What she could tell was that the cavern was in the shape of a hollow, upside down pyramid. The ramp that Suri and Raja walked along hugged the wall. This made it so that the distance to make a full circuit around the the walls shortened with their descent, until they hit the bottom ‘tip’ of the pyramid shaped cavern.
Through the dark, open space in the middle came a warm, musty breeze. There were not screams or cries for help. Nothing to make the cavern feel like a dungeon. Except for the large, steel doors shut against the stone wall. Seemingly randomly placed, and each with complex runes cut into the rock directly above. Upon reaching these doors, the lines of glowing amethyst took a right angle upward, framing the top half of the metal door and connecting with the carved runes, giving them light and distinction. Then they continued on, down the other side of the door, then straight again, staying always at the same height above the ramp even as it angled downward. On to the next door, and so on, for as far as Suri could see.
Movement on the ramp below them, on the opposite wall. The mercenaries. They made a long, thin line along the narrow ramp. The purple light shone on their figures. Not enough to reveal their figures, but only to know that they were there. Where ever the line of purple light was cut off, there was something in the way to block it.
The mercenaries were stopped, clustered around one of the metal doors.
Raja quickened his pace. Suri did her best to keep up. She held her gaze on the ground in front of her. One wrong step could send her falling into the open air. She put a hand on the rough rock wall, letting her fingers trail over the surface as she jogged behind Raja. Her sword shifted awkwardly on her back. A necessary consequence of having it. Suri had not used it outside in the courtyard. Did not plan to use it, ever, if she had her way. Despite Raja’s lessons, sword fighting was not her expertise. She was a mage, and would keep to casting spells as much as she could. Which may not be for much longer.
There had been room in the courtyard for Suri to move around and find positions to cast from. The other mercenaries, mostly brawny fighters, had engaged the Turndour guards and prevented them from swarming her. It would not be the same in this arena. For one thing, there was nowhere to go besides up and down the ramp. And it was narrow, allowing only two people to stand next to each other. To make matters worse, a position behind the fighters would prevent Suri from casting spells; she would be on the lower, descending side of the ramp, unable to see the enemy over the heads of the people in front of her, or cast spells that would not damage her allies.
This was not mere theorizing, but pertinent information. The deep, guttural shouts of her enemies, who had slaughtered the escaping prisoners, sounded down the stairs leading to the cavern. Raja, also hearing them, quickened his jog into a run. Suri took a moment to cast the spell that she had slowly been chanting since the fourth floor.
She opened her mouth as wide as it would go. Out came a dark red cloud. So dark that it could be mistaken for a shadow. Suri whispered to the spirit in the language of magic. It heard her will and floated up the ramp to meet the incoming force.
Before Suri turned to run after Raja, and join him where he waited now with Waylan and the others, she saw the first of the pursuers step onto the ramp.
The creature was humanoid in shape, but she knew at once that it was neither fae nor human. The light from the line of crushed purple amethyst showed a grey face within a pointed, copper helmet. The creature held a long spear in one hand and a round, medium-sized shield in the other that protected it from the middle of its shin up to the height of its jaw. The shield was too wide for them to advance two abreast, so they entered the cavern single file. Marching in swift unison to the same, silent beat.
27
Vestrix did a barrel roll in the air. The crossbow bolt aimed at her flew off into the clouds. She shrunk her raven form back to its normal size, making her body both more agile and harder to hit.
The hell spawn in Turndour’s courtyard turned their attention to her as she swooped down among them. The flare was gone from the sky. It could not have been coincidence.
Only one thing could have triggered Lord Korka to play his hand: someone on his side had found Suri. And not in safe harbor, but out in Lodum. In the very dungeon of one of Lord Korka’s trusted servants.
Did he plan this? Was the kidnapped councillor just a ruse to force us out into the open? No. There must be more to it than that. Another layer.
The hell spawn had the eerie appearance of almost looking human, and tragically missing the mark. Whichever black magic user had crafted them in the demon realm’s spawning pools had done a masterful job of it. It was the closest thing to human mimicry, in both physical form and behavior, that Vestrix had heard of. In a darker setting, or far away, they might have passed for earth-born. Not so in the courtyard. Their flesh was ash grey, too tight and stretched against their wide jaws, while saggy and wrinkled on their brow. To their creator’s credit, his creations had a variety of faces, with different bone structures and even skin tone. Their bodies and heights, however, looked to be identical. They talked excitedly in their foul language to see Vestrix land amongst them.
And then they were gone, blown to dust by one of the spells that Vestrix had enchanted and stored in the ring on her left index finger. It wiped out the invaders standing closest to her, fifteen in total. But there were many more. Running over the drawbridge, down from the wall. Joining the ones left in the courtyard, who already formed a circle around her of wide, raised shields. Long spears poked out from the little cracks where one shield met another. This was equipment specially made for capturing a city like Lodum, with its spiderweb network of small, winding streets.
Across Lodum, the hell spawn emerged from their carrier pods, joined into larger bands, lowered their shields and spears and marched through the streets, securing them one at a time. It would be difficult for ungifted to attack them from above. Every third hell spawn carried a crossbow on their back, and all of them knew the tortoise formation of marching with their shields raised in a roof over their heads. And even if a large rock or other heavy item fell on them from on high, their pointed helmets made it so that, more often than not, the object would hit the curve of the metal and glance away, rather than hitting with its full-on force.
All of this Vestrix noted and stored away for later contemplation. But she was already sure that the hell spawn troops had been spawned and outfitted for exactly this type of city assault. There was no need for such tactics in the demon realm. The arch demon warlords battled in an entirely different manner.
Broadly speaking, what it meant was that Lord Korka, unbeknownst to anyone but perhaps his closest advisors, had been secretly working with an arch demon. It was not the first alliance between fae and demon, but it did mark the first time that a hell spawn army marched inside Lodum’s walls. It was unprecedented, and completely unexpected. Not because no one else had figured out a way to do it. The limiting factor was that no one but Lord Korka had the strength to command an army of hell spawn, hold treacherous arch demons true to a pact, and attempt to usurp the Faerie Throne all at the same time. How many of the other noble families are in on this?
Vestrix held out a hand from her black robe. The feathers rustled around her from a sudden wind. A psionic shield appeared around her like a bubble. The surface swirled with grey and silver bands of light. Moving as if they had minds of their own.
The first hell spawn to attack broke his spear on the bubble, doing nothing more than bumping Vestrix as she walked for the opening in the tower. One of the bands of light snaked out from the shield and wrapped around the broken spear. It curled around the wooden haft, then onto the hand and arm that held it. When it contacted the ashen grey skin, the light disappeared. The demon screamed and dropped to the ground, frothing at the mouth. Its eyes rolled back in its head.
Forty-nine left, Vestrix thought, keeping track of how many bands of magical light remained in her shield.
The other hell spawn were eithe
r too simple in the head or too loyal to their orders. They continued to close in on Vestrix, dropping like flies every time they attacked. Vestrix had only to walk forward, into the empty hall, then down the first set of stone-cut steps and into the dungeon.
Suri’s dark red cloud had killed four of the hell spawn. It left a difficult obstacle for the rest of them. Blocking the ramp, and slowing them down. Letting Suri catch up with Raja and the rest of the mercenaries.
She turned to Raja. “The others, on the wall…”
“Gone,” said Waylan. His voice was sharp and quick. “Don’t worry about them. It’s only us now.”
Lorace exited from the metal door in the rock wall. She carried a small, bald, elderly human over one shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Councillor Weathers’ manacles were covered in runes. Far more than the ones on the manacles that Suri had seen above. Chains hung from the manacles for a foot, to where they had been broken.
Lorace strapped her axe back to her belt. Once attached, the blade stopped glowing blue. “He’s unconscious,” she said, voice slightly muffled by the black bandana covering the lower half of her face.
“Let me take him,” came a rumbling voice.
A man with a shaggy mane of hair and shoulders so wide that they took up the entire width of the ramp sat up from where he had been sitting against the rough rock wall. He reached out a massive tree-trunk arm. Lorace moved within reach, and let the giant pluck councillor Weathers from her shoulders.
He must be the gorilla shifter, Suri thought. The men had the signs of a shifter who had reached the limit of his magic, and recently come back down from the state of bloodlust. But all things considered he was handling it well. His face was on the pale side, lips in a frown, and he did not seem to be in the mood for much walking. Yet he was still, without a doubt, stronger than any of the other mercenaries—or the hell spawn who had made their way over the fallen bodies and were marching down the ramp from above.
Hercules at his weakest is still Hercules. The hell spawn will not be a—
She had been about to think ‘problem.’ Then she took notice of the fact that there were still more of them coming from the broken gate. Filling the ramp entirely, like a stream crashing through a riverbed. Marching in lockstep, and more than willing to sacrifice ten of their own lives to kill one member of Black Gauntlet.
The chasm yawned wide next to Suri. One push is all it takes…
She did not have the time to ponder on where the hell spawn had suddenly come from, or what they were doing in Lodum. Nothing was surprising anymore. Not after what she had been through.
Waylan immediately gave orders. “Everyone keep going down. Raja, Lorus, Basai, take the rear. Make sure those devils don’t get the jump on us. Everyone ready? Move!”
The mercenaries set off, with the giant carrying Weathers in the front. Suri found herself next to Waylan. She wanted to stare at him. Size him up and get her judgement on the man that Vestrix called her lieutenant, and who was in charge of this daring operation. By the way she’d heard it, he had snuck into the dungeon, alone, and found out where Weathers was being held ahead of time.
Suri smiled. It felt good to have people on her side for once. Strong fighters that she could count on. Unlike the sketchy enforcers she’d left behind in San Francisco. My ‘partner,’ Logan. One of McNaulty’s goons after all. How else did the two enforcers find me in Brexly Hall?
Suri shook her head, hoping that Black Gauntlet would not be so easily corrupted. For the time being, she casted aside the fact that they were indeed mercenaries…And that who they were working for—or what they were working for—remained unknown.
I’ll get my answers. From Raja and Vestrix both. No more training without talking.
Suri had read Shakespeare. She knew that, of anyone, aunts and uncles can be a young hero’s worst enemy.
So she didn’t let down her guard and ran with the pack. Waylan had the inside spot, which placed Suri right next to the edge of the ramp. She kept her gaze lowered, watching every time as her foot stepped down inches from the gaping chasm.
Keep moving. Don’t think about it.
“Stop at the next door,” Waylan said, to the giant shifter out front. Weathers’ head bobbed high on the man’s shoulder. Oblivious to what was going on. “Slowly,” Waylan added.
Over the next twenty steps, the giant cut his pace to half speed, then quarter speed. Suri didn’t dare look back as she was running, for fear of making herself take a wrong step. Her back muscles stayed tense the entire time they slowed down, just waiting for the mercenary behind her to jostle her by accident and trip her up. Potentially send a few of them falling over the side in a cluster.
It did not happen. The mercenaries knew the dangers of running at high speed and took the time they needed to make sure that no one was bumped. They reached the door with everyone on the ramp, and the hell spawn marching after them. The distance had not widened between the two groups; the hell spawn were still two levels up, in the wider section of the strangely shaped cavern. But the mercenaries had stopped. The hell spawn continued their march, not slowing, not missing a step. They would be on the Black Gauntlet rescue squad in a matter of minutes.
“Jorgan,” Waylan said, snapping the order. “Use your hammer, here.” He put his palm against a section of the rock wall. It looked solid to Suri, until Waylan shifted his weight to his other food and the purple glow of the amethyst hit the section of the rock with its full light.
It’s smooth. Flat, like a door. How could he have known?
The rock looked like it had been sanded down in this one particular area, right next to one of the cells. Waylan must have had a keen eye to have spotted it. More importantly, he better know where it leads.
The only answer could be that it led to a secret passage, or something that would get them the heck out of the dungeon.
Because if it doesn’t…
The river of hell spawn filled the entire ramp. They marched close together, blocking entirely the light of the amethyst, except where it reflected off of their polished copper breastplates, and the sides of their helmets.
Five of them for every one of us.
A mercenary edged his way through the ranks. When he reached Suri and Waylan, he took a small cobbler’s hammer from his belt. His thumb rubbed against a rune carved into the hammer’s metal haft. It grew in size, almost instantly becoming too heavy for him to hold in one hand. The haft grew long, while the head of the hammer widened and thickened. It was a dark, dense metal. The reason why the haft was made of steel instead of wood.
The veins stood out on the mercenary’s arms as he held it with both hands. He whispered at it, voice sounding like wind rustling through tall grass. By the power of his magical words, the head of the hammer began to change shape. Its dark metal surface rippled, as if shivering from goosebumps. The rippling strengthened, making the metal flow. Waylan watched impatiently as the hammer changed into a massive pickaxe.
The metal no longer rippled, and settled into solidity. Jorgan raised it high. Suri and the mercenaries edged back to give him space. The wickedly sharp tip of the pickaxe smashed into the smooth rock.
The cavern wall exploded with debris. Suri didn’t know if it was Jorgan’s strength or an enchantment on the pickaxe, but it blasted away at the rock as if each strike was a detonation of dynamite. Jorgan was soon stepping forward, into the space he made in the rock. Pickaxe flying as he wielded it with the same level of skill that Raja had with a sword. He bored a tunnel into the cavern wall.
“Where does it go?” Suri asked.
“The way out,” Waylan replied. “This dungeon has been here since before the Hyde family gained ownership of the keep. Their gifted artisans shaped this cavern, but it was not always like this. It used to be much larger.”
“How do you know all this?”
Waylan looked at Suri, giving her his full attention. A twinkle of amusement lit up his eyes. “I was a prisoner here, long ago,” he said. “I know t
his place better than most. Certainly better than the Hydes. I’d bet my best pair of boots that they haven’t once come down here.”
Suri wanted to ask more questions. She swallowed her words instead. It was not the time or place to be pestering the lieutenant. And his attention had already shifted to the back of the party.
Raja and two other mercenaries were moving up the ramp. They walked in tight formation. Raja and a mercenary holding two maces took the front line, while a fighter holding a spear came up behind them. They were moments from doing battle with the leading hell spawn.
An idea came to Suri. “How many of you are mages?” she called to the mercenaries.
“I am.”
“Aye.”
Suri pointed to the ramp across the chasm that was full of hell spawn. “We can hit them from the side with our spells. Find a spot on the edge and follow my aim.”
If nothing else, it will halt their march. The hell spawn forces will be split between the group marching ahead of where we aim spells, and the group stuck behind.
Suri summoned lightning. The bands of blue electricity crackled out from her fingers, zig-zagged across the chasm and blasted into a pair of hell spawn. They stiffened and dropped over the edge of the ramp. Suri tried to count how many seconds until they hit the bottom, but a spell flew out from another mercenary. Three, swirling fireballs, sticking close together like fighter planes dancing in formation.
A couple of feet to the left of where Suri’s lightning struck, the darkness lit up with a flash of exploding fire. More hell spawn fell off the edge. The entire legion behind that point on the ramp had come to a halt. Waiting for the hell spawn being attacked to keep moving. It made Suri think of rush hour in San Francisco.
Faerie Empire: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Vampire's Bane Book 2) Page 18