by Troy Osgood
Hall started to speak, wanting to stop her, but held himself back. He hadn’t expected her to just start walking, but then, he had asked her to scout it. What else did he expect to happen? He sighed, stepping back, not happy with the burden of leadership. He walked over to the well, where Sharra and Tulla were walking circles around it. He could hear the fairy talking, her high-pitched voice quiet, speaking fast.
“What is it?”
“There’s magic here,” Tulla said, glowing a faint purple. Sharra was holding the staff out over the water, careful not to move it, the cage dangling over the well.
Hall leaned over, looking down into the darkness. And it was dark. The well seemed to go down and down. He reached down to one of the corpses, picking up a copper coin. Holding it over the well, he started to let it go.
“I wouldn’t,” the fairy said, not even looking at him.
Hall tightened his fist. He glanced at Sharra, who shrugged.
“There’s something down there,” Tulla said. “I’m not sure what. Probably best not to disturb it.”
Hall agreed.
“I can just make out some old runes. About ten feet down. One per stone.”
Hall strained to see the detail that Tulla was. The sides of the shaft were lined with worked stone, stopping a good distance down before becoming solid mountain. Each block was about a foot long and half that high, tightly mortared together. There was no wear to the stones, each preserved. No moss or anything grew along the sides. He could just barely make out the carvings, but not see any detail.
“What are the runes there for?” he asked, feeling dumb as soon as he did.
He couldn’t see her, but Hall knew Tulla was rolling her eyes.
“Containment,” she replied. “Let’s go. I don’t want whatever is down there to notice us.”
They all stepped back.
He wondered if the Duntins had realized what was in the well. Probably not. Hall took a step back, looking down into the depths one more time. He thought he could feel the presence of whatever it was down in the depths. It was calling to him. Not insistent, not beckoning, just calling. It knew him, which he found odd. Hall wasn’t afraid. Not quite. He knew whatever was in the depths of the well was dangerous. But not an immediate threat.
It was waiting. That was what Hall felt the most. A kind of patient waiting.
He stepped back, shaking his head.
He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of that thing being so close to Skara Brae, but he didn’t get a feeling of menace. Danger, yes. Menace, no.
But there was nothing he could do about it right now. Just one more item for the list.
I think I know why these buildings exist, Hall thought, turning to walk toward the landing. The others were all on it, waiting patiently. Caryn was just past the entrance, standing with Jackoby.
Hall pulled himself up.
Brushing off his legs, he walked through the path the others left.
“All clear ahead,” Caryn said. “No traps and no Duntins. I can see marks in the dust of the floor. A bunch of them ran down the tunnel. And it was dusty. No one had been here for a very long time.”
“How far ahead?”
Caryn shrugged. “Not that far. Enough of a lead to set up an ambush,” she added with a smile.
Hall chuckled, motioning with the spear.
Jackoby took the lead, Caryn right behind. Roxhard and Hall followed. The two casters brought up the rear.
Chapter 10
Hall held up his hand, stopping everyone behind him.
If the Duntins were going to put up an ambush, here was the perfect spot.
The tunnel widened out just ahead, the spot they had stopped the extent of Caryn’s scouting. For the prior length, the tunnel had been the same as the first. Barely worked stone, the floor smooth, the walls just barely. Ten feet wide, ten high. No downward angle, there had been a slight upward angle. The light Hall had seen came from a torch mounted to the wall at the height of a person. The only sconce they had found. The only one with a lit torch.
Not too obvious, Hall thought, studying the shadows in the flickering light.
It was hard to tell how wide the room got, or how deep. The only thing he could tell was that for the first dozen feet, the floor was level with the tunnel. Beyond that, the torch did nothing.
He had the urge to put it out.
The Duntins had set it, probably hoping to use it as a distraction. Because of where it was placed, just inside the room off the tunnel, someone would need to step into the space to grab it. The light it gave off didn’t penetrate far, so someone would still need to enter the space to see more.
It also would mess with any dark vision that they had.
A perfect place for an ambush.
Hall shifted his feet.
How to proceed?
They didn’t know where the Duntins were, what the layout of the space was. There was nowhere to go but forward. They could retreat to the outside and go in through the other entrance, but there was no telling what Brandif and the others had gotten into or where they were. Their tunnel might never connect to this one, and it would just give an opportunity for the Duntin to escape or come in behind Hall and his group.
Wait them out? Stay here until one side got tired of waiting?
Hall smiled.
He had yet to test the limits of his connection to Pike. Could the dragonhawk hear him through so much thick stone?
Hall reached out. He could feel Pike in the back of his head, the constant presence, but it was deep, foggy. That was the only way he could think to describe it. Pike was always there, not a throbbing or anything but a solidness. Not distracting, able to think around it. Just always knew the dragonhawk was there. But now it was like a wall between them. Or glass. He could still sense the presence of Pike, but there was something between. He pushed against it, feeling a dull ache in his head.
Pike seemed to respond. In that distant and foggy part of his mind, Hall heard the screech.
Pike screeched, long and loud. He beat his wings, feeling the air through his feathers, spiraling high up into the air. The mind was there, the one he’d bonded with. The person needed him. It was distant, quiet, barely heard. But Pike knew.
There was an answering screech. The older and more experienced, though Pike would never tell him, Talon asking what was happening. Pike responded. Talon wanted to go into the stone nest that his person had entered, but had gotten no call. Should he join Pike?
Reaching the apex of his spiral, Pike twisted and dove down. He tucked in his wings, gaining speed. He let out another screech, letting his wings out, giving a great beat to change his angle. He glided down into the dark stone house, not waiting for Talon.
Twisting, he entered the tunnel. His eyes shifted, showing the dark tunnel in detail. Not as much detail as when he was outside in the sky. But enough. More than the person or many other creatures would ever see. Pike was proud of his vision. It was even better than Talon’s.
But not inside the tunnel. Here it was poor, at least for a dragonhawk.
He flew rapidly, hearing the wings of Talon behind him. The older dragonhawk was slower. Stronger but slower. Pike would take speed over Strength.
He knew the Strength would come as he leveled and his person leveled.
The tunnel was wide, easy to navigate.
He came out into a larger room, beating his wings to gain speed again. He almost stopped when he flew over the dark shaft in the middle. Something there grabbed at him, wanting his attention, but Pike could hear the person clearer now, the barrier between them gone.
He knew what his person wanted.
Pike wanted to open his beak, to screech his joy at what was to come. But the person wanted him quiet. So he would be.
For now.
Ahead he could see the people. His person and the others. The companions. The flock. They were strong and good, watching out for each other as flocks should. And his person was the alpha, the leader. That was good. T
alon’s person was the older and wiser, even stronger, teaching Pike’s person, as Talon was teaching Pike.
Not that he needed the teachings of Talon. He was strong and fast, his own talons sharp and his lightning powerful. But every little bit extra made him that much deadlier. So Talon could teach him.
His person turned to him, imparting instructions. Pike listened, making adjustments as he saw fit. His person was strong and smart, but not as smart as Pike. He did good for being two legged with no wings, but he was not a dragonhawk. He was limited. Pike was not.
There was flickering light, fake light, ahead. Pike ignored it.
Fake light hurt his eyes, making the details bleed together. Pike hated it. Give him the sun and the moon. This darkness, with stone around, was not for him. He wanted the clear blue sky of the world. Flying above the land. One day he would fly from island to island, a feat that only the much larger Rocs could do.
It was a dream for another time.
There were two-legged things to hunt.
He burst past his person, flying into the room beyond.
His sharp eyes had looked past the fake light, seeing that the room was square and the ceiling high. He angled up, seeing the stone of the natural cavern. The walls were far to the sides, the back wall equidistant. All were carved and smooth, but the ceiling had been left natural. Large rock formations, the ends sharp, hung down.
He screeched, drawing all eyes to him.
Pike had seen what lay ahead, sending the image to his person.
A dozen of the small ones, arrayed in lines in the deeper shadows, two further back. Some had the weapons that launched sharp sticks. Others with the heavy logs. None fired on him, or even Talon, who followed and veered in the other direction.
They circled the room, flying high at the top and screeching. Sharp sticks flew at them, missing, but now the small two-legged things, similar to his person’s first flock member, were getting closer with the sharp sticks. More and more of them flew into the air.
But his person and companions charged into the room, drawing the small two-leggeds’ attention.
Pike shifted his angle, circling the room but lowering. He saw his targets, extending his talons.
Beak open, Pike reached deep inside himself, drawing the power that coursed through his body, collecting it and releasing it. There was a sharp crack, a line of sparking blue-white lightning shooting out from his beak.
It struck one of the small two-leggeds. The being cried out in pain, the welcome smoke rising from the wound. With a screech, Pike flew past, his talons digging into the shoulder and face of the target.
He could feel the resistance as his talons dug into the two-legged. Feel the blood dripping as he rose high into the air again.
Pike screeched.
He twisted in the air, diving straight down. The air beat at the scales of his chest, small sparks unseen to the eye building as the scales shifted against the feathers of his body. He felt the energy gathering, moving through his body, building up. With a screech, Pike released that energy.
The blue-white bolt streaked from his open mouth, slamming into one of the two-leggeds. Smoke rose from the impact, the two-legged growling in pain. Pike turned, flying around the room, looking for his next target.
Hall burst into the room. He knew what to expect; he had seen it through Pike’s eyes.
A square room, worked walls, a natural and high ceiling. Three rows of Duntins spaced across the room. Raiders with hammers and bucklers, Archers, Berserkers, and two standing behind. Hall assumed those to be the captains of the two ships.
Using Leap, he cleared the front ranks. With Leaping Stab, his spear caught one of the raiders in the shoulder, his momentum pulling the Duntin. The spear was pulled out, the Duntin hitting the ground hard.
He landed in front of an Archer. The Duntin had been following Pike and Talon, not prepared for the Skirmisher to appear in front of him. He didn’t get a chance to mount a defense. Hall’s spear pierced his throat, slamming out the other side in a spray of blood and gore.
Pulling the spear back, Hall spun it around, slamming the butt end into an Archer’s bow. The string snapped, the nocked arrow flying into the wall. Startled, the Duntin turned, catching the hard wooden end of the spear in the head. He staggered back.
Hall twisted the spear around, slamming the tip into the Duntin’s chest, sliding it through his hands and catching the next Archer in the throat. Bow dropped, the Duntin reached for his throat, having trouble breathing.
Hall spun the spear around him, clearing a space. Taking a moment, he studied the two captains in the back.
Skill Gain!
Identify Rank Two +.4
Corht, Captain of the Roc Reaver (orange)
Jurih, Captain of the Sky Sunderer (orange)
He had expected one or both to be higher level, the equivalent of a boss. They weren’t even what would have been mini-bosses before the Glitch. Orange was three or four levels higher, a challenge one-on-one, but for a group, they shouldn’t be an issue.
Hall felt the hammer hitting his back, staggering him forward, cursing himself for not paying attention. He saw the shadow falling over him, managing to change his stumble to the side, avoiding the downswinging axe of a Berserker. It slammed into the stone ground, pieces of rock flying up on impact, sparks erupting.
Hall let himself fall to the ground, hitting his side and rolling onto his back. He pulled the ironwood spear across his body, giving the end a push forward. The wooden shaft smacked into the leg of the Berserker. Grunting, the Duntin turned, lifting his axe for another swing.
A blue-white bolt of lightning slammed into his back, staggering him forward, the axe falling from spasming hands. Hall cursed, pulling his feet up tight and batting at the weapon with the shaft. He hit it, feeling the wood impact the iron. The axe shifted, falling to the ground to the side of Hall. It landed on edge, falling against the Duntin’s shins.
Hall slid back, getting his legs under him. Pushing up, he stood and thrust the spear forward. The Duntin who had hit him with the hammer wasn’t expecting the quick recovery. The spear caught him in the shoulder, twisting him. Hall pulled the weapon back, swinging it around, the side of the shaft catching the Berserker in the shoulder. Not hard enough to stumble the small but heavy Duntin, just enough to stop his motion to recover the axe.
Looking up, he stared at Hall with hate-filled eyes that became raised in surprise as the spear tip rushed for his head. He tried to fall back, but couldn’t. There was a sickening crunch of bone breaking, the scream dying in the Duntin’s throat as he died, blood dripping from his open mouth.
Hall pulled the spear back, somewhat shocked at the gruesome mess of the Berserker’s face. The Duntin fell back, slamming against the ground, a spray of blood following. He hadn’t meant to hit the Duntin in the face, had been aiming for the throat and shoulder, but the Berserker had moved at the wrong moment. Dead was dead, Hall knew, shifting and thrusting with the spear.
The Duntin Archer had given up on caution, charging Hall with hammer in hand. The spear caught the Duntin in the stomach, the small but heavy Archer sliding down the shaft. He growled in pain as the tip burst out the back but kept charging. Hate-filled eyes glared at Hall as he raised the hammer to strike. Hall tried to slide back, to put more space between them, but couldn’t. The Duntin kept pushing, anger and hate adding strength.
Each step was pain, every inch the shaft pushed through the Archer’s body. The Duntin kept moving, kept pushing. Time slowed. Hall managed to stand, pushing forward with the spear. The Duntin was pushed off balance, feet slipping beneath him, sliding in the pool of blood dripping down his body. The Duntin fell back, taking the spear with him. Hall braced his feet, holding tight, yanking the weapon out. The Archer hit the stone and didn’t move, all fight gone.
Hall whirled around, sliding his hands on the shaft, adjusting his grip. He saw the movement, getting the ironwood shaft up in time to deflect a large hammer head.
It was bigger than the raiders’, ornate rune work on the iron head. Hall shifted his stance, pushing the hammer up and away. He caught sight of the Duntin he had identified as Corht, the captain of the Roc Reaver. Which put him in charge of this group of Duntin. He was the one who commanded them to raid Skara Brae. He was the one who endangered Hall’s people.
Now angry, Hall pushed the shaft forward. Corht’s hammer lifted, the Duntin grabbing it with both hands. He was the stronger, but because of his shorter size, Hall had the leverage. But just barely. The Duntin was immensely strong. As strong as Jackoby. By size alone, Corht didn’t show the strength, but it was there.
The Duntin growled, and Hall felt his arms start to shake.
“Ya stole from me, boy,” Corht growled in the common language.
Hall was surprised, his concentration slipping, the hammer falling another inch.
What was the Duntin talking about? Then he remembered. The first treasure map he had found led to a cave in the northern mountains of Cumberland, right on the island’s edge, exposed to the sky. They had found the skeleton of what they thought to be a Duntin as well as a red leather cap inside the chest.
Was that what this Duntin meant? That had been the Roc Reaver’s stash?
The pressure lifted off the spear. Hall stumbled forward, no longer having resistance to his push. He felt the air pressure in front of the swinging hammer but couldn’t evade it. The heavy head of the weapon slammed into his side. He felt ribs crack, breathing became hard, and he fell hard to the ground.
“What ya do with it, boy?” Corht yelled, the hammer slamming into the ground inches from Hall’s rapidly rolling body. “Cost me a great deal o’ trouble.” The hammer slammed down again, stone shards flying up, one slicing across Hall’s cheek. “Where are the stones?” he growled.
Hall rolled out of the way, coming back up in a fighting stance, spear across his body. His back was to the wall, the Duntin only a couple of feet away.
The stones were the jewels they had found. There had been a good amount of coin and jewels, the biggest being the sunstone. Hall wondered how the Duntin would take it knowing that the stone had gone to help pay for the Ridgerunner? It had gone to the hated Dwarfs for an airship.