War (Guardians of The Realm Book 3)

by Amanda Fleet

  I took another compass reading, and I noted on the map the kinks and turns I’d come through, using the blank reverse of the map to note down more detail. The cave stretched way above my head and was about eighteen feet in diameter, and I could see four potential exits. As the light danced across the rock, I gasped. Right next to one of the exits was some writing, but it wasn’t in English.

  It was in runes.

  ***

  My breath caught in my chest as I picked out the symbols with the torch. The spelling was peculiar, but the meaning was clear. “This way.”

  The passageway was tight but bearable. I checked the compass. I was finally going in the right direction, according to the map from The Realm.

  I followed the crack for an hour or so, and I was on the point of giving up when it finally opened out, and I stood in a space about ten feet in diameter. Water trickled in from above and disappeared out through a smooth hole in the far side of the cave from the tunnel I’d emerged from. A few inches of standing water hid the floor. I was glad to be in my boots from The Realm and hoped they’d stay waterproof. My torchlight picked out more runic writing deeply incised into the walls, the edges of the runes blurred from lime deposits.

  “Oh, thank God!” I read the words gouged out on the rock. “Death… Warning… Slaves… Poison.”

  I squinted in the dim light, but couldn’t discern any difference in the rocks near each label. I’d hoped for seams of distinct layers I could chip out, but the stone before me was uniform grey-green with a friable deposit coating everything. I tapped at the area beneath “warning” with the small pick I’d bought, but the fresh rock I revealed looked exactly the same as the rock I’d taken off and all the rock surrounding it. I chipped a bit more, disheartened. Finally, a pale, milky glint caught my eye. There, beneath the crumbly outer stone, was a distinct seam of rock of the same opalescent stone as the charm-bracelet I wore. I banged away with my pick, exposing more of the layer. The sounds echoed around the cavern, for a moment seeming as if they came from behind me, disorientating me. I stopped hammering.

  The sounds behind me didn’t.

  I whirled around but there was nothing behind me. A low rumbling sound of falling rocks filtered into the cave, desiccating my mouth. Should I go and check what was happening? Oh, fuck, was I trapped down here?

  I paused, thinking, trying to be logical and quell my rising panic. Either the way back was clear and the sound was nothing sinister, or my route back was blocked. Going and looking wouldn’t change the situation. I should get the stones, then go and see what was what. Otherwise, I’d be wasting time. I swallowed my fears and finished chiselling out the seam.

  I moved on to the area of the cave labelled “death”. This part of the cave wall looked as if it’d had more stone removed at some point. Was this the stone my talisman was made of? My muscles ached from crawling through the caves, making me heavy limbed, but I chipped away, clearing the softer deposits at the surface. It took some finding, but eventually, I reached a seam of grey stone with green threads that resembled the stone in my talisman. The discovery drove new energy into my arms, and I stripped out the entire seam. If the books in the library were right, this stone would be the key to destroying Aegyir and the other rogue demons and freeing anyone who had been enslaved by them. Including me.

  By the time I finished, my stomach wondered if my throat had been cut. I realised I’d been too busy to eat anything all day. Since I needed space to stow the stones, I might as well eat something. It was too wet to sit on the floor, so I leaned my back on the wall and ate standing up, clearing a sizable space in the backpack and drinking about half of the water I carried.

  I checked my watch as I chewed, surprised to see it was almost eleven at night. I’d chipped out two sets of rocks. Should I just keep going? Or rest up and finish in the morning? My arms and shoulders ached like billy-o, but I couldn’t sleep in here, and it was an hour back to the dry cave, so another hour to get back here in the morning. I rolled my shoulders and neck, then started on the rocks again.

  It was after four in the morning when I finished. My shoulders burned, and my eyes were gritty. My jaw ached from holding the torch in my teeth for most of the final seam. But all four sets of rocks were in the backpack. I ate a bit more of the food and drank most of the rest of the water. The water running into this cave looked clean. I hoped it was clean because I didn’t have enough left to get me back to The Realm. I filled my water bottles, praying that the stream hadn’t flowed over a dead sheep on its way here.

  The full backpack, including the replenished water bottles, weighed heavy and fit as I was, I wasn’t used to carrying such a load. I poked at the bag. Hopefully, I’d left enough space around the rock samples to get the bag through the tight spaces. With dismay, I realised the light from the torch seemed dimmer. I set off back to the large, dry cave, switching off the torch once I was in the tunnel and feeling my way. Part of me considered going straight back to The Realm, now I had the stones. The dark was messing with my head, and I longed to be out of these bloody caves, but I was exhausted. The thought of not having the strength to wriggle through the really confined tunnel terrified me. I couldn’t face that. Not tonight. Maybe if I could sleep, I’d feel more ready to tackle it.

  The journey back to the dry cave took well over an hour. By the time I bedded down to sleep, it was almost six in the morning. The cave was cold, and I hugged my body and switched off the torch.

  The blackness was choking, and I snapped the light back on, cursing the fact that I hadn’t thought to buy spare batteries. I tucked the handle down the front of my trousers so that I was sure I could find it again in the pitch dark and switched the torch off again.

  I’ve rarely been able to sleep in the dark. When I lived with Finn, we had a night light that I would put on when I was scared or unsettled. In The Realm, the ceiling of our room was made of glass and the room filled with starlight at night. There wasn’t the smallest chink of light down here, and my panic rose. I closed my eyes and tried to slow my breathing down.

  I wanted to go home; but where was home? Finn’s place? After Finn’s death, someone moved into our cottage. The Realm? That didn’t feel like home, though life with Faran seemed familiar and comforting, most of the time.

  I could barely conjure up a picture of Finn, and the realisation brought tears to my eyes. Imagining Faran was a little easier. Except the image was of Faran counting dead bodies, anguish behind his eyes. I flicked the torch on, and the thoughts flowed away, but the beam of light was definitely fainter than before. I switched it off again and let the suffocating blackness take me.

  Exhaustion won in the end, but death and horror populated my dreams. When I checked my watch, it was almost eleven so I must have managed some sleep, but my body felt as if it had been put through a mangle. I scraped together the very last of my food and tried the water. It tasted okay, if a little chalky. Please let it be safe. The last thing I needed was to be vomiting on my way out of here.

  Time to check whether my fears that the tunnel had collapsed were unfounded or not. I tried not to think about it. I’d been claustrophobic enough wriggling through the incredibly tight passageway on my belly with the light to guide me. With the batteries failing, I may end up doing it in the dark. I didn’t have a choice.

  Inch by inch, scuff by scuff, I wiggled my way through the gap, wishing my shoulders were narrower. Once the tunnel allowed freer movement, I dared to switch off the torch and commando crawled through the kinks and turns, shoving the bag in front of me. At the very last turn, I pushed at the bag but it didn’t budge. I shoved again, my heart beginning to race. Nothing.

  Oh, God. Don’t let the tunnel be blocked. Don’t let the tunnel be blocked.

  My hands trembling, I switched the torch on and played the beam around the bag, praying it had just snagged on something. Bile rose in the back of my throat as I realised my prayers were not going to be answered.

  My route back to the hillside was blo
cked by rubble.

  15

  Panic flooded every corner of me. I was trapped down here. My breath stalled in my chest and my heart hammered. I kept the torch on, aware the light was dimming and that I would need it to find another way out, but too terrified to manage the pitch dark. I lay on the cold limestone, hyperventilating. I’d found the stones. I’d found the fucking stones, and now I was trapped and no one would ever find me. I rested my forehead on the edge of the backpack and screamed, the sound filling the space.

  Finally, a chink of sense prevailed.

  Are you giving up? Are you just going to die down here, without even trying to find a way out? Come on. Move!

  Shaking like a leaf, I wriggled backwards towards the large cave, pulling the backpack towards me after each manoeuvre. I should have switched the torch off, but I couldn’t. When the light finally flickered, I had no choice and turned the torch off and put it in the bag.

  If the excruciatingly narrow bit had been hard to navigate crawling forwards, negotiating it backwards, in the pitch dark was infinitely worse. My shoulder blade jammed on the protruding section of rock I’d struggled with before, and I got well and truly stuck. Fear rushed in, and I fought to keep hold of my sanity.

  Come on. Keep breathing, Aeron. You’ve got through this bit before. Just keep it together.

  I freed my shoulder, and tried again. And again. I rested my head on the bag, in tears. I would die down here. I yelled in frustration, the sound ricocheting off the stone, deafening me.

  “Sh. You’re almost there. Sh.”

  Faran’s voice whispered softly in my ear. I could almost feel his breath, soft on my neck. Despite everything, I smiled. His voice was exactly what I needed to hear. I knew I was imagining him, but I closed my eyes, my heart rate slowing.

  “Come on, my lady. You’re nearly there. Don’t leave me. I need you.”

  I breathed out and squirmed backwards, manoeuvring my body a tiny amount, then lay panting before edging a few millimetres more. When I finally got my shoulders past the narrowing, I sobbed with relief.

  I squirmed my way painfully slowly back to the large cave. There, I leaned over my knees, my body shuddering with emotion and spent adrenaline.

  I needed to think. What other way out could there be? There were four other exits from this cave. Two of them I’d already discarded as being impossibly narrow, and the third petered out. The fourth led to the cave with the stones, which had two exits – one where the stream came in, and one where it left. They were my only options. I trudged back through the narrow vertical passageway to the cave with the stones, clinging to the fact that Lilja had been certain I wouldn’t drown.

  The exit-route of the water was nowhere near big enough for me to get through. I’d drown even trying. Which left the way the water came in – high up at the back of the cave. There were a few crannies I used to climb up, the torch gripped between my teeth. At the top, the water came in through a narrow space, but there was no indication of whether the area opened out upstream. I shrugged off the pack, drew in a deep breath and shoved my head and shoulders into the space, praying that Lilja was right.

  Freezing cold water poured down the neck of my jacket and top, soaking me instantly. I shuddered and reached forward, feeling the sides of the space. The water battered against my face. Almost at the edge of my fingertips, the channel widened out. I pushed myself backwards and yanked my head out of the water, gasping for breath. Did it widen enough? Would I get through?

  I had to.

  Should I shove the bag through first and follow it, or pull the bag after me? I shoved the backpack first, hauled in as deep a breath as I could, and plunged back into the water. My fingers scrabbled for purchase as the water pressed on me. My face collided with the bag, and I rammed it ahead of me, praying I was right and that once I was through this narrowed bit, it widened out and I could breathe.

  As I pushed the bag again, it snagged for a moment before suddenly moving with ease. I scrambled after it, my lungs burning, reminding myself over and over that Lilja said I wouldn’t drown. One, two more wriggles. and my face broke free of the water. I gulped for air, squirming forwards to get the rest of my body through the narrowing. Like a landed fish, I sprawled in the water, gasping. The channel broadened out, and I lay in about six inches of water, my face only just clear of the stream. Every fibre I wore was drenched, even my socks and shorts.

  “Dear God, let this actually lead somewhere,” I muttered, rolling on to my side and kneeling up.

  The tunnel soon became open enough for me to stand, albeit somewhat crouched, and I shuffled my way forwards, praying the torch wouldn’t fail. The cold bit deep into my bones, and I shivered so violently, my arms bashed against the rock at my side.

  I stumbled on, relieved when the crack opened out, allowing the water level to drop. The way ahead seemed straightforward, so I switched the torch off to conserve the batteries and inched my way on, one hand on each side of the passageway, focusing on getting one foot in front of the other.

  The dark tried to suffocate me. Under my feet, broken stones crunched in the water, and the cold had made itself at home in my bones. I trudged forwards. The water had to come from somewhere. There had to be a way out.

  I peered ahead, my eyes struggling with the dark. Was that the faintest glimmer of light up ahead?

  Buoyed by the light, I pressed on, my heart soaring. At the end of the crevice, the terrain opened out. I stood at the bottom of a pothole and peered up. Yes! Blue sky! Unfortunately, I had at least a thirty-foot climb up to the surface with barely any hand-holds. I gritted my teeth.

  I am not going to die in these caves! I’ve got a fucking pickaxe with me. I will chisel my way out of this damn hole if I have to!

  I fell three times. Three times, I sat at the bottom, crying with pain while salve healed me and icy water flowed around me, but on my fourth attempt, my hands grasped the roots of a gorse bush, and I hauled myself out to lie on the springy turf, sobbing with relief, the sun fading in the west. I had no real idea where I was, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t in that sodding cave any more.

  Once my euphoria faded, I took stock. I might have been out of the cave system, but I wasn’t anywhere near shelter. The pothole I’d crawled out of was in the middle of open land with only scattered gorse bushes for cover. Before the light died, I needed to have some idea of where I might hide for the night. I pulled the map out of the bag. The glossy cover was still intact, but as I tried to open the map out, it began to come apart. Painstakingly gently, I prised the paper apart. The print was visible, but only just.

  I scanned my surroundings and lined the map up with the compass. Within a couple of minutes, I thought I’d located where I was: about three-quarters of a mile or so from where I’d started a couple of days ago. The darkness was thickening. I needed to get off the top of this hillside soon. With the number of potholes around, I could end up breaking my leg, and I didn’t have enough salve left to fix that.

  My teeth chattered so hard I thought they would break. If I’d had the energy, I would have started back for The Realm, but it was nearly twenty miles to the portal, and the cold had sapped all of my reserves. I would have to stay out here, at least for the night. I’d seen a clump of trees towards the bottom of the hill – maybe I could find shelter there.

  What shelter there was didn’t add up to much, though at least it offered relief from the wind which made me feel warmer. Well, at least marginally less cold. I had nothing with me to light a fire, so huddled with my back against a tree and shivered.

  I dozed fitfully, too cold and too alert to sleep properly, but so tired I couldn’t stay fully awake.

  Just as the sun crept above the horizon, rough hands yanked me upright, jolting me awake.

  “Aeron. So few places to hide up here.”

  ***

  I lashed out at the man who’d dragged me to my feet. Before I could fully get my bearings, something smashed me across the side of my thigh and my legs went
from under me.

  I was not going to have won against the darkness and the caves for some fucking slave to take it all from me now.

  I crabbed sideways and chopped my hand down on the back of the man’s wrist. The crowbar he’d just hit me with dropped from his fingers and I snatched it up and walloped him with it. He collapsed like I’d shot him, and I grabbed my backpack. I stopped long enough to get a few knives in my belt and the pack on my shoulders and started running. Well, hobbling.

  At least I knew where I was. If I turned right on to a nearby public footpath, I’d join the main route into the town next to the portal in less than a mile. Could I outrun my attacker? If my thigh wasn’t screaming blue bloody murder I could have.

  My feet slithered on the soft soil. Behind me pounded the footsteps of the man who’d attacked me. I didn’t think I could fight him off if I stopped. But, he was flabby. Maybe I didn’t need to outrun him for long before he had a heart attack. Or at least gave up.

  I jogged and stumbled, my ears straining to hear how close he was. Too close. But not gaining. I kept a knife ready in each hand in case my leg gave out. Bracken grabbed at my ankles from the edges of the path, but there was tarmac ahead, spurring me on. Behind me, the breathing of the fat man laboured, and I sneaked a peek over my shoulder. He was bright red in the face and wheezing badly. And slowing almost to a stop. My spirits lifted, and I limped on to the road.

  Two men with a small child blocked my way and my feet skidded to a halt.

  “Aeron, Aeron.” Despite the man’s gruff voice, I could clearly hear Aegyir’s sing-song cadence. “I have a choice for you.”

  The boy looked to be about five. Tears stained his cheeks, and he peered at me, wide-eyed, clad in a pair of superhero pyjamas. The other man held a knife to his throat.