The Weight of Darkness (Catalyst Book 5)

by C. J. Aaron

  There was little Ryl could see of the path in front of him, as the hulking frames of Ramm and Paasek blocked his view. His frequent scans of the area showed no signs for alarm; the steady call of the darkness in his periphery remained where it had been.

  Relief filled his body as a gust of fresher air rushed into his lungs, desperate to replace the foul, stagnant rot that they’d been forced to inhale. Though far from clean, the briny scents of the sea mixed with the noticeable undertones of waste with a consistency that was at least tolerable. As quickly as it had begun, the gap between the buildings exited into a narrow alleyway. His companions fanned out to either side, hugging the dense shadows along the buildings as they waited for his arrival.

  There was little light in the alley, with the exception of the glow from the lantern spilling in from the intersection with the wall to the left. To his right, the avenue disappeared into darkness.

  “When we enter the next doorway, grab ahold of the shirt of the person in front of you,” Cavlin warned. “Touch nothing. Ignore any you might see. There is to be no light in the tunnels. As disturbing as the blackness will be, it’s better that you don’t see what awaits in the dark. Stay together and follow my lead. I know the way. Do not stray from the path.”

  Cavlin offered no further explanation as he turned toward the opposite side of the alley. He waited for a moment to listen. A steady, rhythmic thumping sounded in the distance. Ryl’s heart raced momentarily, as the sounds were easily identifiable. The notes of heavy boots marching on the street beyond were unmistakable. Though they marched with purpose, there seemed to be no haste to their steps; no calls of alarm or warning sounded from the towers of the wall above. For the moment, they likely remained undetected.

  Cavlin was the first to slip across the pathway. He crossed the narrow divide between the buildings in only a matter of steps, moving at an angle toward the building slightly to his right. Ryl squinted as he watched the guard stoop low as he reached the opposite wall; the motion of his hands working with something disguised along the base of the wall was faint yet noticeable, as the contrast of his bare hands against his dark clothing was stark.

  A metallic click rang out through the darkness as Cavlin rose to his feet. The muffled groan of a door opening followed a moment after.

  “Come,” Cavlin whispered across the avenue, waving his arms toward Ryl and the others. In tight ranks, they moved as one across the narrow alley. Andr was the first to reach Cavlin, grabbing a fistful of his tunic as the guard turned and stepped into the gloom inside the disguised passage. A faint, throbbing light highlighted the presence of the doorway.

  Again, Ryl was the last to enter, though their progression onward continued. Cray had taken position before him; he grabbed a hold of his cloak as instructed.

  The concealed doorway opened into a hallway. Though narrow, the sides were far wider than the passage between the buildings. The contrast between the odors that persisted in the air was drastic. Only moments earlier, his stomach had churned, threatening to release its contents as the sickening smell overwhelmed his senses. Again, his stomach was a concern as the mouthwatering scents of food lingered in the air. He wrapped his free arm around his core, desperately working to prevent the rumble of hunger from sounding. There was a pleasant and noticeable floral scent to the air.

  The low light continued as they moved forward. Their pace was sluggish, yet steady as their train of bodies continued through the hall. The walls on either side were wooden, constructed of a mishmash of vertical and horizontal slats and panels. Thin streams of light snuck through the gaps between the boards, though they provided no clue as to what lay behind.

  The hallway they entered ran straight for ten meters or so. After the first few, the walls were separated by randomly staggered doorways. Their progress slowed as Cavlin led the train of bodies down a stairwell into the utter blackness below. Their steps were cautious, each foot searching for a moment to seek purchase on the step below before proceeding forward. It seemed like an eternity before they reached a level floor at the bottom of the steps. They moved steadily from there, Ryl’s end of the train trailing in the distance.

  Unlike the straight pathway that stretched from the entrance, their route now was shrouded in darkness. The feeble light that had peeked through the gaps in the walls was drowned out by the blackness inside the staggered doorways. There was a moment of panic as the memories, the nightmares that had haunted him for cycles threatened to insert themselves into his consciousness. The alexen in his veins responded unbeckoned; the heat and tingling sensations swelled in his left arm.

  The pleading whispers of darkness whined in agony as they were suppressed by the strength of the alexen’s response.

  Ryl trusted the guard implicitly, yet his fears threatened to tear him apart as they snaked their way through the passages. After leaving the straight, dimly lit tunnel above, the group proceeded steadily, turning right and left as they followed a cautiously well-rehearsed path. The hairs on the back of his neck stood tall, as he could feel the watchful eyes that followed them as they progressed deeper into the maze.

  The darkness was complete, yet at times, he could swear the silhouettes of men stood squarely in the paths that opened to either side. At times, a slight puff of air, more like the exhale of a breath than a breeze, brushed gently across his face. The itch of the clothing covering his arms bordered on unbearable. He longed for the freedom of his bare, though tattooed arms. The feel of the phrenic cloak and hood were sorely missed.

  Time seemed to stretch on interminably as they weaved through the passages. Ryl nearly collided with Cray at his front as they came to a sudden stop. A purposeful series of sharp, staccato knocks sounded through the narrow hallway. The trivial sound seemed to morph, taking on a peculiar life of its own as it echoed through the weaving pathways that stretched behind them.

  Within moments, the reverberations faded, plunging the hallway into silence.

  For a few moments, the stillness remained. Only the hushed sounds of breathing disturbed the quiet darkness. With a sudden groaning of hinges, the tunnel was flooded with light. A door opened abruptly before Cavlin, though the guard seemed unfazed by the action. Though diffused by the bodies of his companions ahead, Ryl still raised his left arm, acting on impulse alone, shielding his eyes from the brightness that illuminated the tunnel.

  A silhouette of a figure stood in the doorway. The details of the body were lost, yet the naked blade held out to the side was clear. The sword moved in subtle, yet purposeful motions as the wielder flashed the reflected light across the faces of those waiting in the darkness. He moved to the right, his hand remaining on the edge of the door as he motioned them in.

  There were no words exchanged as they filed past the armed sentry. Though he watched each pass with a calculating glare, he made no attempt at eye contact. Ryl felt the pointed stare as his eyes finally tracked to him. The man squinted slightly, his attention remaining for a moment longer on him than on the others as he continued his investigation.

  Ryl’s senses were on alert, his grasp over the speed in his veins ready to release at a moment’s notice. He let a thick layer of woodskin form over his back and neck. Having an armed stranger a step from his unprotected rear was an uncomfortable position. A few steps later, the clicking of the door closing behind them sounded with a hollow thud.

  Once beyond the door, they found themselves in a narrow, yet poorly provisioned basement. The floor here, like the pathway they had traversed, was dirt. There was a scent of freshly baked bread in the air, yet the metallic tang of the room robbed the enjoyment from the aroma. There were very few wooden casks stacked against the wall to their left, a large table against the wall to the opposite side. The surface of the wide wooden table was stained from frequent use; the ground surrounding it was noticeably darker than the rest. Ryl quickly averted his eyes from the ominous markings.

  The feelings of dread that rolled through his veins intensified.

  Cavlin
led the party ahead without slowing. At the opposite side of the basement, he entered a staircase cut into the wall. The guard disappeared from sight as the steps curved to the left as they continued upward. The steady padding of footsteps from the man who shadowed their party followed closed behind.

  With every step upward, the mouthwatering aromas increased until they at last overwhelmed the stale dank basement below. It was only half a rotation before the stairwell deposited them again into a modest room. Cavlin stood a few paces into the chamber. Ryl joined the others as they fanned out into a compact yet elongated group. The motion of the armed man behind ceased.

  It took but a moment for Ryl to survey the room. Just as in the basement below, the habitation was sparsely equipped. The square room consisted of little more than a table with a pair of chairs tucked neatly into one corner. A single door broke the monotony of each of the walls, though each was closed, hiding the views of what lay behind. In the opposite corner a single rocking chair sat beside a fire burning quietly in the small hearth built into the wall. A woman rocked casually in the seat, her arms folded comfortably across her chest. Ryl couldn’t help but notice the small dagger resting on the arm of the chair. The gentle rocking slowed and then ceased altogether.

  A man rose from his seat at the table, pushing away the plate and half-eaten dinner as he stood. In appearance, he looked to be slightly older than Andr. A large scar crossed the entirety of his left cheek. His clothes were baggy and plain, yet they did little to hide his muscular frame underneath. A sword hung comfortably from his hip.

  “There’s a face I’ve almost forgotten.” His voice was hoarse and raspy as if it had recently failed from overuse. His eyes made a rapid pass over Ryl, his companions standing silently behind the guard. With a grunt, he returned his gaze to Cavlin.

  “Thought you were dead,” he muttered.

  “Nearly,” was all the guard replied.

  The man’s eyes returned to survey the entirety of the party now standing in his home. After a moment, he merely shrugged his shoulders, issuing another grunt as he returned to his seat. His attention returned to his food as he sank heavily into his chair.

  “I’m sure you remember the way,” he mumbled as he stabbed his fork into a piece of food on his plate.

  Chapter 32

  Cavlin turned his head quickly, offering a subtle nod to his companions before moving across the room toward the door on the right. There was a flash of a grin on his face, though it disappeared in an instant.

  At the table, the man forked another mouthful of food into his mouth, chewing loudly. The woman resumed gently rocking in her chair; her attention returned to watching the fire burning quietly near her feet. Cavlin paused as he reached the doorway. Reaching into his tunic, he removed a small pouch, depositing it on the small stand adjacent to the door. The clinking sounds of coins was unmistakable.

  The delay was only momentary as Cavlin pushed the door open. There was no light source inside the chamber; the only illumination spilled in from the current room.

  “Do hurry.” The voice sounded from the man seated at the table, though his eyes never rose from the food on his plate. “The rain’s coming soon.”

  Cavlin continued into the room without delay or response. The chamber was smaller than the main one their mysterious hosts inhabited, and was clearly used for the purposes of storage. Though the thin stream of light illuminated little save for what was in its path, Ryl noted the cylindrical shapes of barrels lined against each wall. The small space grew cramped as the entire party filed in.

  At the rear corner of the room, Cavlin stopped, grabbing a hold of the final barrel. He groaned as he tugged at the container heavily laden with its contents. His efforts were rewarded as the barrel moved across the floor. Curiously enough, it made no sound as it slid across the stone floor. With the large vessel out of the way, he squatted in the space that it had abdicated, working with the panel on the floor. One large square tile of stone lifted slowly; the hinges attaching it to the panel below offered only a muted squeak.

  “There are handholds on the side,” Cavlin instructed. There was an undeniable sense of urgency to his voice. “Lower yourself down. The drop will be short. The ground is only a meter or so beneath your feet. We need to move quickly. The tunnels will flood quickly once the rain begins.”

  The guard wasted no time sliding his feet into the blackened mouth of the concealed passage. Without a sound, he slipped his body into the hole, supporting his weight with his elbows. A moment later his body disappeared into the darkness. Only the pale white of his fingertips on the handhold shone through the gloom.

  Then nothing.

  The sound of his feet hitting the ground followed only a moment after.

  One by one, the company filed into the hole, dropping to the earth hidden in the darkness below. Ryl remained at his position at the rear. He was the last to approach the yawning black opening in the floor before him. He slipped his feet over the edge, dangling them into the darkness below. Though his phrenic senses were heightened, the shadows below were impenetrable.

  Ryl grimaced as the sudden sounds from above caught his attention. Staccato thumps echoed from the roof above.

  The rain had come.

  Without waiting, Ryl grabbed a hold of the small railing inset into the stone of the floor, lowering himself into the darkness. It was an eerie sensation having his body swinging gently in the nothingness that surrounded him. The ground beneath his feet was only a meter away, yet his eyes could make out nothing of its surface. He released his grip.

  Though it was only an instant before his feet struck the ground below, the moment of free fall was disturbing. As Cavlin had noted, the descent was brief, yet the impact of striking the ground unprepared was jarring nonetheless. A groaning issued from the hinges above. A face appeared for a moment in the dim light of the portal before the opening sealed shut.

  “Welcome to the underbelly of Leremont,” Cavlin commented, though Ryl could hear him searching along the wall to their front. “Now where is it?”

  Vox answered his rhetorical query with light. The phrenic’s hand was held out in front of his body; a small rolling ball of flames burned just above the surface of his skin. A steady glow of white light surrounded the group, creating a halo in the utter blackness of the tunnel. The tunnel was a little more than two meters wide, constructed of stone that curved upward to a rounded ceiling. The panel above had deposited them onto a small shelf built along the left side of the passage, which spanned only a small distance across the width of the interior. The remainder of the space was inset; a sluggish stream of rancid water and refuse crept slowly past. The odor was vile.

  Cavlin grunted, nodding his head in thanks as he quickly returned to his search. A moment later, he was rewarded as he located the false stone panel that he sought.

  Like the trapdoor above, the stone was connected to a wooden panel secured by a hinge. Vox’s light illuminated the interior of the cache, revealing a collection of small lanterns. The pommel of a dagger lay along the side; light reflected off its naked blade. Cavlin removed a single lantern before securing the panel closed as he rose to his feet.

  “Save your strength,” he said as the tiny flame in the lantern sparked to light. “These tunnels connect several points throughout the outer rings of the capital. There is an exit close to the district where the mender places the facility. We have a way to hurry.”

  The orange glow of the lantern was feeble compared to the blinding light that had floated above Vox’s hand.

  “The rain’s begun,” Ryl added.

  “Then there is no time for delay,” he urged as he turned, walking steadily along the pathway that disappeared toward their right. “The ledge is a constant along the left wall. Too many men have lost their lives not heeding the warnings of the rain.”

  Cavlin shook his head; his nose wrinkled inadvertently as his eyes traveled to the noxious solution running in the channel.

  “The water level wi
ll rise, and rise quickly,” he continued. “If we’re caught in the flood before we reach the next entrance, there’s little hope to survive. Follow me.”

  There was no further impetus needed to spur the group onward. They moved at breakneck speed in pursuit of the guard as he charged forward through the subterranean path. There were no questions, no words of encouragement exchanged among them. Ryl, for one, was convinced he’d happily die at the hands of the endless sea of the Horde than be drowned in a festering wave of refuse, hidden beneath the capital city.

  Their shadows bobbed wildly as they raced through the tunnel. The shadows raced along with them, equally as anxious to complete the trek. The haste was reminiscent of the memories of his time spent under the mountain. In the moments and days following the attack of the creature from the depths of the river, after the death of Ceado, their pace had been frantic. The nervous energy that had been with them then followed them again though their party had changed drastically since that time.

  The pathway they followed was linear. Few tunnels large enough to fit a man entered from either side, though staggered, round portals were frequent. At first, there was little sound to break the silence save for the thrumming of their feet on the stone and the labored breathing as their pace remained steady. It started as little more than a rumble; the sound seemed to resonate from everywhere at once, amplifying as it echoed through the tunnel. The rain above increased to a steady torrent. The heavy sounds of footsteps on the stone pathway quickly changed from solid thumps to splashes as the water belched from the portals in the walls.

  The first splashes of the vile liquid that struck their clothing were devastating. The stench was one that would assuredly linger long beyond the panic that increased by the moment. After a time, every droplet became disturbingly easier beyond that. Soon their legs were soaked with a putrid mixture of rainwater and foul runoff.