softly muttering drills to themselves as they took their positions. The Myunans and the three miners formed a circle, facing out towards the swarm of skittering creatures that surrounded them.
‘If they’re all like Leggit,’ Mirkrin murmured. ‘They’ve no real fight in ’em. As soon as you get rough they squeal like babies.’
‘Even so,’ Paternasse said back. ‘There’s got to be a few hundred of ’em. Get the powder out; if they don’t like light, let’s give ’em some.’
Dalegin took the jar from his satchel and poured some of the powder on the floor. They all rubbed the ends of their torches in it.
‘They bear light! We must strike now!’ Leggit shrieked and others took up the cry.
The Seneschal formed up in regimented lines, moving with a cohesion that would have made the Noranian army proud. Each company of Chargers shouted orders to itself as it moved, making the manoeuvres a noisy affair. The closest of these groups raised their hands in front of them in what looked suspiciously like an attempt at a fighting stance.
‘Aaaaad … vance!’ they all cried and started to march forwards.
‘There’s something not right about somebody ordering themselves into battle,’ Mirkrin observed as he watched them approach.
Noogan struck a match and they all lit their torches. The effect was immediate. The Seneschal squealed, broke ranks and scattered, seeking shelter from the light. Only moments after the last torch had been lit, the huge chamber was cleared as the creatures hid behind the stone struts or in the mouths of tunnels.
‘No wonder those bloody alchemists buried themselves in a cave,’ Paternasse snorted. ‘If this is the best defence they could manage with all their science, then they hadn’t a clue. The Barians must have wiped the floor with them.’
‘Bring out the Blinded!’ They heard some of the creatures cry. ‘Let them face the Blind Battalion!’
‘Oh, this just gets better.’ Dalegin grinned.
From one of the tunnels, a mass of new animals spilled out into the main chamber. Much like the others, they had a few crucial differences. Each one had scarred sockets where their eyes should have been; each one clung to the ones next to it and to those in front, as if one blind creature was being led by the next. The finer hairs on their bodies quivered, sensitive to the movements in the air around them. They did not cry out like the others; they chattered quietly, communicating to their neighbours so that messages flowed across the mass like waves. The chattering made the Blindeds’ teeth click together and the combined clicking of all these mouths created a shivering buzz that unnerved their intended victims.
‘Well, the light’s not going to work,’ Paternasse said after some hesitation. He worked his false teeth around in his dry mouth. ‘Let’s try scarin’ ’em.’
He roared and charged at the blind animals. The front line of the Blind Battalion shuffled back, but were pushed forward again as the lines behind them failed to react as quickly. The advance slowed as they all found their places again, then continued on at its slow, but steady pace.
The group of humans and Myunans backed away, making for the tunnel that they had originally come through to enter the chamber. Noogan and Nayalla held their torches before them, pushing back the grimacing little warriors that threatened to block their way. From the mouth of the tunnel, more Blinded appeared, spreading out as they entered, joining up on either side with the other swarm, completely surrounding the group. Their stumpy arms reached out, fingers questing for the first touch of their foes.
‘Right,’ Paternasse growled, passing the torch to his left hand and hefting his pickaxe with his right. ‘A fight it is, then.’
‘Bunch round me,’ Nayalla said suddenly, kneeling down and pulling out her tools. ‘Hide me from them. I have an idea.’
Gathering round her as she started to amorph, the men steeled themselves for a fight. Mirkrin drew his knife and the others lifted their picks. The circle of blinded animals closed around them and with a chattering buzz, the Blind Battalion set upon them with hard, clawing legs and clutching hands.
It was like fighting a swarm of bees. Individuals were killed with ease, the miners’ pickaxes and the Myunans knives cutting down one after another, but they kept coming, each one scratching, or biting or stabbing with their sharp legs, frantically trying to grab hold of one of the cornered group. And little by little they were overwhelming their five enemies. These creatures did not cry like children; they did not hide away from violence. They fought with the hopelessness and fearlessness of the condemned, for the Blinded were the pariahs of the Seneschal’s world. To die with honour was all they had left to them.
Dalegin cried out in frustration as his pick was torn from his hands and attackers flooded over him in a wave. Noogan had no more r
oom to swing, so he dropped his pick, pulling out a chisel and driving it into one opponent after another. He kicked some of the bodies off Dalegin and helped him to his feet. Mirkrin stood with his back to his wife, slashing and jabbing with his knife, the fury of the fight sending fire through his veins. Paternasse fell and disappeared under a flurry of beasts. Mirkrin found the old man’s hand and pulled him to his feet.
‘Stop!’ Nayalla screamed, and to their surprise, the men heard her cry repeated all around the space by the voices of the Seneschal.
Nayalla had amorphed, taking on a long-dead form. For the first time in centuries, one of the Tuderem stood in the Hubquarters, her four hands raised as she prepared to address their attackers.
‘My loyal Seneschal!’ she cried. ‘You have been tested, and you have shone true! In all the centuries that we have left you alone, you have remained, brave and honourable warriors.’
The swarms of creatures looked at one another, trembling. Throughout the spherical room, whispers fizzed all around the trapped group.
‘What is this?’ a voice carried like a wave from a hundred mouths at once. ‘Where have you been, our masters? How can you be alive once more?’
‘Some of us took different forms,’ Nayalla called back. ‘To journey into the Outside and vanquish the horde. And now we are back, to lead you again.’
‘Lead us where?’ the voices asked. ‘What have you come back to do?’
‘We want you to take us to the portal. We will show you the horde is conquered.’
More effervescent whispering, as the Seneschal conferred amongst themselves. The Blind Battalion’s feet clicked restlessly against the ground. They were slowly edging closer again. There was a long wait before the Seneschal spoke again.
‘You left us alone,’ the voices hissed. ‘You all died and left us alone! For a hundred generations, we have been on our own. And now you want to do it again. But we won’t let you! We will bring down the portal … close it forever, and you will stay down here with us – your loyal Seneschal!’
