The Clockwork King of Orl tok-2

by Mike Wild

  Those faces were nothing, though, compared to the looks that followed when, during the brief hiatus, the bamfcat decided to feed. One moment the worgle was happily rolling along the main street in front of them, and the next the rodent was snapped up by a lizard-like tongue the length of two men, the furry ball hooting in panic as it was sucked in and devoured in a single swallow. A dozen of its startled brethren flared like toothbrushes and bounced away, trying to avoid its fate, but the bamfcat's lengthy tongue slipped into every nook and cranny and snapped them up in rapid succession, Fayence's worgle population suffering a devastating blow in seconds.

  Kali didn't question how the bamfcat did what it did or how it fuelled itself, however, because it got her where she needed to be and faster than she would have dreamt possible. But with Munch having had such a head start, they still had a lot of ground to make up. Thankfully, the journey so far had been the easy part, and the hard part was yet to come — and with some luck it would slow the bastard down. Kali looked up as they began to near the mountains, and felt the same sense of awe and insignificance that she always did when she came within riding distance of the range. Yes, if anything was going to slow Munch down, the mountains would.

  Accessible only at the southern tip of the Sardenne Forest, the World's Ridge Mountains loomed massively ahead and above of her, a forbidding wall of rock that in places seemed to reach higher than the sky. Not just rock, either — the lower peaks of the range were dotted with live volcanic craters that belched lava onto their tortuous slopes, while the upper peaks were sheer faces of ice, glistening white in stark contrast to the orangey-reds of the fires below. Where the two met, and clashed, great steaming geysers blasted upwards, periodically disintegrating the ice and causing it and the rock behind to crumble and fall, the avalanches creating a roar that seemed to be that of the mountains themselves. No one knew what lay beyond the World's Ridge, and if anyone had ever attempted to traverse it, they had not returned. Like the Sardenne Forest, it was a barrier to the inhabitants of the peninsula, but in this case one that daunted even Kali, and she wondered, on occasion, whether there was anything to be made of the fact that the barrier was composed of earth, air, fire and water — the four elements themselves.

  They reached the lower slopes, and the bamfcat slowed as it began to climb. It sniffed at her and then at the air, apparently picking up a human scent, and so Kali allowed the animal to lead her, negotiating gorges, precarious trails and natural rock bridges over bubbling streams and billowing pools, hot from the mountains' insides.

  At least for part of the way. During the past few days, the bamfcat, apart from being inexhaustible, had manifested an absolute absence of reluctance to do anything it was asked, but after almost a day and a half climbing beyond the foothills there came a point which even the bamfcat would not go further. As she watched the beast's nostrils flaring, Kali suspected why. Wafted down to them from the higher slopes on the occasional blast of bitter, whistling wind, came a stench that could only belong to whatever denizens called these mountains home. The stench was utterly feral, bestial, so strong it was almost sickening. Of all the sights, sounds and smells that they had encountered on their journey, Kali didn't know why this, of all things, should unnerve the bamfcat, but perhaps the inhabitants it sensed were its racial enemy, or perhaps even its natural predator in the place from where it had originally come. She wondered whether the beast that had become her new companion hailed originally not from the Drakengrats but from these mountains — or even beyond.

  But that was a question for another time. For now it didn't really matter because the animal had served her well — had got her here when no other beast possibly could — and she had no right to push it any further against its will, even if such an act would be physically possible.

  Kali found a suitable spot and dismounted, stripped the bamfcat of its saddle and then slapped the beast on its flanks.

  It didn't go anywhere.

  "What?" Kali said. "Don't tell me you're going to wait for me?"

  The bamfcat flipped out its tongue, perhaps searching in vain for worgles, then hung its head, saying nothing.

  "You're not going to be here when I get back, and we both know it. So go."

  The bamfcat snorted and lifted its head to stare dolefully at her. There was a certain insanity its eyes that she found disturbingly familiar — and quite comforting.

  "Okay, fine!" Kali relented. "Stay there — but something further up has obviously given you the spooks so don't try to follow me, okay?"

  Kali left the saddle but flung the saddlebags over her shoulder. She started to climb, hesitated, then turned and patted the beast three times on its neck. "I'll… see you when I get back," she said.

  She continued on alone, the foothills behind her, the true slopes of the World's Ridge rising precipitously before her. Snow covered the ground at her feet in increasingly larger and thicker patches, but here and there pools and rivulets of lava broke through the rocks and stained the whiteness, making it seem as if the jagged landscape was slowly haemorrhaging. She climbed higher and, despite the lava, the temperature dropped considerably, and while she had been too intent on getting here to feel the cold until now, Kali was forced to dig into Blossom's saddlebag for an extra layer of clothing, pulling out a ragged fur coat that looked as if it had seen too many trapping expeditions. That, or its donor had been trapped on a particularly bad hair day. She slung it on. The thing stank to the high heavens but did the job.

  In the absence of the bamfcat, Kali had to rely on her own tracking skills to keep on Merrit Moon's trail, secure in the knowledge that as no one dared venture far up into these mountains the signs of passage indicated by dislodged rocks, broken branches and disturbed patches of scree — eliminating those caused by whichever wild animals lived on the mid-slopes — were most likely his. It was possible that as humans were such rare visitors to these heights, those same wild animals were wary of approaching for fear of their place in the food chain, and for the most part Kali managed to avoid encounters with local predators, driving off the odd pack of shnarls or curious bugbear with a wave of her knife and suitable warning noises. Only once did she pause warily, when from far above she heard the haunting echo of what sounded like prolonged screams. They, though, could equally have been the carrion calls of the strange birds that circled high above. In this place, it was difficult to tell.

  Birds or not, Kali picked up her pace. Thankfully, tracking the old man became even easier when, after a further three hours' climb, she came across convergent tracks coming in by a different route, vaguely to the west. Seven people, six men and the smaller, slightly lighter tread of a woman — and horses — heavily equipped. It did not take her long to work out who they might be. Munch was probably using one or more shadowmages to track Merrit Moon, and, despite her fears for him, for once she was grateful for the presence of threadweavers as from there on in their talents resulted in the old man's trail being overlaid by the footprints of his pursuers, making it as obvious to follow as a flaming torch in the dark.

  A flaming torch would have been something she'd have been very grateful for at that moment, because Kali was approaching the ice-slopes now, the snow that had become thick beneath her tread taking on the greater solidity of permafrost. A blizzard had begun to howl about her, too, and she huddled inside her furs as she tramped ever upwards, squinting to see past the needle-like flurries that threatened to white-out everything before her. Then, suddenly, she spotted something in a rockface ahead — the dark and variously shaped outlines of what could only be cave mouths. What was more, the trails of the old man and his pursuers — plain on the slight plateau that led to the caves — vanished right into one of them.

  Kali's heart thudded and she hurried forwards, relief that she had at last caught up with the old man tempered by the worry that Munch's trail appeared to be only minutes behind his, and she hoped to the gods that she wasn't too late. But she had only taken a couple of paces when her foot crunched
on something on the ground, and what she saw when she looked down made her momentarily pause.

  The icescape about her was dotted with bones, human and animal, mainly old but some not so, seemingly torn from their respective bodies and stripped utterly clean, some lying in small piles, others resting alone where they had been dragged by… something. What was the most disturbing was that the something had precisely the same odour about it that had stopped the bamfcat in its tracks far below.

  Here, the air was redolent with it, its strength almost overpowering. Kali trod cautiously in the direction of the cave, without doubt the source of the stench. She entered slowly, eyes alert for any movement or sound in the darkness. But she saw nothing, and the only sounds were those of her own feet crunching on the tinier deposits on the bone-strewn floor, along with a languid and incessant drip-plop-drip from the moisture-laden ceiling that echoed hollowly within the rock.

  There should have been no light to see by, but as Kali inched her way inwards, her knife at the ready, she saw that the cave was illuminated by a dull green glow emanating from crystalline formations in the rock. It was hardly daylight but it was bright enough to stop her stumbling blindly over the body that lay mutilated on the cave floor a few yards in.

  Merrit! she feared instantly, but quickly realised that it was not. Instead, she looked down at the body — the remains of a body — of what could only have been one of Munch's party, the corpse lying broken and missing an arm and both legs, eyes staring blankly and mouth frozen in a rictal, agonised scream. A black and glistening trail of blood led further back into the cave, and Kali guessed that the poor woman had tried to drag what remained of herself to safety.

  Not Merrit. Merrit would not be capable of this.

  There was nothing she could do for the woman, so Kali closed her eyelids and moved on. But it wasn't long before she came across another body, and then another, each in an equal or worse state of mutilation. Like the first, they appeared to have been trying to drag themselves to the exit but had never made it, the loss of blood from their amputations too great. Something in this cave had torn them apart like mools in a slaughterhouse, and it was beginning to look like it, not Munch's people, was the biggest danger here.

  Kali could feel every fibre of her being warning her to get the hells out of there, but she knew she had no choice but to carry on, to find Merrit Moon, whether he was alive or dead. But as it happened, she did not have to look much further. No more than ten yards on, the cave opened out into a chamber where she found three more bodies heaped together in a small pile, almost indistinguishable from each other, they had been so badly torn. And next to them, covered in their entrails, lay Merrit Moon. The old man was face down on the floor, a staff and opened backpack scattered beside him, a dark pool of blood seeping from beneath his torso. But he was breathing shallowly. He was alive. Just.

  "Oh gods," Kali said. She hurried to him and turned him gently over, cradling the back of his head in her palm. The old man sighed and his eyes fluttered open slowly, focusing on her with difficulty. From his complexion he had lost a lot of blood.

  It was clear nothing could be done. Merrit Moon was dying.

  Kali swallowed.

  "Hey… old man," she whispered.

  Moon coughed. "You have the smell of Vos about you," he said slowly, having to force the words out. "Have you ridden my faithful friend somewhere less than healthy once again, young lady?"

  "No, Merrit, Horse… I mean, yes. But don't worry, Horse is fine… fine. He's waiting for me." She hesitated. "He's waiting for you."

  Moon smiled. "You've been looking after him?"

  Kali nodded briskly, trying not to let him see her tears. "Of course I have, you old fool. Bacon stew every day." She stared at her mentor, aware that they were both avoiding the issue, and what she really wanted to say erupted out of her. "Pits, old man, I told you not to come here alone!"

  Moon shook his head, took her hand. As he spoke, his tongue clicked dryly in his mouth. "Here or elsewhere, it would not have mattered. It wasn't the mountain's cold embrace that finished me, Kali. It was the cold embrace of steel."

  He slowly pulled up his tunic, wincing as the cloth tore from drying blood. Kali stared at three distinct puncture wounds in his torso — two in the gut and one near the heart — fury rising. The shape of the blade that had made them was unmistakable — a jagged-edged gutting knife. The worst thing about them was they could so easily have been killing blows but weren't — Moon's soon-to-be murderer had inflicted these mortal wounds and seemingly left him here to die.

  "Munch," she hissed.

  Moon nodded. "Kali, he took the key. Knew I had it…"

  Kali sobbed. "I told Munch about you, old man. Gods help me, I didn't mean to but I told him."

  Moon stroked her cheek. "Hush. Whatever you did, I know you couldn't help it. I told you, the Final Faith are zealou — "

  "Damn them!" Kali shouted, interrupting him.

  "Hush," Moon said, again. "Hushhhhh."

  "Don't hush me! Damn you, Merrit Moon, stop treating me like a baby!"

  Despite his dire state, Moon chuckled, coughed, his breath rattling. "Actually, I'm trying to save your life," he said. His eyes seemed to lose focus on her, stare beyond her. "More outbursts like that one and you'll… arouse them."

  "Arouse them? Who?" She pointed at the bodies. "Are you talking about the things that did this? Merrit, for the gods' sake, what happened here? What killed these people?"

  Moon sighed heavily, seemingly losing the thread. "The key. I meant to take it deeper… to where they live… but these old muscles are slow and Munch and his men weren't far behind… they found me here before I could…"

  He took a shuddering breath, remembering. "Munch didn't even ask for the key. He just pulled me towards him, towards his knife, and then… my blood… the smell of my blood brought them up from below."

  Kali's face darkened. "Where's Munch now?"

  "I… don't know. I… think he ran from them…"

  "Them, again," Kali said. For the first time she thought she could make out a low rumbling in the cave. "I guess we're not talking run-of-the-mill mountain cats here are we?"

  Moon shook his head. "Creatures as old as the Old Races, probably much more so. They've lived in these mountains since the world was young, since before even the Sardenne grew — they, and their no-less-legendary cousins." His eyes flicked to the side, and he swallowed. "But I don't have to tell you about them, you can see for yourself."

  "They're coming?"

  Moon shook his head. "No, Kali. They're already here."

  Kali felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise along with an overriding need to hunch down, to make herself small. Because even as the old man had spoken she had sensed the presences all around her, and she raised her eyes slowly and nervously from the old man to the shadows of the chamber. There were six of them, all but naked things, their flesh a green that had nothing to do with the crystalline light. Half as tall again as a human, their thickly muscled bodies and hunched shoulders made them seem shorter, especially while at that moment they squatted in what appeared to be their personal niches in the rock walls, regarding her. Not just regarding her — because as they looked on with their deep-set eyes, their hair lank about their bodies and their mouths protruding teeth, each gnawed droolingly on chunks of meat and bone identifiable as pieces of thigh, an arm, and even a head; meat recently ripped from the corpses around them.

  These things. She'd heard tales of them as a child. Tales told in the Flagons meant to scare her but which instead intrigued her. Bogey men. She didn't know what their true name was but she knew what humans called them.

  Ogur.

  And as she realised she was kneeling in the middle of their dining room, they sure as hells scared her now.

  Despite her fear, Kali moved to protect the old man but he held her where she was. "Don't," he told her. "They won't attack." He looked up as one of them took a tentative step towards Kali but then retrea
ted when, much to her surprise, the old man barked at it in some unknown tongue. "At least," he finished wearily, "while I'm alive."

  "You can control them?" Kali said, and remembered his words on his doorstep in Gargas, what seemed an age ago. "Don't tell me — this is your tale for another time."

  Moon nodded, winced in pain. "I'd come here in search of Herrick's Passage — a tunnel said to pass under the mountains — but an avalanche meant I never found it. What I found was one of these ogur trapped beneath the ice, and I helped it."

  "You're telling me one of these things was grateful?"

  Moon half-laughed, half-choked. "Grateful? No. Had it not been so weak, it would have torn me apart. Which is why I shared with it the contents of my backpack."

  "A quarrel of crossbow bolts, I hope."

  "Eight bottles of flummox."

  Kali stared at the old man dubiously. "Are you telling me you got an ogur pissed?"

  Moon coughed. "Drank him under the table. But he wasn't used to the stuff. The point is, theirs is an alpha society and after that I was treated with a little more respect."

  Kali laughed, but it was strained, redolent of a joke shared for the last time. Of all the tales the old man had told her over the years, she was never sure which he exaggerated, but clearly something had happened for the ogur to defer to him as they did. Something that had made him feel confident enough to lose the key in the lower depths of their cave, where it could never be reached.

  In the odd way that these things did, it suddenly occurred to her to ask him why, now that he'd confessed to drinking flummox, he insisted on serving her that atrocious elven wine. She wanted to ask him many things, actually, but as the old man coughed again she realised there was no more time.