Duel At Grimwood Creek (Book 2)

Duel At Grimwood Creek (Book 2) Page 11

by Lucas Thorn

  Unable to stop, she felt a rush of fear as her eyes caught sight of a dark patch of ground at the base of the slope.

  She kicked out, trying to slide to a halt. Her boot dragged hard across the ground and caught painfully on a thick chunk of stone jutting out of the ground. Yanked her around with a savage lurch that felt like she’d been punched in her hip. Gasping, she twitched in pain.

  Tried to reach up to grab the rock. Looking to get some balance. Spat a curse as her foot burst free of her boot. Sent her rolling once more down the incline in a tangled heap.

  The dark patch loomed ahead and she let out a roar as she raised Reasons to be Cheerful and brought it flashing downward. The blade clanged contemptuously off the stone, sending numb shivers of impact up her arm. But the bent tip scraped across the ground before reluctantly piercing a narrow gap between two compacted rocks.

  Once more, she was flung sideways as gravity jerked hard on her arm.

  “Nysta!”

  Inertia turned into vertigo. She froze, unwilling to move. Her bare foot pressed against the sharp edge of the dark patch which wasn’t a patch. It was a sudden hole in the ground. A wide hole she’d no doubt she didn’t want to fall into.

  Sweat squeezed out the pores of her skin like acid. She looked up.

  Chukshene stood at the top of the incline, uncertain what to do. It was even steeper than she’d thought and only then did she realise the luck needed to halt only millimetres from the edge of the deep chasm.

  She was disgusted with herself for not looking first. It was another stupid mistake, and one whose cost might well have been her life. The elf felt a flush of heat across her cheeks as she scrambled for a hold.

  Found one.

  Just as the knife in her hand snapped.

  The elf stared down at the broken weapon in her hand. It had saved her life.

  But it was beyond repair, so what soul she’d injected into it by naming the blade had fled. It was now just a lump of useless metal. She tossed it over the edge, listening as it fell until it landed with an odd wet thunk somewhere below.

  “Are you okay?” Chukshene called.

  Nysta felt a flash of anger at the question.

  He was beginning to piss her off. The constant asking of it. As though he was still afraid of her. Afraid of what she might become. Because, despite his act, she still couldn’t shake the nagging feeling there was more to what he knew than what he was saying.

  “Just fucking great,” she growled, looking down at a couple of fresh new scrapes on her hands. “Hurt my pride is all.”

  He inched his way down. His boots slid on loose stones a few times, but he kept himself steady by pressing against the wall. “You look like shit.”

  Carefully, she retrieved her boot, then sat near the ledge to pull it back on.

  She didn’t trust herself to speak. Echoes of panic still flooded her veins.

  The warlock sent the ball of light cruising out over the hole in the ground. It was wide, but a thin ledge skirted the edge. They’d be easily able to follow it around, though the elf’s skin prickled at thought of it crumbling under her feet. Of falling into the dark.

  When her boot was on, she leaned out to get a look down. See how far it went. The eerie yellow glow couldn’t penetrate far in the tunnel’s gloom, but the hole wasn’t as bottomless as she’d imagined.

  Mottled shadows glimmered in the light. And, with a hiss of breath, the elf caught a glimpse of several dark patches soaking into the rocks below.

  The warlock followed her gaze. Winced. “Is that-?”

  “There, Chukshene,” she said grimly, pointing downward.

  He sent the glowing orb lower.

  They’d hit the ground hard, the jagged rocks tearing them to pieces. Chunks of wet flesh and loose entrails formed a grisly carpet. And, judging by the broken bones littering the cave floor, the Twins hadn’t been the first to make the fall.

  At some stage, the tunnel floor had cracked open above a small cavern to form a ragged open pit. Since then, anyone careless in their attempted passage through the tunnel had fallen hard to their deaths.

  A death she’d just narrowly avoided.

  Perhaps when the Caspiellans left the fortress, they’d deliberately caved in the tunnel. Or, perhaps it was simply the result of time. She couldn’t tell. And couldn’t care.

  All she cared about was the fact she’d failed to kill the Twins with her own hand.

  “It’s them, isn’t it? The two fuckers who shot at us.”

  The elf set her jaw, rage pulling at her heart. “Hard to say,” she said harshly. Spat out over the ledge at the two shredded corpses. “Can’t tell them apart.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The ledge had crumbled in some places, but was still solid enough that the going wasn’t tough. Still, halfway across, she felt her fingers start to ache from gripping the knobs and cracks in the rocky wall.

  It was about then she remembered the blast of warm air shooting through the tunnel and she felt her heart quicken slightly. What if the Twins hadn’t slid down to their deaths? What if they’d been crossing on the narrow ledge as the hot air ripped past?

  She set her jaw and tried not to think about it, but her ears began to hurt as she strained to hear the slightest hint of another blast.

  “Nysta,” Chukshene called. “Can you see that? On the other side?”

  She twisted carefully, aware that one slip would mean a painful death. Saw the warlock was staring curiously at shadows on the far wall. The globe of yellow light buzzed away, shining its sickly light across what looked to be heavy scars.

  Glancing down, the elf wondered if the Twins had made the same mistake as her. Had their fear led them to move too fast through the tunnel? Or had something else happened here?

  Looking at the massive lines cut into the stone, she began to have her suspicions.

  The warlock sounded nervous. “What do you make of it? Claws? Place like this would make the perfect lair for a wyrm.”

  “You think too much,” she growled, turning away and moving faster along the ledge. Eager to leave the pit far behind. “Just keep moving.”

  Wafting upward, the putrid stink of death both old and fresh. A poisonous stench that aroused too many memories in the elf. Since that first night when her father cast her onto the streets of Lostlight, she’d breathed that stink more times than anyone should have to.

  Sometimes, it was almost easy to believe Death himself dogged her steps.

  They made the other side of the shattered tunnel without incident. The warlock took two steps before sinking with a sigh of relief to the ground. Dropped his grimoire across his knees and leaned back hard against the wall. Looked out across the pit and couldn’t suppress a shudder.

  “Awful way to die,” he said at last.

  She sat cross-legged next to him, allowing the final dregs of terror to leave her blood. “Ain’t no good ways. Told you that.”

  “Sure there is,” he said, wiping sweat from his cheeks. “I’ve already got mine planned. Soon as I’m too old to be useful, I’m hiring a dozen whores. They can fuck me to death. Imagine that. Tits in my mouth. Tits in my hands. Ah, I’ll be smothered in tits. A beautiful way to die, Long-ear.”

  The elf snorted. “You’re an asshole, Chukshene.”

  “I know,” he said airily. “But I’ve had a shit life. I deserve a happy death. What about you, Nysta? Ever wonder how you’re gonna die?”

  “I’ll die fighting,” she said.

  He sobered fast, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. I can see that. And you want to know something? I’m sorry for you. Must have been a time when you were a good kid. When you could’ve been something else. Something luckier. I don’t know. I’ve never known anyone so twisted up inside like you. There’s a look in your eyes sometimes and it makes me bleed with all the pity I got for you. And I know you hat
e hearing it. But you deserve better than you’ve got. Than you’re going to get.”

  “My life ain’t over yet, Chukshene,” she said softly. “Or is it?”

  He licked his upper lip. Slowly. “What do you mean?”

  “Reckon you know what I’m asking,” she said. “You called it a cage.”

  “What?”

  “Talek’s box. You called it a cage. Like it had something in it that got out. Like you don’t believe it’s gone for good. And you look at me like you know it’s still there. But you won’t tell me what it is. And you know what, Chukshene? You keep this secret from me, and only two things are gonna happen. Either you kill me first, or I’ll kill you.”

  The warlock looked down at his grimoire as though it might save him. Kept silent for what felt like an age. And then, just as she was about to give up and keep moving, he spoke. His voice was a soft hush and even with her hearing, she had to strain to catch his words above the relentless drumming beneath the earth.

  “You’re right I got secrets,” he said. “And for good reasons. Damn good reasons. Reasons you might find out one day, but not today. But I’ll tell you one thing. And it’s the best I can give you at this stage, Nysta. It’s this - I don’t know what it is. I really don’t. I really have told you everything I know. Which is nothing. Sure, I have my hunches. But any one of those could get you killed if I told you. And don’t ask me why, because I can’t tell you that either. Now, I know you’ve had a tough life. That you’ve forgotten how to trust. And I guess I can’t say I’m the most trustworthy person in the world. But this one time, Nysta. This one time, you’ve got to trust me. I can’t tell you what I think it is. Not yet. But I’ll also make you a promise. I’ll find out what it is. Somehow. And when I do, I’ll tell you. Straight away. I won’t keep it from you. I’ll let you know. And you can believe me or not on that, but it’s the straight truth.”

  “You’re right. It ain’t easy to trust you,” she said.

  He grinned, but it was a grin twisted with his own private sorrow. “I know. Must be my winning personality. Makes people doubt my sincerity. But I mean it, Long-ear. I’ll find out. And I’ll tell you.”

  “Back there, in the fortress. Told you I killed two men.”

  “I remember.”

  “One of them stuck me. In the back. A big fucking hook. Tore open my shoulder.”

  He looked surprised. “That must’ve hurt like a bitch.”

  “Ain’t something I want to repeat,” she confirmed. “Thing is, it’s gone. Healed up. And you mentioned how fast I was healing. You know why that is, Chukshene? Or how long it’s going to last?”

  “I really don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “Like I said, I’ve only got hunches. But be careful. There’s no such thing as immortal. Only hard to kill. Maybe you got lucky. Maybe you did fight it off. It’s possible even that a part of it stayed with you. Like, an essence. And maybe that essence heals you faster than normal. I heard some orks heal fast. And then there’s fucking goblins. Bastards heal faster than flies fuck. Could be you’re like them, now. If I were you, though, I wouldn’t be very keen to test its limits. So don’t go letting someone cut your head off is all I’m saying.”

  In the years she’d spent scrounging on the streets, she’d learnt the difference between a lie and the truth. Knew no matter how sneaky the warlock was, he couldn’t fool her on that. So she believed he was telling the truth.

  Maybe not the whole truth, but enough of it that she felt a lessening of her distrust for the spellslinger. Enough that she didn’t feel the need to throw him into the pit.

  Not yet.

  “Obliged,” she said, more curtly than she’d meant to. “But you should know something, too. I find out you’re lying to me, or you’re keeping something from me? I’ll kill you, Chukshene. And you’re seeing the lengths I’ll go to do just that.”

  Without waiting for a response, the elf swivelled on her heels and pushed herself to her feet. Began moving down the tunnel without waiting for him.

  He remained where he was, wondering if he’d done the right thing. If he should have said what he did. But it was too late now to take it all back, so he let out a sigh and followed, rubbing fresh aches from his legs.

  The yellow orb slid greasily through the darkness, splitting it into subdued shadows. The path quickly resumed its steep ascent, though the ground was rougher. More broken up. Loose stone and rubble spread awkwardly across the rough hewn rock.

  Nysta pushed thoughts of Chukshene’s promise aside, content to let him be. Mages weren’t known for giving out promises. Or for sharing their secrets. So it surprised her that he’d shared as much as he had. Even if it turned out to be little more than she’d already suspected.

  All the same, it was better than a fireball to the face.

  The elf set a faster pace now she knew the Twins wouldn’t be hiding in the dark with arrows drawn, but caution still made her careful. She didn’t want to fall into another pit.

  Whether by sliding down the slope, or trying to cross while blasts of hot air tore them from the ledge, the two Musa had died because of impatience. Eager to escape, they’d taken chances they wouldn’t normally have taken. She told herself to learn something from their gruesome deaths.

  Also, the drumming which permeated into the very rock was a constant reminder they were not alone.

  Something else was in the tunnels.

  She’d begun to suspect what it was. And it wasn’t dwarfs. But nothing was going to stop her from leaving this place. Nothing would keep her from making the top of the cliffs and reaching Grimwood Creek in time to nail Raste and the surviving members of the Bloody Nine. They owed her. And so far she felt cheated. She’d not had the chance to kill any of them cleanly.

  There had been no satisfaction. No slaking of her thirst for vengeance. It still pulsed hard through her body, demanding bloody violence to repay a debt which could never be fully repaid.

  Forced herself to move with as much stealth as she could. To avoid, if possible, the distraction of a fight she didn’t seek.

  So, when she felt the ground vibrating more harshly and saw the pale glow emanating from beyond an ominous twist in the tunnel, she felt her shoulders slump in weary resignation.

  It seemed she’d been right.

  They would lose blood before they escaped this place.

  Tucking her thumbs behind two jutting handles at her hips, Nysta jerked her head toward the glowing orb. “Turn your toy off,” she growled at the startled warlock. “I can’t see shit with it on.”

  His nod was curt, but the yellow light dissolved with a wave of his hand. “Sorry.”

  The rumbling ground thundered suddenly and the elf put a hand to the wall to keep her balance. The warlock did the same, eyes widening in alarm as a shriek of metal wrapped around the sound of rock dragging over rock.

  The elf lowered her head and concentrated on the ball of fear in her belly. A ball which was like frozen ice. She felt it tumble hard, its sharp edges cutting at her spine. Clipping her ribs.

  Shivering, she waited for the shaking earth to calm.

  Which it did with an explosive crunch.

  She paused, hearing something the warlock couldn’t hear yet. A sweeping sound. Like the beating of massive wings.

  Licked her lips.

  Then snatched the warlock’s robe and dragged him to the ground. With a yelp, he slammed face down onto the stone as a terrifying gust of hot air howled past, tearing at their clothes. She couldn’t help but to look up, heart thudding in her chest. Anticipating a mountainous black shadow to come pounding around the knotted corner. But, for now, it was just the rancid wind. It carried boiling moisture with it, blasting her face with a slick sheen.

  It didn’t last long, and the burst of air travelled past, eager to escape the tunnels.

  She wiped her face with the back o
f her hand and sniffed. “Burnt metal again,” she muttered.

  “That’s it, then.” The warlock sounded morose. “I knew it. It’s a fucking dragon. I’m in a dragon’s lair with a mad elf. No other explanation. I’m fucking dragonfood. You know, my father always said I’d end up like this. Dead in a ditch, he said. Grim’s teeth, I’d love to see that old man once more. I’d tear his fucking head off and feed it to a demon I’m friendly with. Fucking asshole. Used to hit me, you know. Always used the fucking buckle across my back.”

  “Ain’t a dragon,” the elf said. She toyed with one of the long ropes of black her, fingertips nudging the clotted lumps of cloth. “If it were, we’d be dead already.”

  “Maybe it’s toying with us. I heard they like playing with their food.”

  “It’d need to be pretty game to eat you,” she countered.

  “Then I hope it eats you first, Long-ear. See if you’re laughing then.”

  She was about to say something, but then heard the low moan from deeper into the tunnel. And something else. Their eyes met, his widening in fear as he heard them too.

  The chains.

  An evil metallic dragging sound which seemed to scrape at the very bones of the earth.

  Chukshene let out a strangled gasp. “Oh, fuck.”

  “Reckon we can agree that ain’t no dragon, ‘lock,” she said tightly. “Leave it to you to figure where we fit in the food chain now.”

  “That’s not funny,” he moaned, ducking his head low as terror gripped him hard. Chewed hard on his fingernail and spat a splinter out. Blood dribbled down the edge of the nail. “That’s it. We’ve got to go back.”

  The elf shook her head. “Can’t. You go back if you like, Chukshene. Me, I’m getting out. If it wants to stop me, it’ll have to kill me.”

  “It’ll do just that, you fool,” the warlock hissed. “You can’t fight it. You haven’t seen it, Nysta. It’s fucking massive. Arms bigger than your fucking waist. A jaw full of fangs, and those fucking chains aren’t for show. It tore a troll apart with them! I’m telling you, it’s bigger, badder, and it’s even fucking uglier than you. Just this once, do the smart thing. We’ll find another way out.”

 

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