by T. A. Miles
“I understand,” Ilayna said. “However, he does not. He wants to cut away Edrinor’s darker parts, of which he considers the Vassenleigh Order one. If he learns that you and your colleagues are here, he will have you arrested immediately and soon thereafter escorted from the city. He believes that the Vadryn exist and that they go where you go...that priests and Vadryn are performing a doomed dance. Like a fire. It grows when fed, but with nothing to feed it, it dies.”
“This fire will not die until it reaches the sea,” Cayri said sternly. It may have been her many years working alongside Vlas that spurred her to such immediate and forceful response. She found hearing the governor’s attitude in better detail more aggravating than she anticipated. “Whether or not Edrinor unites under the Old Kingdom, whether or not it becomes something new...there will be no debate about any of it if Morenne is allowed to continue. We will be conquered and Edrinor will be no more. Does your husband understand that?”
Ilayna’s expression took on a gentler hue, though she maintained her ground. “Priest Cayri, I know how dire this is. Believe me. Morenne has taken so long growing to the force you and others tell us it is and while we don’t disbelieve—we know that our soldiers go to a cause—it remains difficult for some of us to take in the full scope. Sadly, my husband especially is one of those who have yet to fully grasp.”
“But you aren’t,” Cayri understood.
Ilayna confirmed with a small shake of her head. Without breaking her gaze from Cayri’s, she said, “I have friends who lost family in Haddowyn when it was taken. Worse than taken, it’s as if the town simply ceased to exist. There was no further contact from anyone who had lived there. Surely, some of them must have survived the invasion when it came, and escaped.”
Cayri could see the fear in the woman’s eyes now, as she thought back on something that may have scarred her younger years. As Cayri understood it, Haddowyn was not invaded, it was swallowed, directly into the mouth of the demon hiding at its core.
Lady Ilayna glanced to the ground, then toward her son as she continued. She spoke even quieter, as if she wanted no one beyond the two of them to hear. “Men among the activists have traveled to Haddowyn, seeking survivors. They found none, not within the town nor its near vicinity. There was not one living soul within the entire area. For a place taken by enemy forces, one would think it occupied...one would expect to find evidence of battle. Granted this was some years after it fell, but the men who went were met with desolation. By their description, it looked a place that no one had been for a century or more. It chills me to consider what may have befallen those people.”
Even with her experience as a priest Cayri doubted that even she understood the horrific reality of a fate snatched into the hands of demons. It was the hunters among them and the ancients who had such insight. “Haddowyn can happen here,” she stressed to Ilayna. “It can also be avoided if the city is properly prepared. You must help us communicate with your husband.”
Ilayna sighed, not with belligerence, but in frustration.
Cayri continued. “Speak to him.”
Ilayna nodded, a firm frown of determination forming on her lips. “I’ll do what I can.”
That was all Cayri could ask for, but she had more information to gather from this conversation before parting ways. “Who are your husband’s advisors?”
The small quirking of the woman’s eyebrows suggested she hadn’t anticipated such a question, though she answered easily. “Men of station within the city. Konlan Ossai is included, in spite of his rebel views.”
“Irslan Treir?”
“No.” Ilayna shook her head. “Irslan’s point of view is too strong for my husband to tolerate. He considers him dangerously like his uncle. It’s only the seeming passive social presence he maintains that’s kept him out of the constable hall as a term boarder.”
“I see,” Cayri said. “And the resident coven? What does your husband know of it?”
“They’re tolerated.” The tone of Ilayna’s voice was neutral, but the words were delivered with an uneasy sensation regardless. She confirmed that unease with a conclusive, “I’d rather not speak of it.” And then she beckoned her son. “Deitir.”
The lady took a step back, waiting for her son to join her, which he did promptly. “I will do my best to bring this topic to my husband,” she said to Cayri. “If I have any further word for you, I shall pass a message along to Irslan. Is that all right?”
“Thank you,” Cayri replied.
With a polite nod, which was accompanied by a passing glare from her son, the two departed. Cayri remained in the silence that followed, considering the conversation. Eventually, she reached into the pouch at her belt, fingering the small orb Ceth had given her. It was textured with many small holes. When she took it out and examined it beneath moon and lamplight, she could see the shadow of movement within. She could not descry the cause of such movement nor did she try very hard to. Ceth had given her instruction on what to do with it. When was at her discretion and it was not now, so she put the item away.
Ten
They moved quickly down the corridor, Korsten feeling the same urgency as the last chase. He felt that one of the demons was definitely nearby. The familiarity of the sensation may have alluded to the same demon, though Korsten hesitated to consider that they would feel as distinct as a person in that way. It was the first time it crossed his mind with such precision to separate them like that. He was forced to dismiss his initial inclination because distinction was essential to individuals, which they were. The Vadryn weren’t part of a collective. Each could act autonomously. Each could feel different. Could each then have a personality? The arms master at Lilende crossed his mind in that moment...and the argument the demon had made through Bael.
Korsten had to stop thinking about it. Now was not the time. He focused on Merran’s footsteps just behind him, the walls to either side of them, the flames they passed and the haze the smoke cast onto the air above them. His subconscious mind searched for shapes within the smoke. His immediate focus returned to the chase. It was a blind chase for the moment and he didn’t care for it.
The corridor came to a crossing. A silhouette shifted through the accumulation of light in the intersecting space.
“Why are these particular beasts so bent on running?” Korsten wondered aloud.
And it was in that brief space, that a feeling of presence spiked obscenely through his blood. As if an assailant’s dagger had emerged from shadow, Korsten felt the dangerous nearness of one of the demons score across his perception. The beast itself was on him afterward, striking against his shoulders and upper back.
Korsten let himself tumble forward with the momentum, into the crossing, where he learned that the floor sloped steeply in one direction. He and the Vadryn rolled down the stone ramp at an alarming pace.
They separated before too far, and Korsten fell into a slide, toward an area too shadowed to discern in any real detail. He made attempts to grab hold of anything within reach and also tried to angle his body in such a way that he might stop himself. At one point, he managed, just long enough to brace his leg against the wall while he laid his hand flat upon the ramp and literally pushed backward to hold himself briefly in place. His arm strength was not a match for his leg strength, however, and his leg strength was disinterested in the weight that slid down onto him before too long. He thought at first that it was the Vadryn, but he realized in the following moments, that the body hovering very near to his in his renewed descent was Merran’s.
Their path ended abruptly at a level spot. They found themselves on a grated floor overlooking a cavernous room with a dim natural light to it. It wasn’t enough light to penetrate the deeper shadows, or to properly let them see the water they could hear lapping below them. They made a silent, mutual decision to rise to their feet, but were unable to fully stand when the grate dropped out from beneath them wi
th a heavy clanking sound.
Korsten quickly rolled himself into a position to grab hold of it. He made a reach for Merran at the same time, and got the shoulder of his coat in the very moment Merran was grabbing hold of the metal panel on his own. They each planted their feet, as if the grating were a ladder. After a brief span of silent confirmation that the other was all right, they decided to better assess their situation.
“Where did the demon go?” Korsten asked.
“There were two,” Merran answered, simultaneously reminding Korsten that they’d encountered two in the streets the first time, and that they may have been assaulted by the same pair. “They both leaped off the ramp before it ended. I didn’t see where they went.”
“Are they toying with us?” Korsten could feel the edge of irritation in his own words. It was bad enough that the beasts had devised a new method of possession, worse that they’d developed a sense of humor as well. He preferred simple, raw instinct. Though these attacks were far less vicious thus far than they could have been.
“The water must have channeled through these corridors once,” Merran guessed, not quite irrelevantly, while he looked back the way they had come from.
Korsten wondered at times like this if that was Merran’s way of redirecting his attention from stress, which would surely build irrationally if allowed. They both knew that too well. Korsten would have to work harder at…well, he was thinking he needed to panic less, but this felt more a loss of temper than of courage.
“Perhaps,” Korsten said in response to Merran’s observation, less curious about the caves now than he had been upon entering them. He looked around their perch, watching a pale glow waver over the stone; the reflection of water. It must have been directly below them, but how far?
The air felt alive in the ensuing moments of consideration, as it had above.
“Listen,” Merran said, when a chorus of scuffling sounds shifted dissonantly through the chamber.
Korsten looked down at Merran, concentrating on the sound and the sensation simultaneously. If above had been a dagger manifesting out of shadow, then this was a rain of black arrows.
They would never stand a chance at their position, against numbers they couldn’t even see. They both knew that, so when Merran instructed Korsten to let go, he did.
They dropped through the darkness.
Korsten watched a swarm of erratic shapes fold over the opening above them, and then the water snapped him into its stinging, cold grip. They hadn’t fallen far enough to cause any actual damage, but the distance was considerable, ensuring that a climb back to their original location would likely not be possible.
That was the last Korsten thought of it for now. He righted himself in the water as quickly as possible and surfaced. Slinging his wet hair out of his eyes and spitting out excess water, he searched for Merran. His partner bobbed to the surface not far away.
“Are you all right?” Merran asked, his hair weighing flatter against his head as water streamed down his face. His features were cast silver-blue in the cave’s surreal lighting.
Korsten nodded in reply, then said, “I am.”
They both looked above them. The demons were not descending.
Unfortunately, to notice seemed to be a curse. A black form dropped from the ceiling in the ensuing moments.
Korsten and Merran both watched it fall, and crash against the surface of the water seconds later. One inspired another, and another. The rain of arrows returned, only this time visibly.
A jolt of terror broke through Korsten’s disbelief at what he was seeing and hearing—demons dropping off the ceiling like overripe fruit. “Merran...”
“You’re a stronger swimmer,” Merran decided. “You lead.”
“Lead?” Korsten didn’t understand immediately, but as the first ripples of a waterborne demon became visible, he sorted it out. He moved over to Merran, quickly assessing the general area the demons were falling to and determining to swim opposite.
Merran took hold of the back of Korsten’s jacket with one hand, and Korsten began to swim.
Before long, bursts of light flashed in the corners of Korsten’s vision, accompanied by the thunderous echoing of the Blast spell. He could hear the water being cut by the magic, and he could feel the disruption, as the water pushed and pulled erratically in the spell’s wake. He was uncertain how many demons, if any, Merran was affecting—or what the results would be—and determined not to fixate on it, concentrating solely on reaching some form of embankment.
His eyes began to adjust to the darkness, enabling him to gain a greater sense of the pool’s dimension. It appeared as a lake in area and depth. Hopefully, it had a shore.
While Merran continued to work the one-handed spell, Korsten stayed on a straight course, determined to find one edge to the body of water, and they could work from there. He thought he may have come to an edge sooner, over later, when a dark protrusion appeared before him. He swam up to it, taking the grip that was offered.
Merran drifted nearer, treading the water beside him. “Can we climb it?” he asked with his eyes on their pursuers.
Korsten glanced over the steep, slick surface of the rock before them and quickly shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Another Blast spell erupted from Merran’s hand. This time Korsten watched it rip across the surface of the water. It expanded into a concussive flare that quickly dissipated, but not before highlighting the grotesque shapes of the Vadryn’s flung bodies. Others veered around it, perhaps under it.
The thought had Korsten wondering if there were passages beneath the surface of the water. He would rather find a space to get out above it, though. The idea of being pursued through inundated corridors by relentless demons was enough to send a quick jolt of panic through his blood. He set his attention back to the rock in front of them. He chose a direction and began to follow it. Merran followed him, as did the many forms in the water with them.
The lake’s black surface burst upward in front of Korsten before he’d gone far. Faced with a blur of motion, a vocalization from the source that he couldn’t decipher beyond abrasive, and the overbearing awareness of presence, Korsten instinctively shoved the beast with his forearm. The strong form gave very little, but enough that Korsten was able to follow through with his leg and finally a Blast of his own. The demon’s inhuman features flashed briefly at a near distance as it shrieked in shock and rage in the moment it was hurled back into the darkness.
“We can’t keep at this indefinitely,” Merran said, a reminder to them both.
Bobbing in the water, which remained active in the wake of their spell-casting, Korsten nodded. He then looked to Merran to more directly convey his alertness to their situation with another nod. He saw relief in Merran’s eyes in that moment; relief perhaps, that they were both still alive. Turning toward the wall again, Korsten continued exploring.
The demons continued thrashing in the water, determined to overtake their quarry. It seemed possible that they might.
It crossed Korsten’s mind that the demons may have been lured them to the area intentionally; a chamber with no way out, where the Vadryn could chase them to exhaustion and eventually converge on them in a frenzy of slaughter.
It was in the midst of that grim line of thinking, that Korsten’s hand dipped into an open space in the rock. He felt around it and came upon a metal rim. Looking up, he caught glimpses of bars in the sporadic flashes of Merran’s spells.
His partner was tiring. The spells were being timed more carefully now. With that in mind, Korsten quickly assessed the features of the space in front of him and determined that the bars were set into a wide, arched area. They were set too near to one another for fitting a body through. Korsten passed himself from one to the other with his hands, studying carefully. A deviation in the pattern of the bars helped him to descry a gate, taller than the water was high. He
moved toward it, studying the hinges when he came to them, and determining that the gate could be pulled open. As he maneuvered himself in front of it, Korsten’s feet and legs scraped against a flat surface beneath him. He righted himself on it immediately, bringing himself waist high in the water.
Korsten searched for a latch and found it to be both simple in construction, and not locked. Unlocked did not mean that it would open simply, however. Pulling with both hands, he could only begin to coax the gate out of a stubborn hold within its frame. “Merran!”
Another Blast lit the area and sent demons reeling across the water. Merran joined him at the gate immediately afterward. Together, they managed to pull it open enough to slip past.
The Vadryn nearest to them rushed in a thrashing of limbs through water to get to the gate. It was returned to its position easier than it was dragged out of it, and there was now a barrier between them and the Vadryn, one which many long, oddly shaped hands latched onto with a morbid passion. Merran held the gate in place while Korsten used both hands to Bind it to its frame.
The Vadryn shook and hit upon the metal violently, but it held. Korsten stepped back and brought Merran with him by the arm, as the demons shot their sinewy limbs through in enraged attempts to reach them. Clawed fingers scraped against the edges of Merran’s coat, but they were both at a safe distance for the moment.
“I think this confirms that Morenne’s advance forces are here,” Korsten said, somewhat breathlessly, his gaze caught on the display of feral agitation before them.
“If there was any doubt,” Merran said, speaking between breaths himself.
Korsten nodded, indulging himself with a little more air in their temporary sanctuary. Looking around at shadowed dimensions that felt much nearer than those of the lake, he eventually said. “And now our task is to find another way out of here.”
It was Merran’s turn to nod, which somehow put a grim seal on their present circumstance, as if the only way out lay directly in front of them, and to entertain optimism was folly. In this instance, Korsten hoped that his partner was wrong.