Immediately, Dane began searching for a way down. He found a possibility a few dozen paces to the right of the shriken. The shriken had its back to the ledge and seemed to be looking out over the sea to the north. Dane decided he had not time but to risk everything on Rawl’s theory that they were poor of hearing. Even if the shriken didn’t hear them, they’d be lucky if they didn’t break their necks coming down. The place of descent he had found, likely the only one on the whole cliff face, was nothing more than a protrusion in the face of the ledge. One side of this protrusion sloped downwards at an angle a man might just be able to manage if he didn’t have a keg of powder strapped to his back.
With time running out, Dane and Bailus had no choice. Dane stepped out on the protrusion, then crouched and lowered his legs onto the sloping drop-away. Twisting his body so his stomach was almost scraping the rock and the keg was balanced above him, he began to slither-slide his way down, sliding sometimes on the soles of his boots and his forearms, other times on his belly, using his toes for brakes. He bashed and cut his knees on the rough surface until they were throbbing numbly. At one point, Bailus, descending above him, slipped and his boot slid over Dane’s hand, smashing it and dragging it against the rock. It was all Dane could do to keep from screaming out in pain. Sometimes Dane risked over-balancing to peek around the ledge at the shriken. The creature still had its back to the cliff face. At one point, when Dane risked a look, he was sure the creature had spotted him. He drew back and hugged the rock. But when he peeked around again a minute later, the creature was still in the same position. It was only the beady, round bird-eye, set in the side of the creature’s head, which gave the illusion of looking in all directions at once.
When Dane was only ten feet from the base, the drums stopped and did not beat again. He slid the rest of the way down and caught Bailus and pulled him back out of sight as he tumbled down after him.
They worked their way further away from the shriken and got into a stand of pine which allowed them to move northward away from the ledge until at last they were in front of and slightly downhill from the sentry. Their search was finally rewarded. The stone the shriken sat on formed the top piece of a door frame made of two massive standing stones set into the hillside. Two more shriken stood before the door, one on either side of it.
The men slipped off their kegs and set them on the bed of pine needles. “If they take to flight, they’ll outrun us right back to their friends inside,” Dane said.
“What are your orders, sir?” Bailus said.
“I wish I knew.”
***
Rawl lay in the brush between his brother and Elias. The drums had fallen silent shortly after the others left but they had started up again now and been going for some time. Elias glanced at the sun. “It’s time,” he said.
The three men stirred and began to push themselves into kneeling positions, but even as they did, the drums stopped, there was movement at the mouth of the cave, and out from the triple door stepped the six largest shriken Rawl had ever seen. He doubted any of them were short of seven feet tall. They took up positions, one on each side of each door, facing outward. They each held a sickle and a flail and they folded their arms over their chests so that the staffs of their weapons formed an X that crossed just beneath their necks.
The twins turned to Elias. The priest could only raise his eyebrows and shrug. Elias sank deeper into the depression they’d been laying in. He studied the front gate and its guards and the surroundings. On the west side of the gate, tall grasses and shrubs ran up the side of the slope, forming a kind of shield on the brow of the hill above the gate. “Rawl,” Elias said. “Do you think you can sneak around in that brush and get above them?”
Now it was Rawl’s turn to shrug. “I’ll try.”
“Once you’re there, Paul and I will create a diversion to draw them away from the doors. You can shoot them in the back from above.”
Rawl nodded. He wished he had a repeater. As he moved to slip away to the left, Elias placed his hand on his shoulder. “If just one of them makes it back inside, he’ll bring the whole army out on us. If any of them should make a break for the gate, you’ll have to get in between them and the door and stop them any way you can.”
Rawl nodded and stole into the brush. He went as quickly as he could, moving in a crouch where the cover permitted and crawling on his hands and knees or on his belly when the bushes were too low to hide him better. Finally he reached the foot of the mound and started up. When he reached the peak above the gate, he crawled forward on his belly until he could just peek through the grass in front of him. He could guess at where his brother and Elias lay hidden, but the shriken and the gates were directly beneath him so that he could not see them at all. He cautiously stuck a hand through the grass and waved it to signal to Paul.
Paul, lying on his stomach, could see nothing of his brother’s progress until he saw the hint of his face appear behind a mask of yellow grass above the gate. He stifled a laugh when Rawl stuck his hand through and waved. He felt like he was watching a kid who had become bored playing hide-and-seek and wanted to be found to show off his hiding place. Paul had loaded his bow’s magazine when they first bunkered down in front of the gate, but he checked it again now. He turned to Elias. “Do you know how to write, sir?”
Elias nodded.
“Then promise me when you get home you’ll write down what I’m about to do and make sure every girl for a hundred miles gets a chance to read it. And tell them it’s perfectly natural to cry over it.”
Elias took up his spear, patted Paul on the shoulder, and disappeared into the bushes on his right. Paul pumped his bow and watched as the string drew back and the first bolt dropped out of the magazine into the firing slot. He took a deep breath. Then, holding his bow in one hand and shoving himself off the earth with the other, he sprang to his feet. He was careful not to shout. The shriken might have poor ears but there was no telling how his battle cry might carry in their tunnels. He fired and reloaded even as he charged out of his cover.
If Paul was proud of his restraint to kill in relative silence, he was horrified by the silent efficiency of the shriken. He had hoped they would all converge upon him at once, forcing them into a narrow field of fire he could shoot into without even having to aim. Instead, with no verbal command given, they fanned out, some going left, others right, and a few down the center. In his first rush he had downed two before they were aware of him. He hit a third as it came straight at him. From the corner of his eye, he saw one go down out on his left flank and he knew Rawl had done it. But no more help could come from Rawl. Rawl had a single-shot bow and before he’d have time to reload, the shriken would have taken care of Paul. A flash of black came at Paul from the right and would have blindsided him had not Elias jumped from the bushes into its path. Swinging his spear like a club, Elias smote the creature to the ground, then finished it with a thrust of the spear’s blade. The sixth shriken broke off its charge at Paul and turned for the gate. With a shout, Rawl jumped down from above into its path. The shriken swerved and struck with its sickle at the same moment. Rawl deflected the sickle with the arm of his bow and knocked the creature off balance. The creature dropped its weapons, stumbled, but hardly broke stride. It was already around Rawl. Rawl threw his bow and struck the creature in the back, knocking it to the ground. He leapt after it and caught hold of its foot. The other foot kicked out at him, the claws tearing his cheek. He tightened his grip on the foot and rolled his body over, pinning the creature beneath him. Releasing the foot and grappling with the creature with one hand, he drew his knife with the other and drove it down repeatedly between the creature’s ribs. He brought his arm up to shield his eyes from the dying snap of the beak.
Rawl had just gotten to his knees when a seventh shriken emerged from the door. Rawl recognized its movements but had no time to dodge. The creature sprang into the open, cocked its arm back behind its head, then the arm snapped forward with the speed of a striking
snake, hurling a heavy dart. In the split second it took to complete the action, Rawl had not moved, his arms hung at his sides, his chest a naked target ready to receive the missile. But the blow never came. Something slammed into Rawl from the side, knocking him down and out of the way. He heard a sharp cry and even as he rolled from the impact he saw the creature turn and dart back through the doorway.
Rawl did not get to his feet. He crawled on hands and knees to his brother’s side. Even as he did, Elias raced past him and disappeared into the tunnel. Paul lay on his back. The shaft of the stubby javelin-like dart protruded from his shoulder. Rawl placed his hand against the warm red spot spreading over his brother’s shirt. “That was meant for me,” he said.
“I’m the firstborn,” Paul said hoarsely. “Wait your turn.”
Elias emerged from the tunnel, limping and breathless, to stand beside them. “Rawl, now,” he said.
Rawl looked up at him. “But Paul needs us.”
“We’ll do everything we can for him,” Elias said. “But we have to collapse the tunnel first. That last one got away.”
They dragged Paul beside the doors and propped him up there against the mound. Rawl tore off his sleeve at the seam. He bundled the cloth around the shaft and, taking Paul’s good hand in his, pressed it against the bandage. “Keep it there; I’ll be right back.”
Paul nodded.
Rawl darted back to their hiding place, where Elias was already struggling against the weight of two of the kegs. Rawl picked up the final keg and took another from Elias. “Grab the match and the fuses,” he called over his shoulder as he ran for the cave.
Once inside the cave, Rawl let Elias catch up and pass him. He knew Elias didn’t know any more than he did about explosives, but he respected Elias as the wiser and more experienced man and wanted him to be the one to choose the place where they set their charges.
Elias hobbled down the tunnel. From far in front of him he could hear the shriken screaming. Down here under the earth it sounded ten times more frightful than it had when facing them beneath the sun. He had asked Dane to repeat his vision of the cave entrance time and time again, closing his eyes while he listened and trying to visualize the place. Finally he reached what he had been looking for. The tunnel narrowed until he found it too cumbersome to carry the keg at his side. Rawl, holding a keg by the strap against each leg, was obliged to walk sideways with one keg in front of him and the other behind in order to move through the tight space. Elias moved a little further in and, even though it was nearly pitch black here, he sensed the ceiling was not far above his head. “Here,” he said to Rawl as he stopped.
They set two of the kegs side by side on the floor and stacked the other on top of them. Rawl pried the lid off the top barrel with his knife. “Where’s the fuses?” he asked, turning to Elias.
“Thank you for your help, Rawl,” the priest said. “Go and tend to your brother.”
Rawl studied his face in the little glow of the slow match Elias held in his hand. “We don’t have time for this. Give me the fuses.”
“You’re right, Rawl. There is no time, not even to lay the fuses.”
The screams of the shriken were a chorus now, swelling up towards them from the tunnels and halls below.
Rawl began to back away but then stopped. Elias could sense him only by the sounds of his movement and breathing. “I thank you, Rawl, for all you’ve done for me. But this is something I must do alone. Something priestly.”
Rawl did not move.
“Your brother is waiting.”
Elias heard Rawl’s boots scrape against the floor as he turned and then the sound of rapidly receding footsteps. That’s it, Rawl, he thought, Run towards the light. Had not Dane asked him to shepherd these men? What better way than this?
Elias looked at the smoldering knot of rope and bark in his hand. He thought about the power of the light. Power to blow the world to pieces and build it anew. Power to consume the world in flame and rebirth it afresh. He realized he had been wrong. Oh, what a blessed mercy to be wrong. The way to save the world was not to draw the darkness into yourself but to let yourself be drawn into the light. And Elias Wick, the cripple who wrestled with the gods, reflected on his life and saw it had been blessed, but knew the greatest adventure lay yet before him.
He heard the patter and scrape of their running feet. He waited till he could see their beady eyes, luminous in the spark in his hand or from generations of living without the dominion of the sun. And he felt almost sorry for them, these creatures of an inferior fire.
Then he touched the glowing stub of the slow match to the dirty-snow face of the powder. There was a searing flash of white and Elias Wick entered into glory.
***
Mirela and Josie scoured the entire top of the mound, searching for any opening in the rocks through which the shriken could escape the caves. They worked methodically. Starting at the streambed, they worked their way southward, walking about five paces apart. When they came to the end just above the gate they shifted 10 paces over or so and headed back towards the streambed. They continued this back and forth movement like workers plowing or sowing a field until they’d swept the entire southern half. Then they did the northern half. They worked together, not knowing if there were enemy lookouts on the surface. The mound was covered in scrub brush and lumpy, jagged rocks. Every time they found a vent, they tied a piece of red cloth to one of the nearby bushes or trees.
They placed the charges in the fissures as they found them, wedging them against the sides or laying them on shelves in the rock just below the surface, always sure to leave the wicks exposed and within reach.
They had only two spare charges when they finished canvassing the northern end. As they were walking back towards the streambed, what felt like a small earthquake shook the ground beneath their feet. A few seconds later came a rumble like distant thunder. “That’ll be the gate,” Mirela said.
She handed one of the slow matches to Josie. They knew everything depended on speed. “I’ll take the other side,” Josie said.
“I’ll find you when I’m done,” Mirela said.
“Good luck,” Josie called over her shoulder as she started towards her area.
Mirela had already turned and was running the other way.
Josie knew she had seven charges to ignite. She had tried to keep a mental map of where they each were. The first fissure was just past the streambed, near the center of the mound. She had wedged the charge in a small crack that ran along the length of it. She had to lie on her stomach and hold the slow match at its tip to reach the wick. She had never worked with blasting powder before and she found herself a little timid now in the act of lighting it. She dangled the smoldering tip of the slow match near the fuse, almost touching them and then twitching it away. Finally, realizing her ginger treatment wasn’t getting anywhere, she touched the match to the fuse and held it there. With a flare of sparks and a sizzle, the wick took. Josie jerked her hand away but stared at the fuse for a split second, surprised at how quickly it burned. It was half gone before she got her arm out of the hole. Covering her ears, she rolled sideways away from the hole. As she rolled, she pinned the slow match against her neck and it burned her skin. There was a loud noise and the earth hiccupped under her. Stones the size of her fists rained down around her.
Getting to her feet, she checked that the slow match had not gone out and that the charge had buried the vent. Grimly pleased, she ran to the next hole.
The next three charges went without a hitch. Only three left.
Josie worked her way westward, collapsing the vents in roughly the order they’d been discovered. When she blew the fourth hole, she knew the fifth lay somewhere west and slightly north of it. She guessed the angle and tried to cut there directly on the diagonal. She went too far and stopped when she realized she did not recognize any of the features around her. She ran in a desperate circle, trying to locate the hole without success. She paused to catch her breath but found her n
erves only made her breathe faster in her inactivity. From the north, she heard the dull whump of an explosion. She wondered if it was Dane and Bailus or Mirela. Setting down her bow, she clambered up on a rock. Shading her hand with her eyes and turning in slow circles, she caught sight of movement not ten paces away. The red cloth fluttered from the upper branches of a thornbush. But that was not the movement she had seen. From the ground a stride from the thornbush, the crack-like opening seemed to leer at her. And from its mouth, a shriken was rising up.
Sliding down from the rock, Josie took the direct path through the bushes, pump-loading her bow as she ran. The shriken, its body still half in the hole, barely had time to recognize what it was seeing before Josie sank two bolts in its chest. Josie knelt by the body and peered into the hole. The thing’s body was covering the charge. Taking hold of its arms, she tried to step back and pull it from the hole. The shriken, who had fallen a little further into the hole when Josie shot it, would not budge. Squatting over the figure, Josie took hold of the arms just below the shoulders and surged upward. She was not tall enough to pull the creature free, but she got the bulk of its body out of the hole and let it fall to the side. As she stretched to light the fuse, she saw a pair of eyes surging up towards her from below. The fuse did not want to light. Finally it spluttered lazily to life and Josie pulled her hand back just as the creature reached out to grab her wrist. Josie rolled away from the hole, ending up on her stomach with her hands and arms covering her head. She waited for the bang, but nothing happened. Peeking around her arm, Josie saw the second shriken half out of the hole and struggling to get around the legs of the first. It screamed at her. Josie reached and kicked herself towards her crossbow, which lay several feet away. The shriken surged up from the hole, one arm outstretched towards her. There was a deafening bang and Josie was knocked on her side. Something sliced her cheek as it sang past. The top half of the shriken’s body shot out of the hole like a cork from a bottle and landed twenty feet away.
The Silent Isle Page 33