by Keri Arthur
My fingers tensed against the gut buster, even though I knew firing it was the last thing I needed to do in this place.
Another footstep echoed, one that was oddly different to the first—it was heavier, and accompanied by an odd, scraping sound. Tension ran through me, but I resisted the urge to move, to retreat back up the tunnel. If I could hear them, they’d undoubtedly hear me.
A soft glow began to infuse the darkness, one that reminded me of the light generated by the glimmer stone in the main cave. As it got stronger, the veins in my tunnel began to glow, providing a halo of cool brightness that thankfully didn’t reach up to where I stood.
But it gave me some sense of where I now was. This tunnel ended at a T-intersection roughly fifty feet away. The intersecting tunnel was double the width of this one and, if the pathway worn into the floor’s rock surface was anything to go by, saw a whole lot more traffic.
The glow of light coming from the glimmer stone seams got stronger, the footsteps closer. While the wind gave no hint as to what might be coming, she shifted direction, drawing fresh air around me and then sweeping it back up the tunnel. Taking my scent away from whatever approached rather than toward it, I realized.
Shadows appeared and began to solidify. One small, one large.
One human in form, the other the stuff of nightmares.
My gut churned with renewed vigor.
Because the figure holding the tiny light that was causing the glimmer stone to glow so brightly was a small, stained child. One with short-cropped brown hair, a face that was thin, hollow, and grubby, and a body that only held small patches of brown skin in amongst the staining. Small rivulets of moisture ran down his emaciated torso, but did little to erase the dirt caking his flesh, and he was all but dragging his feet.
The other was an Irkallan.
Though the child continued, the Irkallan paused in the middle of the T-intersection; its antennae moved back and forth as its dark, oval-shaped eyes stared right at me. After a moment, it made an odd clicking noise, its mandibles opening and shutting as if in vexation.
I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe.
With another click, it moved on, and as the light began to fade, I slumped against the tunnel wall and breathed deeply in an attempt to calm my racing pulse.
Damn, that was close.
I grabbed the flask from the pack and took a long drink to ease the burning in my throat. Once it was stoppered and placed back, I cautiously moved forward. At the intersection I stopped again, looking carefully to the right to ensure there were no other Irkallan or children approaching, and then glanced left.
The soft light was slowly fading as the Irkallan and the child moved around the tunnel’s gentle curve to the right.
Follow the child, the wind said. He will lead you to the rest.
Which was precisely what I’d intended, and what I’d hoped.
I stepped out into the larger tunnel and padded after the two of them as quietly as I could. But my footsteps were far louder than either the Irkallan’s or the child’s, and would eventually reveal my presence. Though this tunnel didn’t appear to be guarded, it was certainly well used given the worn pathway. Just because there wasn’t much in the way of traffic right now didn’t mean there soon wouldn’t be.
I stopped again to take off my boots and socks, tucking the latter inside the former before tying them onto my pack. The smooth stone was surprisingly cool under my feet given the heat in the air, but at least without footwear any Irkallan who were near might initially think my footfalls were nothing more than another child being escorted somewhere. At least until they actually saw me.
I continued to chase the soft glow that was the only indicator of the child and the Irkallan. Their footsteps were no longer audible, suggesting it was the wind that’d driven the sound to me in the first place.
The tunnel continued to curve around, and then began to descend deeper into the mountain. Though the wind still provided me with fresh air, I was nevertheless aware that the urine and blue-cheese stench was growing stronger, suggesting I was drawing closer to the main part of the apiary. Luck had been with me so far, but how much longer would that last?
As if in answer to that question, the pale glow ahead went out. As I stopped, my gaze searching the darkness, I became aware of the footsteps. They weren’t just coming from up ahead, but also from behind.
I swore and looked around, but the tunnel’s sheer walls offered nothing in the way of cover.
Run, the wind suggested.
Unhelpful, I replied, but nevertheless did just that, switching out my gun for my knife as I pelted around the corner—only to spot an Irkallan standing twenty feet away. He rose up to his full height, his mandibles clashing as he began to emit a shrill sound. I threw the knife and, as the glittering blade spun through the air, reached back for the sword.
The Irkallan sidestepped the knife, as I knew it would, but by then I was close enough to swing the sword. There was no finesse or skill behind the blow; there couldn’t be, given I wasn’t sword trained and had no time for anything approaching finesse anyway. All I wanted to do was stop him from alerting any of his hive mates to my presence. The glowing blade hit his left side, right at the point where his thorax joined his abdomen, and sliced the pieces of his body apart. His exoskeleton might have been no harder than butter for the ease with which the sword went through it.
As the two pieces of his body fell in different directions and his shrieking stopped, I heard the scrape of nails against stone and swung around. Another Irkallan was in the air, its razor-sharp fingernails lengthening as it arrowed toward me. I threw myself sideways and down, grunting as I hit the stone hard, but twisted around and thrust the sword upward. The Irkallan curled its body around itself, protecting its head and limbs, and presenting only its hard outer shell to the blade. It made no difference—the sword cut his spine open and the Irkallan’s innards rained down upon me. I cursed softly, swiping at the gore covering my face as I thrust to my feet. The Irkallan might be cut open from neck to tailbone, but it wasn’t finished yet. It was using its claws to drag itself up the wall, attempting to rise, even as its broken body continued to ooze black fluids and freedom only knew what else.
I strode toward it, blade held out in front of me like a lance. The Irkallan gave up its attempts to rise, and ran—not toward me but away, using its claws to drag itself along the smooth stone with surprising speed, and emitting a high-pitched sound as it did so.
I charged after him. The Irkallan twisted around as I neared and somehow jacked upright. I raised the sword and brought it down hard, but he twisted away from the blow. The blade’s sharp tip embedded itself into the floor with enough force to send a shockwave up my arms; sparks skittered through the darkness.
The air screamed a warning; I swore and twisted away from the blow. Instead of gutting me, one of its claws skimmed my left side, slicing through my uniform and down into flesh. Pain surged even as warmth began to flood down my side. I cursed, wrenched the sword free from the stone, and heaved it upwards. Again the Irkallan tried to twist away from the blow, but the spinal injury was obviously hampering its movements now, and it was nowhere near fast enough. The sword sliced into the Irkallan’s arm and pinned it to his torso, even as the blade continued cutting into his body, until it was fully sheathed in flesh. The Irkallan’s screeching stopped and life leaked swiftly from its eyes. I stepped back, pulled the blade free, and let the Irkallan slump to the ground.
For several minutes I didn’t move. I simply stood there as warmth continued to slide down my waist and the wind swirled around me, bringing fresh air but no further sound of life. Not that it meant anything, especially if others had heard what I presumed was the Irkallans’ warning cries.
I took a deep, shuddery breath and then looked down at the broken body near my feet. Wind, can you carry the two Irkallan into the smaller tunnel? There’s less likelihood of them being found so easily there.
As the air lifted the
bodies of the Irkallan and carried them away into the darkness, I carefully stripped off my jacket and shirt, the left side of which was soaked in blood. The sword emitted just enough light to see the extent of the wound, and it wasn’t pretty. The Irkallan’s claws had opened me up from just under my breasts down to my hip; the upper portion of the wound was deep enough that I could see ribs, but it at least grew shallower as it skimmed down my side to my hip. I swung the pack off and fished around until I found the small medikit. I plucked one of the sealing sprays free, snapped off the cap, and then liberally applied it to the long wound. It stung like blazes, and I had to grit my teeth against the scream that tore up my throat. I waited a couple of seconds for the sealer to take hold then grabbed the sticky bandage strip and roughly wound it around my body. It might restrict some of my movements but it would also help support the sealant and stop the wound from breaking open again.
With that done, I redressed then sheathed the sword and slung the pack back over my shoulders. While I would have liked to keep hold of the sword, I’d rather not run the risk of its soft glow giving me away.
I retrieved my knife, shoved it back into its sheath, and then walked on. As the tunnel’s decline grew, the heat intensified, and moisture began to slick the walls and drift in tiny rivers across the floor, forcing me to go even slower lest I slip.
A soft pulsing soon began to invade the silence. I paused to listen, but there was no threat in the sound, and nothing underneath to indicate anything approached. In fact, that noise reminded me of a heartbeat, one that was oddly comforting.
Another curve soon appeared, this time to the left. I kept close to the wall, trailing my fingers along its surface to ensure I didn’t drift too far away from it. We Sifft might have excellent night sight but night usually had stars or the moon to give at least some light. There was absolutely nothing here. And while I wasn’t walking totally blind thanks to the assistance of the wind, keeping contact with the wall at least gave me some warning of change.
The pulsing grew stronger and light flickered somewhere ahead. I gripped the knife’s hilt in readiness and slowly edged around the tunnel’s curve.
The light came from two rough archways carved into the tunnel’s walls—one to the right, one to the left. Within the left, I could hear someone shuffling around, and from the right, there came a murmur of conversation, though it was no language I’d heard before. And it certainly didn’t sound as if it were coming from human throats.
But then, I guessed it was logical the children born of this place would try to imitate the sounds they heard the Irkallan making rather than anything human-sounding, especially given Saska had said the children were taken away from them at birth.
I closed my eyes for a minute, gathering my strength for the task ahead, and then reached the wind. Tell me what you see.
It’s not the children. At least, not human children.
Relief spun through me, even though it was little more than a brief reprieve. So they’re Irkallan offspring?
No, the wind murmured. Adlin.
Freedom, help me…. How many?
Sixteen.
Even young Adlin were dangerous, especially if there was a number of them. If they caught my scent, I was done for.
You can kill them. You can order the breath drawn from their lungs and their threat would no longer exist.
Yes, I could, but I still had no idea where the children born to the stolen witches were being kept, and until I did discover that, I needed to conserve my strength. And surely, despite the appearance of this area being unguarded, there would be Irkallan nearby. They’d not risk Adlin roaming about unchecked—not if Saska was right and there was only a limited supply of the controlling bracelets.
I eased toward the doorways and stopped again. Both archways were inset with heavily barred cell doors, the metal glinting silver in the pale light coming from either room. I drew in a breath to steady my nerves and listened to the movement within the nearest cell while I watched the other. When the noise suggested they’d moved away from the arch, I scampered silently across.
Thankfully, no angry roars followed me down the tunnel. But it was becoming increasingly evident I was nearing a main living area; not only was that odd thrumming getting louder, but the strong breeze sweeping through the tunnel from somewhere up ahead spoke of life and a vast city.
There is a small, disused mine shaft on your right, the wind said. Take it.
I did. Unlike the circular and very smooth walls of that main tunnel, these were rectangular and roughhewn, with thick, regularly spaced wooden posts to support both the walls and the ceiling. It was obviously a remnant from the time before the Irkallan, when miners had lived and worked in this place.
A dark, slime-like moss hung in ribbons from the ceiling and oozed along the floor, making every step treacherous and forcing me to go even slower. Despite the moisture running down the walls and dripping from the moss, the heat was becoming oppressive. Every breath felt like it was burning my lungs, and my shirt and pants were so damp with sweat that they clung uncomfortably to my skin.
The old shaft made a long, gentle curve to the left and then began to drop down again. The moisture dripping from the ceiling increased, and there was now a foot-wide river bubbling down the middle of the floor—a merry sound that was somehow audible against the deepening thrum. That thrum reminded me somewhat of the hum you could hear in and around beehives, and it made me think I was at least near, if not even in, the heart of the Irkallan settlement.
But was I anywhere near the children?
The queen keeps them near her, at the very lowest level of this place, where it is deemed the safest should there be an attack, the wind said. This shaft will take you close.
Close wasn’t what I wanted or needed. Not in this place.
No. The wind hesitated. There is nothing between this shaft and where the children rest. Nothing but space.
I edged around small rockslide, and then said, Why would there be only open space? Isn’t the whole mountainside little more than a maze of tunnels and shafts intersecting various chambers, be they small or large?
There is another fall up ahead, the wind said. One that has splintered the wall between this shaft and the main tunnel. Look through it, and you will see the true breadth of the Irkallan’s city.
It was a statement that revived the ashes of fear. I didn’t want to see the true impossibility of my quest—didn’t want to know for sure the flutters of hope that still beat within me had as little chance of survival as I did.
An odd mound began to loom in the darkness ahead. As I drew closer, it revealed itself to be heavily compacted slide of rock, dirt, and thick timbers, all of which was covered by the oozing moss. To the left of this, where a timber beam had once held back the earth, was a three-foot-long seam wide enough to put my fist through. I carefully climbed the rubble then grabbed the jagged edge of the seam to hold myself up and peered out.
What I saw was almost beyond belief.
It was a vast, vertical tunnel—one that had enormous proportions. It was at least a quarter of a mile wide and beautifully cylindrical. The tunnel’s walls were lined with perfectly spaced archways that divided it into different levels, and each one appeared to be an entrance into a chamber of some kind, although most of them were dark so I couldn’t see what lay within. But there was a stunning symmetry in the construction here, because not only did each arch appear the exact same size, but it also lined up perfectly with the one above and below. A wide, continuous ramp wound around the wall and linked all the levels and rooms, and it drew the eye downward. It was a long drop. Although there had to be at least fifteen levels above me, there were at least another fifty below that I could see before the darkness simply got too deep to penetrate.
But the thrumming noise I could hear seemed to be coming from somewhere close to that deeper darkness.
Saska had said the queen and the breeders lay at the heart of the apiary, within earth that still held lif
e and heat. But there was no life in the walls I could see, no voices to be heard. Did that mean this shaft held the workers, and that the queen, breeders, and perhaps even the witchlings they’d bred lived somewhere else?
No, said the wind. They reside in the chambers above the current flood line.
There’s water at the base of it?
Yes. The vertical tunnel once had another fifteen levels, but over the generations, the water that leeches through this dead rock has flooded them.
How close will this tunnel get me to the queen’s level?
Not close enough.
Which again was not what I wanted to hear. I shifted sideways and tried to see what was nearby but there was nothing to be seen. It was almost as if nothing had been built into the tunnel’s walls along this section.
The path does pass by three feet below your position, the air said. But because all the old mining shafts near here are unstable and constantly flooding, the Irkallan decided not to use this area.
I blinked. And how would the collective consciousness of the air know something like that?
Because we asked the earth.
Air can’t interact with earth.
Unless there is a conduit. You were that for Saska; when her death ended the weight of three ruling that we were not to help you, that ability to interact with earth was opened to us.
Interesting. So the earth is aware of our approach?
Yes. But it cannot help until you once again step onto ground that holds life and hope.
Which again, wasn’t overly useful when to get to such a place I’d also be in the midst of the queen’s lair.
I thumbed the sweat away from my forehead and eyes, and then squeezed past the rockfall and continued forward. But the mine shaft was narrowing, the going getting rougher, and though I had no idea how much time had actually passed in the world above, I had a bad feeling it was running out, for both me and for those soldiers who were to provide diversionary midmorning attacks. This place had at least sixty-five levels of Irkallan and who knew how many inhabited each level. In some ways, it didn’t even actually matter; the truth was, the Irkallan could put forth a force far greater than any of us had imagined, and their queen had already shown a willingness to waste her soldiers if it achieved the desired outcome.