Warbringer - Chapter 9
Impatient to be going, Erika had the Perfugians break camp in the dark so they could be on the road at dawn...
★★★★★ "Great start to a new series! Interesting characters and a unique storyline set in a world that begs to be explored or in this case survived. Definitely worth checking out!"
Centuries ago, the world fell.
From the ashes rose a terrible new species—the Tangata.
Now they wage war against the kingdoms of man. And humanity is losing.
Recruited straight from his academy, twenty-year-old Lukys hopes the frontier will make a soldier out of him. But Tangata are massing in the south, and the allied armies are desperate. They will do anything to halt the enemy advance—including sending untrained men and women into battle. Determined to survive, Lukys seeks aid from the only man who seems to care: Romaine, the last warrior of an extinct kingdom.
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Impatient to be going, Erika had the Perfugians break camp in the dark so they could be on the road at dawn. She was surprised there had been no complaints, though there had been a sullen mood about the soldiers as they set off. Too bad; they were already half a day behind schedule—she’d wanted the afternoon to explore the area, hopefully find the unknown entrance.
Perhaps if the recruits increased their pace, they might still reach the site with daylight to spare. She sought out the young man who seemed to take on the role of officer while the Calafe was absent. What was his name…Lukys! She spotted him marching at the front as usual and edged her horse alongside him.
“Lukys,” she said, drawing his attention. Eyes ringed by shadow glanced at her from the road, and she hesitated a moment before continuing: “Your soldiers need to pick up the pace. I want to reach our destination before we lose the light.”
A groan came from behind her, but Erika ignored the other recruits.
An extended moment passed before Lukys shook his head. “No,” he said, and returned his eyes to the road.
“What…” Erika’s mouth fell open, shocked at the man’s disobedience. She was in charge here, not this upstart of a soldier. Clenching her fist, she took control of her emotions. “That was not a question, recruit,” she said, voice cold now.
“I know,” the man replied, eyes fixed straight ahead.
“Then just what do you think you’re doing?” Erika hissed, losing control despite her best efforts.
“Keeping us all alive,” came the response. He glanced in her direction. “With all due respect, Archivist, you don’t have a clue.”
“How dare—”
“I dare!” the recruit snapped, swinging on her. She flinched in the saddle and tried to pull away, but he snatched the reins, bringing the horse to a stop. Angry eyes glared up at her. “I dare, because if you push them any harder, we’ll have a mutiny on our hands.” He sucked in a breath, and seemed to calm somewhat. Releasing the reins, he stepped back. “If you didn’t notice, we’re already a man short today.”
He started off again, leaving Erika sitting stunned on her horse. Cursing, she shook herself and kicked the beast after him.
“What do you mean, a mutiny?” she hissed.
“It’s taken care of,” Lukys replied, eyes ignoring her again.
Erika swore beneath her breath, but decided it best not to press the man. Suddenly, she wished Romaine had not ridden so far ahead. Clutching her fist, she sought out the power of the gauntlet, feeling its warmth as it began to glow. She let out a long breath, the pressure in her chest relenting a little. It came racing back as she remembered the forty-odd soldiers marching behind her. Even with the magic of the Gods, she could not fight them all.
“Are you okay, Erika?” Cara asked, approaching on Erika’s left.
“I’m fine,” she said shortly. Clutching her reins close, Erika tried to quell her racing heart.
Laughter came from the Calafe girl. “You look like you woke up on the wrong side of the tent.” She leaned closer in a conspiratorial manner, eyes dancing. “Or just found out about the excitement in the night.”
“I…” Erika glanced sharply at the woman. “You were there.”
Cara only shrugged and began to whistle.
Erika opened her mouth, then decided it was best to forget about the whole thing. She couldn’t cope with the strangeness of these people. The Perfugian spoke of a missing man and walked as though he carried a boulder on his shoulders, and meanwhile the Calafe woman…whistled?
No wonder Erika’s mother had decided to return to Flumeer after her father had died. If all the Calafe were as strange as Cara, or stoic as Romaine…not to mention the boredom of life in this wild, untamed world. Erika couldn’t understand how anyone could live in a village such as the one they’d camped in for the night, so far from the pleasures of civilisation.
Sure, she had enjoyed that life as a child, when the forests and mountains had been an unending land of adventure…but children were easily entertained. A true Flumeeren could never have been happy with such an existence.
The weather warmed as the day passed on, melting the last of the snow from the slopes—and turning the ground to mud. To Erika’s frustration, their progress slowed further, though she decided to keep her mouth shut for the moment. By the time the column stopped to lunch, they had barely covered five miles.
Erika was just dismounting when a distant sound carried down from the slope they were about to traverse. Lukys was on his feet in an instant, swinging the shield from his pack and holding his spear at the ready. A moment later the noise resolved into hoofbeats as a rider topped the crest of the nearby hill.
The man, Travis, riding hard.
“Perfugians, at the ready,” Lukys bellowed.
The rattling of steel came from behind them as the recruits clambered to their feet and clutched at their weapons. Some even seemed to know what to do with them.
Heart racing, Erika eyed the crest of the hill, reins clutched tightly in one fist. Travis was racing down the slope towards them, seemingly uncaring of the uneven ground. There was no sign of Romaine. She cursed beneath her breath. Had the Tangata finally appeared?
Movement came from the top and Erika released a breath as the Calafe warrior appeared. His axe remained undrawn and he was riding slower than the recruit. She took it as a good sign and edged her horse forward alongside Lukys.
“What is it, recruit?” she called as the woman rode up.
“Travis, are you okay?” Lukys asked at the same time.
The man’s face was pale as he pulled to a stop, his horse drenched in sweat. They must have ridden hard and for some distance. Blood thundered in Erika’s ears and she wanted to scream as the man sucked in great lungfuls of air.
“Tangata!” he gasped finally.
Erika’s blood ran cold.
No, no, no.
It couldn’t end like this, not when they were so close, just a few hours from triumph. The secrets of the Gods, of their magic, she could almost feel it, pulsing in her fingertips…
…she started as the others looked at her, foreheads creased in concern. Light pulsed from her fist and she realized the magic of the gauntlet had arisen unbidden. Ice touched her chest and she forced herself to exhale. The light faded slowly.
No harm done, she thought, hoping her face did not show her shock. Out loud, she said:
“How many?”
The man swallowed as he met Erika’s gaze. “Twenty, at least.”
Gasps came from behind Erika and she gritted her teeth. Twenty was an army, far too many for one regiment, even had they been properly trained. A curse slipped from her lips before she controlled herself.
“Where?”
“Heading towards us,” the recruit said shortly. “They don’t seem to know we’re here, but…we’re right in their path.”
Erika cursed again, though the pounding of hooves as Romaine rode up covered the words. She looked to the Calafe warrior, hoping against hope he would refute the recruit’s claims.
“You can put those away,” he said as he dismounted, looking past Erika to the recruits formed up behind her. “We’re not in danger—yet. They’ve set camp for the day.”
“What is your assessment, Romaine?” Erika said, remaining in her saddle.
“The Tangata are ahead of us,” he said as though their path was clear. “Too many for us to fight. Thankfully we were downwind. The horses sensed them before we did and we weren’t seen. But they’re definitely heading in this direction.”
“We have to turn back!” called a voice from the recruits behind Erika. Others rose in agreement. She ignored them, fixing her eyes on Romaine, waiting for him to continue.
The warrior spread his hands. “I’m sorry, Archivist. We have to turn back, and quickly, or there’ll be no avoiding crossing their path.”
“Unacceptable,” Erika snapped, no longer bothering to contain her anger. “The fate of humanity is at stake. We must press on, whatever the cost.”
“The cost will be your life,” Romaine replied bluntly.
A shudder went through Erika at his words, and suddenly she was back in the throne room, standing before the queen, subjected to her displeasure.
Do not fail me.
Erika didn’t need to ask what would happen if she returned without new treasures. The queen had been promised the magic of the Gods and she would have it—even if it meant cutting the gauntlet from Erika’s corpse.
No one else had moved at Romaine’s words. They all looked to her, waiting for her to speak, to accept her fate.
“The cost of failure will be my life regardless, Romaine,” she said softly, forcing herself to meet the warrior’s eyes. “So I will go on, alone if needs be. Maybe I can slip by them, though without you, I doubt it.” She hesitated, before adding: “You and I both know how it would look to General Curtis should you return without me.”
A moment of silence answered her words, followed by the angry buzz of voices. Erika’s heart pounded hard in her chest but she held the Calafe’s gaze, determined not to be the first to break.
“Are you truly so selfish,” he whispered, without a trace of anger in his voice, “that you would sacrifice us all for your folly?”
Erika lifted her chin, defiant. “I…” She hesitated, the words stumbling on her tongue before she recovered her composure. “For the fate of humanity, I refuse to turn back.”
Romaine shook his head. Stepping from the path they had been following, he slumped onto a boulder. Erika was shocked to see the despair in the man’s eyes. The Perfugians fell silent as they saw the hero who had led them this far bowed low. A cold wind blew across the mountainside, sending shivers down Erika’s spine, but still she did not retreat.
“What if just a few of us cut through the hills?” a voice said from alongside Erika.
She started as the recruit, Lukys, stepped into her path. There was a determined glint in the man’s eyes as he faced her, spear held firmly in hand, head high. Where Romaine looked ready to give up, somehow this recruit still radiated strength.
“What are you suggesting?” she asked, intrigued.
“Romaine is right; the entire regiment cannot continue unnoticed. When the Tangata continue in this direction, they’ll pick up our tracks and follow. Whatever we do, it will be a race to reach the Illmoor before they catch us.” He drew in a breath before continuing. “But they might miss a few of us if we split from the rest and took another trail to reach the site.”
“Another trail?” Erika pressed, heart throbbing painfully in her chest. Could there really be another way?
Lukys gestured up the mountain. They’d been cutting across the hillside, making for the pass Romaine and Travis had returned from not long ago. “We’ve been following the easier passages through the hills,” the Perfugian continued, “but what if we cut straight over the mountain?”
Glancing up the slope, Erika wondered if such a thing was even possible. These foothills were mere shadows of the Mountains that loomed beyond, but the slope Lukys had indicated was still steep, and covered in loose gravel. It would be a terrible, dangerous climb. The horses certainly could not pass that way. And even if they reached the top, there was no telling what else awaited. The way down might prove impassable.
She glanced at Romaine, waiting to see what the warrior would say, but Cara spoke up instead: “There is a path down the other side.”
Erika’s breath caught in her throat as she spun to face the woman. “Truly?” she gasped. “You’ve been that way before?”
Cara hesitated. Her eyes flickered in her face as she bit her lip. “I’ve seen it from afar,” she said at last. “A path between the cliffs—steep, but passable. I think.”
“Then we try it,” Erika said, turning to Romaine.
The warrior looked back at her, eyes still hard, and she saw now his anger. He hated her for making him consider this option, for making them take this risk. She didn’t care. They had a chance!
“Very well,” he said, rising. “Let’s be about it then.” Turning, he cast his gaze over the column of recruits. “Travis, do you think you could find the way back to the trees?”
The man hesitated, but after a moment he nodded. “I think so.”
“Good. You’ll take the horses and lead the recruits back to the Illmoor. Leave everything behind you don’t need and don’t stop except for sleep; once the Tangata find your scent, you can be sure they won’t. Once you reach the river, signal the other side. The forts all know to look for us. Don’t wait; hopefully the Tangata don’t notice our scent, but if they do, we’re dead.”
Travis hesitated, but after a moment he nodded. Drawing in a breath, Romaine turned to the other recruits.
“Lukys, Cara…” He paused, eyeing the Perfugians lined up across the hillside. The recruits shifted nervously on their feet. “Dale and Groner,” he named two of the recruits Erika didn’t recognise, “you’re with us.”
Erika was surprised when the two stepped forward immediately. Romaine had chosen well, but there was another problem. She swung on the Calafe.
“We need more,” she said quickly. “To bring back what we find.”
“No,” Romaine rumbled. “You see that slope, those rocks? A single misplaced step could start a small avalanche. Six will make enough noise as it is; any more would doom us. If the Tangata have scouts out, we’ll likely fail anyway. No, you’ll have to make do with the six of us.”
Erika swallowed, but it was clear there would be no arguing the point. She nodded, and Romaine turned to the others.
“We need to move quickly as well,” he said, addressing those that would continue. “Empty out your packs. We’ll bring two tents and enough food for three days. Rope, the Archivists tools, nothing more. Whatever space is left we’ll need for these artefacts of the Archivists.”
They were ready before Erika had finished processing his words. Still reeling from the sudden turn of events, she stepped from the saddle and found her legs trembling. Sucking in a breath, she recovered her knapsack, then looked at the slope again. Loose rocks stretched up at least 600 feet before disappearing over a lip. She swallowed. Could she truly climb that?
“Good luck.” The scout, Travis, said from amongst those recruits who were to return.
“Same to you,” Lukys replied, and they embraced.
Erika looked away again, feeling inexplicably guilty. Angrily, she forced the emotion aside. There was no room for sentimentality on this journey, not with the fate of humanity in the balance—not to mention the queen’s expectations. Letting out a breath, she faced the Calafe warrior.
“Let’s be off then,” she said shortly. “I’d rather not still be standing here when night falls.”
It was growing dark by the time Lukys and the others reached the top of the slope. Lukys, Cara and Romaine had taken the climb in their stride, but the other Perfugians had struggled, and at points the Archivist had needed their aid to continue. Without her horse, she did not complain about their slow pace at all now.
Thankfully the night was clear, the ground lit by the growing moon, and knowing time was short, they pressed on. High above the forests, ice lay in patches amongst the stones and a cold wind blew across the slope, cutting through even the heaviest of furs.
Romaine took the lead, twin-bladed axe hanging from his broad shoulders. Lukys and the other Perfugians carried spears and their shields strapped to their packs, while Cara had refused a weapon. The Archivist didn’t seem to need any but her magic gauntlet.
The sight of the Calafe warrior standing tall in the darkness was reassuring, though Lukys couldn’t quite banish the memory of Romaine sitting slumped beside the trail, defeated. The despair that had flickered in the man’s eyes…
No.
He wouldn’t think of that. Instead, Lukys turned his mind to the landscape. In the moonlight, stark cliffs rose around them, surfaces glistening with ice. Fortunately, the slope had led into a canyon between the rocks. The ground still continued higher as they walked, but more gently now, other than a few sections where jagged boulders blocked the way. In those places they were forced to climb, fingers seeking out cracks in the stone to pull themselves up.
They did their best to keep silent, but at times the very terrain seemed to be working against them. The smallest of rocks dislodged would send dozens of others careening down the slope, and with the canyon walls amplifying the sound, Lukys was sure the Tangata must hear them eventually. Already he was beginning to regret speaking up, though what other options had there been?
Thankfully, Romaine seemed confident that the beasts would not start off until closer to midnight. If they could cross the crest of the hill before then, they would be safe—unless the beasts picked up their trail.
Even so, Lukys couldn’t help but jump at every tumbling rock, every shadow and whisper of movement from behind them. In the frigid darkness, it was easy to imagine the creatures stalking the group. The night was their world, after all. Lukys and his friends were only visitors.
He flicked glances at the Archivist as they climbed, wondering what drove the woman, why she had staked so much upon this mission. Did she truly think recovering the magic of the Gods was so important? She clenched and unclenched her fist as she walked, a faint light flickering from her gauntlet. Lukys shivered and looked away.
No, there had to be another way to defeat the Tangata. Surely using the magic of the Gods could only lead them down the same path as ages past, to a repetition of the mistakes that had caused the entire world to fall.
But it was not his place to make those decisions.
His boot caught on another rock and he suppressed a curse as it went scattering away. Thankfully no others were dislodged. It took a moment for him to realise the slope had changed. They were heading down. Movement came from nearby as Cara came alongside him.
“I hope this path of yours is close,” he said.
Cara glanced at him, then up at the sky, as though she could read their position from the stars. Her lips pursed. “I don’t know.”
A sigh slipped from Lukys’s lips. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, “I just hope the Archivist can make it.”
Cara glanced back at where Erika was falling behind again. “She’s stronger than she looks,” she replied.
“You like her, don’t you?” Lukys asked.
“She’s different,” the woman replied with a shrug, then grinned. “You all are.”
Despite himself, Lukys smiled. He watched as Cara strode ahead. She moved with more confidence and grace than the rest of them combined, each step barely disturbing the loose rocks on which she strode. Long gone were the days when she’d clutched her broken arm to her chest. How long ago had that been now? No more than a month. The Calafe healed quickly.
They marched on, the ground growing steeper again, though now that they climbed downwards Lukys had to be careful again about where he put his feet. Every mistake sent rocks tumbling down the slope towards the others. The sharper their descent became, the more the danger grew, until finally they were forced to take turns moving down each stretch of the canyon.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on Lukys’s shoulders as the night grew late. They stopped for a time to rest, though on the steep slope it was impossible to pitch the tents, and with the threat of the Tangata lurking in the background, they were soon moving again.
Eventually the moon dropped below the clifftops, plunging the canyon into darkness. A moment later, light flashed on the canyon floor as Erika raised her hand. Her gauntlet blazed a brilliant white as she took the lead, outstretched hand guiding the way.
Finally they found themselves standing atop a broad cliff, looking down upon a plateau some six hundred feet below. The Mountains of the Gods loomed overhead, their icy peaks lit by the first hint of dawn. Below, the plateau remained in darkness.
From where they stood, Lukys could see no hint of a path down the escarpment. Indeed, it looked almost sheer. But Cara was insistent, bidding them wait before starting off along the clifftop, her poise making the perilous walk look easy. She returned before long, and led them across to a narrow gap where a section of the mountain had broken away. The rubble left behind provided a steep but not quite sheer, way down to the plateau.
“After you, Calafe,” Dale said softly, glancing nervously at Cara.
Her teeth flashed in the light of Erika’s gauntlet as she grinned back. “Just try to keep up.”
Lukys’s heart lurched in his chest as she leapt from the edge. The others cried out, but to all of their surprise, she landed easily on the steep slope. Stones shifted beneath her weight but did not send her tumbling into the darkness. She slid several feet before coming to a stop at the edge of Erika’s light. Her face was flushed as she looked back at them.
“Almost like flying,” she said, grinning at them. “Are you coming?”
Everyone turned to look at the Archivist. She would need to go next, to light the way for the rest of them. Drawing in a breath, she followed Cara over the edge, making it look far more difficult than the young Calafe had. Rocks tumbled into the darkness with her every step, the sound of their fall echoing from the cliffs.
As Lukys started after her, he saw now why Romaine had insisted on so few. Even with just the six of them they were making far too much noise. Surely anyone—or anything—out on the plateau would hear the falling stones and investigate. At least the Tangata were behind them.
The light on the horizon grew as they continued down, the sun appearing slowly above the peaks, until finally Erika was able to dismiss her gauntlet’s magic. Watching her as the glow died, Lukys wondered where the power came from. Sweat drenched the woman’s face and she was pale in the dawn light, but that could easily be exhaustion from the night’s climb.
As they neared the bottom, Lukys spotted movement out on the plateau. His heart palpitated, and a moment later he saw a dozen heads lift from the alpine tussock. Standing on four legs and covered in grey and orange wool, the strange long-necked creatures watched the group of humans descending towards the plateau. With their slow-blinking eyes and lazy smiles, they were apparently unconcerned.
“Guanaco,” Romaine explained as they stopped on an outcropping of rock that gave them a place to sit. “They usually keep to the higher peaks. It was rare to see them, when we inhabited this land…” He trailed off, blue eyes on the distant creatures. “My people consider it good luck to cross the creatures on a journey.”
Lukys shivered as he glanced at Romaine. It was easy to forget sometimes that this rugged, untouched land had once belonged to his people.
“They farm them, in the higher pastures of Flumeer,” the Archivist said. Her voice seemed sad.
“Bad luck to cage a creature that has set eyes upon the Gods,” was all Romaine said.
He rose and started off again. Now that they were close to the bottom, the way was easier and they made good time. Lukys kept one eye on the slope high above as they walked, seeking sign of anything that might be following them.
The earth was dry beneath his boots as he walked, the rocks stained scarlet and orange. Looking at the tussock growing upon the plateau, Lukys wondered how it survived, how anything could live in such a barren environment. Even the last of the snow and ice dried away as they reached the bottom and moved out onto the flat.
The Guanaco finally wandered away at their approach, making for the distant snow-capped peaks. A light breeze blew through the valley and drifted up the slope they had just descended. If the Tangata had followed their group, the creatures had their scent now.
“This is it,” the Archivist whispered. She looked from the map clutched in her hand to the broad plateau. “It’s here, somewhere. Waiting for me.”
Lukys swallowed at the glint he caught in the woman’s eyes, recalling his earlier assessment of Erika. Whatever the Archivist claimed, she hadn’t come all this way just to save humanity. There was a reward in this for her, one that had driven her to risk near certain death.
Just get on with it, he thought to himself.
The sooner they found the ancient site, the sooner they could leave. He still feared the magic of the Gods, and what might happen when they stepped foot in such a sacred place. But the wrath of the Gods seemed an unlikely possibility compared to the ever-present threat of the Tangata.
Lukys flinched as a sudden, brilliant light swept across the plateau. For a second he thought their very presence there had somehow angered the Gods, before realising it was only the sun finally topping the last mountain peak. He glanced around sheepishly and was glad to see no one had noticed his reaction. Letting out a breath, he closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of a new day.
“We’ll have to spread out.” The Archivist’s voice drew him back to their present danger. “Divide the plateau up into sections. Look for anything that looks unnatural, rock formations that are too smooth or horizontal, sections of ground that are too flat.”
For once they did as the woman bid. There was no point in arguing, and she was right—they could cover more ground separately. It wasn’t like they could fight the Tangata if they appeared anyway. In fact, being apart meant if one was attacked, the others might at least have a chance to escape.
Small consolation if Lukys was the one to be caught.
The alpine grass grew surprisingly tall here, not so high that it obscured their view of any approaching creatures, but enough that it made searching for unnatural rock formations difficult. Lukys could only see the ground within a few yards of where he stood. An hour passed as they made their slow way across the plateau, then another, until Lukys found he was watching the path they had taken down the mountain more than he was looking for the entrance.
If the Tangata had found their tracks, how long would it take—
“No!”
Lukys swung around as a scream carried across the tussock grass, high pitched and brimming with agony. Someone was dying, under attack…but how had the Tangata come upon them unnoticed?
The scream had come from Erika. She stood a dozen yards from him, face pale, twisted into a mask of horror. The scream came again, seemingly drawn from the depths of her soul, as though someone had taken a hot poker and stabbed it through her belly.
She stood alone.
Then suddenly she darted across the plateau—and disappeared.
Romaine cursed as the Archivist started to run, then swore as she vanished, seemingly into the earth itself. He froze, trying to process what he’d seen. The tussock grew up tall here, obscuring the ground. Starting after her, he lifted the axe from his shoulders as he went. Weapon extended, he approached the area where the woman had vanished…
…and cursed again.
“Blasted woman!” he shouted, coming to a stop.
In front of him, the earth had been torn apart, exposed soil and broken rock cast in all directions. At its centre was a shaft of sheer rock, six by eight feet wide. A steel ladder disappeared into the darkness. The Archivist had already vanished into the black.
Shouts came from around him as the others approached. Romaine clutched his axe tight, cursing the Archivist with every expletive he knew. Had she lost her mind? It was clear the Tangata had discovered the site ahead of her. What if more were waiting below, left behind by the group they had seen the day before? There was no other explanation for her actions.
“How did the Tangata find it?” Lukys whispered as he staggered up to the hole.
“They’re good at finding underground places,” Romaine grunted.
It was true, the Tangata preferred these dark spaces—but there was no way they could have known this was here. Not unless somebody had told them…
“What do we do?” Cara murmured as she approached.
“We get The Fall out of here,” Dale croaked, his face pale.
Ignoring them, Romaine crouched beside the broken earth. The Tangata had made a mess of the site around the shaft, trampling back and forwards through the dirt. There was no way of knowing their numbers.
“Nobody move,” he murmured as the last recruit, Groner, arrived.
A glare ensured they would obey. Romaine stepped carefully away from the entrance and circled the exposed area. It didn’t take long to locate the path the Tangata had taken to reach the site—a broad stretch of tussock had been trampled beneath their boots. There he knelt again, trying to determine how many had passed through. Fresh dirt had been trodden into the flattened grass, confirming his suspicions that the group had left. There was still no telling whether any remained.
Romaine sat back on his haunches. “They left,” he said, more to himself than the others. “It was probably the group we encountered. But…why would they leave?”
“Erika needs our help.” Cara interrupted his musings. “She’s…all alone down there.”
“That was her choice,” Lukys replied.
“The Tangata are gone,” she replied, meeting each of their eyes.
Romaine let out a sigh, then nodded. Coming to his feet, he marched back to where the others waited, shields now clutched in hand, spears pointed at the silent shaft.
“Stand down,” he grunted, gesturing over his shoulder at the tracks. “The Tangata already left. Come on, we’d better go fetch the woman.”
The others exhaled loudly as they lowered their weapons, the tension that had built amongst them draining away. Lukys shook his head, face paler than normal as he turned to Romaine.
“Do we have to?”
Romaine forced a laugh but did not reply. Sheathing his axe, he stepped past the others and approached the shaft. Despite his reassurances, he was not sure what might wait for them in the dark. None of this made sense. How had the Tangata known to come here?
A faint glow was visible far below—the Archivist’s gauntlet. He hoped.
“Dale, the torches,” he said softly.
The recruit handed his spear to Groner and swung the pack from his back. He searched inside for a moment before coming back out with the torch. Once it was lit, he held it out for Romaine.
Drawing in a breath, Romaine took one last look at the sun. Then he grasped the flaming torch and swung over the side of the shaft. An icy cold wrapped around him as he started down the ladder. Holding the torch made the task difficult, but it was not his first time climbing one-handed.
Rung by rung, he made his way down into the depths of the earth. With the flames shining in his eyes, he could no longer make out Erika’s light, while those who came after him blacked out the surface. Soon there was only the darkness, only stone walls pressing in, the cold steel beneath his fingers. It seemed the shaft must go on and on, all the way down to the source of the world.
Until finally, it ended.
The sound of his boot striking stone seemed impossibly loud in the darkness. Romaine grunted, surprised to find solid earth rather than another rung. Holding the torch away from himself, he checked to see whether he had truly reached the bottom.
Firelight illuminated a wide chamber, its walls, ceilings and floor all carved from the same plain grey stone of the shaft. There was something abnormal about that stone, an unnatural smoothness and lack of patterns within the rock, as though it had been formed by magic rather than ordinary forces.
His light also illuminated three tunnels leading from the chamber. A heavy layer of dust covered the ground, revealing the footprints of those who had passed before. There were dozens, though all had taken the same tunnel, and returned from the same direction. It seemed the Tangata had known where they were going.
The Archivist had vanished, though the faintest glow revealed she’d followed the same path as the creatures. Did she realise the Tangata had left, or was she simply insane? Either way, Romaine was done with the woman’s games. She had endangered everyone by coming down here.
Romaine should never have contemplated this plan. He should have ignored her pleas and bound her in chains, carried her all the way to the Illmoor, if necessary. Anything but this mad plan.
Scuffling noises came from above and Romaine stepped away from the shaft as the others dropped into the chamber—first Dale, then Lukys and Cara, with Groner bringing up the rear. They had tied their spears to their packs with strips of rope, and quickly set about freeing them. Drawing his axe again, Romaine moved into the mouth of the main tunnel to see what waited for them.
Shadows danced in the flickering light. This was no place for living things. Abandoned by the Gods and the ancient humans who had once worked alongside them; now it was home only to the dead.
Or so Romaine prayed.
They started down the strange tunnel, surrounded by those smooth walls, following the footprints of the creatures who sought to kill them. Romaine tried to count their numbers, but the prints crisscrossed and overlaid one another. Though he did notice those leading back towards the entrance were less defined, the strides longer. Had the creatures left in a rush?
A million other questions leapt at him, but there were no answers. They could not return without the Archivist. Romaine had no plans to be labelled a mutineer
Ahead the tunnel split in two, but again the footprints only led in one direction. The glow of the Archivists light still shone, brighter now. They were closing the distance. Axe still held in hand, Romaine picked up the pace.
This new tunnel was lined with doorways, seemingly cut from the strange stone itself, though inside most were plain and empty. These the Tangata had ignored, their attention seemingly fixed on some distant goal.
A few, though, the creatures had entered. In these chambers, Romaine was surprised to find the remains of ancient devices scattered about the room, objects of metal and precious glass and other unidentifiable materials, all smashed to pieces against the unforgiving floor.
“What The Fall?” Lukys whispered, stepping up beside him.
Romaine shook his head. “Let’s find the Archivist,” he said. “Nothing about this place make sense.”
They continued. The deeper they ventured, the more stale the air became, the harder to breathe. There was a dryness to it, a faint sweetness too, though amongst the other scents it seemed foul, like a field of flowers gone rotten. The light ahead continued to grow, vanishing at times as the Archivist disappeared into different chambers. Romaine did not call out. He was sure the Tangata must have departed now…
…so why did he still feel they were not alone?
He did not have long to wait for the answer. As they passed around a bend in the tunnel, a terrible smell touched their nostrils. They didn’t encounter the source until several doorways further down the tunnel. Within the chamber, Romaine could see liquid and broken glass covering the floor—and something else. White flesh reflected the light of the torch. The stench was so strong Romaine would have done anything not to enter. But he had to know.
Taking a cloth from his pocket, he held it to his nose and stepped inside. Lukys and Cara followed, while the others remained without. Holding the torch high, Romaine suppressed a shudder.
Three naked bodies lay on the floor, human in form, though so far gone as to be almost unrecognisable. Their flesh was like wax, twisted, melted, and strange lumps grew from their arms and legs and backs.
Glass crunched beneath his boots as he moved closer, heart pounding in his ears. Three circular platforms of solid steel stood in the centre of the chamber, just an inch from the ground. Jagged pieces of glass still stuck out from the edges.
“They were…preserved,” Lukys said quietly. “The glass must have formed cylinders, with the liquid and bodies inside, some chymical…” he hesitated. “Why would the Tangata break them?”
“Death,” Cara whispered, eyes wide, face pale.
Lukys looked at her sharply, as though she had said something profound. Ignoring them, Romaine held his breath and knelt beside one of the bodies. Carefully, he lifted its eyelids. Even in its decomposing state, he could see the iris had been grey.
“Tangata,” he croaked, rising and backing away.
“The original traitors,” Dale’s voice came from the doorway.
“Then why are they still here?” Lukys asked.
Romaine shook his head. “I don’t care.” He retreated to the doorway. “Let’s find the Archivist, now.”
“What did the Tangata come here for?” Lukys whispered as they started down the corridor again. Erika’s light had drawn further away while they’d been stopped.
“We…should leave this place,” Cara said, voice so low Romaine hardly heard her.
He glanced at her. “What about Erika?”
Her lip trembled as she stared back. For a moment he thought she was going to bolt, but instead she nodded, resolve returning to her eyes.
They passed more chambers, most—thankfully—empty. In a few, they found other broken things, and in one, two empty cylinders of glass. Romaine paused in the doorway of this one, shocked at their size. Not even the crafters in New Nihelm, once famed for their glassblowing, could have managed anything half as large.
Finally the light ahead grew still. It seemed the Archivist had reached the end of the tunnel. They picked up their pace once more, eager to find the woman and begone from that terrible place.
Crash.
Romaine flinched as the sound of something breaking carried down the tunnel. He glanced at the others, then they were running, racing towards the soft glow ahead. The light quickly grew brighter, until it lit the hallway ahead of them, seemingly too bright for the Archivist’s gauntlet. Looking ahead, Romaine saw the source: a brilliant white emerging from one of chambers.
He staggered to a stop in the entrance, axe thrust out ahead of him, torch clutched tight, though it was no longer needed. The light was blinding, and he squinted into the chamber, trying to see what waited. Slowly the room took shape.
Erika stood a few feet away, head bowed and arms limp at her side. No light came from her gauntlet—instead, it emerged from a dozen crystals lining the wall. Romaine shuddered at the magic, but the other contents of the chamber were far more pressing. He stepped up beside the Archivist, scanning the bodies that lay nearby for signs of life.
Unlike before, these were no ancient, persevered things. Men and women in plain-spun clothes lay scattered about the floor, throats torn out, limbs separated from bodies. Blood pooled around them and eyes stared sightlessly into the brilliant light of the crystals.
Grey eyes.
A shudder ran down Romaine’s spine as he looked on the dead Tangata. Five of them. Impossible. What could possibly have done this to five Tangata?
His eyes were drawn to the rear of the room. Two more of those strange massive cylinders had stood there, and these too had been shattered by the Tangata. Except here, light shone from crystals set into the steel bases, the same as those on the wall.
Somehow, the magic of the Gods remained in this room, indifferent to the countless passage of centuries.
Light glinted from the liquid spilled across the stone, but Romaine’s heart lurched in his chest as he realised something was missing.
The bodies. Where are the bodies from the broken cylinders?
“We need to go,” came Cara’s voice from the doorway, high-pitched, panicked. Ready to flee.
Romaine nodded, reaching for the Archivist.
“They were looking for them,” Erika whispered, still staring at the dead Tangata. “How did they know they were here?”
“Archivist—” Romaine cut off as a scream came from the corridor.
Lukys, Cara and Dale scrambled into the chamber, then spun to face the doorway, spears raised. Groner followed them—then crumpled to the ground, blood seeping from a terrible wound in the back of his skull.
An unfamiliar stepped into the light. Fluid dripped from the things naked body as it moved into the chamber. Another followed, making a pair, one male, the other female.
Grey eyes swept the room, terrifying, mad, intelligent.
Tangata.
Or something else?
Romaine hefted his axe and stepped towards the creatures. Shards of glass crunched beneath his boots as he sought the rage that had saved him so many times, that had given him the strength to defeat so many of these creatures. For once it did not come.
He glanced at the bodies on the floor. Dead Tangata. Nothing could have killed so many, not in such brutal fashion. At least, nothing living.
Looking at the creatures in the doorway once more, he saw them for what they were. Not Tangata, but something new—or very, very old.
The originals; those ancients who had betrayed the Gods to gain their power.
Preserved here, hidden away from the world, asleep, waiting.
A terrible fear touched Romaine as he faced the beasts. They could not be allowed to leave this place. If they could so easily destroy the Tangata, nothing would stop them if they escaped into the world.
With a roar, Romaine rushed them, axe raised to slice the beasts in half—
Breath exploded between Romaine’s teeth as a fist struck him like a club to the chest. Stars flickering across his vision, he staggered backwards, folded in two, unable to breathe. He looked up to find the male of the pair standing over him. He hadn’t even seen it move.
Cries came from the others as they reacted, Dale leaping back, Lukys thrusting out with his spear, Erika raising her magic gauntlet.
The female was faster than all of them. Lukys was thrown aside, spear snapped in two, and Dale crumpled, his weapon clattering to the ground. Light flashed from the Archivist’s gauntlet—then the beast was upon her. A scream echoed from the walls as a blow sent the woman tumbling backwards across the chamber.
No, no, no!
Romaine strained to recover his breath; it felt as though he were inhaling through a swamp reed. Fighting through the pain, he struggled to straighten, to fall into a fighting stance, to lift his axe. The creatures moved so fast, it couldn’t be possible, couldn’t be…
Two pairs of grey eyes turned to watch him. He gasped as the male suddenly came face-to-face with him, then tried to swing his blade. A hand caught the shaft, halting the blow as one might bat aside a fly. Moans came from around the room as the others struggled to recover, but in that moment, Romaine saw the truth.
None of them were leaving this place alive.
The knowledge granted him a strange sense of calm. After all this time evading death, finally it had come for him. There was no fighting it this time. These creatures were a force of nature, born of the Gods themselves, beyond any mortal man to resist. He had only to open his arms and embrace his fate…
No.
Romaine tensed, pushing back against the creature’s strength. If he was to die, he would take this monster with him. He could feel the creature resisting, its power unmatched, but…
Romaine relaxed, then swung out with his spare hand, aiming a blow for the creature’s throat. His change of tact threw the thing off-balance, giving him an opening—
A scream tore from Romaine’s throat as pain erupted from his arm. He staggered back, gaping at the blood now spurting from his wrist. His left hand was…gone. The axe slid from his still-working hand and struck the ground with a clang.
His hand was gone!
He stared at his foe in horror.
The monster smiled.
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