by Neil Beynon
‘Anya?’
Akyar could not see the girl. The Tream stood slowly, his body cracking and protesting from its swift healing. The healing was not as fast as it had been in his youth, and his wounds gave him the occasional twinge – just to remind him they weren’t entirely gone. The dog was prostrate in front of him, blood congealing on the floor around the animal, and there was no sign of either Vedic or Anya. He did not think he could be the only survivor.
‘Vedic?’
There was a muffled sound from Kerberos, and the dog’s ribcage moved. The Tream leapt back, grabbing his sword from where the blade had fallen, and he pointed the weapon at the creature’s corpse. Kerberos could be feigning death to deal with his last opponent – cautiously he moved round the body. There was another muffled sound despite the creature being clearly dead. Placing his sword on the rock next to him, the Tream lifted one leg of the beast, and a familiar mat of hair was just visible.
‘If you could actually help instead of just gaping,’ said Anya. The girl sounded irritated. ‘Didn’t you hear me calling?’
‘I couldn’t hear anything for a while,’ said Akyar. He felt guilty that he had not heard her. ‘Healing that quickly takes a lot out of a Tream.’
Akyar set his back to the creature’s body, rolling it off his companion with a meaty slap as the corpse settled on the far side of the cave. The girl dusted herself off with care – she held her right arm awkwardly – trying to clear some of the dust and blood from her bruised body. She appeared upset – the Tream could feel a thought hovering in his memory just before he had lost consciousness, something about Vedic. Akyar remembered and felt his stomach flip over.
‘Vedic?’ he asked.
Anya shook her head at him in response, pointing to the tunnel through which the woodsman had skidded and fallen. Akyar picked up the torch, moved to the opening and raised the flickering light to the darkness beyond. Rock – the same as in the Trivium – extended a few feet into the tunnel before falling away into the void. He made to step into the tunnel, reasoning that the light might cast further if he moved further in, but he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Anya shook her head. ‘It’s the void, one of the final doorways. You can’t follow.’
‘Where does it lead?’ asked Akyar, his eyes not leaving the darkness.
‘No one knows,’ Anya replied. She, too, found it hard to not look at the void. ‘It goes somewhere else …’
‘He’s gone?’
‘Yes, dead.’
Akyar let himself be led away from the opening.
The girl sat herself down well away from any of the tunnels, doing her best to clean her wounds through tears that the Tream felt certain she did not want him to see. Akyar watched her, letting his mind wander over the woodsman’s death, the certainty that he now had to find Meyr without the one person who actually knew the Morrigan or had any notion how she might be bested.
‘I can’t really believe what I am seeing,’ said Akyar, his right hand trailing in the dust of the cavern floor. ‘This wasn’t what was foretold for him, but even before I heard that … I always assumed … the gods …’
‘Neither can I,’ said Anya, tying a piece of torn fabric around a gash on her leg. ‘I’m trying not to think about it.’
‘It’ll be harder now,’ said Akyar, holding his sword up to the torch. ‘Neither of us knows enough about the gods to fight the Morrigan.’
‘I never really knew him,’ said the girl, staring back at the opening. ‘He saved me, and I never even knew who …’
‘I could tell you,’ said Akyar. He could feel the woodsman’s history on him like a lead weight. The girl should know. It would ease the pain. ‘He’s gone now, anyway. It won’t make any difference.’
‘No,’ she said, looking away from him. ‘If he didn’t want to tell me, then I don’t want to know. I know what I need to: he saved me.’
The Tream nodded. ‘Under duress, don’t forget that. He wasn’t a—’
‘Yeah, I know.’ Anya closed her eyes.
Akyar regretted his words. It wasn’t for him to talk ill of the dead. There was a gasp.
There came the scrabbling of fingers searching for a purchase on rock. The two of them turned their disbelieving eyes towards the tunnel opening and a hand that loomed over the bottom of the entrance. A moment later a frost-covered head crept over the edge and was followed by the rest of the woodsman as he pulled himself, brow knotted in tension, back over the edge of the void. He paused on his hands and knees on the edge of the tunnel, staring wide-eyed at his companions. The Tream was on his feet first, and he pulled the woodsman in from the edge.
Vedic flopped onto his back in the centre of the cave and took in deep pulls of air, his beard flecked with ice, and his muscles twitching involuntarily from their climb. The woodsman lived.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Anya.
Vedic hadn’t said a word since he climbed back from the edge of the void. He’d lain on his back and taken in as much air as possible before he sat up. He’d lost his sword, but his axe still littered the floor of the cave, and he retrieved the weapon, moving slowly across the Trivium, his eyes not settling on either of his companions. When he was armed once more, he took a long draught of his waterskin, wiped his damp beard with his arm and stared at the dead dog.
‘You do that?’ Vedic asked Akyar, nodding at Kerberos.
The Tream shook his head and pointed to Anya.
The woodsman smiled. ‘Good work, Anya.’
Akyar blinked.
‘Vedic, are you well?’ asked Akyar, stepping closer to Vedic.
‘I’m alive,’ said Vedic, hand to his head as if to confirm. ‘I’d say that means I’m feeling pretty good.’
‘What did you see?’ asked Anya, touching his arm. ‘You went through and you came back. That’s … huge … That’s legendary … People will write songs about it.’
‘We have to make it back and tell someone in order for that to happen,’ said Vedic, with a tired smile. ‘Besides, having stories told about you isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. As you’ll find out, O Slayer of Kerberos.’
‘You fool,’ laughed Anya.
The sound was strange, an alien sound in that dark place, and yet it made both of the men – human and Tream – grin in the flickering shadows of the Trivium. Vedic even accepted a brief hug from Anya that made neither of them flinch.
‘But what did you see?’ asked Anya. ‘You’ve been somewhere no one else has.’
‘On the contrary, everyone gets to go there,’ said Vedic, smile fading a little. His eyes wandered back to the tunnel. ‘I saw nothing.’
Anya’s heart lurched. It couldn’t be, not after all this. She’d seen her grandfather, and Fin … It couldn’t be. She whispered, ‘Nothing …?’
Vedic’s eyes stared into the void. After a moment, he tilted his head as if just registering the question.
‘No, I didn’t see anything. I was too busy trying not to fall. All I saw was the rock as I tried to grab on. I just about managed to grip an outcrop of granite as I went over. No time to look around. Sorry.’
Anya wasn’t sure she believed him – she wasn’t certain she wanted to know the answer any more. What would she do?
‘I’m just glad you’re back.’ The words felt hollow.
‘Me too,’ said Vedic, looking away from the tunnel. ‘Me too.’
‘I thought you had gone,’ said Akyar, handing him the torch. ‘It was not a reassuring thought.’
‘So did I.’ The woodsman’s face was unreadable in the low light of the cave, and his eyes were as black as the void.
Anya moved away from the woodsman – she still had to finish dressing her wounds. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be around this stranger who had climbed out of the depths of the void.
‘Blessed,’ said Akyar, softly.
Vedic hugged himself against a cold Anya couldn’t feel.
‘I really did think that was it, that I was dead. I
don’t think any breath I’ve ever had … I feel … It’s good to be here.’
‘Blessed,’ repeated Akyar, resting his hand on the woodsman’s shoulder. ‘Tream would say you are blessed. You’ve seen the dying of the bough and lived. You’re reborn.’
Vedic looked at him in the dying light of the torch. ‘One life is all you get. And no one really to judge you but the people you leave behind.’
Anya wasn’t sure Vedic found his own words that comforting.
‘One lifetime,’ Akyar shrugged. ‘But you can have many lives.’
The light died.
‘We should get out of here,’ said Anya from across the cave.
‘Yes,’ said Vedic, turning from the Tream. ‘Just tell me which way.’
‘Well, not the one on the left,’ said Anya, standing.
‘Very funny,’ said Vedic. ‘How about using that razor-sharp clan wit to find the correct tunnel?’
‘Just keep talking until I find where you’re standing.’
‘I can’t make out any difference,’ said Akyar, feeling his way along the tunnel entrances. ‘They both lead uphill.’
‘Careful,’ said Vedic.
‘There you are,’ said Anya, grabbing hold of Vedic’s arm and releasing it immediately.
‘Anya, is there any way of working out which tunnel it is?’ asked Akyar.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Unless you can make anything out? In the legend, Arawn used a ball of string in case he had to return, but he went up the correct tunnel first time. I never liked that part.’
Anya felt Vedic move over to her right, keen to avoid the edge of the one tunnel they were sure about. There was a sound of scuffling as he stood in the opening of each tunnel, trying to guess the right path.
‘How far should the palace be?’ asked Vedic.
‘Not far,’ said Anya. ‘Supposedly, Arawn made it to the surface despite being chased by Kresh and the Morrigan.’
They considered what to do.
‘I’ll walk up each of these in turn until I find it,’ said Vedic. ‘If I walk for longer than I think fits, then I’ll turn back.’
‘What if the tunnel forks?’ asked Akyar. ‘You don’t have string.’
‘I don’t like this,’ said Anya, kicking the dust. ‘We don’t know where the other tunnel leads. What if it drops away suddenly?’
‘I’ll be careful.’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Anya. ‘What if you get hurt?’
‘Okay,’ said Vedic, and there was the sound of his boots being removed. ‘Take off your clothes.’
‘What?’
‘I’m going to use our clothes as a marker. If I go further than the end of the clothes tied together, I’ll score the ground and direction I take with a stone. If you need to find me, you can.’
‘I’m not sure about this,’ said Anya, trying to ignore the sound of Vedic’s clothes being tied together. She stepped back from him.
‘How will we see your rock markings?’ asked Akyar.
There was a crash of an axe-head striking rock, and sparks flared briefly, showing the three of them standing almost huddled in the cave before the darkness robbed their sight again.
‘Fair enough,’ said Akyar, removing his one garment and accepting the axe in return.
‘I don’t like this,’ said Anya, still not undressing.
‘I know,’ said Vedic, keeping his distance. ‘It’s fine: we can’t see anything.’
‘Well, stay over there,’ said Anya.
The air of the cave was cool on her skin, but Anya did not try to warm herself – she held her sword tightly in her hand and kept her distance. Vedic knotted the clothes together before handing one end to Akyar.
‘If I tug on this once, it means trouble,’ said Vedic. ‘Twice means I’m heading back. If I pull the clothes continuously, I’m heading on further.’
Anya shivered in the cold dark of the cave. There was a breeze coming from somewhere, and she tried not to think about what would happen if the Kresh found a way in. She had no idea how to free the boy from the Morrigan. In the fighting, Anya had forgotten that she had been counting on finding a weapon in Golgotha to help them. Feeling vulnerable, she hugged herself.
The nakedness of the Tream had not really bothered her until now, in the dark, with her own clothes gone from her.
‘You okay?’ asked Akyar, shifting on his feet. The sound of dust and rock underfoot was loud in the relative silence of the cave. The dog stank more with each passing minute.
‘Sure.’ She rubbed her arms to stay warm. ‘Just stay over there.’
‘I’m not moving. Just try not to get too cold.’
‘I’m fine,’ said Anya, as edged as her sword.
‘It’s not that one,’ said Vedic, his voice close to Anya. She jumped back.
‘The right-hand tunnel leads to the Cave of Shadows and the way out,’ Vedic continued, passing Anya her clothes. ‘Put these on. This middle tunnel is the one that leads to her palace.’
Anya had just pulled on her boots when there was a flare and the cave was flooded with light. A torch flickered in Vedic’s hands, a new blade – an Shaanti-made one – hung from his belt, and he chucked a bow to Akyar.
‘Where did you find that?’ asked the Tream.
‘In the reason no one ever returned from this tunnel,’ replied Vedic. ‘Kerberos didn’t attack us further up, because his job wasn’t to guard the Trivium. It was to guard the palace. The dog obviously used the tunnel as a kind of den – there were bones all over the place and this kind of stuff.’
‘So you robbed the grave?’ asked Anya, shaking her head as she checked her own weapon was properly strapped on. ‘Typical.’
‘It’s not a grave.’ Vedic shrugged. ‘It’s a larder, and these things weren’t helping their owners any more. They might well save our skins.’
‘The woodsman is right,’ said Akyar, testing the bow. ‘I imagine the dead would want someone to benefit from what they’ve left behind.’
‘I just don’t think taking weapons from corpses when we’re trapped in the underworld is the smartest idea,’ said Anya, folding her arms.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Vedic.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The refugees were running.
The thain had seen the mass exodus of the borderlands twice before: once when she was a girl, when the problem was her father’s, and the second just before the last war with the Kurah, when she had earned her fearsome reputation. She had always been able to keep her people safe. Until now. Both times before, the people had plodded over the plains to Vikrain, broken and beaten but not defeated. Now, the people were completely terror-struck, running from destruction. There was no sense of safety in reaching Vikrain, just a brief pause, and many did not stay beyond the first night.
The thain placed her hands on the wall and watched the steady stream of arrivals as she waited for Golan to join her. She wasn’t sure if seeing the camps first-hand would make a difference, but she preferred to think Golan was just being blockheaded than an all-out traitor. Late at night though, when she couldn’t sleep, her gut made her think of betrayal. The air smelt of people in all their unwashed glory. From her childhood, she associated such a stench with fear, and she wondered if the other tribes, scattered across the world, continued to fight as the Kurah and Shaanti did.
‘Milady,’ said Golan. Bene stood by his side, having escorted the merchant from his quarters in the market. ‘Let’s get this over with. I don’t see how spending time amongst the wretches helps. We’re just going to have to move them on.’
The thain flinched. The man was bereft of compassion. She did not understand how someone like this could be related to someone like Falkirk, who had always thought so unfailingly of duty and the people around him. Blood is so easily tainted. She felt shamed by the thought. She knew better.
‘Let’s go and take a look at the camps,’ she replied. ‘It does the people good to see us and know that we care.’
Golan said nothing. He nodded and followed her down to the main gate and out into the camp. As they passed through the gate, Bene’s men and women fell into step around them at a loose distance, as per her instructions. They could defend her if they had to, but they were far enough away for people to interact a little.
‘Shouldn’t they be closer?’ said Golan, nervous.
The thain smiled. ‘I’ll defend you, Golan. These people don’t want anything except safety.’
‘Seems negligent to me,’ sniffed the merchant. ‘I’ve never been sure about General Bene.’
The thain turned to look directly at the merchant. ‘They are keeping their distance on my instructions. I want to be seen close to these people who have lost everything. I don’t want them whispering that the lords don’t care, that we have lost touch and isn’t it time the common folk look out for themselves. Clans fall when they forget to look after each other.’
‘Did you read that in a book?’
The thain gave him a wan smile. ‘No, in war. In a battle, you can live or die by how well the man or woman next to you protects you. The armies made up of free men and women sworn to protect each other do better than those armies made up of warriors that only try to protect themselves.’
Golan’s eyes had gone wide.
The thain followed his gaze. She realised her hand had fallen, instinctively, to her sword, and the merchant had noticed. She let go, and the blade, partially drawn, fell back in its sheath.
‘Bene,’ she called over to her bodyguard. ‘How many people here now?’
‘Seven hundred,’ he replied. ‘Fifty or so are arriving each hour. There will be over a thousand by dusk.’
‘You see,’ she said. ‘The Kurah tactics have changed. They are not giving chase as they did in previous campaigns. Last time, there were far fewer survivors.’
‘What about the food?’ asked Golan.
The thain shook her head. ‘What about it?’
‘We will not have enough to hold out.’
The thain sighed. Merchants were always the same – what about me? I don’t have enough. We’re all in this together, but I’m more affected than you. ‘We will have plenty, if we stay here at all.’