“The mines are hard work, there’s no denying that,” Merrick said as he watched the ground in front of his horse. “They say it takes a special breed of man to handle them. Because of the intermittent coal deposits, most end up dying from black lung.”
“My father didn’t last long enough to get black lung,” Terris said, his voice a bit hesitant. “He was killed trying to rescue some men from a partially collapsed tunnel when a secondary shaft buckled on top of them.”
“I be right sorry to hear that.”
Terris nodded his appreciation in Bayle’s direction. “They say he didn’t suffer, that it would have been a quick death.”
“You can be thankful for that,” Merrick chimed in, not knowing what else to say to console his comrade.
“Aye,” Terris agreed. “He died saving his men. You couldn’t ask for more than that.”
“That be the truth there, ain’t no denyin’.”
They continued in silence. An hour later, the pass widened and eventually opened into a large canyon which held the mines, the ironworks, and the distribution center. Littering the canyon floor were a number of wooden shacks, serving as a small functioning community for the workers. In the off season, however, everything lay vacant.
“Right spooky it is,” Bayle remarked as he scanned the gorge. “Remindin’ me of them forgotten cities in the northeast region of Keldor after Ash Mount done blew her top. The cities all still be there, but with all them dead, the people decided they wasn’t about to be returnin’. They up and left with nary a look back. Now, only mercenaries, bandits, and maybe some of those Upaka be goin’ near ‘em.”
“Let’s split up and see if we can’t cover more ground,” Merrick said. He pointed at the ground. “There’s too much damage on this floor to pick up a decent trail.” He glanced at Terris. “You take Bayle with you around the right side and I’ll start here and head left. We’ll meet in the middle by those loading docks on the far side.” He pointed toward a couple of dilapidated buildings corralled together near the back of the gorge.
Terris slid off his horse. “I suggest we keep the noise to a minimum. Obviously, we aren’t seeing any soldiers, but I still don’t like this strange disappearance by Roan and Arnst.” He pulled his sword from its sheath. “Better to look a fool and live, than to not and die.”
“There is wisdom in that,” Merrick stated, untying his bow and quiver from his horse. “I’ll see you fellas on the other side.” He nocked an arrow and started toward the first outbuilding. It looked like one of the main barracks built for the workers to find a cot while waiting for their next shift in the mines.
Stepping onto the rickety wooden porch leading to the front door, he faltered as his foot broke through one of the rotten boards. Pulling his leg out, Merrick glanced over his shoulder at Terris and Bayle to see if they had witnessed his embarrassing slip. They were apparently too preoccupied with their own search to look his way. Merrick could see a glint of sun reflecting off of Bayle’s large battle-axe as the two trackers cautiously approached their first building.
Moving forward, Merrick kept a closer eye on where he planted his feet. The windows he passed had all been shuttered, which left no clear light for visibility inside. He reached out, still maintaining a solid grip on his bow, and pushed down on the latch to release the door. It slid open with a slow, annoying creak. “My great gran’s knees don’t sound that bad,” he said, trying to lighten the mood and stave off the fear which had been stalking him ever since they had first made their way into the lonely mountains.
Quietly, he stepped inside. Swinging his bow left and then right, he scanned the room. The place was dark, save for the rays of light piercing through the cracks in the shutters. They revealed a heavy amount of dust floating in the air, but nothing else. It was indeed a barracks, with small empty cots lining the two outer walls, leaving a narrow walkway down the middle. Not finding any signs of life, he left, firmly closing the door behind him before headed on to the next.
One by one, they checked every building around the perimeter of the ironworks, but to no avail.
With no other options, Merrick led the other two in the direction of the mines. He was hoping not to have to visit the dark tunnels, but under the present circumstances, they couldn’t afford to leave any stone unturned. With weapons out and at the ready, they stepped inside the largest.
“Here you be,” Bayle said as he reached into a pile of discarded tools and pulled out an old lantern. Terris lit the wick with a striker from his pocket and secured the glass covering as Bayle swung the lantern around, working to get his bearings.
“Hold it steady,” Terris scolded as he tripped on one of the cart rails that lead down into the bowels of the mountain. “It’s hard enough trying to walk around in here with nothing but a lamp, but you swinging it all over the place makes it nigh on impossible.”
“Oh, sorry ‘bout dat,” Bayle said, glancing nervously in all directions. “I’ve kind’ve got me a fear of small dark spaces. Why’d you think I first be a-choosin’ the sea as me trade.”
Merrick coughed from the amount of dust floating in the air. “I hear something ahead,” he whispered to the others, struggling to maintain a steady focus on putting one foot in front of the other. The noise grew in volume. It was strange, almost like an underground river with its waters echoing off the inside of the rock walls, but more sporadic. They slowed as they could tell they were getting closer to the source. “It has to be just around the next corner.”
Merrick started forward, but a loud crash behind him brought him up short. He turned to see their lamp rolling on the ground in his direction and Bayle lying flat on his face.
“What happened?” Merrick helped Terris haul the plucky man back to his feet before collecting the still rolling lantern.
“By thunder!” Bayle barked. He brushed off his knees and turned around to see what had happened.
Merrick retrieved the lantern and walked back to where the other two were staring at something on the ground. He lowered the light to get a better view of the obstacle.
“Merciful Creator,” Terris exclaimed. His eyes bulged.
“What in the name of the Defiler be that?” Bayle asked, his eyes just as wide as Terris’s mouth.
Merrick leaned in a little closer. The smell alone was suffocating, reeking of death, and there was a strong, metallic taste in the air. “It’s a piece of a leg, I think,” Merrick said as he tried moving it some more. He raised the light a little further and a couple more pieces of flesh came into view. Battle-hardened as he was, it was still difficult to take in. “I guess we found Roan and Arnst. I recognize Roan’s belt knife. He won it off me a couple years back in a card game.” He retrieved the small dagger and stuffed it into the back of his pants.
“I be thinkin’ it be about time to go,” Bayle said as he nervously glanced at the others, clearly trying to keep his eyes from looking back down at the array of familiar pieces below him.
Merrick wanted nothing more than to be gone from the place as well, but he couldn’t make himself turn and leave. “I want to see what did this.” Sticking to the pads of his feet, he crept his way toward the next corner of the tunnel. “I owe ‘em that much.”
“Have you plum lost what little sense your mama gave you?” Terris called after him.
Reluctantly, the others followed.
There was a sliver of light ahead which bounced off the wall in front of them, coming from somewhere around the next bend. They quickly realized the noise, which was beginning to sound more garbled now, was not coming from a single source but from multiple sources. Laying the lantern down so as not to give notice to their arrival, Merrick stepped closer to the edge of the rock wall and shifted his body around one of the wooden bracers.
“What’s that noise?” Bayle whispered. “It be soundin’ like . . . like . . .”
Without saying another word, they peered around the corner. Their bodies went rigid. On the other side was an enormous cavern, its
walls lined with multiple tunnels, each heading in a separate direction. In the center of the cavern was a large fire pit where flames cast eerie shadows across the entire hollowed-out fissure. And surrounding the pit was the source of the dark grating sounds.
“Hor’hounds.”
Chapter 62 | Merrick
MERRICK COULD BARELY believe his eyes.
Legends told of a time when these creatures were said to have roamed the outer fringes of Aldor. They had been created during the Wizard Wars but were driven back into the Northern Territories and sealed beyond the Great Wall of Bel’Taag after the fall of the Second Age.
Hor’hounds were said to be one part canine, one part wolf, and one part dark magic. They were three times the size of a full grown mountain wolf and just as ferocious. Seeing them with his own eyes, Merrick figured the stories didn’t come close to doing them justice.
The entire place smelled of moist rock, burnt coal, and wet dog. A unique and mind-numbing combination to say the least.
As frightening as it was to see these dark creatures, something else caused his bowels to squeeze. Stepping through the horde of enormous beasts was a solitary figure draped in a dark shroud and carrying a silver tipped half-staff. The wraith-like apparition was too far away for Merrick to notice any discernable features, and he wasn’t about to attempt getting any closer in hopes of doing so.
“Patience, my friends, your time is coming,” the robed figure consoled, his voice booming across the granite surfaces. “Tomorrow, you will feast on the flesh of kings.” All across the cavern, they answered his promise with the sounds of their voracious appetites.
Merrick edged his way back from the corner in preparation for a hasty withdrawal when he and Terris realized Bayle was nowhere to be seen. The former sailor had apparently left them standing there as soon as his eyes lighted on the hounds. He was probably halfway back to the entrance by now.
Merrick retrieved the lantern and the two of them made for the exit with as much speed and stealth as they could muster. Their pace quickened with each new step. Merrick kept his eyes to the ground as he struggled to keep his footing. They finally broke into a solid run once the light from the entrance came into view.
Terris, with his longer legs and leaner frame, was the first to burst from the mine. With what he knew lay behind them, Merrick wasn’t finding it all that difficult to match pace. His shorter legs were no equal to that of his lanky friend, but his determination was just as strong.
Without sparing a glance behind, they made a directly for the horses. Bayle was already mounted, and to his credit, holding theirs at the ready. Barely having time to swing his leg over, Merrick spurred his animal into action and the scouts rode for the pass on the far side.
Up ahead, Terris was the first to reach the mouth of the pass with Bayle nipping at his heels. Merrick brought up the rear. He shifted in his saddle to get one last look at the mines. The wind from his horse’s pace whipped through his hair. Nothing seemed to be following. The place was once again devoid of life. He wondered what would have happened had the ironworks still been in use. He offered a quick prayer of thanks it wasn’t as he turned around and urged his horse even faster.
The thought of slowing down through the treacherous curves of the rocky corridor never even crossed their minds as the three men pushed their steeds as hard as they could. They made great time through the passes leading back to the main fork. Rounding the last bend, they spotted the split in the channel ahead. One heading right toward Cylmar, and the other left, back toward Elondria.
“Keep going!” Merrick shouted ahead, making sure that Terris and Bayle didn’t stop to check for tracks. “We need to warn the king!”
They were just about to reach the intersecting branch when two hor’hounds stepped out from the right fork, probably on their way back to the main pack. It was a toss-up as to who was more surprised: the creatures, the horses, or the three scouts. But it was clearly the men who were the most unprepared as the two wolf-like creatures bared their fangs and charged.
Merrick watched Terris’s horse get thrown against the side of the mountain wall with a loud crunch. The lanky man screamed in pain. Merrick could see that his friend’s leg was pinned between his horse and the mountain. It all happened so fast, there was nothing he could have done. Terris’s quick thinking kept him alive as he unsheathed his sword in time to land a solid backswing on the hound, turning the beast back as it lunged for him.
“Hold on, Terris, I be a-com’n!” the big seaman hollered as he swung his horse around with battle-axe in hand. Bayle rode in behind the hound, swinging his heavy weapon to keep its attention drawn away from where Terris was desperately trying to free his crushed leg.
While the other two kept one of the hounds at bay, Merrick focused on the second. With his bow out and arrow nocked, he drew on the enormous creature from atop his horse. Merrick watched the hor’hound as he stared down the length of his metal-tipped shaft. The creature looked vicious. Its jaws were parted, allowing for long runs of saliva to hang from the corners.
“Come taste my steel, you ugly excuse for a mangy mutt!”
The hound, clearly not caring much for the name calling, made the first move. Using its strong legs, it took only two leaps for the hor’hound to reach him. The horse went down from the impact, but not before Merrick buried his shaft through the creature’s shoulder blade. It stumbled and rolled across the loose rock, howling in fury.
Merrick, having lost his quiver in the fall, dropped his bow into the dust and pulled out a couple of long daggers. While the wolf-like creature in front of him worked to get his mouth around the arrow and pull it free, Merrick edged his way closer to the adjacent side of the pass. He pulled his frightened horse along with him.
To his left, the first creature dove at the wall and using it for footing, sprung off it and through the air, knocking Bayle from his horse. The impact ripped his axe from his fingers. Merrick’s breath caught in his throat. There was nothing worse in battle than to lose your weapon.
Hollering like a madman, Bayle soared through the air, landing hard against a flat boulder on the other side. There wasn’t anything Merrick could do for his comrade. He was simply too far away. Bayle shook his head and worked to get his bearings.
Merrick watched helplessly as the creature closed in. Bayle crawled, frantically trying to reach his fallen weapon, but it was obvious that the hound was too close. The creature slowly circled, playing with the man’s desperation. “Well, hang me from the yardarm and watch me dance. I should never have left the open waters.”
With no way left to defend himself, Bayle began wielding the only weapon he had available—his tongue. And with language that could have only been uttered by a true seafaring man, Bayle let fly every name in the book, and a few he’d evidently created special for just such an occasion. By the time the long string of dark curses and humorous names had been spouted, he was out of breath and looking quite rejuvenated.
Merrick spared a quick glance back at the second creature. Its attention was still preoccupied with pulling the shaft from its side, so he turned back to his friend just as the grizzly hound made a quick lunge for him. But instead of getting its jaws around his neck for an instant kill, Bayle managed to raise a defensive block with his arm. The creature sunk its huge fangs straight to the bone. Bayle cried out in pain as the hor’hound shook him like a doll.
Merrick was afraid to continue watching. He knew at any moment his friend’s arm would be ripped from his body. Suddenly Terris was there, crushed leg and all, flying through the air like a spider monkey with his sword raised and ready to strike. The lanky man landed directly on top of the unholy creature and drove his blade straight through its back. The hound went instantly stiff. Its jaws loosened and Bayle pulled his ravaged arm free.
The hound in front of Merrick, having finally given up its attempt to pull the arrow from its thick hide, slowly narrowed the distance between them. Merrick could see the hatred and bloodlust in
its eyes. It would either have him or die.
“You want a piece of me!” Merrick taunted as he moved his short, stocky frame away from the wall and waited for the inevitable. “Come and get it!”
The hound reared its head and released what sounded like a barking howl before charging. Merrick barked his own defiance and braced himself. Waiting till the last possible moment, he sidestepped the creature’s advance and tried spearing the beast with his daggers. He managed to plunge one in its side, but lost hold on the other as the hound knocked him from his feet. The creature spun on his hind paws and charged again. Merrick didn’t have enough time to counter. He rolled over and tried to make it back to his feet when the hor’hound unexpectedly tumbled to the ground and landed on top of him.
Merrick wheezed as the impact knocked the air from his lungs. There was only one thought that flooded his mind: Kill the beast. He plunged his dagger into the unmoving creature’s back. Then he pulled it out and did it again. In and out he stabbed, and kept stabbing until his arm gave out. Finally coming to the realization that the animal was dead, he struggled to push the lifeless carcass aside.
He reached his hand over the creature in hopes of finding some better leverage to work with when his hand bumped against something protruding from the hor’hound’s neck. It was Bayle’s battle-axe.
“I guess you showed it,” Terris said with a half-laugh, half-groan as he hobbled over to help pull Merrick out from under the beast.
Merrick, feeling a little embarrassed by the whole situation, struggled to his feet and removed Bayle’s axe. “We need to get back to camp.”
“Aye, that be true enough,” Bayle said as he let Terris wrap his damaged arm.
After helping both Terris and Bayle back onto their skittish horses, Merrick went about cleaning the blood from their blades and stowing them back in their carriers. He quickly retrieved his quiver and bow before swinging himself onto his mount. He patted her down, hoping to calm her frayed nerves. It proved to be more calming to him than to her.
The White Tower (The Aldoran Chronicles: Book 1) Page 46