The creature let out an awful, ear-splitting roar, part bellow of pain, part howl of murderous defiance. Stunningly fast, it brought its great mouth down and snapped at Reeth. The stink of its breath was overpowering. As he scrambled clear, Caldason hit out with his blade. More by chance than design, the sword struck one of the monster’s teeth, breaking off half its length. That cued more bellowing and wild, slimy contortions.
As Caldason zigzagged about the clearing, the creature’s head jabbed down to peck at him. When the jaws slammed shut, narrowly missing him, there was a loud crack as the razor-keen fangs came together. Reeth kept moving, rushing in to harry the brute at every opportunity. He was inflicting more wounds, but knew that wasn’t enough. So when the head swooped down again he held firm. For a moment, his vision was filled with nothing but the hideous face of the worm thing.
He raised his sword two-handed, then thrust it with all his might into the creature’s eye. A viscous green fluid erupted, showering him. As he retreated, the worm rose up to almost vertical, taking the sword with it.
Roaring again, great shudders ran through its sinuous body. It twisted, contorted, fell with a tremendous crash. Briefly it twitched and quivered, and was still.
The carcass began to shrivel, letting off a foul stench, before caving in on itself like the ashes of parchment. What was left drifted away.
Caldason wiped the putrid muck from his eyes. He spat it from his mouth. Turning, he faced the old man, who still stood placidly by. He wanted to scream at him, to demand to know what was happening and why he was being subjected to these torments.
A shadow fell across Caldason.
The old man nodded at him, just slightly, and looked up. Reeth followed his gaze.
An eagle descended. But no ordinary bird; it was the size of a mature bull. Its wings stretched from one side of the clearing to the other. It had talons to rival ploughshares and a bill to accommodate a dray horse. Before he could move, the eagle swooped on Reeth and snatched him up. For all the good they did, his struggles could have been those of a babe.
The bird climbed fast. Caldason’s weight seemed no kind of burden for it. Soon they were high in the sky, the wind lashing him unmercifully. Far below, the forest shrunk to the size of his fist.
Banking sharply, the eagle chose its course and increased its speed. Reeth had a dizzying glimpse of fields, streams, woods, plains, distant snow-topped mountains. And at last a river. A silver cord at first, then as they swooped, a wide, vigorous torrent. The eagle flew ever lower, until the river was all that was under them and its banks were too far away to see.
The bird released its claws and dropped him.
Reeth cried out as he fell. The world spun, and most of it seemed to be water.
He hit hard, the impact and the cold knocking the breath out of him. Down he went, momentum slow to decay in the river’s covetous grip. He did surface again, carried up by the turbulence and his own frantic kicking, but briefly. The undertow took him, and this time it held on, dragging him down. His hair a black flame, Reeth was sucked ever deeper.
His lungs were bursting, his limbs were too feeble to raise him. Yet something else had greater hold of his attention.
Through the murky, churning waters he beheld another scene. He saw that place he had glimpsed and feared before. The domain of living architecture and dark flying entities. The place where everything was in flux. Where a special kind of malevolence, utterly alien, waited to claim him for its own.
He was drowning.
He jerked awake, fighting for breath.
It took him a long moment to remember where he was. He sat up and perched on the edge of the bed, sweat-sheened, his head in his hands.
‘Are you all right?’
Caldason looked up quickly. Kutch was there, standing in the shadows on the far side of the room. Staring at him.
‘I heard you,’ the boy said. ‘So I came in. Was that … another one?’
Caldason nodded.
‘Is there anything I can do?’
Caldason shook his head. He stood. Whatever his eyes were focused on, it wasn’t the room they were in. He looked terrible. ‘We have things to do for tomorrow. Let’s get on with it.’ His words were flat, distant.
It didn’t seem a good time for Kutch to tell him about what he thought he’d seen earlier.
‘Come here,’ Tanalvah said.
Teg reluctantly trudged forward. She licked the corner of a silk handkerchief and rubbed at his cheek. ‘Hold still.’ The child grimaced. ‘There.’
The boy retreated, face screwed up. He wore a smart new outfit. A long-sleeved overshirt and trews in midnight blue, and highly polished black ankle boots. Lirrin had on a new dress that was also blue, but a much lighter shade.
‘You two look lovely,’ Tanalvah told them. ‘Don’t they, Kinsel?’
‘They certainly do. And so do you.’
‘Thank you, kind sir.’ She gave a little twirl to show off her new evening gown again. The black spider-web silk wafted as she moved. ‘These clothes are wonderful. The nicest we’ve had.’
‘Only the best for you.’
‘You look pretty good yourself, Kin.’
He smiled and absently fingered his velvet cravat. ‘We’ll be the centre of attention tonight.’
She went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. ‘I can believe that.’
‘And not just tonight. In future, we’ll –’
‘Dare we? Make plans, I mean. It almost feels like tempting fate.’
‘Yes, we can.’ He took her hands. ‘This is a new life, a better life. For all of us.’
‘It won’t be better if we’re late. That carriage should have been here by now.’
‘It is!’ Lirrin shouted from the window.
‘Come on then, you two, let’s be off.’ Tanalvah herded the children.
The singer, the whore and the two orphans swept out of the room and bustled down the stairs.
Across the way was a house that directly faced Kinsel’s. On its second storey, behind a window disguised by a deception glamour, two men were watching. They saw the group leave their house and climb into the waiting carriage.
‘Well?’ Devlor Bastorran said.
The companion he addressed wore the uniform of a harbour watchman. In every respect but one, he was perfectly ordinary. The exception was his nose. Where it should have been he wore a black leather contrivance, the equivalent of an eyepatch. But solid and padded out, so that it mimicked a nose. ‘Yes, sir,’ he answered, ‘that’s them.’ The way he spoke was, of necessity, a little strange.
‘Are you sure?’
‘I am, sir. You tend to remember things like that.’
‘And the woman?’ the paladin asked.
‘She and the brats were there at the docks, too. But she isn’t the bitch who did this to me.’ He touched his false nose, gingerly, as though it might come off.
‘No doubt she’ll be known to us soon enough.’
‘Can’t be quick enough for me, sir. And what then?’
‘Then they’ll pay.’
27
Freedom Day celebrations, albeit reluctantly for a goodly segment of the population, started early. Valdarr was bedecked with streamers and bunting.
The city hosted military marches, parades and floats. There were street entertainers and speeches. All in the name of bogus fellowship with Bhealfa’s conquerors.
Not everyone joined in the festivities; and for some, they proved a good cover. The bulk of Caldason’s special operations unit, along with other Resistance fighters, were stationed around the records office, mingling with spectators.
Three blocks from the fake temple stood a school. In common with all other public buildings and most private enterprises, it was closed on this special day. In the preceding week, Resistance agents posing as government officials had gained access to the school’s cellars. In an unused, neglected section, they had broken through to the main sewage channel running under the building.
Reeth pointed to one of the band-members. ‘You’ll be staying here to guard this end. The rest of you are going through with us.’
Kutch thought that, despite the obviously unnerving experience Caldason had undergone the day before, he seemed typically unfazed. He wasn’t so sure about himself.
‘As for you, Kutch,’ the Qalochian went on, ‘once we’re safely in the records office you’re coming back here. I’ll have somebody escort you.’
‘But, Reeth –’
‘Lesson one: don’t argue with an order.’
Kutch looked humbled.
‘You three –’ Caldason indicated the band-members ‘– will take this tunnel upstream until you reach the first junction. You’ll stay there until Serrah, Kutch and I join you. Got that?’
They nodded.
‘Go.’ He turned to the man designated as a guard. ‘Position yourself over by the door.’ The man went off.
A rope dangled into the hole, tied off around a ceiling beam. The three men began lowering themselves down it.
‘Mind those flasks!’ Reeth called out to them.
Serrah was putting on a black headband. Kutch shuffled nervously.
‘Ready, Serrah, Kutch?’
‘I am,’ the boy replied.
Serrah glanced at the cavity. ‘No.’
‘What?’
‘Kutch,’ she said, ‘would you excuse us for a moment, please?’
‘Er, yes, of course.’ He looked mystified.
She drew Caldason to one side.
‘What’s the matter?’ he demanded.
‘Do you think such a small group’s enough for this mission?’ There was a lack of conviction in what she said. She seemed tense.
‘We decided on it days ago. You know that. What’s really on your mind?’
‘I …’
‘Serrah, we can’t afford any hitches now. If there’s a problem, spit it out. Are you ill?’
‘No. It’s just … You won’t ridicule me for what I’m going to say?’
‘Why should I?’
Her eyes flicked to Kutch and the guard, then back to him. Words didn’t come easy to her. ‘It’s just … I don’t like underground places. Anything confined, closed in, makes me feel terribly helpless. It was bad enough when I was in that cell in Merakasa, but this …’ She actually shuddered.
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I didn’t think it’d be a problem. I reckoned once we got going it’d be all right.’
It crossed his mind that it wasn’t in her character to show the world a weakness. He could relate to that. ‘If you back out now we’ll be under strength and I’ll have to abort the mission.’
‘I’m not backing out!’ she hissed.
Kutch and the guard looked her way.
‘I’m not,’ she repeated in a hushed tone. ‘It’s just that going down there …’ She looked at the cavity in the floor. ‘I don’t relish it.’
‘Do you want to change places with the guard and stay here?’
Her teeth pinched into her lower lip as she weighed the offer. ‘No. All I need is a minute to get used to the idea.’
‘We don’t have too much time.’ Kindlier, he added, ‘Think on this. You won’t be by yourself down there, and the channel’s quite big. Tall enough to stand in.’
‘And after that?’
‘There are a few beyond it that are a bit tighter, it’s true. But we should move through the system pretty quickly. We’ve got maps, remember. Look, why not try coming part of the way and seeing how you feel? If it’s too much for you, you can come back and swap with the guard. What do you say?’
She swallowed. Then nodded.
‘Good. Come on.’
They rejoined Kutch.
‘Everything all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Caldason assured him. ‘Just a bit of last minute strategy. We have to move. You’re going down first, Kutch. It’s not that deep, and at the bottom there’s a ledge. The others have already placed some lights down there, and we’ve got these.’ He tapped the amulet Kutch wore. The glamour lit up. ‘Think you can do that?’
‘Yes, Reeth.’ He looked pale, but was keeping his apprehension in check.
‘Serrah’s next, and I’ll follow on. Let’s go!’
Reeth steadied the rope for Kutch as he climbed down.
A few seconds later he called, ‘I’m there!’
Caldason turned to Serrah, holding out the rope for her. She hesitated only a fraction of a second, took it and scrambled down at speed, hand over hand. Reeth nodded to the guard, then descended himself.
He joined the other two on a narrow ledge, part of a walkway that ran along beside the sewage channel itself. They were all relieved to find there was one. The water was flowing by sluggishly, and the atmosphere was dank. But while the smell was unpleasant, it wasn’t too bad. The tunnel had a curved ceiling and walls, and was just about high enough to walk upright in, as Reeth had said. They could see the distant glow of lights where the other band-members were waiting.
Caldason glanced at Serrah. To them both, he whispered, ‘Take it easy and follow me along this ledge to the others. It’s not far.’ That wasn’t entirely true. The junction was probably three or four hundred paces away.
They set off, edging their way along, Kutch in the middle, Serrah bringing up the rear. The walls were slimy and spotted with lichen, and took on an eerie luminescence under the glamour orbs’ light. There were occasional sounds of scurrying, presumably from unseen rats.
At one point Kutch nearly slipped. Serrah grasped his arm. ‘Easy,’ she advised. ‘You wouldn’t want a dip in that.’
They pushed on, Kutch more gingerly than before.
At last they came to the junction of tunnels where the three men were stationed on a wide stone platform. They all scrambled onto it. Here, the main channel split into two, with feeder tunnels running north-west and north-east. The new tunnels were smaller than the one they’d just left. They still had walkways, but they were narrower.
‘We want that one,’ Caldason said, pointing to the northeast tunnel. ‘It’s a bit of a trudge, but eventually it takes us to another junction. You three lead the way. Kutch, Serrah and I will bring up the rear.’
They resumed their journey, more slowly now because the ledge was so much more confined.
When the three band-members and Kutch were out of earshot, Caldason asked Serrah, ‘Well? Are you up to going on?’
‘I’ll be all right.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘I want no special treatment,’ she came back irritably.
‘You’re not getting any. My concern’s the success of the mission.’
‘All right. But there’s no need to keep asking me how I am.’
‘I don’t intend to, Serrah. After this stretch there’s no going back.’
‘I understand.’
‘All right, let’s catch up with them. I’ll be right behind you.’
As they started, she suddenly said, ‘Is Kutch all right?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘He seems … preoccupied.’
‘He’s bound to be, isn’t he? He’s never done anything like this before.’
‘I thought it might be something more than that.’
‘I’ll keep an eye on him. You look after yourself. And keep moving.’
They caught up with the others.
This time the trek was much longer. The tunnel was unvarying and seemed to go on forever. All that broke the monotony were one or two places where the walkway was eroded and chunks had broken off. None of the breaks were large and no one got their feet wet.
It was perhaps half an hour before they came to another, more complex junction, where no less than four tunnels met in a high-roofed
chamber. This had a wider walkway skirting it. About halfway round, metal rungs were set in the slimy wall, leading up to a wooden trapdoor in the ceiling. The roar of water was much louder here.
‘Most of the distance we have to cover is over,’ Caldason told them. ‘But the journey gets a bit trickier from here on.’ He nodded at the ladder.
‘Do we know we can get through that trap?’ one of the band asked.
‘According to the source who gave us the plans it’s secured with nothing more than a bolt. We’ll see.’
He led the way to the rungs and began climbing them. Once at the top he pushed at the trapdoor. It didn’t open, but the wood was damp and flaky, the rusty hinges loose, and there was a lot of give in it. One of the band-members handed him a mallet and he set to battering. The trap lifted an inch or two. Reeth moved up another rung and pushed hard. The trapdoor flipped open with a crack and a little shower of pulpy splinters had him blinking.
‘Got it!’ he called down. He hoisted himself through the hole.
He was in another tunnel, about the same dimensions as the one they’d just left. But there was no walkway here; they’d have to wade through the gently flowing waste water. Luckily it was only a few inches deep. He could see, about thirty paces on, yet another junction.
Caldason helped the others up. They sloshed to the new junction. Three tunnels met there. On a stretch of wall there were two further openings, about head height. Discoloured water trickled out of them, and moss grew around their mouths. They were the smallest channels they’d yet seen.
‘It would be really easy to get lost down here,’ Kutch decided.
‘Don’t forget we’ve got these.’ Caldason took out his map and consulted it to be sure. ‘Yes, thought so. We need the right-hand outlet.’
He caught a glimpse of Serrah. If the prospect of entering such a confined place worried her, she was hiding it well.
‘We have to go through it bent double, maybe on all fours,’ he explained. ‘So I hope you’re not wearing your Freedom Day best. It probably isn’t going to be that pleasant in there, but according to the map we don’t have to put up with it for long. Are we ready?’
Quicksilver Rising Page 31
