Dustfall, Book Five - What Lies Beneath

by J. Thorn

  He was tired, no, he was to the point of exhaustion, and he knew that could lead to him making a mistake, but what else could be done? The Valk had infested these woods, and had been swarming since the first waning of daylight. Now it wouldn’t be too long before daylight crept over the distant mountains.

  How many had he killed? Two dozen at least? Probably more. He’d lost track of his count earlier in the night, just as he’d lost track of the whereabouts of most of his men. They were still out there, hiding in bushes as he had been, waiting for the Valk to pass by before they dispatched them. The forest south of the road was vast, and even with over two hundred warriors prowling through the trees, he’d still found himself alone a few times, just like this.

  There was a crack of a broken twig from the shadow of one of the nearby trees, and Jonah braced himself for another fight with the Valk, but sighed with relief as Rav appeared, a grin on his face. Jonah lowered his weapon and crouched to the ground once more.

  “You look like you’ll be glad when this night is done.” Rav carried a pair of machetes, and both had wet blood on them. He spotted the dead Valk nearby and wiped the blood off on the man’s trouser leg.

  “I think we all will,” said Jonah. “Though I’m not sure if it will mark the end of them.”

  “No.” Rav shook his head and stared out into the trees. “There a lot of ‘‘em, that’s for sure. And it seems they aren’t so bothered by the day like they used to be. Tree don’t help that none.”

  Jonah nodded, and wiped the sweat from his face. “I had no idea how big this forest was.”

  “Me neither. Goes on for miles.”

  “We passed these woods every time we travelled east to Eliz, every year,” continued Jonah, “and the furthest into them I ever travelled was maybe a quarter mile on a hunt. Now I wonder why we didn’t just hunt here instead of going to Eliz in the first place. It’s not even cold, and look around. The winter freeze doesn’t come this far, which is surprising considering we’re only, what? Eighty miles at most from Wytheville?”

  “Don’t seem right does it?” asked Rav.

  They sat there, staring out at the darkness for a few minutes, just listening until Johan broke the silence with another question.

  “How many do you think are out there?”

  “No idea. I’ve done for about twenty myself already.”

  There was another noise from the tree line, but this time to the north. A trio of Elk scouts stepped out of the bushes and signaled a welcome to Jonah and Rav.

  Jonah stood up, leaving Rav where his was. “News?”

  The first scout nodded. “We’ve been tracing their movements,” said the second scout.

  The man was shorter than the other one, and older by many years. Troman, Jonah thought. That was the man’s name. He’d been of the Solomon’s tribe before joining the Elk what seemed like centuries ago, but was really only a year. Jonah couldn’t remember the names of the two younger scouts, but thought they were Troman’s sons.

  “We’ve been avoiding ‘em, trying to mark where they was coming from rather than take ‘em out,” said Troman. “And we traced them all the way back about two miles from here, through the woods and off the hidden road.”

  Troman was referring to the ancient road that Seren had revealed. From the main route west to east, from Wytheville to Eliz, there was no sign of the beginning of the ancient southern road, and Jonah suspected that if he traced a line north until the two roads intersected, that he would find a broken section, maybe covered with rubble. Either way the road began several miles south of the main route, and had led them for over a week into the forest.

  “We found a ruined depot there, in the trees, mostly overgrown. Looks like an old industry site, but it’s mostly trash and rubble now. Anyways, there’s a tunnel entrance with tracks leading down to it, and that’s where we saw them coming from. We didn’t get too close, though. There were quite a few hanging around. I think it’s an entrance to their underworld or something such.”

  “Good work.” Jonah grinned. He looked up at the mountains in the distance, and nodded as he noticed the first creeping of the light. In half an hour, sunlight would flood the valley. Just enough time to gather his men. “All of you, spread out. Send the word to meet here, and one of you head back to the camp and let them know that we’re striking somewhere. They will need to place more guards around the perimeter while we’re gone.”

  Two hours later Jonah crouched in the lower branches of a tree that overlooked the ruins the scouts had mentioned. There were, as the scouts had described, a few Valk loitering near the entrance, but most of the movement had been in the direction of the tunnel. He was surprised to see so many of the enemy returning from the forest, heading through the gates and hurrying into the tunnel entrance.

  A hundred, two hundred maybe, had already gone in before the trail slowed. Jonah scanned the facility, wondering what kind of industry it had once been. It would make a good camp if it wasn’t in the vicinity of one of the Valk tunnel entrances. Two large vaulted buildings with massive entranceways loomed in the distance through the trees, and at least two dozen other varied buildings surrounded the open ground that was relatively free of weeds and overgrowth.

  “Time?” asked Rav, who stood on the ground below him, hidden behind the tree but peering out across the site.

  “Time,” said Jonah, and dropped to the ground. “Let’s do this.”

  He led at the front, as usual, still insisting on doing so even though a few of his advisors — or mostly Solomon — had suggested he didn’t do that. But Jonah was stubborn, and he felt that his men approved of it. Or maybe it was something of his father’s ways that had rubbed off on him. Judas had always said that men will only truly follow a leader if he is willing to do anything that he asks of others, and Judas had certainly been willing in battle. Jonah was not so enthusiastic about fighting, but it was necessary, and he had a good knack for it.

  They swept across the site in a fast—moving wave. There were no outer barriers to slow them. No fence remained, though Jonah had jumped over a low wall that he thought could have been the foundation of a larger defense barrier once. Now it was barely a foot high of crumbling cinder block, which he easily leapt over, and it certainly didn’t slow him down.

  He was the first to strike, and the Valk had not been prepared for his sudden appearance around the corner of the small building a hundred yards from the tunnel. The Valk’s appearance had also surprised Jonah, but he had been more prepared and already had his ax ready. One swift strike as the warrior reached for his club and the man was down. Jonah knew he wouldn’t need to end him, and confirmed as such as several other crushing whacks resounded from behind him as other warriors finished the job.

  Jonah stayed focused on their goal — taking the tunnel entrance. He left the cover of the building and sprinted across the open ground, hearing the sounds of a hundred boots on the concrete behind him. Ahead, the dozen or so Valk guarding the entrance saw the charge coming, and for the first time that Jonah had ever experienced when facing these pale, flesh—eating monsters, he saw fear. For a few seconds they attempted to form a line across the entrance, but by the time he had reached halfway across the yard, the first broke and ran for the darkness behind him, then another followed.

  Jonah pressed forward, raising his ax in readiness of being the first to strike, but when he was just ten yards from the tunnel, the rest of the Valk broke and ran, scurrying into the darkness behind them.

  Jonah lowered his ax, slowed to a jog, and raised his hand. The mass of clan warriors behind him came to a halt, and stood, breathing heavily and staring at the dark maw ahead of them.

  There were two sets of metal trails on the ground leading into the opening, and Jonah could only see thirty yards down the slope before the daylight revealed no more. He watched for a moment as there was movement in the shadows, the Valk descending into the tunnel in full rout. Then all was still.

  Rav appeared next to him.
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  “Well, that was unexpected,” he said, still gaining his breath.

  “I guess even the Valk know when they are outnumbered and can’t win,” said a warrior nearby.

  “Yes,” said Jonah, “but I’ve never seen them run before.”

  Then the distant sound of a horn blew, wailing up from the depths of the tunnel, far below. Jonah raised his head, eyes wide, and turned to Rav, who was frowning.

  “They’re coming back,” said Rav. “And in numbers I’d reckon.”

  “Damn. That was just the lookout?”

  “That’s what I’d say. Now what?”

  “We can’t leave,” said Jonah, looking around, trying to see a solution to the problem. The ruined building around them looked mostly empty, except for what appeared to be a row of carts just inside the entrance of one of the larger buildings. Nearby, a much larger metal vehicle, a carriage bigger than anything he had seen, stood abandoned in one corner of the yard.

  Jonah ran, heading for the larger building. “Keep guard,” he shouted. “Don’t let them out.”

  Dozens of warriors hurried forward to block the tunnel entrance as Jonah reached the large, vaulted building. He looked around, seeing that there were maybe twenty or more carts, all sitting upon the metal rails.

  “Hold on,” said Rav. The man had appeared next to Jonah while he was searching the massive, open space inside the building. Rav reached inside the cart and plucked out one of the dark stones, then smelled it. “Damn.”

  “What?” asked Jonah. “What is it?”

  “Black rock,” said Rav. “But this stuff is ripe. Must be freshly mined.”

  “Mined? They’re mining it?”

  “Looks as likely,” said Rav. “Not heard of any mining for ages. Not since the black rock mine north of Wytheville caught fire. Damn things still burning they say. Stinks the whole valley.”

  Jonah looked from the carts to the tunnel entrance. “A burning mine.”

  “What’s that you say?”

  “Get some of the men,” said Jonah. “Get lots of them over here.” He looked from the carts to the rails they were placed upon.

  They could hear the sound of footfalls in the dozens as the first two carts were lined up just outside the entrance. Between the huge building and where Jonah now stood, next to the cart, the warriors of the clans had filled two dozen carts with the black rock that were now rumbling their way along the metal rails, queued up one behind the other.

  Scouts came running from the woods, their arms heavy with bundles of woods quickly gathered. They hurried across the yard and stopped in front of Jonah.

  “Throw it onto the cart, quickly,” said Jonah.

  Next to him Rav hurriedly tried to light a torch. A moment later, the long stick smoked and the leapt to life, the flame lighting up part of the tunnel slope.

  “Light it,” Jonah said, and Rav did so. It took a few seconds for the wood to start burning, but when the flames reached the black rocks below, a thick, dark smoke began to waft from the cart.

  “Help me,” shouted Jonah, and began to push the cart toward where the tunnel began to smoke. Three warriors rushed forward and began to push, and the cart rolled, faster and faster until it reached the slope, gathering momentum, moving faster and faster. Jonah peered into the tunnel and watched the walls light up as the flaming cart passed. The tunnel must have gone down a long way.

  “More!” shouted Jonah, turning to his men. “Get them all filled with wood, push them forward and light them.” But then he turned sharply back to the tunnel as there was a loud bang, and a scream. Then another scream. “Hurry!”

  They had pushed nearly half of the carts, burning, into the tunnel when the smoke from the darkness below began to waft back up to them. A rolling mass of thick, gray smog filled the tunnel. And it was then that Jonah pushed one of the carts onto the track and saw it wobble as it rolled. The cart sped onward, gathering speed for ten yards, but then wobbled once more, its wheel jumping from the rail. The loaded cart tumbled, rolling over and spilling its flaming contents across the ground, covering both of the tracks with debris. Another cart on the other rail crashed into the pile of black rock and was also derailed, dumping more flaming, black rock on the ground.

  “Damn,” cursed Jonah.

  “Keep them going!” shouted Rav.

  “The way is blocked.”

  “Then let’s block it some more so they can’t get out!”

  Jonah looked down the track, and saw movement for the first time. Someone—no doubt the first of the Valk returning, was stumbling through the smoke, coughing. The man stumbled and fell to the ground, gasping for air just as the next cart smashed into him and half rolled over him before turning on its side and adding to the now glowing pile of burning rock.

  The last cart, five minutes later, barely made it six yards into the tunnel when it came to a stop butted up against the cart in front. Inside, the tunnel turned into an inferno. Black smoke billowed from the entrance and through cracks in the walls, and Jonah watched as one of the thick wooden struts that held up the side of the tunnel crack and shifted.

  “Damn things gonna collapse soon I reckon,” said Rav.

  Jonah stared into the flames. “Let’s hope so.”

  Chapter 4

  Seren reached the top of the slope and paused between two trees. It seemed like months since she’d seen the ruins of Galax, and she sighed, heavily, relieved at the site of the distant buildings.

  In the distance, obscured by the forest that had grown up around the city, stood the skeletal fingers that were taller buildings at the very heart of the place. Tower blocks, they were called, and though some cursed their existence, Seren’s only experience of the ancient monoliths had been during her last visit to Galax, when she had braved the climb inside one of them. It had been an eerie experience, but she hadn’t felt threatened as she had expected. They were just empty, dying, dwellings from a lost age that had been left untouched for centuries. Nothing more.

  It had only been weeks since she walked in the opposite direction, down the slope that was now ahead of her, leaving Abernathy and the other people at the base behind and heading out into the wilds again in search of the Elk and her friends, her family, and it was a strange feeling seeing the jagged outlines of the buildings, and almost as much a welcome sight as seeing her hut in the Elk village up near the reservoir whenever they returned there, after the yearly pilgrimage. A pilgrimage that would no longer happen.

  For a moment she was struck with the nostalgia of her days at the village, and wondered if she would ever see the place again now that the whole area of the western forest and the valley below, and Wytheville, were overtaken by the Cygoa.

  She wouldn’t even consider heading back there yet, but Jonah had different ideas about that place. He’d said as much. First, he’d said, they needed a place to rebuild themselves, to grow strong again — somewhere where they could gather supplies. Secondly, the Wytheville valley. They would take that back by force. The Cygoa had been broken once and could be again.

  Seren wondered if any of that would ever happen. She had a mind that the lands were lost to them, forever. The Cygoa would not disappear in her lifetime. This place, though, her promise to Jonah and the tribes. This place could be their new home. So many buildings were almost intact — an unusual number, considering the state of ruin of many of the cities of the old world. This place was different.

  Galax had not exactly been left to be reclaimed entirely by nature, even if the city was blanketed in vines, it still had caretakers the whole time. It had someone to keep away intruders, to protect the people in the base, even though they were now old. Abernathy had said that they would welcome the tribes. Seren just hoped they would stick to that.

  She sighed again, and looked to her right, where Sorcha scratched at the bark of the tree. The wolf noticed her looking and tilted her head to one side, quizzically, then sniffed.

  “Back again.”

  Sorcha huffed and turned to
glance behind her to where a huddle of smaller wolves followed. They were growing rapidly, Seren thought. The pups got bigger almost every day, or so it seemed. They certainly ate enough to grow so fast.

  I should name them, Seren thought.

  They learned quickly. One or two of them would come to her straight away when she called, and the others would gradually amble over, but mostly they clung to Sorcha as their newly adopted mother. Seren smiled. She wasn’t sure if Sorcha was pleased with the situation, but she was certainly tolerant of them.

  “Time to find out if we’re still welcome here.”

  Seren began to trudge along the dirt path that led up towards the edge of the city. Ahead was a large clearing that she remembered, maybe half a mile square and covered with tall grass.

  There were overgrown stumps, cut low to the ground, and she had wondered before if it was the people in the base that had cut them, but never thought to ask. She knew, from what they said, that they didn’t need fuel for their fires. They powered them some other way. Their heating, cooking, lights, everything worked using an ancient technology that she hadn’t had time to learn about when she been here before.

  So what use would they have for the wood? She didn’t know. They used furniture made mostly from plastic — yet another old—world material, and they had a whole city to take from. She was sure that some of the furniture that she’d seen in the bunker looked the same as what was in the theatre — the soft seating and the carpets.

  Seren approached the first building slowly, looking up to the small box with the cone attached to the top. It was still there, perched on the wall on the second floor, just above the window.

  She took a few steps to her left and smiled as the CCTV moved to follow her. She waved and then waited. A moment later there was a small crackling noise from the cone.

  “Welcome back, Seren,” said a voice that was familiar.

  Seren frowned. It wasn’t Abernathy. It should have been. It was his job to monitor the camera systems. He often spent time out in the city, checking that it was still working. No, this was Katrina, the leader at the base, and Seren thought it was unusual to hear her voice through the cone.