Of course, they all looked just a step away from the grave. Dane’s battered armor was covered in white-gray dust, as was the vra’taar on his back; his helmet and cloak were gone, and he was covered in so much frost grime it would take him a week to get clean.
“Hurry up, fools!” Maddox barked. His once-fine crimson cloak was tattered and torn, and he had a fresh cut down the back of his fat head. It was a shame he and his men had managed to get behind the Veil-shielded arena door with Dane and Kruje, because now they were stuck with him. Maddox claimed to have some knowledge of the ruins, a network of secret tunnels dug by Vossian machines during the Rift War. That was the only reason Dane hadn’t killed him yet.
“Faster!” Maddox shouted.
“We’re not on a schedule,” Dane said as he leaned against the cracked wall. His skin was raw and gritty. “What’s the hurry?”
“Don’t push me, Dawn Knight,” Maddox spat, and he turned back to his men. “I said ‘Faster’!”
Dane’s stomach churned. The food he created through Touching the Veil was relatively nourishing but looked like cold gravy, tasted like wet paper, and left his insides twisted in knots.
The tunnel was tall enough and wide enough to accommodate a host of Voss with room to spare. There looked to be an inch of petrified dust beneath the smooth layers of frost on the walls. The dark hall hadn’t offered any means of egress, but it twisted and turned constantly, a winding route to nowhere.
Kruje pulled a heavy slab of cracked stone away from the blockade. Cavus and Gulg hastily backed away as the giant tossed the rock down the tunnel with a loud crash. Cold dirt rained down from the cracks in the flagstone ceiling as the giant went about his work.
“Zain!” Dane shouted to Kruje, but he had to stop and think about the other words he needed to complete the sentence. His Vossian, it turned out, was horrible, due in part to the fact that it was such a difficult language for the human tongue to construct. “Zain sa…gravk!” he said, which he knew translated to Not so large, but he couldn’t remember the word for hard. Kruje’s white eyes fixed on Dane for a moment before the giant spat on the ground and cleared away more rubble.
Maddox watched Kruje suspiciously. He looked at Dane. “I told you not to speak to my property!”
“Maddox,” Dane said tiredly. “Shut up. You’re wasting air.”
When enough rubble had been cleared Maddox’s hired goons led the way. Cavus was quick and wiry and had ruffled brown hair and an idiot’s grin; his job had been to scout ahead, which meant he was entirely expendable. Gulg was a giant of a man with thick red locks and fists the size of anvils. He kept his hand on his sword while he followed Cavus through the gap in the wall, and after a moment he nodded back for the others to follow.
Maddox walked slowly and cursed to himself. He grasped a tiny red stone in one hand, which he’d maintained a firm grip on ever since Dane had first seen him. Kruje watched both the stone and Maddox intently. It was clear to Dane how the giant struggled not to smash Maddox’s head in, as if fearing some consequence.
If that stone is what I think it is, it’s no wonder Maddox is holding onto it for dear life.
Dane walked behind Maddox, as had become the routine. Kruje followed at the rear, and his thunderous footsteps were like small storms in the cavernous hall.
Apparently we’re not going for stealth.
They walked. Dane guessed they’d been at it for three days, maybe more. His eyes still hadn’t completely adjusted to the gloom, and the flickering torchlight he’d created made his head hurt. The lack of natural light, his constant use of the Veil and his inability to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time out of fear for what his “companions” might do to him had taken their toll on Dane. He was dizzy and fatigued, every muscle ached, and the dirty air pained his lungs. If Maddox was right, and the passage had been built by the Voss, then the area might have once served as a storehouse for Veilcrafted weapons…which meant the hexed engines that powered those devices were what made the air taste so toxic.
Lucky me, I’m probably inhaling the last of the poison fumes now…
Dane shook his head and tried to focus. He felt near collapse. The air was bitterly cold. The hard and windswept plains of the Bonelands, which Dane had traveled extensively over the past year, were nothing compared to that dead underground chill. He’d heard of Vossian war machines capable of freezing creatures solid, and he wondered if some of those so-called “ice cannons” weren’t nearby.
It would explain why my insides feel like they’ve turned to sludge.
They pressed on, deeper into nowhere. The tall corridor gradually twisted around to the left and sloped down. It occurred to him they’d never find their way out. Part of him wanted to believe that the very fact they’d survived the explosion was a sign they’d make it, but he was rarely that optimistic. Hope was for people less jaded than he, those who didn’t know the One Goddess only gave help at random intervals, and often to those who didn’t deserve it. Dane knew heroes lied and cheated and that evil was rarely punished, that even those who survived impossible odds and hung on through their trials wound up just as dead as everybody else.
Life isn’t a fairy tale. I’m living proof of that.
There were no happy endings. For his attempts to atone for his sins Dane had been rewarded with Ebonmark, where every time he turned around he just sank deeper. It was a city made of quicksand.
“We need to rest,” Maddox said. He grunted and puffed like a truffle hog. “I…I need to rest.”
Dane wanted to argue, but he was exhausted, too. Though Maddox and the others needed Dane for his magic – without it they had no light or food – Dane never underestimated the power of stupidity, so he grew accustomed to taking only brief rests, and he Touched the Veil as he dozed just in case he needed to defend himself quickly. It made him feel safe, even if his constant contact only worsened his fatigue.
Maddox and Cavus sat shivering on the floor, bundled up in their dirty cloaks. Dane put himself behind Maddox and leaned against the wall, hoping he’d be too far away for anyone to notice if he nodded off. The cold lulled him, and Dane had to fight to stay awake.
Gulg paced about and blew warm air into his hands, and before long Dane heard Maddox’s light snores. He strained his eyes and focused on Cavus, who watched him in turn. Kruje stood nearby with his arms folded; his thick Vossian hide was impervious to the cold which made the rest of them so miserable, even though Vossians generally preferred the heat.
Goddess, this place is maddening. Dane wondered if they’d somehow gone beyond Ebonmark’s borders while they’d walked, if they’d reached some uncharted bowel of rock under the Bonelands or the Black Hills. Maybe they’d wandered into the great subterranean network of tunnels running beneath most of the civilized world, tunnels which led everywhere from Meledrakkar to the Arkan metropolis of Il’drazz’a’kul, and on deeper, down to the homes of other races humans knew little to nothing about.
Dane’s consciousness faded in and out. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake for much longer. His body shivered but his eyes were heavy. He needed sleep, real sleep, but there was no one to stand watch over him to make sure his throat wasn’t cut the moment he let his guard down.
Kruje stood silent and still. It was impossible for Dane to read the giant’s alien face. They’d helped each other in the arena, though Dane still wasn’t sure why he’d leapt to the defense of the creature. The Voss fueled their war machines with the bodies of human children and used the flayed flesh of their foes to decorate their dark homes. Vossian weapons had taken thousands of Jlantrian lives during the Rift War.
And yet that seemed to have nothing to do whatsoever with Kruje. For some reason Dane had risked his life to save the beast. Stranger still, the giant had saved him in kind.
Dane knew repaying a debt was of paramount importance to a Voss, a fact which unfortunately made them a particularly vicious foe. Do a wrong unto them and they’d repay it with a harsher wrong;
kill a Voss’s sibling and he’d turn your city to dust. So perhaps he and the Voss were finished with each other, even though the giant had done the unthinkable and actually told Dane its name.
Dane struggled to fend off sleep. What would Kruje do if he escaped from Maddox? Capricious and evil, the giant would likely slay all of them…or would he? If his and the giant’s affairs were settled, did that make them enemies again? Somehow Dane didn’t think so, but he wasn’t sure why.
He busied his mind with memories of warm fires and soft beds. The flickering light held the shadows at bay, so their small band seemed to rest on a stone plank in the middle of a black sea. No breeze moved through the massive corridor, and there was no sound aside from what they made. His breaths frosted in the air, and his fingers and toes ached with cold.
Dane sat still for a long while, not quite asleep and not quite awake. He reluctantly kept a fragment of his thoughts wrapped around the Veil. His eyes again went to Kruje, who’d seated himself on the other side of the passageway.
Could he count on Kruje for help?
Maddox slept in an awkward position against the wall. Cavus looked as exhausted as Dane – the thin man kept dozing off and shaking himself awake – and Gulg just looked thoroughly bored. None of them slept much at all, which came as little surprise.
Dane’s thoughts drifted. What knowledge of this place could Maddox possibly possess? ‘None’ was the likely answer – the claim was probably just a lie meant to keep Dane complacent. Still, Dane wasn’t sure if he wanted to trust his instincts on that. If Maddox did know something important about that place then Dane needed him alive. If things turned ugly, he knew he could handle the criminals, but the possibility of battling Kruje worried him. Maddox and his men would turn on Dane the second they felt he was no longer needed, and as much as Dane wanted to believe he could count on Kruje for aid he knew that was unlikely. Maddox had a hold on the giant, and if it came down to a fight there was little hope Dane would have anyone on his side.
Like that’s anything new, he thought bitterly.
Exhausted though he was, Dane widened his eyes and tensed his fingers. He took in a deep breath of bitterly cold air and stretched. He’d need all his strength for whatever lay ahead, but he also knew he wasn’t going to get enough rest to make that happen.
In which case you’re not, either, he thought as he looked at Maddox. He stood, shook himself, and stomped past the slaver.
“Rest is over,” he said loudly. “Time to go.”
Maddox snapped from his reverie. Gulg and Cavus looked at him for direction. “Where are you going?” Maddox snapped at Dane. “We go when I say we go.”
“Then make your own damn food,” Dane said without turning around. He didn’t have to walk very far before the rest of the party shuffled into place behind him. Kruje’s slow and thunderous footsteps echoed down the hall. Maddox muttered more curses, but Dane ignored him.
Thirty-Seven
The air grew colder, and the tunnel gradually widened. Stones appeared out of the darkness like the masts of phantom ships, ancient rock pillars covered with complicated carvings of Vossians doing battle with other denizens of the underworld.
The shadows were thick and unnatural. Dane’s head nodded with exhaustion as he walked, and his eyes burned.
“Maddox,” he said after another hour had passed. “Where in the hell are we?”
“Don’t try my patience, boy,” Maddox said through teeth clenched against the cold. “Just walk, and leave the thinking up to me.”
“Kruje,” Dane called behind him. “Vo kast wanr?” He hoped he’d said that correctly.
“I warned you about speaking to my property.”
“And I told you,” Dane said, “we’re stuck with one another, Maddox, so unless you and your men like starving…” He watched Cavus and Gulg, whose fingers hovered near the hilts of their short blades. Maddox eyed Dane with deep and unmistakable hatred.
“Nak shar mik,” Kruje said.
The giant walked several paces behind Maddox, his head lowered, but when he spoke he looked up and locked his pale eyes on Dane. Maddox wheeled about with his stone held high.
“Do NOT speak!” he shouted. His voice echoed down the hall. “If you do that again you will die! Do you understand, you monstrosity?!”
“He doesn’t speak our language, you dumb bastard,” Dane said.
“Quiet!”
Dane waited as Gulg approached him with his blade in hand. “Turn around and walk,” he growled. Dane did.
He tried to translate Kruje’s words in his head. Did the giant know what this place was? It had occurred to Dane he might, but there was no way to be certain, especially with the intervention of an insecure slave owner who disrupted every attempt at communication.
The fact that Maddox knew next to nothing about their surroundings had become increasingly clear as the hours rolled on, as every one of Dane’s inquiries was met with little more than noise and threats. Unfortunately their situation and their stalemate hadn’t changed – Maddox still had Kruje, and Dane still had the only means to produce light and food.
The walls became more rough-hewn, and the corridor gradually sloped down as they walked, which meant they were going deeper underground with every step. The air was heavy with musk and frozen mold. Dane’s skin felt like ice. His muscles ached and his eyes were raw, and he was so tired the gelid vapors seemed to be the only thing keeping him upright.
Though he’d lost track of distance and time Dane marked their progress by counting the sealed stone doors they passed on the right-hand side of the corridor. The ancient portals were nearly as tall as the ceiling and made of pitch-black stone, cut to open down the center even though they lacked handles or locks. Kruje attempted to open one set of doors at Maddox’s command, but whatever kept them sealed was too much even for the giant to overcome. Every time they passed a new door Dane found himself trying to puzzle out the answer to the words Kruje had spoken earlier.
Sun. Black.
Dane would be the first to admit his Vossian grammar was even worse than his vocabulary. Voss didn’t speak in sentences as humans knew them but constructed meaning purely through inflection, and the specific manner in which words were pronounced was more important to determining meaning than the order in which those words were used. The language boggled his mind. Sun, Black. It would help if my vocabulary wasn’t so bad. Whatever it all meant, the words felt ominous, and Dane was less than thrilled by the prospect of what might lie beyond those doors.
They stopped and rested near the sixteenth door. The endless corridor continued on and cut to the left a few hundred yards ahead. The five of them had only walked for about an hour since their last rest, but thanks to their general level of fatigue they’d failed to make any real progress.
Kruje stood and examined the door while Maddox and Gulg sat against the opposite wall. Dane’s vra’taar shed pale green light on the ancient stone. Cavus moved a few paces ahead of the rest of the group and held a stick bathed in silver-white flame Dane conjured for him.
“What kind of place is this?” Cavus growled to himself. He traced his fingers across the stone and pulled away a layer of frozen grime. “It just goes on forever.”
“The Voss built cities under ours,” Dane said. He placed a hand against the stone, which chilled his palm even through his leather gauntlet. He’d cast minor enchantments hours ago to keep himself protected from frostbite.
Dane hated Touching the Veil. He’d come to rely on it for far too much, and that was magic’s lure. Knowing all of the stories about how using magic depleted the world’s life-force did little to dissuade him – or anyone else, for that matter. He was as addicted to the Veil as any Veilwarden, for there was no stronger drug, not anywhere. The Voss were addicted to it, as well, maybe even more than humans, for they could manipulate it in ways no others could, and Veilcraft was a staple in their architecture, in the way they waged war, even in the way they lived their lives. For his part, Dane k
new he would be better off without it, but the thought of living without the Veil was almost too much for him to comprehend.
“They built cities, huh?” Cavus marveled. His eyes studied the frozen walls. “Back during the Rift War, right?”
“Right,” Dane said, wondering why Cavus had suddenly grown so chatty. “They spent years constructing them. They used Veilcraft and built a half-dozen complexes under human-populated areas so they could use them as military outposts. Fight us from right beneath our feet. After the war the cities were abandoned, and the Voss left behind traps and guardians to keep them protected.”
“Protected? Why?”
“In case they ever wanted to use them again,” Dane said warily. “Two of the cities were never actually found,” Dane continued. “The magic they used kept them well-hidden.”
“So why didn’t they just stay?” Cavus asked. “Why not just keep Voss in these places? They probably could’ve conquered a few human cities.”
Dane watched Kruje. The giant regarded the door calmly. He was studying it.
“No one’s really sure,” Dane said. He spoke more to himself than anyone else. The giant turned and looked him, his unreadable ivory eyes narrowed in concentration. “The Allaji hit the Vossians hard with their own magic, and when the Tuscars routed the Voss lost their footsoldiers. They wouldn’t stay without someone to protect them. Others think the Voss never wanted to be involved in the war at all, but that their leaders were coerced by the Blood Queen, so as soon as she was gone they withdrew as fast as they could.” He thought about that for a moment. “Maybe that’s why they destroyed Gallador. If you think about it, Gallador’s fall was the turning point of the war.” He watched Kruje. “In any case, they aren’t here now.”
City of Scars (The Skullborn Trilogy, Book 1) Page 18
