by Duncan Pile
The ogres crashed upon them like a wave, and only Baard and Taurnil stood against the onslaught; Taurnil because of the enhanced might his staff gave him, and Baard because of his natural size and strength. The rest of them were forced backwards, but Voltan sprang back into the front line, attacking with power-sheathed hands. One of them fell back with its voice-box shattered, and then another, its knee smashed.
Gaspi had power at his fingertips but was wary of using it. Friend and foe were tangled up in the melee, and he couldn’t risk using his powers. He wasn’t nearly physically strong enough to stand against an ogre, and even as his warrior companions struggled to push the ogre force back down the slope, more were streaming up behind them. Lydia couldn’t help out either, despite bonding with the fire spirit. She had the same problem he did; she couldn’t pick out a target without risking the lives of her friends. Gaspi glanced at the entrance to the Labyrinth. In reality it was only a few hundred yards away, but at that moment it seemed impossibly far. Ogre patrols were flooding up the valley towards them, and the shamans had started to advance, their power simmering and ready to strike. For a moment, Gaspi choked on the sour taste of defeat. Their last desperate line of defence was to transport back to Helioport, but that would mean failing to complete the quest.
“YAAAAAAAAAAAARGHH!” Baard yelled, lifting Bonebreaker over his head and charging. He barrelled past Voltan and slammed into a knot of ogres, sending them tumbling back into the valley. The giant couldn’t stop his momentum and fell with them, bouncing down the slope and knocking other ogres over when they couldn’t get out of the way. Gaspi ran after them, looking for a clear shot at the massing ogres so that Baard could break away and re-join the group. Baard rose to his feet, lifting Bonebreaker once again and issuing his fierce battle cry, but none of the ogres around him were attacking. They stood looking at Bonebreaker in dumbfounded silence. It was just like it had been in the pass. The fabled weapon stopped them in their tracks! Gaspi and the others caught up with Baard, facing outwards in a defensive circle.
“Gunthaak-Bane!” a Kaas groaned. Several others around him fell to their knees, the strength in their legs failing them.
“NO! GET TO YOUR FEET!” a guttural voice commanded. The shamans were approaching, power glowering around their staffs of office. “KILL THEM!” But the Urzaaks and Kaas didn’t respond. Cries of “Gunthaak-Bane” echoed around the valley, and more ogres were falling to their knees. The glow surrounding the shamans’ staffs of office intensified, and power lashed out at the kneeling ogres. Another shaman gave a wild cry and the Bloodhawks spiralled down out of the sky, attacking the Urzaaks and Kaas where they knelt. It was chaos. More shamans were running up from the valley below, and Bloodhawks were diving from every quarter of the sky, shrieking their fury to the winds.
“THE LABYRINTH!” Gaspi shouted, and suddenly they were all sprinting after him, passing kneeling Urzaaks and furious shamans. Lydia kept the Bloodhawks at bay, shooting streams of fire into their midst. With a wild sweep of power, Gaspi whipped the remaining thorn bushes aside, revealing the dark entrance to the Labyrinth, and the iron grate covering it. With another vicious swipe, he ripped the grate right off the wall and tossed it to one side. The group sprinted the last few yards and charged into the tunnel. Gaspi threw a globe light in the air, illuminating a steep, rounded passageway, running steadily down into the mountain. A hundred yards in, he stopped and spun around, ready to bring the roof down on their enemies, but they hadn’t been pursued. The rest of the group stopped too, weapons and power at the ready.
Taurnil glanced at Gaspi. “What’s going on?”
“I have no idea,” Gaspi said. They stood like that for long moments, looking back the way they’d come.
“Should I collapse the entrance?” Gaspi asked.
“Too risky,” Voltan said. “You might bring the whole mountain down around our ears.”
“Then maybe I should use the Eye. See why they’re not following us?”
“No, let’s keep moving,” Voltan said. “They’re busy killing each other right now, but that’ll be over soon enough. Let’s get a decent head start.”
The warrior mage turned around and walked straight into Baard, who was holding Bonebreaker out with both hands, staring at it in confusion. “What the ruddy heck is going on?” he asked no-one in particular.
“There’ll be time to talk about it later on,” Voltan said. “Now come on! Let’s go!” Voltan stepped around Baard and started down the tunnel. Gaspi glanced back once more, uneasy that the ogres seemed to have let them go. They probably wouldn’t fit in the tunnel, at least not standing up, but why hadn’t the shamans rained their most deadly spells down on them from the entrance? Feeling troubled, he turned around and followed Voltan down the slope, each step taking him deeper into the mountain.
…
If Gaspi had used the Wizard’s Eye, he would have seen the ogre shamans lay into the Urzaaks and Kaas, intent on murdering every last one of them. He would have seen the warriors fight back, but ultimately be ripped to shreds by Bloodhawk talons and the magical onslaught. Once the killing was over, he would have seen every shaman in the valley turn as one and make for the mountain, urgency speeding their steps. He would have noticed that all of them made ritualistic signs of warding as they passed the entrance to the Labyrinth, and if he’d been watching really closely, he would have seen that some of them even shuddered.
Thirty-five
Sweat broke out on Shirukai’s brow as he entered the temple. The High Priest followed him inside, as did several of his acolytes, but all of the warriors stayed outside. The doors swung shut without being touched, closing with a resounding boom. The spiders remained in place, fangs exposed, ready to pierce his skin at the High Priest’s command.
The temple had none of the trappings you might expect of a place of worship with the exception of an altar – a blackened and squat lump at the far end of the room. Resting top and centre of the altar was a large, oval stone; blackened and coarse, with pulsing veins of reddish light. Shirukai looked away with a shudder, feeling profoundly disturbed by the stone’s grim aspect.
Some kind of harness hung suspended over the altar, a man-sized contraption made of yellowed bones and leather straps. In the very centre of the room, the floor sloped down into a pit, or maybe a well, from which arose billows of roiling mist. The opaque substance boiled across the floor, sinking down through hidden outlets around the walls of the temple and flowing out across the island. If the stone had made him uneasy, the pit terrified him. He couldn’t escape the impression that the mist was an insubstantial veil between him and the ultimate horror. Somehow he knew that, if it parted, it would be the end of him.
He’d had enough. Spiders or not, he wasn’t going to wait around to find out what happened in the temple. Even death would be preferable to whatever they were planning to do with him. With a sudden flick of his power, he swept every spider from his body, smashing the one beneath his shirt to a pulp with his fist before it could bite him. He spun around and launched a strike at the High Priest that ought to knock him through the doors, but the acolytes summoned some kind of communal shield that repelled it entirely. None of them had magic that compared to his own, but if they could meld their shields into one, then they’d be able to deflect even his most potent attacks.
The High Priest’s fists glowered with pulsating power, and a tide of spiders flowed in under the temple door and rushed towards him. Shirukai dug deep, drawing as much power as he could and sweeping aside the advancing carpet of spiders. They hit the walls of the temple hard, hundreds of bloated bodies exploding on impact. Shirukai advanced, directing his magic with great sweeping motions of his arms. The High Priest gestured sharply and the spiders stopped advancing.
Determined to make a break for it, he summoned his strongest shield and ran for the door, attempting to force his way past the High Priest and his acolytes on brute strength alone. For a moment he thought he was going to make it, but as he neare
d the acolytes, the light around the High Priest’s fists pulsated once more and he felt dozens more spiders land on him from above. Before he could sweep them away, one of them landed on the nape of his neck and sunk its fangs deep into his flesh. Dizziness assailed him, his knees gave way, and he found himself flat on his face.
The High Priest levered his toes under Shirukai’s prone body and pushed him over onto his back. Shirukai looked up at his captor’s face, which looked strangely distorted, a visage from his most horrifying dreams. With fading clarity, he realised the venom must be hallucinogenic.
“Just finish it!” he slurred, defeated.
“Oh no, you’ll not escape so easily,” the High Priest said. “We brought you here to serve, and serve you will. There is no greater honour than to speed the day of Ak-Thakis’ return.”
“Ak-Thakis?” Shirukai muttered, disoriented by the poison. He felt like the room tilted in towards the pit. Mist belched from it as the room swelled with a palpable sense of threat.
“Do not speak His name!” the High Priest said flatly. “Only the initiated have that honour. You are a sacrifice, not a worshipper!”
Shirukai groaned as the room started to swim. He tried to focus his eyes on the ceiling, but it only made it worse.
“Take him to the harness,” the High Priest said. Nausea gripped Shirukai as a dozen hands took hold of him and hoisted him into the air. He was carried across the temple and held steady while the harness was lowered. They strapped him in, the broad leather straps pulling painfully tight against his wrists and ankles.
“Lift him up!” the High Priest cried, and Shirukai’s head spun once more as he was hoisted into the air. When the lurching motion finally stopped, he moaned and opened his eyes. Below him, the High Priest regarded him with obvious satisfaction. “Welcome to your new home, Shirukai. You will be here for a long time.”
…
The next couple of days were torturous for Jonn. Now that he and Adela had been reunited, being around her was hellish. He wanted nothing more than to be with her, but any kind of rendezvous they arranged, no matter how careful they were, would only place her in jeopardy. Realistically, it would mean the end of both their lives, and after all this time, there was no way he was going to fail in his mission to rescue her from Belash. It wasn’t just Adela he was thinking about either. He had sworn to rescue the other girls too, and the only way to do that was to shut Belash’s organisation down for good. Jonn was under no illusions. Once Adela was safe, he and Trask were going to wage war on the Rats, and it wouldn’t end until every last one of them was imprisoned or dead. Jonn no longer cared about his own life – not when weighed up against crushing a trade that abused and enslaved women. And then there was Belash himself. Come what may, the crime-lord was not getting out of this alive.
For all these reasons, Jonn fought his instincts and ignored Adela entirely, even if it made his bones ache. Every time his eyes found her he forced his gaze away. Every time she crossed his path he stifled the smile that threatened to break out on his lips. There was too much at stake to give himself away in one indulgent moment.
He almost did exactly that, however, on the last day he served in the elite guard. Belash returned at Midday, as was his habit, breezing past Jonn without even a cursory nod, and went about selecting his girls. They formed a line as usual, and Belash ran his eyes over them, deciding what took his fancy.
“Valetta,” he called, and a tall, dark-haired woman separated herself from the group and passed through the silks into the interior of the roof-top apartment. Jonn’s heart was in his throat, as it was every day at this time. So far Belash hadn’t picked Adela, but if he did, Jonn didn’t know how he’d react. Even if he didn’t pick her today, it was inevitable that she would be chosen sometime soon, which made it even more important that they didn’t waste any time with the rescue.
“Nathaly,” Belash said, and another tall woman, a red-head this time, stepped away from the group. Jonn’s nervousness intensified. Belash was going for the taller girls today, and Adela was certainly among that group. He’d already picked a Brunette and a red-head. It seemed inevitable that his final choice would be a blond.
“Lusca,” Belash said at last, and Jonn breathed a silent sigh of relief – Belash always chose three girls. He’d been right about the last selection though; Lusca was tall and blond, one of only several alternatives to Adela.
“Adela,” Belash said. Forgetting himself, Jonn’s head whipped about. He fixed his gaze on the woman he loved, who was frozen in obvious terror. This couldn’t be happening! “The sheets were not cleaned to my satisfaction yesterday,” Belash said. “Make sure you do a better job today or it’s back to the cages with you.”
“Yes master,” she answered meekly. Hurriedly, Jonn looked away, resuming his stoic pose. His heart was thumping in his chest, battle-ready adrenaline flooding his system. He stole the most fleeting glance at Belash, confirming to himself that the crime-lord hadn’t noticed his reaction. If he’d looked over in that moment and seen Jonn glaring at him, it would have all been over. The only up-side was that Jonn would have killed Belash before his own life was taken. But that hadn’t happened. Disaster had almost befallen him, but he’d escaped by the skin of his teeth.
…
“What’s on your mind?” the Wrench asked. They’d concluded the day’s business, but when he’d got up to leave, Belash had indicated he should stay.
“Tell me everything you know about this Tarek.”
“Why? What’s he done?”
“Just tell me.”
“Okay,” the Wrench responded, eyeing his boss carefully. “He arranged a meeting with me through the usual sources, asking to work for you. He told me his brother was killed by Helioport guards and he wanted revenge – simple as that. He thought we’d be his best chance to get it done, so I told him we would, but not to strike out on his own. He worked in the docks for a while, and then got a job guarding the door when you were hosting the consortium. You know what happened there – he saved my life, and since then he’s proved his worth a dozen times.”
Belash was watching him shrewdly. “You’ve taken a special interest in this one haven’t you Wrench? It’s not like you.”
The Wrench shrugged. “You’re right. He’s versatile and loyal and very good in a fight.”
“And he saved your life,” Belash said.
“There’s that too.”
Belash relaxed his shoulders. “I’ll come clean with you. I put him in the elites precisely because you’ve been relying on him so much. You might think well of him, but you’ve not known him long, have you?”
“No, I guess not. Several months is all.”
“I wanted a chance to observe this man up close. If he’s got your favour then he’ll go a long way in the Rats, and I can’t let that happen until I am sure about him too.”
“That’s fair enough,” the Wrench answered. “So how did he do?”
“We’ll get to that. Tell me first of all, Wrench, if he’s ever done anything to arouse your suspicion.”
The Wrench fell silent.
“Don’t make me ask twice!”
“There was one thing,” the Wrench admitted, his expression pained. “It was nothing. I sorted it out.”
“No excuses. Just spit it out.”
“It was the day Gordo died, and Tarek volunteered to take over his shipment.”
“I remember.”
“Well he left early, supposedly to make sure everything was ready in advance. It was his first time in charge so I decided to check up on him, but he only just arrived at the docks in time to receive the shipment.”
“You what?” Belash exploded. “You didn’t think to tell me something like this? How long was he gone?”
“About an hour and a half,” the Wrench said. Belash’s face stiffened in anger. “Look, I questioned him about it – he said he’d gone to check out Trask and I believed him. He wants revenge for his brother.”
“Trask
was responsible for his brother’s death?”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t know for certain that’s where he went.”
“No,” the Wrench admitted. “But he’s given me no other reason to doubt him. I made him pay dearly for it. Three days cleaning out the cages. It was nasty down there.”
Belash didn’t respond for a moment. “You should have told me,” he said dangerously. “I’d have halted his advance, done some more checking on him. Now he’s way into things. He knows too much.”
“But why’s that a problem? He’s done nothing else wrong since he’s been with us.”
“Until today,” Belash responded.
“What did he do?” the Wrench asked, disbelieving.
“You know that Beranan girl, Adela? I bought her from Lesair but she was taken by some interfering city guard. Jonn, his name was.”
“Of course,” the Wrench responded.
“I was choosing my girls today. I’d picked a few and then told Adela she needed to do a better job cleaning my sheets. When I said her name, Tarek reacted strangely. I think he thought I was going to pick her as well. His head snapped around like the needle on a compass. He tried to cover it up, but I saw it.”
“That could mean anything Belash,” the Wrench said, but he didn’t know if he was trying to convince Belash or himself.
“It needs explaining,” Belash responded. “I’ve stayed alive as long as I have by being cautious, and my instincts tell me something’s not right.”