As he turned down another side street, he spotted something curious. The street he was currently walking down crossed the main thoroughfare than ran down into the East Market, and he was coming into sight of it. Across the street, though, in a dark alleyway, was an entrance to the tunnels under the city. They were all stairways that seemed to go downward into basements, but had wrought iron gates closing them off. Standing above one such stairway was something that made Abdiel feel sure that he was having a nightmare.
There was what looked like a child there, but deformed and…strange-looking. It was swathed in bloody clothes that didn’t seem to fit. Its arms were long and thin, longer than anyone’s arms that Abdiel had ever seen, and its legs were too short, and stunted strangely. It had a dirty piece of cloth wrapped around its head and it was facing away from him, into the dark alleyway. It bent slowly, inspecting the entrance to the sewers, and it looked like it was sniffing, like a dog might. Something about it filled Abdiel with a cold and paralyzing fear. Perhaps it was the way that he could see bones poking through the ends of the fingers, or distended hips grating through skin that seemed to barely hold the frame underneath inside.
He took a slow step backward, praying silently with every bit of faith he had that the thing wouldn’t turn and see him there. He tried to step into the shadow of the two-story building on his right, moving his feet backward slowly and never taking his eyes off of the thing. His heart pumped fear into every limb of his body.
He bumped into someone. Cold fear shot up his spine in little tingles that almost made him piss himself. He turned slowly, feeling the veins in his head stand out in fear.
The thing behind him was taller than him, even standing hunched over like it was. Abdiel’s bladder did let go now, as he regarded a creature identical to the other, but twice again as large. He stared up into eyes that burned from a narrow slit in a cloth wrap around the thing’s head, red and glowing, peering into him and paralyzing his muscles. The light in them burned down to smoldering points, and Abdiel thought oddly that it was considering him somehow, like a normal person would narrow their eyes at you.
The thing sniffed him. It leaned forward and put its head in the crook of Abdiel’s neck, snuffling lowly and twitching oddly, like a bird might. Everything in Abdiel screamed out to turn and run. His knees grew weak, though, and his muscles just wouldn’t respond to his brain. He simply stood there, shaking.
The thing before him shifted backward into its normal stance, and its head turned sideways at him, eyes still burning low. Again, Abdiel was stuck oddly by the thought that the gesture was incredibly doglike. Abdiel finally found his courage in that instant, and his legs moved to turn him in the other direction, his throat beginning to erupt with a scream.
Cold, long fingers clamped around his throat like thin bands of iron, and he felt his breath cut off before the scream could come forth. The thing had moved so damned fast! He felt his feet leave the ground in the same instant, and suddenly his legs were kicking back and forth, struggling with all his might against the creature that held him. He may as well have struggled to bend metal with his bare hands.
The thing regarded him once more, as if it were curious of him, its head turning once again sideways. Abdiel kicked, swung his arms, tried to scream, tried anything to get loose from the thing, but it held him as if he were a child throwing a tantrum. How could those thin little arms be so strong?
Suddenly, a hot line of pain across his midsection cut through him, and his legs went suddenly numb and limp. He gurgled, feeling his gorge rise with the pain, and the thing shook him by the neck. He felt something snap inside of him, and a cold sensation crept quickly up his neck and into the back of his head. He could no longer feel his body.
It dropped him then, as if he were no longer of any interest, and bounded across the street and into the alley to join the other creature. Abdiel could see them, still. He realized that his neck was broken, and he couldn’t breathe. He tried desperately to suck in a breath, but he couldn’t feel his chest, and it seemed like it didn’t respond to him. His body lay like a sack of meat upon the dead cobblestones.
He watched the creatures bend back the bars of the metal gate that led into the tunnels, and crawl silently into the sewers and out of sight. He could see his own blood spreading out on the street around him, at least in the direction toward which he could see. He gave up on struggling to move his body. His vision was going dark, and there was a tingling sensation in his head.
His last thoughts were of Jalien. She’d be expecting him anytime, now.
****
“These tunnels go on forever,” Allen grumbled, shifting the weight of his pack to a different shoulder, “feels like we’ll never get out of here.” Dormael felt the same way. They’d snaked through the upmost level of the sewers, stopping to examine each glyph and ensuring they were going in the right direction. It wasn’t that following the directions of the secret path was difficult, it was just that if they somehow took a misstep or turned down the wrong intersection, they could end up lost down here for days, or even months, and run out of food if they couldn’t find an exit.
They’d been led down into the third level of the tunnels beneath the city, where at least the sewage water was being moved around them through pipes and covered passages for the most part. The downside was that the magic that kept the sewer system running constantly hummed against Dormael’s senses, a subtle vibration that he couldn’t help but perceive. He could tell that D’Jenn and Bethany felt it as well from their irritated expressions, but Allen and Shawna seemed unaffected by anything but the dark.
It seemed that they’d been walking for hours, but there was no real way to tell down here. It could have been hours or minutes for all that Dormael knew. Dormael longed for clear air and the night sky, but he tried to keep those emotions in check. They had a long way to go, yet. He could just feel it.
The tunnels on this level were mostly what seemed to be some sort of maintenance access passages. There were no rivers of slime running through these levels, only archways that opened into rooms that overlooked spinning cisterns of the stuff, or walkways where one could observe the filtering process, or great drains that spun around and around, forever moving their contents into the lower level after it had been cleaned.
Once, Dormael had poked his head into one of these rooms out of curiosity while his companions stopped for a quick break. The din of the spinning fluid had been greater than he’d expected. It echoed around the circular chamber endlessly, creating an almost tangible hum in the air above the cistern. The tank of spinning sewage itself was enormous – probably fifty links across, and Dormael could only guess at how deep it might be. The walkway that surrounded it was narrow by comparison, and its size combined with the spinning motion of the dark fluid had created an illusion that the walkway itself was spinning, which had made Dormael a little dizzy. The sewage spun so fast that if anyone chanced to fall into it, the plunge would be lethal. There were no handholds or ladders, and why would there be? If someone were unfortunate to get caught in the whirlpool, Dormael imagined that it would just suck that person under the water, and possibly wash them down onto the lower levels into the boilers, if he weren’t caught in the filters. He shuddered at the thought. Death by human waste was definitely not a nice way to meet the Gods.
The passageways they currently walked had a regular pattern to their twists and turns. The tunnel would start straight enough, then slowly curve around one of those cisterns or drains. Then, the passage would straighten out again and cross another tunnel. They’d made only two turns since they’d come down to this level – once to the right and then another back to the left later on. It seemed to Dormael that they’d been headed in the same general direction since they’d entered the sewers, but again it was hard to tell down here without a reference to the sky.
“There’s another glyph,” D’Jenn called out from in front of him, “We turn right here.”
“Why did they have to make
the escape route so damned long?” Allen grumbled, “You’d think they’d want to get out of these tunnels as swiftly as possible.”
“You’d think,” Shawna agreed.
The companions once again grew silent as they turned down this new passage. It was slightly different than the ones before it. Narrow and curving, it wound around to the right as it seemed to circle in on itself, and there was a slight downward grade to the floor. The stones around them seemed to be different as well, as if they’d been cut in a different fashion or were from a different quarry.
“This passage is newer than the others,” Dormael commented.
“It appears so,” D’Jenn agreed, nodding. “Mayhap we’re about to enter a new system of tunnels that was built into this one.”
“I hope so, by the Six Hells,” Allen said, “I’m getting tired of the smell of sewage.”
The passage kept on snaking downward, turning in narrow circles, until it flattened out for a moment on a sort of landing. An archway into what Dormael imagined was the fourth level of the sewer stood to their left, and in the distance the corridor continued on. It appeared to go even deeper underground. D’Jenn intensified his magical light a bit and regarded the archway. There was no glyph upon it.
“I can only imagine this means that we keep going downward,” D’Jenn commented. He shot Dormael a look with his eyebrows raised, as if he were waiting for some form of agreement. Dormael only shrugged his shoulders and nodded in agreement. It seemed feasible to him.
“The next level is the boiling level,” D’Jenn commented, “It’s the deepest level of the sewers. I believe that we’re nearing the halfway point of the escape route. At least, I hope we are.”
“Me, too,” Allen agreed.
With that, D’Jenn turned and continued down the narrow, winding hall. Everyone followed him, draping silence around their shoulders like a cloak. Dormael sighed and stepped further down the corridor.
There was a scraping noise in the darkness behind him.
Dormael turned, summoning his Kai and lighting the hall behind them, his heart beating in his ears in a primal, unexplainable fear-based rhythm. He heard weapons being drawn from their sheaths as his companions behind him all reacted to his sudden move. Dormael could see nothing in his pool of light, and the shadows beyond were as black as the night. He waited, sweat beading on his forehead and fear pumping his heartbeat through his ears. He gripped the haft of his spear in white knuckles, ready to use. Still there was nothing.
“Dormael?” D’Jenn called from behind Allen, Bethany, and Shawna. The hall was too narrow for him to push his way forward.
“I heard something,” he called over his shoulder, not taking his eyes from the hallway. Still, nothing moved into his light, and only silence issued forth from the shadows. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt sure that there was something back there, watching him.
“I don’t feel anything with my Kai, cousin,” D’Jenn called, “Perhaps you’re tired, or stressed. You’ve gone through a great deal today. There is nothing there, coz. We must keep moving.”
Dormael sighed and nodded, but didn’t dismiss the light for another moment or two. When nothing came into his light, he let it go. He couldn’t shake that feeling that something had its eyes on him, though, so he kept his Kai ready. The hairs on the back of his neck were practically tingling. As he turned to follow D’Jenn down the tunnel, he caught Allen looking at him. Dormael nodded slightly to his brother, and shot him a look that imparted as much of his feeling as possible. Allen nodded and sent Bethany up to walk with Shawna, who was right behind D’Jenn now. He unlimbered his targe from his back, and slid his grip down on his spear a bit, carrying it more at the ready, then nodded back to Dormael. They turned and followed their friends down the hall, albeit more wary than they had been before.
The tunnel led out onto a raised walkway into the largest underground chamber that Dormael had ever seen. There was a grid of walkways, more like raised bridges, in the room that ran between large stone tanks of water that Dormael imagined were the boilers. The bridges were large enough for four people to stand abreast, and ran off into the shadows of the room’s ambient orange light. The light issued forth from huge plates of metal that ran around the base of the stone tanks, swirling into beautiful designs and glowing sullenly with heat. The tanks had a network of pipes running around their bases which had runes inscribed into them that also glowed with a sullen light, but Dormael imagined it was magic instead of heat. Above each enormous, egg-shaped tank was a hood made of what appeared to be bronze, which seemed to be funneling steam into the upper levels of the sewers.
The air was stifling in the chamber, and Dormael found himself breaking out into a sweat and fanning the neck of his woolen shirt in order to get some air underneath it. He found himself wishing that he’d opted for something like silk, though it would be little use against the cold they would find when they left this chamber and headed back out into the night. It was of no matter, anyway – Dormael didn’t even own any silk.
They moved out onto the walkway, the heat growing stronger as they ventured further into the room. Everyone’s head turned this way and that; D’Jenn’s in search, Shawna and Bethany’s in wonder, and Allen and Dormael’s in wariness. Every now and then Dormael would look back toward the entranceway they’d come from, but still nothing would be there. It was unnerving. His hackles were still on edge, and he couldn’t shake that feeling of being watched.
Dormael could see gigantic stone columns interspersed throughout the chamber, no doubt holding the ceiling of this huge chamber in place. It was impressive; if the scholars were correct, then Ishamael had been here for a thousand years or more, and that meant that this chamber had been here at least that long. Even with the aid of magic, construction on this scale must have been difficult and time-consuming.
They reached a crossing, where another bridge intersected their own, and D’Jenn searched around for the glyph. There was a low stone railing running along the edge of each walkway, around knee-height on Dormael, and upon one corner of the walkway D’Jenn found the glyph he’d been looking for.
“We turn right again,” he announced, and began walking in that direction. Bethany and Shawna stepped off to follow him, and Allen looked to Dormael, shrugging. Dormael shot one last look back down the walkway, and froze in his tracks.
There were lights there, floating in the doorway – four pinpricks that seemed to burn somehow. He had the distinct impression that they were looking at him. Cold fear crept up his spine, and he quested out with his Kai toward the lights.
He felt nothing. He should have. Even the strange armor of the Cult of Aeglar had registered something. Whatever was back there was invisible to his Kai.
“Allen!” he hissed, reaching out his free hand to grab his brother’s shoulder. Allen looked to him, the muscles under Dormael’s hand suddenly tense. Dormael pointed back the way they’d come with his spear, and Allen sucked in a surprised breath.
“What in the Six Hells is that?” Allen whispered. Dormael turned his head once again in that direction.
Two things crept out onto the walkway, hunched and walking more on four legs than two. They looked vaguely human, but twisted and strange. Their arms seemed too long and thin, pulling them along the floor before legs that were stunted and deformed. Their heads were swathed in some type of dirty cloth that left only those burning eyes uncovered, and they seemed to sniff at the air like a dog might stop to do, but they did it jerkily, like an easily startled bird. They were clothed, but the clothes were too small for their strange, deformed frames.
“What’s happening?” D’Jenn said, walking up to stare down the walkway at what Allen and Dormael were seeing. He hissed a low curse as his eyes alighted on the two things that crept slowly forward. “What in the Hells are those things?”
“More friends sent to us from the Vilth, I imagine,” Dormael said, “They definitely don’t look like anything I’ve seen before.”
“
How did they find us? Did Inera take some of your blood or anything?” D’Jenn asked.
“I don’t know,” Dormael replied quietly, “There was definitely a lot of it lying around for her to scoop up. She did drink a bit, I remember that.”
The things caught sight of them, and rose up onto what Dormael could only describe as their hind legs. They shrieked, a metallic noise akin to water boiling in a kettle, and crouched as if they were ready to spring at the three cousins.
“Take Bethany and go, D’Jenn!” Dormael said, readying his spear.
“And leave the two of you here to fight those things? I don’t think so.”
“That bundle of scrolls will only open for you D’Jenn, and someone needs to protect Bethany. If these things are indeed tracking me, then you may be able to get to the exit while Allen and I keep them off of your back. We both know that Bethany and the armlet are more important than anything else, and we cannot abandon this mission. You know it must be done.”
D’Jenn regarded him for a second, the mental battle playing out on his face. Finally, he cursed and slapped Dormael and Allen on the shoulders, then jogged back to Bethany and Shawna.
“Come on, little one, we have to run now!” D’Jenn said, taking one of her hands while Shawna grasped the other.
“You can’t do this, Dormael!” Shawna shouted at him, taking a step towards him. D’Jenn grasped her tightly by the arm and turned her to look him in the eyes.
“It must be done, Shawna. Bethany and the armlet are more important. You and I must protect them. Allen and Dormael can deal with these things, but we have to make it out of here alive.”
The Sentient Fire (The Seven Signs) Page 73