Songs of the Eternal Past- Complete Trilogy

by C S Vass

  An explosion shook the cavern and blasted Fiona sideways. Smoke and ash filled her eyes and lungs while the heat of fire washed over her entire body. As Fiona was flung through the air something hard abruptly slammed into her head, and all was black.

  * * *

  Fiona’s eyes flickered open and a sharp pain throbbed on the back of her head. The shadows of her comrades danced along the wall with the fiery glow of the torch held by Freckles.

  “Good, you’re alive,” Dogface said. “I was beginning to worry we’d have to leave you.”

  “What happened?” Fiona asked.

  “For starters you killed that foul creature,” Freckles said.

  “Where are the others?” Fiona asked, looking around for Firecrown, Tooth, and Drool.

  “They’d all taken injuries,” Jet said. “They could only slow us down, so they went back. They’ll be okay. But from here on it’s only us.”

  Fiona nodded. Slowly she moved each of her limbs, making sure carefully that nothing was broken. “It appears you were successful in opening the path.” She nodded towards the cavern wall that was now blasted open, rubble spilling out of its entrance like the entrails of some massive beast.

  “Indeed,” Dogface said. Dogface now had the swords they were to distribute to the prisoners strapped to his back. “Now if you’re up to it, it’s time for us to go. We move silently and stick to the plan. Before long our friends and allies will be liberated and we’ll be ready to challenge Raejo once and for all.”

  Wasting no time, the group moved into the entrance of the passage. Slowly, the walls of the cave transformed into walls of stone. The path quickly narrowed, and the ceiling lowered to where Dogface, the tallest of them, had to stoop his head. They walked single file with Freckles leading the way with his torch. Before long they found themselves in some sort of supplies basement filled with crates and barrels.

  The group made eye-contact, silently agreeing to go forward without making a sound. Before they made it to the doorway, they heard footsteps fast approaching, and someone creaked the door open.

  In an instant all of them ducked behind barrels or crates, except for Jet who pressed himself against the wall so that he was hidden behind the door as it opened.

  The soldier never had a chance.

  As he stepped into the room Jet had one hand pressing the point of a dagger into the guard’s neck and another covering his mouth. Dogface was disarming the man before he even realized what was happening, but as they pulled him down into the ground and started binding his hands with some spare rope that Dogface had he began to get the idea.

  “You’re going to tell us what we want to know, and you’re going to live,” Jet said. His voice was quiet, but strong as steel. “If you try to scream, you’ll be dead before the sound escapes your lips. Understand?”

  The soldier nodded once.

  “Good. Tell me what the fastest way to get to the prisoners is.”

  The soldier waited a moment, and then said, “There are… there are prisoners all throughout the compound. I don’t—”

  “You know the prisoners we want,” Jet said. “Tell me where they are.”

  “Lord Raejo… Lord Raejo has prisoners… some prisoners aren’t even in this place. The ones you’re looking for could be—”

  “He’s stalling for time,” Dogface growled. “Probably hoping one of his friends gets here before we get an answer out of him.” Dogface leaned down close to the man and contorted his face into the ugliest, meanest grimace that Fiona had ever seen. He took a long dagger out from his waist. “I suggest you stop stalling, because for every minute we spend talking with you I’m going to take one of your fingers.”

  Dogface grabbed the soldier’s hand, but the man immediately started speaking.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. The men you want are on the floor above us.”

  “How do we get to them?” Dogface asked. “Without being caught. Answer wisely. Should our attempt prove, ill I swear you’ll be the first to die.”

  “Of course, of course,” the soldier agreed. He screwed up his face for a moment, apparently thinking. “You can use the spare uniforms from these very barrels.”

  Quickly and as quietly as possible they cracked the tops of the barrels open with a crowbar they found in the rooms. Inside there was ring mail and lizard-plate armor. It was dusty, musty, and smelled like rotting reptile, but there were enough for each of them. Fiona’s even fit reasonably well.

  “Now what?” Dogface asked.

  “Now we move,” the guard replied. “You’re lucky you picked this day. The prisoners were just moved to a less secure location due to regular inspection of their cells. We shouldn’t have any problems.”

  “One peep out of you, and I’ll be sure to prick your bowels. You’ll die for a certainty but it will take several days. I strongly suggest you don’t make me do that.”

  “I won’t give you any problems.”

  They entered a long dark hallway lit every fifty paces by forlorn torches. The walls curved to form a circle and the slimy black stones of the wall left a foul-smelling sooty substance on Fiona’s fingertips. She kept her hand on the hilt of the demon-pommel blade. Though the guard was kept securely between them as they moved single-file, she knew they could chance upon a group of enemies that might give new courage to their captive.

  But they didn’t have long to travel. They reached a door barred with black iron and their guide stopped them. “In here,” he said. “You’ll find your comrades. I pray you let me go. I won’t raise the alarm. I swear it.”

  Freckles grinned hideously in the torchlight. “I have no doubt of that, friend. Open up.”

  The iron groaned as the key slide into the lock and the group walked in. They entered into another room that sloped downward and then opened up to the edge of a large pit. Fiona peeked into it and felt her heart drop into her stomach.

  “There’s more than there should be,” Freckles said.

  “Normally they would be in their individual cells,” their guard explained. “But as I said, their regular cells are being searched for contraband and to ensure they remain secure. The warden just tells us to keep food from them for a few days before the switch so they don’t get bold at being united. It’s never been a problem yet.”

  “All the better,” Dogface said. “We’ll be in and out and they won’t even know.”

  “Fiona, what’s wrong?” Jet asked. Fiona couldn’t even respond. Blinking, she stared at the men in the pit. They were haggard, sickly looking, and half naked. Some of them she recognized.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Why are there Vaentysh Boys here?” Fiona demanded. She scanned the room for Rodrick’s face, but didn’t see him. “How did you come to capture them?”

  It seemed impossible that a few Vaentysh Boys would have been left behind, and even more so that they would be lumped in with rebels in Lord Raejo’s prison. It didn’t make sense.

  “They’re sealed in by a gate that can be lifted by turning the crank on this wall,” the guard said, ignoring her question. “Do it quickly and be off.”

  “Not all of these prisoners are rebels,” Fiona hissed.

  “Fiona we can worry about that after we’re out of here,” Jet said. “Right now our priority is to leave. We don’t have time to sort them all out.”

  Fiona felt cold and hot all at once. She had thought she finally put the Vaentysh Boys behind her. She thought that she had fully committed herself to helping Jet and would live the rest of her short life on Morrordraed without dwelling on Tellos or her brother. It wasn’t fair that they could just intrude into her life like this!

  “We don’t have time for this,” Freckles said. “Come on.” Together with Dogface, they gripped the large wheel connected to a series of metal gears and began turning. A low grinding noise filled the room.

  “You’re going to have to make a decision,” Jet hissed at her. “A decision that I had thought you made back at the inn. Are you with us or not
? What we’re doing is too important to be delayed by some grudge you hold from your past.”

  “This is more than just some grudge,” Fiona shot back. Her heart pounded in her chest. “These people are to me what Raejo is to you. They’re the worst kind of monsters.”

  “Then we’ll sort them all out later.”

  “Enough of your bickering!” Dogface shouted. The metal gears continued their dull scraping, but Fiona hardly noticed.

  “Fiona!” Jet’s eyes were filled with worry. “Tell me right now that you’re not going to impede our escape in any way. Do you swear?”

  Fiona bit her lip. Freeing Vaentysh Boys was a thought that made her sick, but all the same… “Yes, I swear,” she said.

  Jet nodded, then swore.

  “He ran!”

  “What?”

  “The guard, he’s made off!”

  Panic gripped them. In the midst of their argument the soldier that had led them to the prisoners had peeled off.

  Dogface and Freckles began pushing harder, veins bulging at their necks while sweat poured down their foreheads. Fiona and Jet ran to the wheel to help them.

  “They didn’t design this so that it could be opened easily,” Jet groaned. The team worked together, silent dread hovering over them. At last the gate was raised.

  The rebels and Vaentysh Boys that stumbled out were as thin as ghouls. It was obvious that the pains of hunger gripped them severely. Their eyes were sunken, and they seemed barely able to speak.

  “Karl, Ulseg, Tanner…” Jet named his companions while Dogface placed the swords they had brought into their hands.

  “Comrades, freedom lies ahead but we will have to fight for it,” Dogface said. “Come, save your energy. We need to get you out of here.”

  One of the rebels nodded. “We have much to tell you, but first we must escape. Lead the way then, brother.”

  “Gladly.”

  So far no guards or soldiers appeared to take them all into custody, but the journey was nerve-wracking. Fiona knew that their luck couldn’t last long and could hardly believe it as they slipped back into the tunnel from which they came towards the armory.

  Jet grinned widely. “We’re going to make it,” he said to Fiona. “We really did it. We’re going to get them out!”

  Fiona dared not hope for such a positive outcome just yet, but a small optimism began to grow inside of her. The armory was in sight, and not so much as a stray guard had crossed their path. “Maybe the guard was too scared to say anything,” Fiona said. “Maybe he’s going to pretend he doesn’t know anything about this.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Dogface laughed. “Lord Raejo’s men are here for love of coin, not love of their leader. Such knaves and cowards who can be bought for a few coppers will give a man his sword but never his heart.”

  They opened the door and slipped inside.

  The passage was gone.

  “What sorcery is this?” Freckles growled. He immediately began tapping and prodding at the spot where they had entered the prison.

  “How can it be gone?” Jet asked.

  “Make another rune-bomb then,” Dogface said. “We’ll just blow it open and be on our way.”

  “There’s no passage I tell you!” Freckles was starting to panic. “It’s not that they covered it up. It’s just… gone. Like it was never here.”

  “Bah,” Dogface growled. “Looks like the bastards had a different sort of plan. They aim to crush us here. Well? Do we let them?”

  Fiona looked around at the collection of starving rebels and Vaentysh Boys. In their current condition they would likely be more of a hindrance than a help.

  “What do we do?” Jet asked. When the room remained silent a loud resounding boom that shook the walls as if to answer for them.

  Freckles screwed up his face. “Our options are to try to figure out what kind of sorcery they used to seal off the passage, go up and fight our way out through the main entrance, or surrender.”

  “Only two options, then,” Dogface said confidently.

  “Don’t overrule surrender, brother,” Freckles said. “I see only death in the other two choices. These men will never be able to fight through to the prison gate.”

  “Then find out how to reopen the passage into the caves,” Dogface said.

  Freckles groaned. “If there was another versed in magic to help me then perhaps,” Freckles said. “But I’m near my limit. I don’t know that I can do it.”

  “I can help.”

  The voice was small and weak. One of the prisoners, a Vaentysh Boy Fiona recognized from their assault on Clearwater two years ago, stepped forward.

  “Back in Tellos I was a soundmage,” he said. “I have some understanding of illusion magic. I can help you.”

  Fiona looked at the man in disgust. She felt the urge to do something that made her ashamed of herself.

  “There you have it,” Dogface said. “You two will figure out whatever sorcery they are using, and the rest of us will hold them off!”

  Dogface looked around at the faces of the worn and haggard men he was about to lead. Only Fiona and Jet had the slightest whiff of energy about them, and Fiona would have sooner faced the enemy alone than side-by-side with Vaentysh Boys, but it was the force they had.

  “Men!” Dogface shouted. The dark and damp cobwebbed armory provided a poor atmosphere for a rousing speech, Fiona thought. There was little about the dingy room to connote victory or glory. But all the same, she found it admirable that he was trying.

  “Whether you come from here or not, we share the bond of trampled men. Every one of us here knows the feeling of Raejo’s boot on our neck. Every one of us here has tasted the cold bite of iron, has felt the warm trickle of blood.

  “Though you may be hungry for food, I know you are more hungry for freedom!” The sound of boots marching from the tunnels could be heard. Freckles and Jet were blockading the door with whatever they could while Dogface spoke.

  “I have only this to say. If you want your freedom, stand up and take it! Take it despite hunger and horror. Take it as you take the sweet relief of vengeance upon those who have locked you up like dogs!”

  The mood was not exactly epic, but there was a vicious light in the eyes of the prisoners that Fiona thought would give an enemy pause. Despite weakness and hunger, these men were still warriors deemed dangerous by their provincial lord, and for the first time in a long time they had swords in their hand and a prayer’s chance of freedom.

  The sounds of marching feet moved closer.

  “How much time do you need?” Dogface yelled to Freckles and the Vaentysh Boy assisting him.

  “As much as you can give us,” Freckles replied.

  “Get ready,” Jet said.

  The boom shook the walls. Lizard-plate armor rattled in its storage crates and fumes of dust shook from the ceiling. The second strike ripped the hinges halfway out of the wall, but there were still a great many objects barricading the door. By the third strike they were in.

  Chaos erupted.

  Neither side tried to parley. The music of ringing metal and grunting men filled the room. Fiona felt as though she were in a dream, as though she were watching herself fight this battle rather than raising her sword herself. Still, the demon-pommel blade was alive in her hands.

  Lord Raejo’s guards were well-armed and armored, but so were the rebels after stealing through the supplies of the armory. While their party was wracked with fatigue and hunger, Lord Raejo’s men were fighting for nothing more than orders given to them. It was enough to at least give the rebels a chance.

  Two guards had cornered Fiona and were sending stinging strikes at her simultaneously. They were slow and clumsy, but on her own she wasn’t able to do more than keep her blade spinning in her hand, deflecting the blows that came for her. Then one of them missed a beat. Though only lasting a split-second, the momentary relief was enough for Fiona to send her sword into the other guard’s chest. The soldier who blundered didn’
t even try to stay and fight, but retreated back into the warring crowd.

  Dogface was certainly proving his worth as he barreled through the men. Fighting like a berserker he continuously thrust his body into a group of enemies sweeping his steel in a great hacking motion that would cut down two or three men at a time. He would have been easy to overwhelm if their foes had the courage to do so, but nobody seemed to want to be the one to risk their neck first so instead they kept their distance and died.

  Then there was Jet, who moved like a murderous dancer through the crowd of bodies. His opponents didn’t know he was there, until he was, and then he was gone before they realized they were struck. Rather than slash and hack his way through like Dogface, Jet seemed content to simply weaken the soldiers, slicing along their calves or pricking them in the ribs.

  “They’re starting to turn!” Dogface shouted, triumphantly. “Run while you can, you bastards! Run if you ever want to see the sun again!”

  Some of them did. Even more were frozen with indecision, caught between the fear of death and the even greater fear of shame.

  “We’re actually doing it!” Jet yelled. “We’re winning!”

  “Don’t act so surprised, boy!” Dogface beamed, sweeping his blade indiscriminately across a row of enemies. “We didn’t come here to die.” Dogface touched the point of the arrow with a look of mild surprise. It had sprouted through the center of his chest from behind.

  Dogface looked at the glistening blood on the point of the arrow and turned to see who had shot it. The archer was a soldier who looked younger than Fiona. He still had baby fat on his plump face.

  Dogface was on him in moments as the lad desperately tried to nock another arrow. His head flew across the room. Dogface collapsed.

  “Geruld!” Freckles shouted. Abandoning his task Freckles ran over to his fallen ally, while the Vaentysh Boy he had been working with urged him to come back.

  Fiona tried to make her way over but in the moments she had let her guard down to watch the scene unfold a ring of guards had encircled her. Suddenly she was dancing for her life. Had Jet not appeared moments later to aid her, she was certain she would have died.