Inside was a typical shopfront, with a long bench dividing the customers from the staff, and long shelves lining the walls were crowded with candles and lanterns of all sizes. There was no sign of anyone in here, and a quick check through the place showed no other doors or windows.
Pacian hesitated, beginning to doubt if he had the correct shop, and briefly contemplated trying the place next door. Time was against him however, and his gut told him he had the right place — he just needed to search a little harder. A secret organisation of thieves operating within the confines of an underground city could probably have a whole network of separate tunnels dug into the rock.
He began searching through the place again, this time checking the walls carefully for the slightest hint of a concealed door. His patience was rewarded when he discovered a slight flaw in the stonework — a small bump that, when pressed, caused a part of the rear wall to slide open.
Inside was a stairwell, winding down into the darkness. Pacian was about to take the first step when he noticed the stonework was slightly raised in the middle. He froze, foot hanging in mid-air as he contemplated the possibility that the entrance was somehow trapped. It was tempting to simply jump over the offending stair, but that seemed too easy.
Retracting his foot, he gazed down at the stairs and noticed the same raised profile on all that he could see — the entire stairwell was trapped. Pacian leaned against the wall, overwhelmed by the prospect of trying to get through. Then, it occurred to him that they might have a single disabling mechanism, otherwise using the stairs on a daily basis would be a blinding headache.
Once again, he examined the walls and floor, seeking a hidden lever. His efforts proved fruitless, and his tired mind was starting to slow down after the burst of the earlier fight. Scratching at his chin, he happened to glance up at the low ceiling, only inches above his head, and noticed a small alcove that was barely visible, even with his goggles.
Reaching up with one hand, his fingers wrapped around a latch and pushed it in with one quick movement. The sound of gears grinding could be faintly heard, and he saw the trapped stairs lurch slightly as the mechanism was deactivated. Still, his first step was filled with trepidation. His mind second guessed his choices, yet when his foot touched stone, nothing happened.
Taking a deep breath, Pacian started down the spiralling stairs, descending into the earth. By the time he reached the bottom, he guessed he was more than a hundred and fifty feet below the second level of Stonegaard. The stonework on the walls and floor was very primitive, as if the place had not been properly finished yet. An open door led off from the stairwell, into a craggy and undulating passage.
More cautious than ever, Pacian crept along the tunnel. The air was warm, and a constant background rumble was felt more than heard as he traversed the unfinished sections of the city. He had no idea if Sloane had come this far, or if he’d missed yet another secret passage.
From ahead, the faint echoing sounds of someone shouting could be heard, along with a strange roaring sound. Unused to the subterranean surroundings, Pacian wasn’t able to figure out what it could be. As he closed in on the source, the sounds became more distinct, easily identifiable as dwarven voices.
The passage opened up more as he went, until a vast cavern lay before him. The heat here was intense, and the sulphuric smell was powerful. Warm light from nearby lit the chamber in a hellish glow, enough so Pacian could remove his goggles.
Nearly a hundred dwarves gathered around a central figure, who stood upon a raised stone in their midst. Old Hamish was reciting some sort of speech in his native tongue to the surrounding crowd. To one side stood Sloane, cheering on the crowd who roared at the end of each sentence, and on the other a solemn, silent figure in a hooded robe, carrying a tall staff.
Pacian ducked down behind a rock, just in case he was spotted, and continued to observe. He wished he had taken the time to learn at least a little of the rough dwarfish language, for what was happening before him seemed to be of great importance. Even without a command of the local language, Pacian knew a rebellion when he saw it. What made him gape in disbelief however, was the nature of the audience.
He had thought them local dwarven men for the most part, but upon closer examination, they bore a strange familiarity with another group of the short folk he had encountered not long in the past. With the goggles on, he would never have spotted this, but the pale white hair and skin of the bearded folk was exactly the same as the MacAliese clan of Ferrumgaard.
How they had arrived here, deep within the heart of Stonegaard was a mystery, but there was no denying the presence of the insane denizens of the fallen city. Pacian’s suspicions were confirmed moments later when Hamish finished his rallying cry and raised Thanesedge high above his head. The cavern reverberated with the deep roar of the crowd — ‘Thane MacAliese! Thane MacAliese!’
Chapter Ten
Aiden stood amidst his companions, feeling the intense cold of the ice wall surrounding them. Beyond, the faint sound of the chanting druids could be heard, carrying out their plans to destroy Amalis with impunity.
“Maybe we can bash our way through,” Aiden muttered, trying to figure a way of circumventing the huge wall.
“It’s two feet thick, Aiden,” Maggie advised. “We could eventually get through, but not in time to help the city.”
“Can’t you melt it or something?” Aiden asked, examining the wall closely.
“Not while Bowen is maintaining his concentration,” the raelani druid explained. “If we can knock him out, I’ll be able to get us free. Trouble is, he’s on the other side.”
“I think someone’s coming,” Ronan hissed, peering at the wall. Maggie fell silent while Aiden looked closely. Through the ice he could see a dark shape, the shadow of someone on the other side. A small hole melted away from the wall, no more than a few inches in diameter. Through this, the voice of a man could be heard speaking to them.
“You shouldn’t have come back, Margaret,” he said. Maggie brought a finger to her lips, indicating the others should remain silent.
“Bowen, you’re sounding healthy,” she called, moving closer to the hole. “You should get back to the conclave — surely the others won’t be able to destroy the city without your aid.”
“You are still ignorant of our power, even after all the time you spent with us,” Bowen chastised her. “The others are more than capable of dealing with that blight on the landscape, thanks to the aid of our enlightened leader. With his wisdom and guidance, there is much we can achieve. This world can be brought into harmony with nature, if we but follow his glorious example.”
“So, you’ve installed a new arch druid,” Maggie remarked with false interest. “Perhaps I was wrong to argue with the order.”
“Don’t try and convince me you’ve had a change of heart,” Bowen scolded. “Do you really think so little of me?”
“You’re right, I haven’t changed my mind,” Maggie retorted. “I want to speak with your new leader. Did you appoint Eoghan, or someone else? Johnathon? No? Perhaps Bailey?”
“You’ve never met him before, but I might introduce you after I have dispensed with your associates,” Bowen finally answered. Maggie’s brow furrowed slightly.
“So, someone from outside the conclave? Now that is interesting. Frankly, I’m surprised it wasn’t you. You were never shy about speaking of your ambitions, Bowen.”
“I am but a humble servant of nature,” Bowen replied smoothly, although Aiden could sense his towering ego behind those words. “Feybourne is the centre of his power, and with his aid we can finally stop the relentless march of civilisation.”
“I’m interested in a meeting,” Maggie answered, pointing at Ronan and then gesturing to the wall. The sailor gestured to the shadow of Bowen through the ice and made a slicing gesture across his throat, to which she nodded slowly. She continued to speak while Ronan began to walk up the wall of ice with his enchanted boots, cautiously at first but with greater conf
idence with each passing moment.
“Why bring in an outsider to rule over you?” Maggie asked. “Our order has always been self-sufficient.”
“Oh, but he’s not an outsider at all,” Bowen responded smugly. “That’s why he has so much power — he has been here all along, soaking in the power of the earth. We simply needed to open our minds to him.”
Aiden was only half-listening to the druid’s rant, for his eyes were fixed on Ronan’s ascent. The sailor had his short bow nocked and ready, and as soon as he reached the lip, over four yards in the air, he leaned over the edge and drew back an arrow. He looked to Maggie briefly for final confirmation.
“I’m sorry, but the Bowen I knew would never hand power over to anyone else,” she grimly said through the hole, ending their little verbal joust. “He would never send our beloved animal friends in to do his dirty work, and he wouldn’t try to destroy a city. I don’t know what’s happened to you and the others, but I can hear in your voice that you’re too far gone to care.” She nodded to Ronan, who steadied his aim and loosed the arrow.
A meaty thwack could be heard through the hole as the arrow struck true, and the shadow on the other side collapsed. The sound of a tiger’s roar could be heard, followed by a second hit as Ronan finished the job.
“I tried,” Maggie whispered, crestfallen for a moment before focusing on their task once more. She raised her hands to the sky and closed her eyes in prayer.
“Aiden, help me up,” Sir William requested, as the clouds above them began to swirl and clear. A shaft of brilliant sunlight streamed around them while Aiden helped the old knight to his feet, and then assisted him while he climbed onto Bastion’s saddle.
The shaft of light intensified, centred on a single part of the wall. Water began running from the surface and Ronan quickly skidded back down to the ground as the wall of ice began to thin with alarming speed. Bastion snorted impatiently, the warhorse sensing the tension in the group.
“We need only to drop a few of them to prevent the ceremony,” Maggie whispered, her concentration focused upon her task. “They will be weakened from the ritual. If we can drive them off, we can head straight to Feybourne. It’s this new leader we need to eliminate if we want to end this threat.”
“Follow me when I charge into their ranks,” Sir William ordered. “I will scatter their numbers, giving you a clear run.” Torrents of steam gushed forth from the immense wall, and the ground underfoot was becoming a swampy morass. As soon as a large enough gap opened, Sir William put the spurs to Bastion and led the charge, emerging from the intense light like an avenging angel.
The mighty warhorse churned the snow as the knight guided him through the trees. Aiden hurried forward, his heart racing as he went into battle once more, struggling to keep up with the horse through the slippery conditions underfoot. He passed by the remains of Bowen and saw Thorn sitting nearby, awaiting Maggie as she struggled through water that came up to her thighs.
The thunder of Bastion’s hooves could be heard through the mist wafting over the landscape as they entered a clearing in the swamplands. As he moved closer, Aiden saw Sir William had charged straight into a group of men and women in heavy winter clothing, trampling one of them and disrupting the ceremony as they scattered.
“Make for Feybourne!” Maggie called, rushing past on Thorn’s back.
Ronan and Aiden ran as fast as they could through the enemy lines, noting with satisfaction the dozen druids appeared to be stunned at the disruption of their ceremony. Without stopping for a closer look, they pressed on through the wintery conditions, following the trail left by the others.
The raelani druid led them around the pockets of frozen water in the dreary swamp, while Sir William circled around to the rear of their group, craning his neck to spot any sign of pursuit. The bewildered shouts and cries of the druids began to recede into the distance a little, but it was clear they were in pursuit.
“I will keep them busy and buy you time to run,” Sir William replied stiffly, lifting his visor to take in the scene.
Aiden gritted his teeth and focused on running, for the only other option was to turn and face the pursuing druids. If Maggie was right, taking down their “enlightened one” would be enough to dissuade them from further conflict, and he could only hope they could make it to the ruined city before the druids caught up.
They ran for almost half an hour and Aiden’s legs were almost numb, but still the sound of pursuit lingered in the air. More than once Sir William turned Bastion about and harassed the closest of the druids, returning minutes later with blood on his blade.
The sad trees increased in frequency as the journey wore on, and soon they were forced to slow down and thread their way through the ever-thickening obstructions. Aiden was focused on following the distant figure of Maggie, until he felt a sudden wave of cold surge over his body.
The sudden cold came as a shock, and it was with mounting terror Aiden realised he’d strayed into a small, frozen pond. He gasped loudly and splashed about a bit before gaining a foothold on the spongy ground under the water. He scrambled out of the pool on his hands and knees, soaking wet and shivering.
Although he hadn’t really noticed the breeze before, the wind drifting across his wet clothes made him shake uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around his body and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Aiden recalled what it was like emerging from the cold waters of Ferrumgaard and how close they’d came to losing some toes. He did not wish to repeat that experience.
“Are you alright, mate?” Ronan asked, falling in alongside Aiden.
“T-Took a t-tumble into some w-water,” he replied through teeth chattering.
“Saw that,” Ronan remarked. “Just keep moving and you’ll warm up eventually, okay?” Aiden nodded, and the two of them continued on through the swamp, the sailor lending him a hand whenever the going became rough.
His boots were soaked through and freezing over rapidly, along with Aiden’s feet. He couldn’t even feel them anymore, and silently feared he would be stricken with frostbite if he didn’t warm up soon. The occasional clash of steel and thunder from behind reminded him that their enemies were still in pursuit, so pausing for to dry out was impossible.
Shortly thereafter, Aiden finally laid eyes upon the shattered remains of the city of Feybourne. The swamp had reclaimed most of the lands stretching out before them, but ancient columns and ruined buildings rose up amidst the surrounding flora. Only the highest of buildings could still be seen above the decay, for the land had sunk deep into the earth.
Maggie, astride Thorn, awaited them in the waning light upon the rise. When Maggie slid off his back, the tiger slumped to the ground, panting heavily from the journey. Within moments Sir William had caught up to them as well. Bastion was lathered in sweat in spite of the cold, and Sir William himself dismounted awkwardly, landing heavily on the ground and leaning against a nearby tree.
“How are you holding up?” Ronan asked the old knight. Of the four of them, only he seemed to have made it through their journey unscathed.
“I’ve seen better days,” Sir William replied, his voice cracking with strain. “I’m afraid Bastion is played out,” he added, stroking the side of the warhorse with concern. “He gave a good account of himself over the past few hours, though. I couldn’t have asked for more. I know you wished to avoid bloodshed, yet I was forced to kill three of your order, Maggie. I can only tell you it was necessary, for they are relentless.
“I cannot explain their fanatic desires,” Maggie wearily expressed as she inspected Aiden. “It is as if they are being driven to extremes by a powerful force. I am beginning to wonder who this leader of theirs really is.”
The fast-paced journey had dried Aiden somewhat, yet his feet were still numb, and he had a splitting headache threatening to make his head explode. He slumped to the ground with his back against a tree and pulled off his boots, which were encrusted with ice.
“Frostbite,” Mag
gie surmised after a quick inspection. Glancing down at his feet, Aiden could see large blisters forming on his toes.
“Can you fix them?” he asked in a whispering voice.
“Not while you’re wearing those boots,” she sighed. “We need to start a fire and dry you out properly or anything I do will be neutralised by the cold.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have time for any of that,” Sir William advised. “Our enemies are not far behind us, and we are in neither the condition nor the ideal location to repel them.”
“The entrance to the old city lies just below us,” Maggie said. “Their new leader has to be in there somewhere, though it may have been short-sighted of me to think we could get to him without hurting the others. Let’s find a good place to confront them before they catch up.” Aiden couldn’t help but groan as he was forced to pull on his cold boots once more, hoping against hope that he would soon have his toes treated before they fell off. Even though Maggie could regrow limbs and presumably other extremities, he didn’t relish the thought.
Sir William and the raelani woman coaxed their exhausted mounts back on their feet and walked them down along a narrow path towards the city, with Ronan helping Aiden to walk. Within a few minutes, the frozen ground took on a more solid appearance, and ancient flagstones could be seen here and there through the blanket of white as they entered Feybourne.
A large, broken archway soared overhead as they moved into the remains of the main street, the stonework cracked and crumbling. The road was set at an odd angle, forcing them to lean to one side. Crumbling buildings surrounded them as trees and vines, dormant for the winter, loomed through the gaps awaiting the return of warmer weather. The wind caused many of the trees to creak and groan, and snow whipped along the street as they travelled, giving the place a haunted feel.
Maggie seemed to have some idea of where she was going, threading through the streets as quickly as they could manage. She led them into one of the larger ruins with an intact wall offering protection from the winds.
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