by Oisin McGann
Two of the Reisenick wagons were gaining on their quarry. The heavily laden equipment truck could not get up enough speed to lose them. Cullum glanced in his mirror and saw the front of the leading clansman’s truck quickly closing the gap. The men in the cab were keeping their heads low and out of Khassiel’s line of fire. From behind the cab, others kept a steady hail of darts raining in on her, to deter her from any further attack.
Cullum looked in his mirror again and noticed the arm of the hoist that protruded off the back of his vehicle. He rapped on the glass at the back of the cab, getting Khassiel’s attention.
‘Hang on!’ he yelled back at her and then, gripping the steering wheel tightly, he slammed his foot on the brake.
The wagon skidded to a halt, giving no warning to the truck behind it. The Reisenicks’ vehicle crashed into the back of it, the hoist’s arm ramming through its radiator. Water and steam poured forth through the punctured metal. Cullum changed down gears, hit the accelerator again and tore loose, revving the engine to try and catch up with their friends ahead. The clansmen got moving again, but did not get very far before their engine overheated and cut out completely.
Cullum looked back in his mirror and laughed. He was having a good time. The second Reisenick vehicle overtook the first and quickly closed the gap. Jube’s wagon was slowing down. They moved out to the side and let Cullum draw level with them.
‘There’s a hard left turn coming up!’ Emos shouted to him. ‘Be ready for it!’
They steamed ahead again and no sooner had they taken up position in front then Jube was swerving down a track barely wide enough for the wagons. Just visible in the tangled trees, it was signposted with a horned goat’s skull hung with flowers. Cullum hauled the steering wheel round and followed them down the steep, dark, muddy trail. There were painted bone sculptures hanging from the trees along each side and they clacked and rattled against the sides of the cab.
Jube shook his head as he steered the wagon down the trail. It did not look like it led anywhere. If the Reisenicks got them cornered, they were done for. The track dipped and then rose again. There was a gate ahead, bearing a sign written in Reisenick. Jube gripped the wheel and drove right through it, careering out into daylight. They were in a green meadow dotted with mounds, each with its own bone sculpture atop it. In the middle of the field, at its highest point, stood a wood-and-hide hut that appeared to be some kind of shrine. Jube drove around in a circle, looking for a way out. There was none. They were trapped.
Emos slapped the top of the cab.
‘We can stop here,’ he called in to the miner.
‘What are you talking about? They’ve got us now. We’ve had it!’
‘No, we’ll be all right for the moment.’
Cullum and Khassiel were just coming through the gate. The first Reisenick wagon wasn’t far behind. Emos turned to Taya and Lorkrin.
‘Right, before the clansmen catch up and see you. I’ve got a job for you.’
He murmured a few words to them and they took to the air, flying off towards the shrine at the top of the meadow.
‘Where are we?’ Rug asked, looking up from the floor of the flatbed. ‘Won’t they catch us here?’
‘This is a burial ground,’ Emos told him. ‘And it’s going to give us a chance to clear the air.’
* * * *
A swarm of blind creatures herded Nayalla, Mirkrin, Paternasse and Noogan away from the light and back down the passage to the junction. The four fugitives backed away from the mass of small bodies, reluctant to make any move that might trigger an attack.
‘I’ve no more fight left in me,’ Noogan whispered.
‘I’m all tuckered out myself,’ Paternasse hissed. ‘But they won’t take me easy, all the same.’
They were steered up one of the branches, along a steadily narrowing tunnel that cornered left, then right, then left again in the way they had seen under Absaleth. The ceiling got lower and soon they were scraping their heads against it. This was even more unnerving, for the Seneschal crawled along the walls and ceiling as easily as they did the floor and some of the advancing creatures were right at face height.
‘I thought they wanted us out,’ Nayalla wondered out loud. ‘Why are they leading us away from the portal?’
‘Might be that their plans have changed a touch,’ Paternasse grunted.
He and Noogan were carrying the torches, but they were no deterrent against the Blind Battalion. Behind the sightless troops, other breeds were following in the gloom beyond the glow of the burning powder.
‘This is one of the defensive passages,’ Nayalla said. ‘I think I know what they’re doing. They’re going to push us in so far that we’ve no room to fight.’
‘We’d best stop here, so,’ Mirkrin replied, and did exactly that.
The others halted too, the four of them planting their feet and standing their ground. A quiver went through the mass of the Seneschal and a voice called out from behind the blinded.
‘You will keep walking, please, or you will be disassembled where you stand.’
It was Leggit – or one of his fellow Scouts.
‘Come on then, if you’re want to try it!’ Paternasse yelled, wearily.
‘Keep walking, please.’
The four of them looked at each other.
‘This is too much, altogether,’ Noogan whined. ‘I’m not budgin’. I’m not going to be herded like a sheep to the slaughter.’
Nayalla cocked her head to one side and gazed at the Seneschal bristling around them.
‘They’re not pushing us towards something,’ she said at last. ‘They’re pushing us away. They want us for themselves. I think …’
A buzz of clicking teeth carried like a wave across the bristling bodies and the Seneschal turned as one to look back down the corridor. A light grew from around the corner and the main force of Seneschal filtered through from the back, shoving the Blinded forward to face this new adversary. A figure carrying what appeared to be a lantern came around the corner. The light swayed from side to side, moving with the gait of the bearer. The Seneschal were growing frantic and some started pushing the four fugitives further down the tunnel. But the way was blocked by still more of the little animals, some of which were scurrying away in terror.
Nayalla and Mirkrin placed themselves between the two miners and the approaching light. In the moving shadows, it seemed to be an old woman, with a jutting brow, hidden eyes and a long face that peered through curtains of straggly hair. Then the Blind Battalion attacked and the light went out. There was a deep, guttural snarl and the noise of skittering feet and clicking teeth filled the air. But these were drowned out by shrieks and the sound of tearing flesh.
‘By the gods!’ Noogan sobbed. ‘What is it?’
With the light gone, the Seneschal positioned behind the Blinded threw themselves into the fray. Paternasse and Noogan held up their torches, trying to see what was happening, but all that could be seen was a wave of small, quivering bodies swarming down the tunnel into the dark. More wet, ripping sounds erupted, and the stink of freshly opened insides filled the passageway. The Seneschal suddenly turned tail and fled past them.
‘Run!’ Paternasse wailed.
But there was nowhere to run to; the tunnel behind them was crammed with the bodies of the Seneschal, fighting to get past one another. Clawed, padded feet bounded towards them, and Mirkrin and Nayalla turned back to face the oncoming predator, baring their teeth and raising their claws as it clambered over a heap of mutilated Seneschal corpses. A light flashed on suddenly, dazzling them and then a heavy body crashed into them. They were both smashed off their feet, Nayalla thrown against the wall, Mirkrin falling beneath the attacker. He ripped at the insides of the creature’s legs with his long claws, and buried his fangs in its belly. The skin was sour and smelled rotten. He opened his mouth and bit in again. The beast seized his shoulders with powerful talons and hauled him forward, tearing his teeth free. Nayalla was jammed against the tunne
l wall by its bulk. She fought back, raking her claws across its shoulders and neck.
It was as large as both of them put together, and far more powerful. It had six legs, two of which extended forward like arms. The ‘lantern’ was a glowing, bulbous sac of some kind of chemical that hung from a single antenna, protruding from the top of its head. It went out again as they tackled it, leaving them with only the light from the torches. Its jaws were mounted on each side of its huge head, closing horizontally rather than vertically, with some of its teeth facing outwards, obviously for pulling the flesh away from the bones that were its food. Its hide was tough and leathery.
A Myunan could mimic the appearance of a skack, but not its talent for killing. The beast shook the shape-changers loose and crushed Nayalla against the wall, its massive jaws closing to grip the sides of her head. She slunched with a scream and slipped her head free, much to the creature’s surprise. Mirkrin picked himself off the ground and slashed their attacker across the eyes. The animal’s bony brow protected it from being blinded, and it swivelled to face him, moving awkwardly in the tight confines of the passageway.
As it turned in the torchlight, he saw that lumps of bone stuck out from its brow, forming a rough impression of a face, the ‘old woman’s’ hair simulated by a rough mane that hung down from the narrow ridge atop its skull. It clacked its teeth together and lunged at him. He sidestepped it, but there was nowhere to go in the small tunnel and it caught hold of him, slamming him against the ground. Nayalla lashed out, hitting the stalk that held the creature’s lamp. It hissed and flinched, then moved with lightning speed, jamming its claws up against her body, pushing her against the wall. This time it seized her too suddenly for her to escape and she gasped as its teeth dug into her.
Paternasse and Noogan ran at it, shouting and waving their torches in an attempt to draw it away from her. It snarled at them, but did not release her. Paternasse tried to drive his knife into the creature’s side, but the beast twisted sideways and the blade was deflected by its tough hide. Paternasse caught a clawed foot in his chest and was thrown back down the passageway, his knife falling near Mirkrin’s feet. Noogan thrust his torch in its face, but it knocked the cold flame away. Mirkrin jumped up, shedding his skack form as he did so. He had seen how the thing had reacted when Nayalla slashed at its antenna. He picked up Paternasse’s knife and slashed the blade through the bladder that formed the animal’s lantern, cutting a long gash through its skin. An acrid-smelling liquid sprayed out and Mirkrin felt something burning his eyes and nose. He staggered backwards, but even as he did, he heard the beast howling in pain. The howls carried away down the tunnel and then he felt hands helping him up.
He rubbed frantically at his eyes and somebody poured water over his face. Eventually, he was able to open his eyes and look blearily around. Noogan was standing holding an empty canteen and Paternasse was tending to Nayalla, who was bleeding from wounds to her chest and belly. There was no sign of the Seneschal. He scrambled over to his wife and knelt by her side.
‘I’m all right,’ she told him. ‘I’ll be fine.’
But her voice was shaking and he could see it hurt her to breathe. His sight was still blurry and he rubbed his sore eyes.
‘Is it gone?’ she asked.
‘It’s gone. We got it,’ he told her. ‘Lie still, don’t talk, love. We need to patch up these wounds and then you’ll be right as rain.’
‘I can still hear it.’
The distant howls were echoing down the tunnel. Mirkrin threw an anxious glance at Paternasse. The old miner shrugged. There was no way to be sure if they had driven it off for good.
‘Don’t worry about it. It’s gone,’ Mirkrin insisted. ‘We’re safe.’
Nayalla patted his hand.
‘You never could lie worth a damn, dear.’
17 GREAT AUNT ELDRITH
The Reisenick wagons rolled into the burial ground, but unlike Jube and Cullum, they did not drive in among the mounds, stopping just inside the gate. Ludditch climbed down from the back of his vehicle, the expression on his face a mask of hate. He strode over to where Emos stood waiting with his arms folded.
‘You’ve crossed the line now, Myunan!’ Ludditch exploded. ‘You hurt my kin, you kill my brother and now you’re trespassin’ on hallowed ground. That’s going to get yuh an ugly, painful trip into the earth!’
Emos regarded him with equanimity.
‘You’re still wearing my tribute, Ludditch.’
The Reisenick pulled the pendant from his neck and threw it at the Myunan’s feet.
‘Take it back then!’ he snapped. ‘I’ll strangle yuh with it when yuh leave here. You think you’re safe just ’cause you’ve got yourself onto sacred ground? You can’t stay here forever.’
‘I’ve been travelling through these lands for years, since your father’s time,’ Emos continued. ‘You’ve always respected the tribute system. Now you turn your back on centuries of tradition. For what? What’s got into you, Learup?’
‘You’ll find out soon enough.’
‘Well, if you won’t talk to me, maybe your father will,’ Emos said, seeing Ludditch Senior climbing stiffly down from the back of the wagon.
He also noticed Kalayal Harsq, standing behind the rest of Ludditch’s clan. Harsq looked scared, and he was keeping his distance from the Reisenicks. Ludditch Junior glanced back and scowled at the sight of his father hobbling towards them on his canes.
‘You stay there, pappy!’ he called. ‘I’m dealin’ with this! There’s no need to bother yourself there.’
He rounded on Emos.
‘I’m chieftain, you talk to me or nobody, got it?’
‘I want safe passage to Old Man’s Cave, and then from there back to the border.’
‘Do you now?’ Ludditch snorted. ‘How’s about I get my mama to rustle you up some constant stew and a tray of her fine flapjacks to help yuh on your way? The only way you and your friends are going to make it back across the border is as part of my wife’s winter wardrobe. We’ll see how her new Myunan-skin skirt goes with her Parsinor-hide boots.’
‘What in the blazes is goin’ on here, Junior?’ his father came up behind him.
‘I’m handlin’ this, Pappy.’
‘That’ll be why there’s cousins out lyin’ dead on the road an’ outsiders walkin’ on your kin’s graves then. Handlin’ it indeed.’ He turned to Emos. ‘You got yourself a deathwish, Harprag?’
‘Just trying to find out why we’ve been hunted ever since we crossed your border, Mr Ludditch. All we want is for your son here to abide by the tribute system, as it has always been in the past.’
‘My boy’s got little respect for the past,’ the old man wheezed. ‘But he’s got big plans for the future. You’ve just gone an’ got in the way. Now, you’ve had your little chin-wag. Get yourselves back on your wagons and leave our burial ground before you taint it any further. We’ll be waitin’ for yuh outside. The boys’re keen to get their knives into yuh an’ I’ve promised my daughter-in-law I’d be home in time for supper. She’s cookin’ up a sinker crab special like, so I’d thank you not to delay me any further. The longer you make me wait, the longer young Learup here’s goin’ to take despatchin’ yuh. He’s a genuine artiste with a skinnin’ knife.’
‘I want safe passage to Old Man’s Cave,’ Emos repeated. ‘Some of my family are trapped in the catacombs down there. It could take us several days to search for them. After we get them out, I want an escort to the border.’
‘Why are you tryin’ to bargain?’ Ludditch Junior frowned, looking suspiciously at the other members of the would-be rescue party. ‘You ain’t got nothin’ to bargain with.’
‘I’m just trying to appeal to your generous nature,’ Emos said, spreading his hands in a placating gesture.
* * * *
Taya and Lorkrin stood inside the shrine at the top of the mound, the door of which was out of sight of those involved in the negotiations. Still in their batlike shapes, they were
both feeling a little queasy about what they were going to do.
‘Do you think it’ll fall apart when we pick it up?’ Lorkrin whispered.
‘I don’t know,’ Taya replied. ‘I’ve never stolen a dead body before.’
In a tall chair in the middle of the tiny building sat the preserved corpse of an old woman. Just as the Reisenick chieftain’s male ancestors were valued for their presence in council, so too were the females, who watched over the other dead. Every major Reisenick burial site in the Ludditch territory was protected by one of the clan’s former matriarchs. This old lady was dressed in long, old-fashioned robes, heavily laden in jewellery and scented with stifling perfume to hide the smell of the preservatives. The two Myunans screwed up their faces at the stench.
‘We need a bag or something,’ Lorkrin said.
‘Let’s wrap her up in her cloak.’
‘Right, then.’
It was a tricky business. They did not want to waste time having to resculpt themselves, so they made do with their wings as they were. Pulling the dead woman’s cloak from her shoulders, they laid it out on the floor and then pushed her body out of her chair, letting it fall onto the cloak. Then they wrapped her up in it as best they could, pinning the bundle with the same sturdy broaches that had held the cloak to her shoulders.
‘We should have taken off the jewellery,’ Taya tutted. ‘That’s going to make her heavier.’
‘There’s only so much of this sickness that I can take,’ Lorkrin muttered. ‘She can keep her bloody jewellery.’
* * * *
The younger Reisenicks were growing restless. The clansmen would not violate the sanctity of the burial ground, but they were keen to finish off the outsiders. Emos watched them impassively, with Draegar standing like a pillar of stone by his side. Behind them, Cullum and Khassiel leaned against the front of their wagon, weapons at the ready. Only Rug and Jube looked anxious – facing death at the hands of bloodthirsty killers still being a relatively new experience for them. They could not see any way out of this. Ludditch was right; they couldn’t stay here forever.
