Under Fragile Stone

by Oisin McGann

  ‘Then the Tuderem came from over the mountains. They had been driven from their homeland by the Barians, whose empire stretched from the esh in the east, to the great sea in the west. Their rule was barbaric and the Tuderem had suffered much at their hands.

  ‘Now the Tuderem had nowhere else to go. They had no home. So they resolved to make one. They prayed to Orgarth and he answered. Their skills in the science of alchemy would provide both with what they needed. They knew of Orgarth’s power over iron – it is the source of his essence and he can work his will on it. For nearly a century, the Tuderem worked on the krundengrond. They changed the elements of its earth, lacing it with iron, and as the concentration of iron rose, Orgarth was able to exercise his power over it and still the earth’s constant raging. Eventually, the entire stretch of land was tamed, though they left enough on their borders to keep the Barians at bay.

  ‘And it was rich, fertile land, for it had never been farmed; nothing had ever been able to grow on it before. The Tuderem made a new life for themselves, and Orgarth was saved from the torments of the krundengrond. After scores of years had passed, the Barians disappeared from the neighbouring lands and the Tuderem began to feel safe once more. With their numbers growing as they thrived in their new home, they gradually did away with the last of the krundengrond to give themselves more land. It was a fatal mistake.

  ‘The Barians did come back, more powerful and savage then ever and they laid waste to the new land. Rather than serve these cruel masters, it is said that the Tuderem sought refuge in the caves beneath Absaleth. They sealed themselves in, not knowing when they would ever be able to return to the outside world.

  ‘No one has heard of them since, but Caftelous, the old man who lived up here, claimed that he had found markings in the tunnels that told their story. He showed me some once, deep in the caves. He learned much of his alchemy from studying these markings. But even he never mentioned krundengrond.’

  ‘But what made you keep the nail?’ Taya asked Rug. ‘How did you know it was so important?’

  ‘We still don’t know if it is,’ Emos pointed out.

  ‘It makes sense to me,’ Lorkrin persisted. ‘Harsq drove Orgarth out of the mountain. Orgarth lost control over the krundengrond. Ludditch thinks Orgarth is on his way back to the mountain, or at least his last remaining nail has hitched a ride with Rug …’

  ‘I don’t feel possessed,’ Rug put in. ‘I’m sure I’d know, somehow.’

  ‘… and Ludditch wants to stop him, so that he can keep his krundengrond,’ Lorkrin concluded. ‘Sounds simple to me.’

  ‘But Orgarth was born of iron and stone,’ Emos explained. ‘He would have no power over flesh and blood, but he could have found purchase in metal. And Harsq knew it too. He must have sensed the spirit, and followed it to the forest. But he needed the Reisenicks’ help to find it. And now he’s sent them after us. So, why is he still searching, after two exorcisms? And what’s it got to do with you?’

  He turned to look over at Rug. The gangly figure lifted his head. Thoughts were racing through his mind. Flashes, fragments of what could be memories were tantalisingly close and yet just beyond reach. Emos’s story was triggering all kinds of images in his head.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he answered, looking over at the Myunan. ‘But I am connected to this, somehow. I …’

  He stopped, putting his hand to his pocket. He unbuttoned the flap and took out his nail.

  ‘The Reisenicks are trying to kill us because of a nail?’ Khassiel snorted.

  Emos took it and held it up. He smelled the metal, and rubbed it between his fingers.

  ‘It got stuck in your back before the ceremony?’ he asked the Parsinor.

  ‘If that’s where it came from, then yes,’ Draegar replied.

  ‘So Orgarth could fit into that?’ Lorkrin smiled uncertainly. ‘Little fella, is he?’

  ‘Spirit has no size,’ Emos told them. ‘Orgarth could live as a particle of rust if he escaped Harsq’s ritual. Rug, why did you hold onto this?’

  ‘I just felt it was important to me,’ the thin man shrugged. ‘I don’t know why.’

  Emos squatted down in front of him.

  ‘We need to know who you are. Take off the scarf.’

  ‘No,’ Rug shook his head fearfully. ‘I can’t. I just can’t.’

  ‘Jube is dead,’ Emos said sternly. ‘We could still follow him, and that would mean those in the caves would die too. I don’t give a damn if you’re shy about how you look. Take off the scarf.’

  ‘No!’ Rug retorted firmly.

  Emos suddenly grabbed his hands and dug his fingers into the musty fabric of Rug’s gloves. He pulled hard, before the other man had time to react, and yanked the material away. It tangled on something at first, then the top pair of gloves came away cleanly, the second pair tore. There was even a third pair underneath. Rug clutched his hands protectively to his chest, but Draegar stepped behind him and grabbed his wrists, forcing them out so that Emos could get a grip on the backs of the last pair of gloves.

  ‘By the gods, he’s strong!’ the Parsinor grunted.

  ‘Let me go!’ Rug screamed. ‘Leave me alone!’

  His fingers stayed clenched tightly closed. Emos ripped the wool open, dragging the last shreds of material off Rug’s exposed hands. But these were like no hands anyone had ever seen. Taya and Lorkrin scrambled closer for a better look, even Khassiel’s cynical expression disappeared in utter amazement. Rug let out a long wail of horror.

  The palms were the rusty blades of trowels, the fingers pieces of corroded chain and steel cable. Rusty wire wound around and through all of this like veins, sinews and ligaments in a macabre, metal imitation of human hands. They curled into fists and opened again as Rug screamed once more.

  ‘This can’t be me!’ he sobbed. ‘What’s happened to me? What’s happened to my body?’

  ‘You were driven from your true body,’ Emos told him, gazing into his face. ‘So you made another. It’s an honour to meet you, Orgarth.’

  * * * *

  Nayalla clutched her chest as her husband adjusted his grip under her legs. Her wounds had been dressed with makeshift bandages torn from the miners’ shirts. Myunans could will their flesh to stop bleeding and knit their skin together when the injury was not too grievous, but she was too weak from hunger and lack of rest to go far. Mirkrin was carrying her on his back now. She draped her arm over his shoulder again and rested the side of her head against the back of his, closing her eyes.

  ‘We’re going away from the door,’ she muttered.

  ‘The creature’s back that way,’ he replied. ‘We can’t go back.’

  ‘Ah, we had it beaten.’

  ‘You’re nothing if not positive. I’ll give you that.’

  Noogan trudged warily ahead, the torch stretched ahead of him as far as he could hold it. The Seneschal were still up there somewhere, but facing them was marginally less frightening than tackling the lantern beast again. Behind them, Paternasse guarded the rear. Soon, the passageway became too low for them to walk upright and Mirkrin put Nayalla down and unrolled his tools. With slow, tired movements, he shaped himself into a more suitable form, shortening his legs and lengthening his body, making it wider and flatter too, until he resembled a stretcher with legs. Nayalla laughed weakly, but laid herself gratefully on his back. The group carried on up the tunnel.

  ‘Let’s stop here and have a think,’ Paternasse said, finally.

  He and Noogan were almost on their hands and knees. It was incredibly tiring. The two miners sat down and Mirkrin just settled where he was, with his wife still on his back. The steadily shrinking space was fraying his nerves and the temptation to close his eyes and back down the tunnel was growing ever stronger.

  ‘The little buggers probably think we’re dead,’ the old man reasoned. ‘But if we keep going this way, we’re bound to run into them again. The thing with the lamp is hurt. It might be running scared, or it might have it in for us. We don’t kno
w. But we know it’ll be more wary of us now. That doorway is the best chance we’ve had of getting out of here. I say we wait for a bit to see if there’s any more sign of the beast and then try and get back to the door.’

  ‘I’m up for it,’ Nayalla mumbled.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Noogan shook his head. ‘It almost had us that time. I think we’ve just ticked it off. If we run into it again, it’ll make mincemeat of us.’

  They all looked at Mirkrin. He was quiet for a while. He did want to go back, as much to escape this shrinking tunnel as to reach the doorway again. But he thought of his wife, already injured and unable to fight and he remembered the ferocity of the animal.

  ‘Who knows where this passage goes?’ Paternasse said. ‘It might be taking us right back to that monster anyway! And that beast can’t be the only one down here. There must be others if the thing’s to breed. We should take our chances back at the door. What choice have we got?’

  Mirkrin sighed. The old man was right. There was no choice.

  ‘All right,’ he nodded.

  He felt a trembling beneath his hands and looked down. The vibrations grew and in moments the whole passage was shaking violently. Cracks appeared, snaking their way down from the ceiling and up from the floor. Mirkrin rolled Nayalla onto the ground and threw himself on top of her, trying to shield her with his body. The two miners covered their heads and screamed. Pieces of stone fell from the ceiling and slabs split away from the walls, collapsing to the floor. Dust showered down over them, dousing the torches and plunging them into darkness. Around them, they heard the sound of breaking stone and then a deafening crash brought their hopes of escape to an end.

  * * * *

  As the earth tremor shuddered up through the wagon’s chassis, they all anxiously watched the ground ahead. Rug wrapped his arms around his body and groaned. His hands were gloved once more and he had not said a word since Emos had shown him his true nature. He had fiercely denied Emos’s claim of who and what he was and would not listen to anything further. Now he curled up and cried out in pain.

  ‘What’s wrong, Rug?’ Taya asked softly.

  ‘Something hurts,’ he moaned.

  ‘Where, can I have a look?’

  ‘It’s not in any place,’ he muttered. ‘I just hurt all over. It started yesterday, I think. But it’s getting worse.’

  Emos crouched beside him.

  ‘The problem’s not here,’ the Myunan told him. ‘It’s in your true body.’

  He pointed towards Absaleth, its peak visible over the ridge of mountains that lay to the southwest.

  ‘Think about it,’ he said. ‘The krundengrond’s been held in your grip for thousands of years. Now all that pressure is being released all around you in a matter of days. Imagine what that must be doing to the land. And to the mountain. We can get you back there, but I have no idea how to restore your spirit. That’s something you have to do yourself.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Rug hissed at him. ‘I’m not a spirit. I’m not a mountain. I’m a man.’

  ‘With a body of rusted metal?’ Emos asked. ‘Where did it come from? The mine, I’d wager. Somehow you got out into the forest, and Harsq knew it and he followed you.’

  ‘And he thought he’d finally got rid of you when he did the second exorcism,’ Taya added. ‘But he only found part of you. You’d already made yourself a new body. And now they’re after you again, and us with you.’

  ‘You’re out of your minds!’ Rug snapped.

  ‘You’ve got metal hands, for goodness’ sake!’ Lorkrin pointed out. ‘Wake up and smell the porridge!’

  ‘Leave me alone!’

  They all fell quiet, none of them having the will to carry on the argument. In the woods around them they could feel the eyes of the clansmen watching them, waiting for permission to strike, and ahead of them the mountains rose up, their sheer sides like a wall barring the way west. To the north lay the Gluegrove Swamps. When the wind blew from that direction they could even catch the faintest whiff of swamp gas in the air. The truck wound up the hill, Cullum shifting up and down through the low gears to keep the engine from stalling. Emos looked ahead and leaned around the side of the cab to talk to the Forward-Batterer.

  ‘The next left. Careful, it’s a narrow track and not made for wagons.’

  ‘Typical,’ the Noranian sniffed.

  It was a tight fit. Low boughs scraped across the top of the cab and the wheels slipped constantly to one side and the other, forcing Cullum to weave back and forth to stay on the track. With the trees crowding in so close, they all watched uneasily for a Reisenick attack or a sudden onset of krundengrond. Very little of the afternoon sun filtered through the thick foliage.

  When they rolled out into bright daylight again, it was to climb the last section of steep trail to a small, flat clearing that lay before a low cave entrance in a limestone cliff face. Taya and Lorkrin stood up excitedly. It was time to find their parents.

  As soon as Cullum had brought the vehicle to a halt, Draegar and Khassiel jumped down and began unloading the gear. The rock they would have to move appeared to have been made specifically for blocking the carved-out entrance. Like the doorway itself, it was rectangular, with clean-cut lines, and a single, rectangular hole about the size of a man’s fist bored right through it at chest level. It was the height of two men, at least half that across, and three paces deep. It was cut from some kind of marbled material, which looked like a swirling blend of metal and stone, and Emos took little time to confirm that whatever it was, he could not transmorph it. It must have weighed nearly as much as the truck. It was set in grooves in the cliff face, which ran nearly to the top of the stone and ensured that the obstruction could not just be pulled over. It had to be drawn straight upwards. Taya and Lorkrin watched impatiently as the others set to work.

  Jube’s expertise was sorely missed. They had to work out how to assemble the frame for the hoist by trial and error. But Cullum and Khassiel had done enough engineering training to recognise all the necessary parts and put them together. For once, the Myunans were grateful for the Noranian army’s thorough approach to military operations.

  ‘This stone was held above the doorway when I stayed here,’ Emos told them as they worked. ‘Iron posts beneath it kept it in place. Caftelous lived in the cave inside. He used to pray to Orgarth. He said that the Tuderem had built the entrance and that Orgarth could have locked us in any time he pleased.’

  ‘I think I can guess how,’ Khassiel muttered, glancing down at the rust-stained stone at the base of the rock. She told them about what had happened to the tools used in the mines beneath Absaleth. They all looked over at Rug, who sat curled up in the rear of the wagon.

  ‘Rust the posts to powder and down comes the door,’ Draegar said. ‘So even out here, you had power over iron.’

  They were nearly finished assembling the hoist on the back of the truck when Draegar lifted his head and sniffed the air. Even as he did, a group of four well-armed Reisenicks emerged from the trees without a sound and walked over. Lorkrin and Taya lowered the bundle that was Great Aunt Eldrith over the tailgate and onto the ground, then sat above it with their feet dangling, ready to drop their combined weight onto it at a moment’s notice.

  ‘You know the deal, here?’ Emos asked the clansmen.

  ‘Sure do,’ one answered. ‘We’re just spectatin’ ’til Ludditch arrives. Just pretend like we’re not even here.’

  They spread out, each standing uncomfortably close to the rescuers without actually being in the way. Draegar glowered at them but then joined the others in finishing the hoist. When it was up, its arm high above the slab of stone, they bored holes into the rock and hammered in heavy steel pins. Khassiel climbed into the cab and reversed the wagon into position. Chains were attached to the pins and then to a heavier chain that ran through the hoist’s set of pulleys. Taya and Lorkrin watched impatiently. It was all taking so long. Cullum checked the whole rig over and then nod
ded to Khassiel, who was now crouched by the winch controls behind the cab.

  ‘Go!’ he shouted.

  The winch was powered by the wagon’s engine; Khassiel eased it into gear. The barrel slowly rotated, taking up the slack, the chain making a straining sound as it became tense. The men waited, each holding a guide rope as the rock resisted moving at first, then, achingly slowly, it grated up along the grooves in the wall.

  ‘Pull it all the way out!’ Emos called. ‘Let’s not take any chances!’

  As the rock slipped out of its grooves, it swung towards the hoist slightly. Khassiel locked the winch, disengaged it from the engine and climbed around into the cab. Then she shifted into gear and took off the brake, gently rolling the vehicle forwards and pulling the stone away from the entrance. As the Noranian took control of the winch again and lowered the stone to the ground, Taya and Lorkrin let out a cheer, which the Reisenicks echoed sarcastically.

  ‘You don’t want to go in there!’ one exclaimed. ‘There’s all sorts o’ nastiness down that hole!’

  Ignoring them, Emos stepped inside the cave with a lantern and had a look around. He came back out and looked at the sky. Evening was falling, the sun already in its descent towards the mountains.

  ‘Draegar, you, Khassiel and Cullum stay here and set up camp. Taya, Lorkrin and I will go in first. We’ll be back before sundown. I’ll mark each section of tunnel as we search it so that we don’t double up.’

  He looked over towards Rug, who was staring into the darkness of the cave from the back of the truck.