by Duncan Pile
Sabu was distracted by the thunderous noise, which gave the Kaas he was fighting time to grab him by the shoulders. He writhed madly, but the Kaas easily lifted him into the air, ignoring the deep cuts the blade-master was inflicting on its forearms. Baard saw the danger his friend was in, lifted Bonebreaker from its harness, and ran at the Kaas with a roar. Bonebreaker drank the light, its huge, double-headed blade obscured by an aura of dark power. The Kaas took one look at it and dropped Sabu. The blade-master was on it in a moment, his scimitars a blur as they ripped across its chest and throat and ended its life.
Rimulth lifted his bow, ready to fire into the approaching mass of enemies, but they had come to a dead stop, frozen in place at the sight of Bonebreaker.
One of the Kaas lifted a trembling arm and pointed at it, its eyes wide in disbelief. “Gunthaak-bane!” it said. Some of the ogres fell to the ground, collapsing on wobbling legs, others fled back the way they’d come, until only the shamans remained standing, staring at Baard in dismay.
Just then, the air spirit let Rimulth know it was safe to transport. “Everyone, gather!” he said quietly, not wanting to break whatever spell had kept the ogres from attacking. Everyone caught on quickly, retreating to the cleft and forming a circle as fast as they could. “Someone grab hold of Heath,” he said.
“Got him,” Gaspi said. “Ready Rimulth?”
“Ready.”
“Convoke!” Gaspi said, and their trembling enemies were swept from view.
Thirty-four
Jonn stood at the entrance to the roof garden, guarding Belash’s harem of captured women. The crime-lord had told him to protect them against intruders, but had made it clear he wasn’t to speak to or even look at any of the women. That was extremely difficult, as among these captive beauties was the woman he loved. He saw her throughout the day, moving in and out of the pleasure palace, and every time his eyes fell on her, it was nearly impossible to look away.
After all this time, after all this dangerous plotting, after all those narrow escapes, he’d almost reached his goal. He knew where Adela was, he understood the layout of the warehouse, and if he could just get to Hephistole, they could plan a viable rescue, but none of that registered against his overwhelming desire to reveal himself to her. Doing so was fraught with danger, and he wouldn’t risk her safety for a moment of gratification, but he reasoned it through, and came to the conclusion he had no choice but to speak to her. When the time came to rescue her, she would have to do what he said without hesitation, and the only way to achieve that was to let her know who he was.
His mind made up, Jonn spent the first couple of days on the roof garden observing Adela’s routines, looking for an opportunity to catch her on her own. Each day at midday, Belash returned to the pleasure palace. He only stayed a couple of hours, but while he was there, he threw the whole place into chaos. The moment the women saw him emerge from the stairway, they rushed over and lined up, some hiding their fear behind strained smiles, but others imploring the crime-lord with eager eyes. Belash walked along the line, picked out a few beauties and disappeared inside with them. Jonn’s mouth was in his heart the whole time, but thankfully Adela wasn’t chosen. He didn’t know what he’d do if she was!
While Belash was there, all routine flew out of the window. Everything was about pleasing him, and the women dashed about, responding to his every whim. If he called for a drink, several of those who seemed to crave his attention would compete to bring it to him first, eager and willing slaves in every respect. No, there would be no chance to talk to Adela in the chaotic hours of Belash’s visit, but once he was gone, a strong sense of order re-emerged, and Adela’s rhythms were easy to observe. In the morning, she swept the floors and watered the plants, and in the afternoon she bundled up Belash’s used bed sheets and took them downstairs to wash in a laundry room just off the open courtyard. Jonn figured that would be his best chance. The laundry was fairly small, and Adela went in there alone.
Jonn wasn’t required to guard a particular spot while on duty. Quite the opposite – Belash wanted him to roam all over the complex, keeping an eye out for any strange activity, so, on the third day, it was easy enough to wait till the crime-lord had left for the afternoon and linger near the laundry.
His hands were sweaty as he waited for Adela to show up. This was the moment everything could go wrong. If she saw him open his mouth, she’d scream as loudly as she could before he could tell her who he was. Belash’s rule about speaking to the women cut both ways – if they were caught talking to him, they’d be sent to the cages, which made them understandably nervous! There was only one way to make sure that didn’t happen, but he didn’t like it. He’d never laid a hand on her before, not even in affection, and now he was going to have to subdue her, even if only for a brief time.
The sound of footsteps on the stairway alerted him to her approach. He glanced around, making sure no-one was watching, and slipped into the laundry before she laid eyes on him.
Heart pounding, he hid to one side of the door jamb, pressing his back tight against the wall. Her footsteps drew near and she entered the room. She was holding the bundled sheets as far away from her as possible, turning her head to one side as if they smelled. That was a piece of luck! Her head was turned away from him, but if she’d chosen to turn it the other way, she’d have seen him the moment she entered the room. She stepped across the room and dropped the sheets into the largest basin.
This was his chance, but he had to be fast. Pushing the door so it swung shut behind him, Jonn sprang across the room on silent feet, but she heard him and spun around. He reached her just as she sucked in a breath to scream and clamped his hand over her open mouth, grabbing her wrists with his other hand. She bit down hard on the fleshy part of his palm but he kept his hand pressed tight against her lips.
“Adela!” he whispered sharply. “It’s me. It’s Jonn!” She didn’t seem to hear what he’d said, and her cheeks bellowed against his hand as she tried to scream. “Adela!” he repeated, giving her an insistent shake. “I’m wearing a magical disguise. It’s me, Jonn, I promise. I’ve come to rescue you.”
This time his words got through to her. Her eyes widened in disbelief, her gaze roaming around his face, searching for anything she could recognise. Finally, she looked into his eyes and he saw the light of recognition dawn in her own.
“Can I remove my hand now?” he asked.
She nodded twice, a childlike movement. Jonn let her go, withdrawing his bleeding hand. She reached out and touched his face with gentle fingers, exploring, all the while gazing into his eyes. “It’s really you?” she whispered in amazement.
“It’s really me,” he answered softly.
She held his gaze for another moment, and then all of a sudden her lips were on his, kissing him as if her life depended on it. Jonn was taken by surprise. In all the time he’d spent with her, he’d been respectful of her nervousness around men. He’d never even held her hand, waiting for her invitation to do so. And yet here she was, unrestrained and passionate. He wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss, his hand pressed tightly to the small of her back. Her tears wet his face, warm and salty on his tongue.
She pulled back, looking at him intensely. “I knew you’d come.”
Jonn nodded, his eyes awash with tears.
“How did you get this disguise? And how did you get so close to Belash?” she asked.
“There’s way too much to say right now, and this is very dangerous,” he said, suddenly cognisant of the risk they were taking. “If we get caught…”
“You’re right,” she said, glancing worriedly over his shoulder. “What happens now?”
“I have to play this out until Belash brings back the guard I’m standing in for. The moment I can, I’ll get away from headquarters and come back to rescue you. Don’t worry, I’ll have help.”
She nodded. “I’ll be waiting,” she said. “I’ll open the door and let you know if you can slip out.” Jonn nodded
and took his place at the side of the jamb. She swung the door open casually, as if it had closed accidentally, and wedged something under it for the sake of appearances. “There’s no-one there,” she whispered.
He stepped out from his hiding place and slipped through the door, striding through the courtyard and climbing the stairs as if walking on air. His heart was full to overflowing, and it took everything he had to keep it from showing on his face. The memory of that kiss returned to him in exquisite detail – the warmth of her lips, the salty taste of her tears, the feeling of her body pressed tightly against his, that sinuous curve in the small of her back where his hand had rested. That memory would have to sustain him until he’d completed his mission and freed her from Belash’s clutches. To do that, he had to find a way to escape from headquarters, get to Hephistole and plan the rescue itself. The next few days would be torturous. They were so close now, and all he wanted was to whisk her away from here as soon as possible, but he knew he had to exercise patience for just a little while longer.
…
The moment the transportation was complete, Emmy set about healing everyone’s wounds. She channelled Lilly’s powers, using elemental magic to avoid alerting the shamans to their presence. Heath was revived, Rimulth’s cheekbones were knit back together, and the deep cut on Baard’s scalp was sealed. Gaspi looked around, getting his bearings. They’d reached the pass safely, and were hidden from sight in a hollow on the near side of the pass.
“What the heck was that all about?” Taurnil said, when Emmy had finished patching them up.
“Don’t ’ave a clue,” Baard said, holding Bonebreaker aloft and looking at it with a perplexed expression.
“They seemed to fear it, perhaps even revere it,” Sabu mused.
“What was that they called it?” Voltan asked.
“Gunthaak-Bane,” Lydia said. “Gunthaak is the ancient ogre word for mage-king.”
“Well at least one of us knows our history,” Voltan said. “Any idea why they were afraid of it?”
“No, sorry,” she answered. “I don’t remember anything except the name.”
“We can still use it to our advantage,” Sabu said.
“Dead right!” Baard said. “Saved our asses back there.”
“We have to keep moving,” Voltan said. “Gaspi, can you use the Eye to find the entrance to the Labyrinth? According to the map it’s not far from the other side of this pass, but we need to know exactly where it is. Once we know, we might be able to send the air spirit ahead and transport directly inside.”
“That won’t work,” Rimulth said with a firm shake of his head.
“Why not?” Voltan responded.
“Those birds that attacked us. There are loads of them circling Temple Spike. They’d tear the air spirit to pieces the moment it got through the pass.”
“Bloodhawks,” Gaspi said. “That’s what they’re called.”
“How do you know?” Rimulth asked.
“It came from Loreill,” Gaspi said with a shrug. “He doesn’t like them all that much.”
“Bloodhawks,” Rimulth repeated. “That sounds right, and the air spirit isn’t all that fond of them either.”
“Whatever they’re called, I think their presence means we’re facing a force of shamans as well,” Voltan said.
“How come?” Gaspi asked.
“There were two shamans in the first party that attacked us just now, and they had two birds with them. The second force had five shamans, and there were five birds circling overhead. They hadn’t attacked yet, but they were there.”
“You think the Bloodhawks are bonded to the shamans – like we are with the elementals?” Rimulth asked.
“Something much more obscene than that, I think,” Heath interjected.
“This only makes it more important that we get inside the Labyrinth,” Voltan said. “We can get in there and collapse the entrance behind us if need be, and then find our way up through the mountain. Gaspi!”
“I’m on it,” Gaspi said, reaching within his clothing and withdrawing the pouch containing the Wizard’s Eye.
“Just remember, the magic is visible to the shamans, so try to avoid them,” Voltan added.
“Gotcha,” Gaspi said. He undid the drawstring and emptied the artefact into his palm. He held it tightly, closed his eyes, and attuned himself to the enchantment. He experienced that tell-tale shift behind his eyes, and suddenly he was seeing through the Eye.
He drifted out along the pass at a careful pace; if the shamans could see the magic of the Eye, this wasn’t the time for zipping about like an elemental. At the far side of the pass, Temple Spike rose before him, a staggering colossus of stone, thrusting so high it must surely scrape the sky itself! He couldn’t make out the temple from where he was, perched as it was on the other side of the peak, but the Bloodhawks were everywhere, circling the mountain on giant wings. Rimulth was right. There was no way the air spirit could have flown through here.
The path fell steeply before him, leading down into a shadowed valley. It was narrow – only two hundred yards of open ground before Temple Spike thrust skyward, which meant the entrance to the Labyrinth had to be nearby! The good news was outweighed by the bad however – the narrow valley was patrolled end to end by large groups of Urzaaks, each led by a Kaas. Gaspi paused to consider the implications of the patrols. Did the ogres know they were coming? Were they running into a trap?
He looked around for the shamans, and quickly spotted a group of white-haired ogres further down the valley, surrounded by a wall of Urzaaks. Another patrol entered the gulley from the west – fifty or more Urzaaks led by three Kaas, and they were moving fast. As soon as they reached the shamans, they were deployed into groups, ranging out a short distance and then stopping. Each group faced out into the valley, scanning the pass for movement.
Gaspi had no doubts anymore. Somehow, the ogres they’d fought in the pass had alerted the rest of the Ogre Nation to their presence, and they were clearly reinforcing their defences. Gaspi had to find the entrance to the Labyrinth before any more patrols arrived.
He drifted out around the edge of the gulley, keeping as close to the rock face as possible. He followed the wall of the mountain as it curved around, bypassing the patrols easily enough, but as he drifted closer to the shamans, he became increasingly anxious about detection. There were five shamans in the group, watching the pass for signs of the invaders. He could slip in behind them to see what they were guarding, but if just one of them looked his way the game would be up. He paused behind a rock, working up his courage. They had to know for certain that this was the entrance to the Labyrinth before breaking cover. There was no point delaying any further. Time to go for it!
He slipped out from behind the rock and moved carefully towards the ogres, floating an inch above the ground. None of the shamans had looked in his direction yet, and he was getting nearer to his goal. They were guarding a dense mess of highland scrub growing tight against the mountain – a thorny thicket Gaspi hoped obscured the entrance to the Labyrinth.
Gaspi slipped behind the first of the ogres – still unseen. He passed into the mass of thorns, wincing as the sharp spines stabbed at his eyes. Even disembodied as he was, the magic of the Wizard’s Eye didn’t enable him to pass through solid objects, and so he had to navigate his way through the tangle, passing through gaps in the gnarled branches and protruding roots, worrying all the time that he was about to be spotted. At least the plants gave him some cover!
He struggled past the thickest patch of twisted roots, and then the thorn bushes retreated a little, releasing him into a sliver of open space between the thicket and the rock face. A man-sized opening gaped before him, blocked off by a heavy iron grate, nailed into the very rock of the mountain. The Labyrinth!
A tremendous roar assaulted Gaspi’s ears. Panicked, he swivelled around, only to find himself looking up into the angry face of a shaman. The ogre pulled the thorns away as if they were a few wisps of grass, and
was joined by four more angry shamans, the bone ornaments piercing their ears and noses rattling with displeasure. The first shaman roared once more, bone-white hair and pitch black eyes looming in Gaspi’s vision. Suddenly, it withdrew, and the next thing Gaspi saw was the heavy head of its shamanic staff descending on him.
Just in time, Gaspi dispelled the magic of the Wizard’s Eye and opened his eyes. “I’ve found it, but they’re onto us,” he said, leaping to his feet.
“Tell us,” Voltan said.
“We can reach it, no problem, but the valley is full of ogres. We’re gonna have to fight.”
“And what of the entrance?” Voltan asked. “Any problems there?”
“It’s heavily guarded and it’s blocked off by a grate. We’re going to have to force our way through.”
“And you say they’re onto us?” Voltan asked.
“Yep,” Gaspi responded. “They saw me. We need to move.”
“Gaspi, you lead the way,” Voltan said. “Baard, Sabu, Talmo, up front with me. Everyone else, stay close and keep an eye out behind you. Gaspi, lead on.”
Gaspi jogged out into the pass, drawing power and forming a shield. It meant giving away their location, but there was no way he was going to risk anyone being hit by an arrow. The ogres saw him and roared in defiance, rushing up the slope to attack them. Loud shrieks sounded from above. The Bloodhawks!
Death rained down from above in the form of sharp talons and cruel beaks, reaching them before the ogres could. Emmy cried out and Gaspi spun around. A Bloodhawk was clawing at her, flapping its wings noisily as it manoeuvred to stab her with its beak. Blood dripped from a long gash in her arm, and from another on her cheek. Power surged from Gaspi’s fingertips but the fire spirit got there first, ripping the Bloodhawk’s head from its shoulders with a swipe of its own fearsome talons. Suddenly, Lydia was chanting, the unmistakable sound of elemental magic flowing from her lips as fire lanced from her fingers. Gaspi didn’t have time to consider what he was seeing, but somewhere in the back of his mind he understood that in their moment of crisis, she’d allowed the fire spirit to bond with her, and was channelling its powers. Her chanting rose to a shriek, and with a wild thrust of her arms, bolts of flame shot out and consumed the three nearest Bloodhawks. The other Bloodhawks banked away from them and flapped desperately out of reach, but not before one of Talmo’s arrows had taken another in the chest, sending it plummeting to the ground.