If I had been any closer…
Then, she heard the muffled but clearly recognizable sound of one of the manlings’ fire-weapons. She saw bursts of flame lighting up the darkened corridor as a manling warrior, face covered by a bug mask, calmly approached her boggarts, his weapon against his shoulder. Unable to stand and fight, her elite boggart guards died where they were, slaughtered by that damned manling as if they were nothing more than Coldari gutter rats.
No! The shame was overwhelming. This will not stand. Not in my own keep!
She would cast Drake’s-Gift and burn him for this unprovoked attack. But then she felt someone drawing in magic. One of the manling mages was with him, she realized. Then she saw the mage coming up behind the warrior, and even though this manling was also masked, she knew it was that damned golden-haired mage who had caused her so much grief. The mage, too, held a fire-weapon.
Does she have the talisman?
Self-preservation stayed Maelhrandia’s attack. She scrambled back, out of sight—desperately praying to the Spider Mother that they hadn’t seen her. Climbing to her feet, she stumbled away then began running as she considered her next move. She needed to sound the alarm. She needed more warriors. She needed to—
Thunder rocked her keep, sending her reeling for the second time that day. She smashed her nose into a stone wall, sending blood dripping into her mouth. All around her, dust and dirt fell from above.
What is happening? This isn’t an assassination; it’s an attack!
Chapter 54
Elizabeth lay on her belly at the edge of the woods with the rest of the assault team, watching the fort across the river, waiting to move. Not far away, Clyde slept beneath bushes, hidden. Elizabeth prayed he would be safe. The Lord only knew the noble animal had earned his rest. But now, it was time for her to do her part.
Clara, right beside her, looked at her watch. “Get ready.”
Elizabeth held her breath. Then the tunnel entrance to the fortress exploded, sending a shock wave reverberating all the way across the river. Black smoke poured out, obscuring the gate. Despite knowing it was coming, Elizabeth had still flinched. She couldn’t help herself; it was so loud, so violent. As the smoke cleared, she saw the devastation. Both of the heavy wooden doors had been destroyed, turned into so much kindling. Black smoke continued to pour from the tunnel entrance. The guards were down. Cries of horror rose from the diminutive redheaded creatures who had been working on the dock. They broke and ran, clearly terrified.
“Let’s move,” Clara yelled as she rose to her feet and ran for the bridge, not looking to see if anyone followed.
They did. The remaining members of Task Force Devil were charging after Clara. Elizabeth, not wanting to get left behind, rose and joined them, her heart going wild.
Nine soldiers. Not much of an army, but it was all they had. God willing, it would be enough—it had to be.
Running in body armor was hard, like running in water, but she had it easy compared to the others, who also carried weapons and ammunition. She was still the last one across the bridge. Ahead of her, Clara and the others fanned out, firing their rifles—the silencers now removed—at the bodies of the guards lying on the ground, making sure they were all dead.
Vaguely, she wondered why she wasn’t shocked or outraged. Because, she realized, this is what battle looks like.
As she ran, she tugged on the end of the Brace, pulling it back up her forearm. Howls of rage echoed from inside the smoking tunnel. A moment later, at least a score of the four-armed beast guards poured out, great swords and axes held high. The one leading the charge, a huge brute, charged straight at Clara, a spear in its grip. Elizabeth swerved to a stop, her mouth open to call out a warning.
She needn’t have bothered. Clara dropped to one knee and opened fire on the creature at point-blank range. The automatic fire—so loud, so heart stopping—shredded its chest and sent it falling backward to the ground in a macabre dance. Elizabeth stared openmouthed.
The rest of the soldiers opened fire in a cacophony of gunshots, a symphony of death. The smell of gunfire mingled with the smoke from the explosion and the stench of blood. Empty brass casings flew through the morning air. The attacking guards came to a sudden, shattering halt as they ran into a wall of gunfire.
Then another of the giant troll creatures—this one wearing plate armor over its bloated body—rushed through the ranks of the stunned and dying guards. Easily eight feet tall and weighing hundreds of pounds, it was larger than a Kodiak bear and carried a giant two-handed ax with a gleaming head at least a foot wide. Someone shot it, but the bullets ricocheted off the armor without even slowing it. Frozen in terror, Elizabeth watched as the creature brought its ax down on one of the soldiers, Connor, smashing him into the ground, almost cleaving him in two. The troll raised its bloody ax into the air and roared in victory, exposing huge, tusklike fangs. A missile sped past it, hitting the side of the fort behind it and sending shrapnel winging through the air.
Elizabeth stepped forward, raised the Brace, and channeled a bolt of lightning into the troll, momentarily blinding herself. When her vision came back, she saw the troll, now lying on its back against the stone wall of the fort, about twenty feet from where it had been standing, its body smoking, the armor melted into the gaping cavity where its barrel-shaped chest had been. This time, killing had been easier.
The soldiers moved past her, firing single shots to kill the wounded.
“Jesus Christ, Elizabeth,” said Clara, rushing back to her.
Elizabeth’s body trembled, and she was nearly breathless, but not with horror, not with revulsion—with excitement. Thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not kill. She stepped past Clara, ignoring her, coming closer to the dead troll.
“No time for that shit now, soldier.” Clara grabbed Elizabeth and dragged her over to the entrance to the fort where the remaining six soldiers were bunching up—stacking, they called it—preparing to go inside.
Clara shoved Elizabeth against the wall behind the soldiers. The ones closest to the tunnel opening tossed grenades inside then ducked back. Elizabeth turned away, covering her ears, but the explosions that followed were far less intense than the main charge had been, sounding more like gunfire. The stacked soldiers rushed into the tunnel, carbines firing.
Elizabeth moved to follow, but Clara held her back. “Wait.” She lowered Elizabeth’s GPNVGs over her face, switching them on. Elizabeth saw that Clara had already lowered her own optics. Clara gripped the sides of Elizabeth’s helmet in both hands and made sure Elizabeth was looking directly at her. “Before you go all Gandalf on us again, you sound off first. Okay?”
Elizabeth nodded—terrified, breathless, and exhilarated.
What’s wrong with me? Am I really excited by this… this obscenity?
“Good girl.” Clara dragged Elizabeth inside the tunnel. “And thanks for saving our lives.”
Inside, the smoke and stench almost made her gag. A long corridor with smooth black walls lay ahead of her. Ahead, gunfire flashed, hurting her ears. The soldiers were engaging more enemies. She couldn’t see them, but she could hear their bestial screams as they died.
So much death.
“Move! Move! Move!” Clara screamed as she fired a burst from her weapon down the long corridor.
* * *
Maelhrandia ran through the corridors of her keep and out into the covered inner garden. Her tower stood in the center of the garden, surrounded by the massive vine-laden Vextoral trees and the giant luminescent Shae mushrooms that provided more than enough ambient light for the fae seelie and her boggarts to see. More than two hundred paces wide, it provided living space for Gazekiller to roam freely.
The basilisk would save her. Nothing could stand against him, not even an Ancient One. What chance would manlings have?
They were inside her keep, fighting her boggart guards—and, based on the growing intensity of the noise from their fire-weapons, winning. How had this happened? Hadn’t she and
Gazekiller reaped enough ruin on them, destroying their camp, stealing their warlord? How dare they attack her? It amazed her that they would even attempt such a thing. Unless… unless she had been betrayed. Perhaps by one of those foul Redcap gnomes. Always fawning on her, always pretending obedience. She wouldn’t put it past them.
The sounds of combat were so much closer now. They were coming so fast. Her boggart guardsmen were no match for the manlings’ weapons; she knew that now. They’d be coming for her next.
Then she remembered her guest, her dear sister, the mage-warden—the warrior. Hope flared within Maelhrandia. Together, they’d crush these manlings. And Gazekiller would help. He’d feast on them, sucking the juicy bits out of their shells, discarding their petrified skins. Even now, the basilisk appeared through the trees of her garden. Rising up on his hind legs, he sniffed the air, anxious for blood. Panting, she ran to his side and leaned against his scaly flank, catching her breath. Everything would be fine now.
She sent a mind message to her sister: Horlastia, come. Fight with me. I need your aid.
There was no answer.
Sister. Where are you? We are under attack, but it is only manlings.
And then she heard the cry of the wyvern from high above, where her tower pierced the roof of the garden.
Another time, dear sister, Horlastia answered. If you’re still alive.
Maelhrandia heard the beating of the wyvern’s wings as it took flight. Even if she couldn’t see it, she knew it was flying away with her sister on its back.
Her sister had abandoned her. She exhaled, glaring at the entrance to her garden. The sounds of combat were growing in intensity.
I’m alone.
Gazekiller howled his stuttering challenge.
No, not alone.
She’d deal with these manlings herself as she had before. Later, her sister would pay for her cowardice. Maelhrandia cast Shadow-Soul, turning invisible once more. She’d do what she always did: use Gazekiller to distract while she struck from hiding. It had worked every single time before, and it would work again.
The manlings would die for attacking her.
Chapter 55
Cassie gingerly stepped past the creatures Alex had killed. Somehow, four more had blundered upon the first two just as Alex was throwing his grenade. It made no difference; Alex had killed them easily. She had followed him out into the corridor, thinking she would help and even preparing to channel mana, but then she hadn’t—she’d been too stunned. Alex had killed them all quickly, with frightening efficiency, firing burst after burst of well-aimed auto-fire. Not even the wall-shaking detonation of the C4 charge had given him pause. After they were all down, he had calmly walked among the wounded, finishing them off with single shots.
She’d had no idea he could be that cold-blooded. The violence was shocking.
The stairs leading down were unguarded now, but dark. Without the GPNVGs, they’d be blind. He went first, and Cassie followed. Almost immediately, the temperature dropped, and the air stank of rot, damp earth, worms. She almost jumped when vines, hanging from the ceiling, brushed the top of her helmet. At the bottom of the stairs, a long corridor extended. Unlike the upper level of the fort, which had been built from black stones, the underground was simply hacked out of the earth, supported by wooden beams. Small chambers, each only large enough to hold a prisoner and blocked by iron bars, were interspersed evenly on both sides of the corridor. Alex had been right: this was a dungeon. It practically vibrated with misery, depression, and hopelessness. She shivered.
Alex had been about to walk down the corridor when Cassie saw something odd among the vines hanging out of the earth above their heads. She grabbed at his shoulder. “Wait.”
He paused and turned his head slightly. “What?”
She pointed up at the ceiling. There, crawling among the vines, were scores of spiders. The fat, bloated bodies of some were as large as her thumb.
“Jesus!” Alex stepped back, almost knocking her down.
“Hang on,” she said, channeling fire.
She threw what was by far the largest fireball she had ever created, only slightly smaller than a basketball. It hit the vines and exploded, igniting them in a flash. In moments, the flames spread across the ceiling like a wave, burning everything before them. Blackened husks of spiders fell upon the earthen floor like rain.
Turning, she grinned at Alex. Even Elizabeth would have been impressed by that. There was so much more mana here on Rubicon. Everything was so much easier. “All right, then. Let’s go.”
Alex pointed the way with his barrel. “Ladies first.”
“Funny.” She shoved him ahead of her.
He sighed and shook his head. “Don’t even know why I’m here.”
The stench of burnt spiders was nauseating but far preferable to the risk of them falling down the back of her collar. She shuddered.
The cells were empty although some held the remains of bones. Unlike the corridors, the cells had been lined with stone, probably to stop the prisoners from digging their way out through the soft earth. So why not line the whole tunnel with stone? Why just the cells?
The answer came to her in a flash of insight. Because spiders prefer soft earth.
The dark elves wanted the spiders down here… with their prisoners.
Again, she shivered. We need to find McKnight and get the hell out of here.
At the end of the corridor, another set of stairs led farther down. Alex took them slowly, this time watching the ceiling for more vines and spiders.
Below, the stairs opened into a large chamber filled with wooden tables and racks of metal tools—she didn’t want to think about what kind of tools—and what looked like a forge. Alex cautiously moved out, his weapon at his shoulder, ready to fire. She followed him closely. Something seemed off. At first, she couldn’t put her finger on it, and then she realized this chamber was a lighter shade of green. She flipped her GPNVGs back up on top of her helmet. Immediately, she noticed a candle burning on one of the wooden tables, lighting the room.
“Alex, there’s a candle. Someone’s—”
The rush of cloven hooves interrupted her. Figures, previously hidden behind the boxes and racks of equipment, rushed out at them, emitting eerie, and clearly nonhuman, shrieks. Cassie spun about. Alex’s carbine sent out a long burst of automatic fire that was accompanied by screams of pain. Something smashed into Cassie, and she fell back, dropping her carbine and landing hard on her backside on the stairs. A figure, one of those four-armed creatures, loomed before her, shrieking. She froze, terrified, and in that moment, her attacker brought something down hard, smashing against her helmet, striking the GPNVGs. Her head snapped back as pain shot down her neck. The creature lifted its arms up again, and this time she saw the ax it held. She channeled air, sending the creature flying back hard enough to hit one of the tables and fall down.
She staggered to her feet. “Alex!” she screamed, looking about.
He was fighting hand to hand with another attacker. Two more lay on the stone floor. The creature she had hit with air was now back on its feet, rushing at her again with the ax, crowding her. She snatched at her pistol, yanking it free of her shoulder holster. When she moved, it was entirely by muscle memory. Stepping back a pace, she swung the pistol up and put two rounds into its chest, followed by another into its face. Just the way Alex had taught her.
The creature fell back with a thump. She stared at its body in stunned silence, vaguely thinking this had to be just a nightmare.
But it was real. She had just taken another life. Revulsion gripped her, threatening to bring her to her knees.
A moment later, Alex was beside her, pushing the pistol barrel down. She didn’t resist.
“You okay?” he asked, panting heavily. Blood dripped from his chin. His GPNVGs were also gone.
“I… I thought… I… I didn’t mean…”
He grabbed the sides of her cheeks and turned her to face him. “Cassie. Listen to m
e. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Oh, God,” she said, feeling as though her world was falling apart. “I… I can’t do this. This… killing, this slaughter. I feel so… so filthy. This is so wrong.” She stared at the smoking pistol in her hands, wanting nothing more than to throw it from her. “How do I—”
From the rear of the chamber, someone cried out for help—in English.
McKnight!
She breathed deeply as Alex turned and ran to the back of the chamber, where a single cell awaited. Later. I’ll deal with this later, once we’re safe. I need to cope… but it’s so hard.
“Please. Help me,” a weak voice called out again.
It was McKnight. She recognized his voice. She holstered the pistol, picked up her M4, and followed Alex. Someone needed help—she could do that.
Within the cell, McKnight lay curled up in a fetal position, his eyes pleading. The cell had been left open; it must have been guarded by those creatures. McKnight was unbound and simply lying on the floor. It was strange to see such a powerful man helpless.
And what the hell is on the back of his neck?
Alex dropped to his knees beside him. “You all right, Colonel? Can you move?”
“Alex, wait,” Cassie said, fear gripping her. She dropped down beside him and grabbed his hand before he could touch the colonel. “Look at his back, on his neck.” She pointed at the monstrosity: an insect the length of her hand—an obscene hybrid centipede-spider thing—that had burrowed its head into McKnight’s neck. Its many legs were also buried into McKnight’s back, puncturing the skin down his spine. His back was covered in dried blood.
“What the fuck is that?” Alex almost fell back, panic in his voice.
Cassie shook her head. “Whatever it is, it’s using mana.”
“Please… help,” McKnight whispered through clenched teeth.
Starlight (The Dark Elf War Book 1) Page 42