by Sally Green
Another tunnel joined from the right and then, shortly after, another from the left. Tash had thought that the more tunnels joined, the wider they’d become, but it wasn’t so. She stopped and felt the tunnel walls. Everywhere the rock was smooth but here near the junction it seemed to have some shallow indentations in it. Could they be markings? Signs?
She set off again and soon could hear a faint distant noise. It was strangely musical, though it was no tune like Tash had heard played at the fairs. She knew this must be the sound of demons, but it wasn’t like the ugly, clanging, screeching sounds she’d heard when she was demon hunting. Here the sounds were mellow and soft.
Tash moved closer, edging along the tunnel walls, which were warm, but rather than the rough red of the upper levels this stone was as smooth as a polished gem. And in the smooth rock she again felt some gentle indentations. But looking ahead she could see that the tunnel opened out, and something seemed to draw her forward. The sounds swelled and the colors changed from red to purple, shimmering and swirling in the air ahead, and Tash stepped out into a huge cavern. She looked down and froze.
Oh shits.
She was standing on the edge of a precipice with a huge chasm below her. And in the bottom was a well as wide as a house, full of swirling purple and red smoke.
Tash felt the pull toward it. She wavered on the edge.
It’s home. It’s the heart of things, warm and—
But then Tash forced her head up and staggered back, grabbing for the walls of the cavern.
It’s not home. It’s a bloody deep hole.
She took a few moments to compose herself, then dropped to her knees and crawled forward.
Blummin’ heck.
The cavern was huge. It seemed to continue down and down and down. And at the bottom—well, there was no bottom that she could see—there was a well, a hole, that was glowing purple, with a wisp of purple smoke coming from it like a flame. And round the side of the cavern, and even round the side of the central hole, were terraces, and some seemed to have tunnels opening on to them.
This is the biggest cavern ever. Half of Rossarb could fit in here!
But there was no town, no building, no roads; instead there were curved columns and bridges, just like she’d seen in the vision, connecting in a confusing and beautiful swirl of stone. And numerous carved demon figures, some huge, some life-sized.
The demons must have made all this, thought Tash in wonder.
There were no real demons on the higher terraces, but on terraces far below Tash could see some moving around. It was hard to say how many—a few hundred at most. Some demons were lying down, a few were walking, but most were still, sitting in couples or groups, and they seemed to be making the pictures and carvings on the terrace walls. And they were making the gentle musical sounds that echoed and rang in the huge space. The demons seemed to be male and mostly red and orange, some purple, and a few red-and-white.
There must have been at least a hundred terraces in total, though Tash lost track when she tried to count them. Each terrace had ramps to the terraces above and below.
I’ve got to get a closer look. It can’t be too hard to get down a few levels.
Tash crept along, keeping as close to the side wall as possible, then crawled down the ramp to the next level. She kept low and moved down another ramp and another, going carefully past a carving of a demon, so lifelike in the red stone. Sweat dripped down Tash’s face and her heart was beating erratically as she went down to the next level. Here she dropped to her knees and then lay flat as she peered over the edge, but just as she did she heard a different sound—a clattering—and then a demon appeared on the ledge above.
Oh shits.
Tash scurried back into the tunnel behind her, pressing her body into the side, but already the demon was at the entrance.
Go past. Go past. Go past.
The demon didn’t even glance at her tunnel—it merely looked ahead as it dragged something along.
Oh shits.
It was the body of a man, a Pitorian soldier with blue hair. Then another demon appeared and he too was dragging a body—this one was different, though.
It’s got no head!
The head was in the demon’s hand. The head had white hair.
Oh shitting shits. Please don’t be Geratan.
But the clothes weren’t like his.
It’s not Geratan but it’s somebody from the princess’s group.
She held her breath, but no more demons appeared.
Maybe that means that the others got out alive. At least they’re not dead yet.
Tash crept forward again. The two demons were almost halfway down the terraces. A few others were running to help them. The human bodies were lifted up and carried down the slope to one of the lowest levels, where they were laid down. That terrace was different from the others; it had a stone platform that jutted out slightly over the central hole.
All the demons descended to the lowest levels and crowded together. The music had stopped. The demons were touching each other, hand on arm. Were they communicating with each other, as humans did in the demon world?
Two demons stripped the dead bodies of their clothes and boots, and then they moved back and up a level. The music began again, louder and more rhythmic this time. Two large red demons picked up the body with blue hair, carried it to the edge of the jutting platform, swung it, as you might swing a child for fun, and let it go. The body flew out into the middle of the hole and seemed to roll in the air, before falling into the smoke and disappearing.
Why are they doing that? What’s happening?
Tash’s eyes filled with tears. Lying on her stomach, she rested her head on her hands. More people were dead and there was nothing she could do. But she couldn’t leave. She still wanted to find out about the demons, and something kept her close to the well of smoke. It was so warm and she hadn’t slept for a long time; her eyes gradually closed and she fell asleep.
EDYON
BOLLYN, NORTHERN PITORIA
EDYON WOKE when it was getting light, desperate for a pee. Outside, all was still and quiet. He wandered away from Tenny and Gloria’s house toward the river and had a piss as he looked up at the plateau. It seemed so close, so dark too, and loomed over him in the dim chill of the morning light. And the nagging doubts returned—that the Brigantines hadn’t given up, that they’d find one of the paths down, get across the river, and follow Edyon and March’s tracks. If that’s what the Brigantines were doing then they’d be here very soon.
But wouldn’t they think that their quarry had got away and fled south to safety, to the army camps, to anywhere?
Maybe, but Brigantines didn’t think like normal people, Edyon knew that of them. They might not care if they got Edyon or March. They might just want to kill. Edyon thought of all the terrible stories of Brigantine brutality and then he thought of Gloria and her daughters, Eva and Nia, and shuddered.
Edyon walked to the riverbank and headed upstream, all the time telling himself, They won’t be here. They won’t be here. This is just to prove that they won’t be here.
The sun started to come up over the far hill and shone on the water. Edyon stopped. It was a beautiful scene: the high wall of the plateau on the other side of the river, patches of bare gray rock, tall conifers growing on ledges and slopes. And coming out of the trees . . .
Oh, shitting, shitting . . . no.
Surely the glare of sun on water was deceiving him. Edyon squinted and shielded his eyes. But it wasn’t the glare from the sun; it was the glare of sunlight shining on metal helmets—Brigantine helmets.
Edyon stumbled back, dropped to the ground, and crawled behind a bush, where he took a few breaths and summoned up the courage to peek out. On the far side of the river were five men coming out of the trees. He was fairly sure the soldiers hadn’t seen him as they weren�
�t running at him with their swords out.
Don’t panic. Keep calm and think.
He had to get back to the house, warn Tenny, get everyone to the village, and then send the soldiers back here. He could do it. He just had to stay out of sight.
He crawled away between the bushes and only when he was certain that he couldn’t be seen from the river did he get to his feet and run, bent over, back through the cow field. Little Nia with her bucket was coming toward him. He swept her into his arms, saying, “Let’s go back to the farmhouse. I need to speak to Tenny.”
Thankfully Nia didn’t resist but giggled and shouted, “Faster! Faster!”
At the farm he was relieved see Tenny and March outside the farmhouse. Edyon ran to them, still holding Nia, and screeched, “Brigantines. The Brigantines have followed us. They’re at the river. We need to get out of here.”
Gloria and Eva appeared in the doorway, fear on their faces. Tenny took Nia from Edyon and handed her to Gloria, giving them instructions in a calm voice. “Run to Bollyn. Stay together. Tell the soldiers what’s happened. Tell them to come now.” And Gloria and the girls were off and running.
Edyon was relieved. Tenny was calm. They’d all be fine. The soldiers would deal with the Brigantines.
Tenny turned to Edyon and said, “How many are they?”
“Um, what? Five? I think . . .”
“How far away are they?”
“They were the other side of the river. Just beyond where March and I got out yesterday.”
“Perfect. They can’t cross easily there. But I bet they’ll try. It looks easier than it is.”
“Great. We’ve time to get to the village then,” Edyon said, relieved. But Tenny disappeared inside the farmhouse as Edyon turned to leave.
“What’s he doing?” Edyon asked.
March shrugged. “Getting something maybe?”
“Really, it’s best to leave things. What could be so important to risk your life for?”
As long as they left soon, they’d all be fine. Edyon didn’t need to panic. They’d make it to Bollyn and to safety.
“We don’t need to panic. We’ll be fine,” he said as he paced up to the door and then back away, and then back to the door as Tenny reappeared, holding some spears. Edyon halted. “Tenny? What are you doing?”
“Slowing them down.”
“The Brigantines? No, no, no. We don’t need to slow them down. We need to run. If we run now, we can make it to Bollyn.”
“I’m not running to Bollyn. And neither are you. You brought them here. You stay here and see them off.”
“What? They’re Brigantines. Trained soldiers. I’m a student of law. And I’m not that good with a spear. In fact, I’m the worst.”
Tenny smiled at Edyon. “It’s a good job I’m the best then.” And Tenny shoved two spears into March’s hands and one into Edyon’s. “You carry them and hand me one when I say—that’s not beyond your capabilities, is it?”
“Well, no, but . . . running away seems such a good idea.”
“Not as good as killing ’em. We can get them as they come out of the river. They’ll be cold and slow.”
Edyon really, really wanted to run away, but Tenny was already heading to the river.
“Shits,” Edyon said.
“He seems confident,” March said.
“He seems mad,” Edyon replied. “And apart from anything else there are only four spears and there are five Brigantines.” But Edyon felt he had no choice except to follow Tenny back through the cow field.
As they approached the river, Edyon could see on the far bank, staring across at them, the five Brigantine soldiers. They had come farther downstream and seemed to be looking for a place to cross. On seeing Tenny, Edyon, and March, the Brigantines joined in a huddle, presumably discussing what to do.
“Run away. Run away,” Edyon muttered. “What’s wrong with everyone? Why doesn’t anyone run away?”
But of course they didn’t do that. Two of the Brigantines jogged downstream and two waded into the river, eyes fixed on Edyon.
Edyon turned to Tenny. “This would be a really sensible time for us to go.”
Tenny ignored him and jumped into the river, the water up to his knees.
“Really? Really?” Edyon said.
Then Tenny shouted at the Brigantines. “This is my stretch of river. Trespassers will be prosecuted”—he held his spear up—“and if you set foot on my land I’ll send my spear through your guts.”
Even if they hadn’t understood, they must have got the gist from his voice and the way he held his spear pointed at them.
The man on the far bank shouted something, and though Edyon wasn’t fluent in Brigantine he was fairly sure it could be translated as, “I’ll cut you open and rip your guts out of your anus.”
The two men in the river drew their swords and held them pointed out to Tenny.
“Oh, great,” Edyon said.
Tenny shouted, “I warned you!” He pulled his arm back, adjusted his stance, and threw his spear—not at the nearest man, but at the man on the far bank. The spear flew straight at the soldier, who at the last moment ducked to the side. The throw was accurate, fast, and hard. It was a warning. But it was also a waste of a spear.
“Next spear!” Tenny shouted, and March ran to him and gave him another.
The two men in the water kept moving but the river deepened in the middle, and they were up to their shoulders and struggling for their footing. Tenny was gleeful. “They’ll freeze before they make it across.” He moved out of the water and on to a high part of the bank, shouting at the Brigantines, “Come and get it. Come and get it!”
The nearest Brigantine swore in frustration and pushed on, but lost his footing immediately. As he looked down, Tenny threw his spear. The Brigantine seemed as surprised as Edyon, who gasped. The spear had penetrated far into the soldier’s chest. The man looked up, mouth open, and then fell back under the now blood-colored water. His body floated downstream. The other Brigantine in the water saw this and swam in the same direction.
“Next spear!”
They only had two spears left and there were four Brigantines still. Edyon held out a spear and Tenny took it and ran down to meet the Brigantine, who was already coming out of the river and roaring in anger. But the soldier’s feet were unsteady on the bank, and Tenny let loose the spear, which penetrated the Brigantine’s stomach, and the man dropped to his knees.
“Get that spear, Edyon,” Tenny said, pointing to the one in the Brigantine’s body. He snatched the fourth spear from March’s hand and ran downstream, shouting, “Get the spear and follow me. We’ll have them all!”
Edyon ran to the Brigantine, but stopped abruptly. The soldier wasn’t dead. He was on his knees with a spear in his guts and his sword in his hand. He looked angry and in pain. Edyon hesitated.
“Spear!” Tenny shouted from a distance.
“Oh shits!” Edyon muttered as he edged forward and tentatively grabbed the end of the spear. But the Brigantine also grabbed it and shouted and cursed.
“What? No! Please, let go,” Edyon wailed. “Please.” He pulled to the side and back with the end of the spear. It must have been agony for the soldier but the Brigantine dropped his sword to grab the spear with both of his hands. March darted forward and picked up the sword, but the Brigantine pulled out his dagger and drew it back to throw at March. Edyon jerked forward, shouting at the top of his voice, “No!” The spear drove through the Brigantine’s stomach, his dagger now aimed at Edyon’s chest. Before it reached its target, March swung the sword down, severing the soldier’s arm.
The soldier stared at Edyon before collapsing to the ground.
Edyon was still gripping the spear. He wanted to be sick, and he turned away as March helped him pull the spear out of the soldier’s body. Edyon muttered, “This i
s disgusting. This is disgusting,” but with a squelch it came out. And Edyon ran with it dripping blood to find Tenny. March had the sword and dagger as well.
A few hundred paces downstream Edyon saw a Brigantine body floating with a spear in it, but the other soldier was running up the riverbank, sword in hand.
Tenny shouted, “Here!”
Edyon ran to him and handed him the spear like a baton, and Tenny turned and threw in one movement. The spear entered the Brigantine’s head. Blood spurted and the body fell, still twitching as it landed.
Edyon was shaking, and promptly threw up his stew from the night before. When he righted himself he avoided looking at Tenny, who had retrieved his spear from the Brigantine’s skull, and now stood with it in his hand and a grin on his face.
Edyon didn’t want to see more blood so he looked up to the blue sky, just breathing, just enjoying being alive. Tears filled his eyes. There was still one Brigantine left—the one on the far shore. Edyon didn’t dare mention him in case Tenny wanted to hunt him down. Tenny slapped March on the back. “Like fish in a barrel, eh?”
There was a shout behind Edyon and he turned, horrified that the last man might have found a way across the river, but it wasn’t a Brigantine soldier. Many men on horseback were riding fast toward them. Pitorian soldiers to the rescue! A little late, but Edyon was relieved to see them.
The leader reined in and spoke to Tenny, who quickly relayed what had happened, ending by saying, “There’s one more across the river.” And with that the Pitorians set off again.
Tenny turned to Edyon. “You make a good spear carrier, Edyon. You coming?”
Edyon couldn’t believe what Tenny was asking. “Thank you. No. But don’t let me stop you.”
Tenny ran off and Edyon looked to March. “Well, that was an unusual way to start the day.”
March smiled at him. “If you hadn’t raised the alarm, Edyon, we’d be dead.”
Edyon hadn’t thought of that—he’d saved the family. “We should wait here until they’ve got the last Brigantine. Make sure Tenny and his family are safe. I said I’d help with the milking before we left. I’d thought that would be the worst job today.”