Corim didn’t acknowledge him, merely gained another five paces as Jayson lagged, blood flowing freely down his calf. His breath tore at his lungs. His heart shuddered in his chest. Every fiber of his body trembled with exhaustion, tingling with spent adrenaline.
Corim rounded the last bend in the road, the creatures shrieking as they bounded in to cut him off. But they hadn’t gained enough on the boy. Jayson heard Corim’s feet thundering on the wooden planks of the dock, then rounded the curve, the sound of the river suddenly loud, breaking through the pounding of Jayson’s heart in his ears and his heaving breath. He caught Corim frantically untying the barge, the guiding rope tied to the small dock arching down and out into the darkness, the river glinting with lantern light.
The two creatures were charging the dock.
With a roar, Jayson flung himself forward, dropping his lantern as he reached for them, swinging with his knife. His blade sank into the flesh of one, its scream shattering the rush of the water, the creature scrambling away to one side. His hand closed about the leg of the other even as his body slammed into the ground.
He rolled, his roar cut off with the impact, grappling with the creature as it twisted in his grip and snapped at his face. The dirt from the road gave way to the wood planking of the dock as he brought his knife around, slicing down the creature’s back. It hissed as black blood splattered onto Jayson’s face, burning, but Jayson slashed again and again, striking the creature with each blow. It shrieked and then fell to the dock beside him, struggling weakly. He kicked it hard, watched it roll off the wood to splash into the river, leaving a trail of blood behind it, and then Jayson staggered to his feet.
The other creature he’d stabbed as he fell writhed on the sloped bank, a harsh keening filling the night. Others had emerged from the forest and were milling about just outside of the spill of the dropped lantern. Jayson counted at least ten, their eyes glaring in the darkness as they leaped forward and hissed before retreating. He could feel the creatures watching him, his skin prickling beneath their gazes, beneath their hatred. They seemed wary of the flames.
Or the water.
Someone snagged at his shirt. He lurched to one side before realizing it must be Corim.
“It’s untied,” the youth said, voice shaking. “Let’s go!”
Jayson nodded and pushed him toward the barge, keeping his eyes on the creatures. They screamed and grew frenzied as the two climbed into the bottom of the barge, Corim already pulling on the rope to draw them away from the dock and out into the river’s current.
Then, suddenly, all of the creatures on the bank stilled, heads turning toward the left side of the road. A few traded glances, their large, luminous eyes narrowed-
As abruptly as they’d appeared, they vanished, slinking back into the shadows beyond the light of the torch.
“Wait,” Jayson said, creeping forward in the barge. “Don’t pull us any farther out.”
“But-” Corim protested, the single word fraught with fear.
“They’re leaving.”
Jayson felt the barge rock as Corim shifted forward, his hand still on the guiding rope. The youth crouched down beside him. Exhaustion shuddered through him, and Jayson’s calf throbbed with pain, but he still reached out a reassuring hand and gripped Corim’s shoulder.
They watched the end of the dock and the roadway beyond, the light from the abandoned lantern flickering and threatening to go out. Far distant, over the tops of the trees, the glare of another fire pulsed against a thick column of billowing smoke.
Jayson’s heart had just begun to calm, the sweat on his skin cooling in the night air, when a branch cracked in the forest to the left. His muscles twinged as he started. Corim gasped.
He raised the knife before him, blade out.
Five figures emerged onto the roadway into the edge of the fading light from Jayson’s lantern and it took a moment before Jayson recognized them as dwarren. Half the height of either Jayson or Corim, they plowed through the underbrush, chopping at it with axes and short blades. Their beards were woven and braided with beads and feathers and pendants, their arms covered in metal bands, bodies with thick leather armor scored with patterns and whorls. Two of them carried long spears, the shafts etched with carvings, the tips shaped metal, like a rounded leaf.
The dwarren halted in the roadway, the leader of the group staring hard at the lantern, the body of the creature that now lay still, and Jayson, ignoring Corim completely. The pure hatred in the dwarren’s eyes, the sheer intensity of the emotion and the determination that bled from the dwarren’s body, left Jayson speechless.
The leader waved to the rest of the band, the gesture dismissive. The other four plowed into the forest on the far side of the road, the leader hanging back a moment, keeping his eye on Jayson. Then he vanished as well with a rustle of undergrowth and the dry snapping of branches.
Jayson didn’t move until Corim touched his arm.
“Those were dwarren,” the boy said.
“I know.” Jayson forced himself to relax, to lower his knife. He turned and grabbed the rope, the flat boat rocking at his movements, their only remaining lantern guttering in protest.
“They were headed toward the village.”
“I know!” Jayson spat. Without another word he hauled on the rope that connected this side of the river to the other. The rope sang as it pulled through the metal rings attached to each end of the barge, the wooden slats creaking as they moved farther away from the dock and into the river’s current. But the rope held. The current wasn’t strong enough here to make the crossing difficult, especially when the barge wasn’t laden down with supplies or horses.
“What do you think they were-?”
“I don’t know!”
Corim fell silent, his eyes wide.
When Jayson judged they were halfway across, he stopped. Shifting to the center of the barge, near the lantern, he squatted down, rubbed his hands together briskly, and blew on them for warmth. The night had turned chill. Corim joined him a moment later. They couldn’t see either side of the river; the lantern Jayson had dropped had burned out. The rope arched out into darkness on either side, the surface of the river glinting in ripples all around. The moon-barely more than a sliver-had risen above the surrounding hills, but it cast little light. The air was thick with the scent of water and smoke, and both Corim and Jayson reeked of fear sweat. Jayson could taste ash in his mouth.
A long, silent moment later, Corim asked tentatively, “What are we going to do?”
Jayson said nothing, breathing in steadily, slowly, to calm himself, thinking about the creatures, of Lianne and the dwarren. He thought of the fire-at least three of the main buildings in Gray’s Kill were burning, probably more-and the sounds of fighting. The village had been attacked. He didn’t know why, or by whom, didn’t know what those creatures were, but the dwarren were here. He’d seen them, clear as day.
Cobble Kill lay a day’s ride distant, and it housed a barracks of the Legion.
But Lianne. And Corim’s parents.…
He was Corim’s guardian now, until they knew what had happened to the boy’s parents.
Reluctantly, he said, “We have to go to Cobble Kill. GreatLord Kobel needs to know what has happened here.”
“I never realized the dwarren tunnels were so… extensive.”
Colin glanced up from removing the satchels and saddle packs from his horse to where Eraeth stood, staring out over the wide cavern the dwarren had chosen as a resting area. Unlike the chambers where the dwarren lived, this cavern was long and wide, the ceiling low, perhaps twice as high as Eraeth was tall. The river surged through the chamber in a deep channel to the right of where they’d entered, glinting with torchlight as the army of dwarren warriors began unpacking their camp. At the front of the combined army, one of the dwarren had removed a drum and beat out a steady rhythm into the mouth of the next tunnel, announcing their position, the information being passed down the way stations between them
and the Confluence.
Two days before, they’d been joined by another large group of dwarren, the size of the army nearly doubling. At first, Colin had thought they came from one of the other clans, but as the new warriors dispersed, he realized they had merely been reinforcements for the three clans that were already part of the group.
It unsettled him. He wondered how many dwarren were being called to this Gathering, and to what purpose.
He shoved his speculations aside. He’d done nothing but ponder the possibilities during the ride so far and had come to no solid conclusions. He didn’t have enough information, and he wouldn’t get that information until they reached the Confluence. None of the clan chiefs or the head shamans knew anything beyond what they’d told him in the keeva, or they were unwilling to share their information if they had it. The fact that he knew nothing had nearly driven him to abandon the dwarren and Eraeth and Siobhaen altogether and use his powers to reach the Confluence ahead of them, but he’d resisted.
Besides, there was something he needed to do here.
“The dwarren tunnels run beneath the entire length of the plains,” he said in answer to Eraeth’s unasked question. “From the Escarpment all the way to the edges of the Thalloran Wasteland, from the mountains to the north to the Flats in the south. They have controlled them for generations, so long that they’ve lost count.”
Eraeth turned aside from his perusal of the dwarren as they methodically settled in to rest, the smells of a hundred cook fires beginning to fill the room. Colin’s stomach growled, but he ignored it.
“Did the dwarren build them?”
“No,” Colin said with a smile. “According to their legends, they were given the network of chambers and corridors by their gods, so that they could oversee the preservation of the Lands above and so they could protect the Sacred Waters. As far as I can surmise based on their histories, they have done so for well over two thousand years, but it’s hard to judge.”
“So they believe their gods built it for them?” Siobhaen said with a touch of derision.
“Of course,” Colin said. He frowned down at the contents of the satchel in his hands. He didn’t think he’d need much for his excursion, knew that most of what he had brought would be useless. He shrugged and cinched the satchel tightly, throwing it over one shoulder.
Eraeth was suddenly at his side. “Where are you going?”
He met the Protector’s frown. “I need to speak to the Faelehgre… and to the forest.”
“And were you going to tell us you were leaving?”
Colin turned in surprise as Siobhaen stepped up behind Eraeth. Both of them gave him a nearly identical look of anger. They barely spoke to each other on good days, but in this they were united? He shook his head. “I’ll be back before the dwarren rouse themselves and continue on.”
“That’s not the point,” Eraeth said.
“One of us should be with you,” Siobhaen added.
Eraeth nodded. “That was the whole point in having us accompany you.”
Colin glanced back and forth between them, eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. But no, there was still a tension between the two, an unspoken distrust. They simply both agreed, grudgingly, that he shouldn’t be traveling alone.
He sighed, focusing on Eraeth. “You can’t come with me. I don’t want to leave the dwarren army, and I have to travel too far to take either of you with me.” He let his voice harden. “I’m going to Terra’nor and the Well, that’s all. I’ll be gone at most a few hours.”
Siobhaen frowned in confusion. “You know where we are? How? I lost any sense of direction the moment we were taken underground.”
“I can sense the Well,” Colin said, not looking away from Eraeth. The Protector’s eyes searched his own. “We’re beneath the Ostraell, have been for the past day or so. We’re in the domain of the Faelehgre and within the bounds of the Seasonal Trees-the Summer Tree actually. I’ll be protected.”
Eraeth considered a long moment, then nodded once. “Very well.”
Siobhaen scowled, arms crossed over her chest.
“Don’t be too hard on him, Siobhaen,” Colin said. “He knows neither one of you could stop me.”
Then he slowed time and stepped to the side, catching the beginning of Siobhaen’s surprise before turning away and leaving them behind.
He Traveled, slid among all of the gathered dwarren in the midst of setting up camp, through pockets of the warriors circled around campfires, eating and drinking, all of their actions caught in mid-motion. He stalked past others herding the gaezels they rode to the far left, grain thrown out onto the floor to lure them away from the rest of the underground encampment. The dwarren were leading them in small groups to the river’s edge to drink. As he passed the head of the army, he noted the clan chiefs and head shamans were seated around a brazier, the sharp scent of yetope heavy on the air, even with time slowed.
And then he moved beyond the army, entering the wide mouth of the tunnel beyond.
He picked up the pace as soon as he passed into the darkness, reaching into his saddle to withdraw a wooden box. From inside, he took out a clear stone prism about as long as his hand, like quartz, but polished smooth on its faces. A tendril of white fire lay trapped inside the prism, whisking back and forth along its length, tongues of smaller flames flicking outward from the main tendril to trace along the edges of the crystal.
Siobhaen would be shocked to her core if she ever found the stone. As a member of the Order of the Flame, she’d recognize that the flame Colin had captured inside the crystal was part of Aielan’s Light, taken from the pool of fire that burned beneath the mountains of Caercaern. He had not asked for permission to capture the flame, not from Lotaern or the Order. He knew what the Chosen would have said, that the Fire was not a tool, but a manifestation of Aielan, that it should not be abused in such a manner.
Colin understood the significance of the Fire to the Alvritshai and, in particular, to the Order. He understood the need for faith. His mother had raised him beneath the Hand of Holy Diermani; he had read from the Codex, had attended church with his mother at his side, had prayed beneath the Tilted Cross, and had planned on taking his vows with Karen with the blessings of one of Diermani’s priests.
That would never happen now.
But he thought Lotaern and the Order were blinded by their faith. Aielan’s Fire could be used for other things, like the crystal he now held up to illuminate the passage before him. They had begun to explore such possibilities; the Alvritshai had witnessed the use of the Fire at the battlefield at the Escarpment, when Lotaern and that first battalion of the Flame had called it forth from the earth to disrupt the attack by the Legion. And Lotaern had used the Fire to help him in their first attempts at forging a weapon to use against the Wraiths.
Lotaern would never have considered removing part of the Fire itself from its natural cauldron, though.
Colin had no such compunctions… although he had merged with the Fire beneath Caercaern and asked Aielan for permission before he’d done so.
When he’d emerged from the Fire, the white flame had already inhabited the crystal.
The white light glowed on the smooth surface of the tunnel as he moved, broken only at intervals by support arches. At the first junction of the tunnel the dwarren army followed and another tunnel running crosswise to it, he turned left. He could feel the Well’s power through the walls of earth on either side, pulsing subtly. He followed the new, narrower corridor, passed a few open arches that led to empty rooms, both large and small, then paused at another junction. He stared at the three remaining openings, prism held aloft, then stepped into the entrance to each one, released time, and breathed in deeply.
The central corridor that ran straight ahead appeared to lead in the direction of the Well, but the tunnel to the left brought with it the faint scent of forest, of cedars and loam.
He headed to the left, slowing time again as he went. The corridor stretched on and on, seemingly
endless, but then the support arches began to appear more frequently and within moments the corridor ended in a set of stone stairs, rising in sharp turns. He began to ascend, moving faster now.
Near the top, the scent of the forest strong enough to permeate his surroundings, he discovered that the original opening had collapsed. Earth riddled with roots and stone filled the stairwell, appearing black in the harsh light.
He held the prism higher and scanned the collapse in frustration. The profusion of roots suggested he was close to the surface, even if the collapse had happened decades before.
And he’d smelled cedar, not just loam.
He let go of time and caught the faint breath of a breeze. It touched his face and pushed at his hair, damp with a recent rain.
Craning his neck, he found he could barely see past the fall of dirt at the turn in the stairs. It didn’t appear to block the entire stairwell.
Keeping the crystal firmly in one hand, he shoved his satchel around to his back and began climbing the fallen debris. His free hand sank into the dirt and sent it cascading down behind him, but he struggled on, catching at the thicker roots the higher he rose to help pull himself upward. He lost his footing twice before he grasped desperately for the corner of stone that marked the stairwell’s turn, then hauled himself up around the corner with both hands, the edges of the prism biting hard into the flesh of his palm.
Propping himself against the corner, he raised the light and saw where the earth had caved in under the weight of centuries of debris. A narrow hole opened up through the earth. Beyond it, he could see cedar branches stirring and the pinpricks of stars.
The hole wasn’t large enough for him to fit through.
Cursing, he tucked the prism back into the box, replacing it in his satchel. The stairwell was sheathed in darkness, broken only by the faintest of light from the opening above. Drawing his shoulders up with a deep breath to steady himself, he let out the pent-up air with a sharp exhale and scrambled up the remaining slope to the hole.
Leaves of Flame ch-2 Page 24
