by William King
“Could it affect my child?” Sasha asked. “Tam? I was first here when I was pregnant.”
Reluctantly Karnea nodded. “Such curses can take strange forms and remain in effect for many generations.” Silence fell as they considered Karnea’s words. Sasha looked horrified. Kormak found himself feeling sorry for her.
He pulled his wraithstone amulet from under his shirt and inspected it. It was still mostly white. The tendrils of darkness within it did not seem to have expanded. It had not absorbed any more evil magical energy since he had last looked at it weeks ago.
“Wraithstone,” Karnea said. “An interesting idea. I wonder if it could protect you from the taint of those metals the way it protects you from the Shadow.”
“Perhaps we shall find out,” Kormak said. From where he stood, he could see there were many other bridges. Some of them were at the same level as they were. Others criss-crossed the canyon below them. Some of them were a mere fifty feet below. Others must have been thousands of feet down. The city was driven very deep into the earth and riven with chasms. In terms of the area it covered it was far larger than any human city he had ever seen.
The hellish illumination of the tainted river showed him other things. Each bridge on the far side led into a massive archway and vanished. On their side, the nearer side, looking down he could see that each level was circled by a great road and in the walls doors and windows had been cut.
A sound of flapping filled the air above. Boreas looked up. Giant shadows swept over them. Above them hovered huge bat-like creatures with goblins on their backs.
A wave of darts descended on them.
Kormak threw himself to one side, arms outstretched, carrying Sasha and Karnea with him, as the missiles bounced on the stones. Boreas knocked one aside with his hammer. Two more clattered off his armour.
Sasha rolled to her feet. She raised the dwarven stonethrower and sighted along its length. The weapon twanged as she pulled the trigger. A burning rock hurtled upwards, trailing a tail of fire. It hit the bat on its underbelly and exploded, engulfing the creature in a cloud of flames. The blaze illuminated half a dozen more of the creatures. For a second the burning was so immense that Kormak caught sight of the vast dome of the ceiling far above him, thousands and thousands of tiny glittering points of light reflecting the fires below.
One of the bats peeled off from the pack, tipping over sideways and seemed to slide down a chute of air. The rider leaned out, whooping and threw another dart directly at Kormak. It flickered through the gloom, a shadow amid shadows. Kormak parried it. He caught the whiff of something nasty as it slid past his face. Poison, he thought, or perhaps excrement pushed into serving the same purpose. In any case, it was not something he wanted in a wound.
The bat came ever closer. In the bad light, concentrating on the incoming missiles, Kormak misjudged its speed. Suddenly foetid breath was in his face. Razor sharp teeth snapped by his ear. Warm drool dribbled down his neck. Claws grabbed him and, with a thunderous beating of wings, the bat strained to lift him into the air. This close, he could see that the bat had a head like a goblin’s. Its whole body seemed like an unholy hybrid between goblin and flying mammal. It shrieked and chittered madly as it flew. The voice sounded like a demented goblin raving.
The bridge shrank beneath him and his companions dwindled to the size of dolls. The bat swerved to one side and they were out over the glowing river of sickly green, looking down at the hideous drop. The goblin rider gibbered something in his mount’s huge earflap and Kormak felt the claws open to release him and send him tumbling to his doom. Desperately he hooked his free arm around the bat’s neck, forcing his shoulder under its windpipe. He tried to scissor his legs around the bat’s torso but its scrabbling lower claws kept him at bay.
His swinging weight started to tip the bat’s balance. It flapped its wings frantically, trying to remain aloft and in a flight position. Its rider shrieked and gibbered suddenly terrified as they began to drop. Kormak beat the bat on its ear, forcing it to swing back towards the bridge then he lashed out at the rider with his blade but could not get any power to his thrust.
Another brilliant blaze of light and another shriek told him that Sasha had used her dwarven weapon again. He saw the goblin’s terrified face above him, eyes suddenly darker than they had been, then becoming lighter as the flame-burst faded.
For a brief incongruous moment, he wondered why that should be. He considered stabbing the beast or trying to break its neck but realised that would be suicide. It was the only thing keeping him from plummeting to his doom. The bridge was below him again now, coming closer with terrifying rapidity. He swung his weight on the bat’s neck, trying to guide it as much as the goblin was doing. As they reached the point of impact, he managed to turn the thing over so that its bulk was beneath him and the ground, cushioning his fall. He heard the goblin’s head smash on the stone as they skidded to a halt.
He picked himself up and noticed the goblin’s broken head lying in a puddle of greenish slime. The dying bat tried to pull itself back into the air, its broken wings beating against Kormak’s face, sending him reeling away. Somehow he managed to regain his balance and lunge at it, driving his sword into the bat’s breast, skewering it. It flopped to the ground.
He glanced around. Boreas was engaged with another huge bat. It hovered over him. Karnea hunched in his shadow, ducking and weaving to keep out of his way, while remaining under his protection. Sasha was loading another flamestone into her weapon and aiming at another bat. Its rider seemed to realise what was happening and sent his beast jinking to one side. The comet trail of the blazing shot whizzed past it and arced down to sink into the water below.
Kormak reeled forward, still winded by the impact and lashed at Boreas’ assailant with his blade, shredding a wing. The wounded beast hit the ground. As its goblin rider tried to scurry away, Boreas’ hammer made an awful impact on its skull, turning it to jelly. His second blow sent the small creature flying over the edge of the bridge to drop into the water below.
It was too much for the remaining flyers. They pulled up and away into the darkness leaving the humans to stare at each other in the aftermath of the battle.
Chapter Twelve
“YOU ARE EITHER the luckiest or the most blessed man I have ever seen,” Boreas shouted at Kormak. He was cleaning his hammer head on the fur of one of the fallen bats. “I thought you were dead when I saw that monster carry you off.”
“That makes two of us,” said Kormak. He felt slow and dizzy but glad to be alive.
“Hold still,” said Karnea. “I need to look at you. A fall like that could easily have broken something or given you concussion.”
Her fingers were warm and they probed at his skull and then at his neck and ribs. As she did this, she muttered something to herself. He felt his Elder Sign amulet become warm against his chest. She reached out and touched it. “You’ll need to take that off,” she said. “It interferes with the divination.”
Very reluctantly, he did so. It went against all his training to remove an Elder Sign when there was any possibility of danger, or when anyone was working magic, but she was a healer. He tugged the chain on the amulet, pulling it from below his armour, and then raised it from his neck and placed it carefully on the ground at his feet.
He noticed now that warmth was spreading from Karnea’s hands as she muttered her spell. Tendrils of it slithered through his chest and spread out through his limbs. He felt a brief sensation of dizziness and nausea. It passed and he found himself looking at his own reflection in her glasses.
“Well?” he said.
“You’ll live. Just minor scrapes and bruises. Put the Elder Sign back on.” Karnea looked at the others. “Anybody else hurt? Were any of you bitten?”
They replied in the negative. “Good,” she said but checked them anyway. She went over and looked at the goblins, turning over a corpse with her foot.
“They are ugly things, for sure,” said Kormak. She checke
d over the corpse, lifted a badge from its tunic. It carried the same rune that had been on Graghur’s horn and his armour. She turned it over in her hand, muttering something. Kormak’s Elder sign told him there was a faint pulse of magic.
Kormak glanced around and saw that Sasha was studying the air above them as if she expected the bats to return. Boreas glanced behind them at the entrance to the bridge.
Looking at the corpse of the dead bat Kormak offered up a prayer of thanks to the Holy Sun. A memory of the long drop he had seen when he had first been lifted flooded into his mind. An image of himself plunging to his doom followed it. What would it be like, he wondered, what thoughts would have filled his brain in the last few seconds before the corrupted water closed over him? Swiftly he pushed the idea to one side. It did not do to dwell on such things.
“These riders serve Graghur,” said Karnea, holding the badge out for him to look at. “He really is the king of the goblins.”
“I never doubted it,” said Kormak. “It is the nature of the Old Ones to rule those they consider their inferiors.”
“If they do serve him, we’d better move on quickly,” she said. “Those flyers will take word of our presence back to him, and from what we saw before, he can assemble an army.”
“First things first,” Kormak said. “Let’s get off this bloody bridge.”
“Why would an Old One choose to rule creatures as hideous as goblins?” Sasha asked. “Why even live among them?”
Ahead of them loomed the great arch that marked the terminus of the bridge. Rows of runes had been chiselled into every stone of the archway. Kormak could see crystal windows glittering in the rock walls ahead of them. He half expected to see goblins peering out of every one of them but they were dark and empty, save where they reflected the strange greenish light rising from below.
“The Old Ones like to be worshipped,” said Kormak. “They once ruled men as false gods. There is something in their nature that makes them crave it.”
“Do you really think so?” Sasha asked.
“Men crave glory and renown,” said Boreas. “I have seen enough of that. Is it so far-fetched that the Old Ones might do the same?”
“I am not certain it is wise to judge the Old Ones by any human standard,” Kormak said. “But, yes, I am sure this is the case. There is something in them, a lust to rule, to dominate.”
“The same could be said of some men,” said Sasha.
“That is truth,” said Kormak. “The difference is that all men die and very quickly by the standards of the Old Ones. Unless slain, they can live forever. They can rule for a hundred generations and shape a people in their own image.”
“Some scholars think it goes even further than Kormak has said,” said Karnea. She looked almost apologetic to be correcting him but she kept talking anyway. “They believe the Old Ones created new races, by cross-breeding and by magic. Some scholars believe the Old Ones feed on worship, gain power from it somehow.”
“If goblins are created in Graghur’s image, I do not think I want to get any closer to him,” said Sasha.
“That would seem wise,” Kormak said.
They were almost through the archway now. The ancient runes gleamed above them.
Kormak tried to imagine what sort of magic could create an entire race of beings. He did not doubt it was possible. Once, in the ruins of another ancient city, he had seen how an entire nation had transformed itself into demons. If the Ghul could so change themselves, it was surely possible that their masters could work similar magic. There was something about Khazduroth that reminded him of lost Tanyth, a sense of ancient power working unseen to perform some strange and unknowable function.
“The Old Ones created entire peoples to use as their tools,” said Karnea. “The dwarves were their builders.”
“An Old One once told me they performed other functions,” Kormak said. “That they were record keepers and lawyers and weapon-smiths.”
“They doubtless did all those things. They were the most trusted of the servant races, and among the most intelligent. It is written that they were the most beloved and the most loyal.”
“And yet they rebelled,” said Kormak. “Like most of the subject races.”
“Their masters turned to the Shadow,” said Karnea. “Some of them, at least, and there was war. The Old Ones battled against each other, and their followers and their children were drawn into the conflict. Eraclius of Anacreon claimed the servants lost faith in their masters and turned against them.”
As she was speaking a distant drumbeat started, loud enough to be heard even above the sounds of the city. It pulsed on, rhythmic and sinister, as they walked.
“What is that?” Karnea asked.
“I am guessing those bat riders have found some of their kinfolk,” said Sasha. “I’ve heard that sound before. It means they will be hunting for us soon.”
“It looks like they know we are here then,” said Kormak. “We’d best get as far away from this bridge as we can, before they come back in strength.”
They lengthened their strides. There was no more conversation as they marched deeper into the endless darkness.
The shadows skittered away from the everglow lantern. The beat of the drumming pounded its way into their consciousness. Sasha and Karnea exchanged scared looks. Boreas’s face was a blank mask, expressionless, but the muscles of his jawline were tight and the corners of his eyes were creased. His fingers were white around the handle of his warhammer.
Kormak understood what they were feeling. He had seen ruins before, some almost as vast as this and he had marched through abandoned cities, but the absence of light and the feeling of being deep underground, amid the works of creatures who had walked this land before the coming of men, pressed down on his soul. It was an awful feeling to be so far beneath the ground and so far from the Holy Sun’s light, like being buried alive in a city-sized tomb.
In the distance a dire wolf howled. The call was answered and was the start of a chorus of wolf cries that echoed through the whole city. It was as if thousands of the creatures were out there, prowling through the shadows, seeking their trail. A look from Karnea told him that the same thought had struck them both at once.
“If they go to the bridge they will pick up our scent,” Karnea said.
“They don’t even need to do that,” said Boreas. “They just need to cut across our trail and follow it.”
Kormak felt his heart start to beat faster. They could easily be trapped underground by packs of hungry wolves and hordes of angry goblins. If the raiders had sent scouts to the bridge to look for a trail, they were already cut off. He could see the others were all looking at him for guidance. If the bat riders returned they would surely be noticed. They were not going to be able to slip through the city undetected, after all. It was what he had feared might happen but there seemed no point in casting about for blame now.
“There’s no going back from here,” he said. “Is there another way back from the Forge Quarter?”
“The only way out I know is at the gate or the sally port above it that we came in through,” Sasha said. “But there are alternate ways to it.”
Her expression told him that she already knew exactly how small their chance was of keeping ahead of the wolves and ever getting back to the surface but she was putting a brave face on things.
“We need to go on anyway,” Karnea said. “If we are to find what we came for.”
“I admire your optimism,” said Sasha.
“You sure you can get us there?” Boreas asked.
“If the goblins don’t eat us first,” she said. She gave a brief humourless smile as if something had just occurred to her.
“If we can get to the Bridge of Nets, we’ll have a better chance,” said Sasha.
“Why?” Kormak asked.
“It’s narrower, only a couple of them at a time will be able to get at us. We can maybe hold them there.”
“How far?”
“A long
way.”
“Then let’s get going,” he said. “Run!”
He broke into a trot and saw the others do the same. It was not easy to keep up a good pace while carrying heavy packs but fear was a wonderful motivator. They ran until the breath rasped from their lungs
Kormak’s knees started to ache. He cursed the way age was creeping up on him. There had been a time when he could have made a run like this and fought a pitched battle at the end of the day but that had been twenty years ago. Even ten years before this would all have been so much easier. Now the weight of the pack tore at his shoulders like the claws of a beast. His shirt and britches were soaked with sweat. The two women did not look as if they were in any better condition. Only Boreas showed no sign of physical strain yet. Kormak envied him his youth and his fitness. He forced his legs to move and found he was moving in time to the drumbeats.
More howls rang out. They seemed closer. He gestured for them to stop.
“We can’t go on like this,” Kormak said. “If we don’t rest we’ll be in no shape to fight if they overtake us.”
Boreas gave him a grim smile. Was he feeling superior because of Kormak’s weariness? Karnea held up her hand. “Wait,” she said. “I have something.”
She pulled off her backpack with a grateful sigh and began to rummage among its contents. It seemed she was well-organised for she quickly produced a small leather package, marked with runic script. She flipped it open and a familiar scent hit Kormak’s nostrils.
“Quickleaf,” she said. She pulled out four large desiccated leaves. “Chew it and let the juice dribble down your throat.”
She proceeded to follow her own instructions then wearily lifted her pack onto her shoulders again and started to walk. Kormak pushed the leaf into his mouth and began to chew. The bitter taste in his mouth brought back memories of other times when he had used the drug; nights when he had sought monsters in the dark places of the world, days of siege that he had thought he would never survive, rides across the wilderness on errands that required desperate speed.