Kale watched him go, the urge to attack still warring with the knowledge that to do so would be foolish. Still, foolish or not, it was a powerful feeling, and he was not sure if he would be able to hold it back until the guildmaster was gone, the door closing behind him.
With a heavy sigh, Kale leaned back in his throne. He ran an arm across a forehead suddenly bathed in sweat and turned to Shira’s Proof where he stood beside his throne. As always, the man’s cowl covered his face, but it didn’t matter. Kale had seen what was beneath that hood, had seen the monster’s visage lurking there, one far too similar to his own. “The urges are getting worse.”
“Urges, Chosen?”
Kale growled. “You know damned well what I mean. It’s as if…” He shook his head angrily. “I don’t know what it is. I thought…it sounds crazy to say out loud, but it was as if I could smell his blood. Could almost feel it in his veins.”
The cowled head nodded slowly. “The Goddess’s blessings are manifold, Chosen. You have senses far better than any man’s. It is said the Argush of old could hear the heartbeat of his enemies long before they drew close enough to do battle.”
“It’s not just that, damnit,” Kale said. “It was something else…something….” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish.
The next thing he knew, the Proof was standing directly beside him, leaning down, and he thought he could see two baleful eyes gleaming within the shadows of his hood. “Something hungry, Chosen?”
Kale swallowed. “Y-yes.”
The hood remained still for a moment, then the Proof stood up once more. “It is the blessings, Chosen One. The changes the goddess works in your body are not without consequence—you will be hungry more, will require fuel to feed your growing power.”
Yes, Kale thought. That much at least was true, for he had been eating far more of late, two or even three times as much as he once had, but it wasn’t his increasing appetite that troubled him. It was what he was beginning to grow hungry for. “Forget it,” he said finally. “I am finished with audiences for today; I believe I will have something to eat. And then I will rest.”
“Of course, Chosen.”
“Go and tell the cooks to send dinner to my room.”
The cloaked figure gave a single nod then started away but paused as Kale spoke. “And Proof?”
“Yes, sire?”
“The meat…tell the cook I would like it raw.”
He could not see within the shadows of the Proof’s hood, but he somehow knew the figure was smiling, displaying rows of jagged teeth. “Of course, Argush.”
Chapter Six
Rion’s foot caught on a loose stone on the tunnel floor, and he gave a shout of surprise, barely managing to catch himself on the wall. The others turned to glance at him, and he was thankful for the darkness, knowing it would cover his reddening face. The old Chosen gave a scowl before turning and starting back down the tunnels, and Rion noted the grin Marta gave—visible even in the poor light of the torch—before turning away and continuing her whispered conversation with Sonya once more. No doubt telling the girl more lies—it seemed that trying to make others believe one outlandish tale after another was a favored pastime of the annoying girl.
Scowling at the Chosen’s back, Rion followed. What cause did the man have to look at him like that anyway? Sure, maybe it wasn’t the first time he’d tripped—gods, it probably wasn’t even the sixth, but what of it? It wasn’t as if a man got a lot of practice hiking through dark tunnels, the only light the sporadic flickering of a torch, was it? Rion considered giving the man a piece of his mind but quickly dismissed the idea.
For one, he knew he was just in a foul mood. He was exhausted, scared—as any sane man or woman would be, with seemingly half the continent out to kill them—and he was filthy. Rion had always hated the other nobles who seemed to care more for their appearance than anything else, spending their days frittering away their family’s coin on new clothes or new shoes, on this jerkin or those trousers, while those in the poor district struggled to find food. He had always thought them incredibly selfish, impossibly arrogant. Not that he ever gave coins to the poor either—he had enough of his own problems, thank you—but that wasn’t really the point. Or, at least, he didn’t think it was.
The point, Rion realized, was that despite his own circumstances and how close his family had come to ruin, despite his ventures into Valeria’s poor quarter, he had never been one of those desperate men and women dressed in ratty clothes. He had only been a spectator, a visitor, and the old cloak and clothes he’d worn no more than a costume, one he might put on one day only to take off the next. He had never spent days in filth as he now had, and though he hated himself for his own disgust, his own vanity, he could not deny it, and the knowledge only served to make his bad mood worse.
Still, he might have said something to the old giant anyway, if that had been all it was. After all, the man seemed to only have one expression—the disapproving scowl he wore even now, though it had to be said he’d mastered it. Just the right amount of disgust and annoyance to make a man feel like a child caught acting out. Sure, he’d saved their lives, but just then, with the dirt walls seeming to press in on him and the tunnel behind and ahead stretching on as far as he could see, with a pebble in one boot he couldn’t seem to dislodge no matter how many times he tried to take it off and empty it, Rion wasn’t feeling particularly thankful.
No, it wasn’t gratitude that kept him from speaking. Nor was it the understanding that the old bastard couldn’t be blamed for all of Rion’s troubles, no matter how convenient it might have been. Instead, it was the knowledge that the man was at least twice his size, and his hands—the size of dinner platters—looked as if they could crush stone. Or—as the case may be—the head of a nobleman who decided to run his mouth when he would have been better served leaving it shut.
He had enough problems without borrowing any from a cantankerous old man, so he walked on in silence, possessed of the feeling that they had, without realizing it, ended up in the underworld, and the journey they now took was some penance. The longer time stretched on, the more he became sure that they would remain in the tunnels forever, walking onward always, getting a little dirtier, a little more ill-tempered, but never finding their way out.
Trapped.
The word popped into his mind before he could stop it, and he swallowed past a throat suddenly unaccountably dry. The walls seemed to be closing in, the ceiling moving closer and closer overhead. How many tons of dirt and stone, of sand and the gods alone knew what else were crouched above their heads, waiting to pour down on them, to bury them? And if such a thing should happen, there was no hope of being saved, no chance of rescue. Their corpses would remain there forever, buried and forgotten by the world. It was this same thought that had kept Rion from managing any sleep over the last days spent in the tunnels, and his exhaustion only added to his foul mood.
But just then, the thought felt more real, truer, than it had even during what had passed as “nights” in the tunnels. The walls were getting closer. The ceilings too. Rion was so focused on that, on trying to look at both walls at once, certain they moved closer each time he looked away, that he didn’t notice the others stop. Didn’t take heed of it at all until he ran into Darl’s back, and the Ferinan grunted and raised a questioning eyebrow.
Rion winced, his face heating once more. “Sorry. It’s dark in here.”
“We’re coming to the end of the tunnels,” said the old giant up ahead.
Normally, Rion would have asked where exactly the tunnels had led them, since the gray-haired Chosen had shown no interest in sharing the information during their trip, but just then he was too relieved by the prospect of finally escaping the tunnels to care. They could have led straight to Tesharna’s dungeons, and he would have been the first one through the door.
“Where are we?” Alesh asked.
“We’ve traveled quite a few miles,” Larin said. “Pretty much north the whole way.”
“Is it Celadra?” Katherine asked. “Are we back there?”
“No,” the old man said. “More westward than that—we’ve come to the city of Peralest.”
Rion blinked in surprise. He was glad to hear they hadn’t gone back to Celadra—his last experience of the town had been less than satisfactory considering there’d been a pack of Redeemers bent on murdering them. Still, he knew of Peralest—counted among the largest cities in the kingdom that wasn’t under the direct rule of one of the Chosen—and it was difficult to believe they had come so far.
Katherine must have agreed, for she spoke in a tone of surprise matching Rion’s. “Truly?”
“Well,” the old man said, “we won’t emerge in the city itself—not much good making an escape tunnel if you decide to put it in the middle of a well-traveled street, is it? We ought to come out in the forest, maybe half a day’s walk from the city. Assuming, of course, that the city still exists and hasn’t been destroyed by nightlings or put to the sword by the Redeemers.”
“Anybody ever tell you you’ve really got a way of putting people’s minds at ease?” Rion asked.
The giant’s only answer was a grunt. “An old friend of mine lives in the city,” he said to Alesh, “or at least he did. Might be he can help you, give you shelter until you figure out what you’re going to do. I’ll see you to him, then I’m done.”
“Wait a minute,” Rion said, “you’re going to leave? Just like that?”
“Just like what?” Larin demanded. “I’ve fought my battle already, boy, fought it and won. I’m old now, old and tired, and I wouldn’t be able to help you, even if I wanted to.”
“But…” Katherine said, “forgive me, sir, but you understand if we lose…well, Kale and Tesharna and all the nightlings, they’re not going to care whether you fought against them or not. If the Darkness wins, no one will be safe. Not even someone living alone in the desert.”
The giant said nothing, only stared at Alesh, his expression looking as if it had been carved from stone. Finally, Alesh nodded. “We appreciate all you’ve done for us, Larin. If you could show us to Peralest, we’d be grateful.”
“What are you saying?” Rion said. “Gods, he’s a Chosen, man, don’t you—”
“Enough, Rion,” Alesh growled, and there was such warning in his voice that Rion clamped his jaw shut despite his own misgivings.
“This man, this friend you spoke of,” Alesh went on, talking to Larin once more. “Do you trust him?”
The old giant snorted. “I don’t trust anyone, boy, and I recommend you do the same. You’ll live longer that way. Still, he’s been loyal for as long as I’ve known him, and during the wars he helped me more than once. He’ll be old now, old as the rest of us, but if he’s still breathin’, I’m confident he’ll give you what help he can.”
Alesh nodded. “That’s good enough for me. Lead on, Chosen.”
Rion saw the old giant’s stony visage shift, as if something pained him, then he turned away abruptly, starting down the tunnels once more. Alesh glanced back at the others, shrugged, then followed after.
“Great,” Rion muttered.
“Oh, look on the bright side, Rion,” Katherine said from beside him. “At least we’ll be getting out of the tunnels.” He started to respond but before he could she set off, following after Alesh.
“I’ve got friends in Peralest.”
Rion frowned, turning to see the girl, Marta, standing beside him. “Friends?”
She shrugged. “Well, an army, I guess you’d call it. A few thousand, no more than that. And the story about how I got them, well, that’s an interesting one. You see, I was walking through a forest—”
“Gods save us,” Rion said, then he hurried after the others.
Chapter Seven
Alesh followed behind Larin who, after the brief conversation, seemed even more dour than normal. The man said nothing, only marching forward with a grim determination on his face. At first, there was no change in the tunnels Alesh could see, and he wondered if Larin had been mistaken about their current location. Then, he noticed the dirt floor on which they’d walked for the last several days had begun to angle upward.
Soon, the old man held up a hand, signaling for them to stop. “I’d stay quiet, if I were you,” he said. “And keep your eyes open. This tunnel exit was safe enough when I made it, but that was years ago, and I haven’t been here since. Might be there’s an army of Redeemers waiting on the other side, for all I know.”
Alesh saw the worried expressions on the others’ faces, all save for Darl who gave a single nod. No one said anything, and that was no surprise. What could they have said? It wasn’t as if they could stay in these tunnels forever. For one, they would run out of food and water, but there was a good chance the Redeemers would be searching through what remained of the castle, and it was too much to hope that they wouldn’t find the tunnel entrance sooner or later. “Alright,” Alesh said. “Let’s go.”
He went to the hatch set in the roof where the floor rose to meet it and tried to push it aside. It didn’t budge, and he glanced at the old man questioningly. Larin grunted then reached into a small opening in the wall Alesh hadn’t noticed before. There was a click, and the hatch began to slide into the side of the tunnel wall, soundless save the rattling of falling dirt.
Alesh glanced back at the others, and his gaze settled on Katherine who was watching him worriedly. “I’m going to go check it out. Stay here.”
***
Katherine held her breath as Alesh disappeared through the opening She wanted to tell him not to go, for there could be anything on the other side of that opening, but she knew such a thought was foolish. They couldn’t stay here in these tunnels forever. Still, she didn’t like the way he was so willing to put himself at risk; it reminded her too much of the way he had been before when Sonya was taken, charging wildly into battle, uncaring of the forces arrayed against him.
She felt a great, heady sense of relief when Alesh stepped back down through the opening. “It’s safe enough,” he said, “but I don’t think we’re going to enjoy the trip much.”
Katherine didn’t know what that meant and, just then, she didn’t care. She was only glad nothing had happened, and she stepped forward willingly enough, following the others toward the opening. Once they had all climbed out and were standing in the forest, she saw what Alesh had meant. The stone slab that had served as the exit from Larin’s tunnels led into a small forest cave, one which barely managed to hold them all at once, but it wasn’t this which was of concern.
Perhaps once, the cave had been regularly used, home to some animal, but if that was the case, then whatever had called it home had not been back for some time. Thick brush had grown up around the cave mouth, extending as far as Katherine could see in what appeared to be an early morning sun. And among that brush were thorn bushes, their sharp points seeming to glisten with anticipation.
“I guess it was too much to hope the tunnels would have led to an inn with soft beds and strong drinks, eh?” Rion mumbled from beside her, but Katherine was barely listening. She was too focused on the sun, stepping up to the cave mouth to feel the warmth of it on her extended hands. She had not complained—it wouldn’t have done any good, if she had—but she had hated the time spent in the tunnels, in the dark, and she had half expected at any moment for nightlings to pop up ahead and behind them, surrounding them in the tight confines. A silly thought, of course, for the nightlings would not have been able to find their way down to the tunnels any better than the Redeemers would have, but once she’d had the thought she had not been able to banish it, and she realized, standing there with the warmth of the sun on her skin, that some part of her had thought they’d never escape those tunnels at all.
“Come, Sonya,” she said, turning to the young girl with a smile and extending a hand. The girl grinned widely, and if her time in the tunnels had bothered her, she gave no sign. Instead, she ran forward eagerly enough, taking Katherine’s ha
nd and letting herself be led to the front of the cave. Alesh joined them a moment later and, for a time, they just stood there. Filthy, all in desperate need of a bath, but smiling for all that, sharing a brief moment of peace. A moment that was shattered a second later when Rion walked up, hocked and spat. “Well. I don’t suppose anyone thought to bring a machete? Maybe an ox and plow?”
Darl stepped forward, eyeing the thick undergrowth that was nearly as tall as he was, his spear held in one hand. “I will lead.”
They all turned to look at him, for the words were some of the first he had spoken since discovering his people, slaughtered at the hands of the Broken and those who followed him. But if the Ferinan noticed their attention, he gave no sign. Instead, he started into the undergrowth, swinging his spear to clear a path.
Katherine watched her friend’s back for several seconds until a hand fell on her shoulder, and she turned to see Alesh watching her. “He’ll be okay,” he said.
“How can you know?” she asked in a voice little more than a whisper.
“He’s strong,” Alesh said. “But there’s something more important than that. You see, by doing what he did, the Broken took something from Darl, something more than just the lives of his people. He took his hope. And soon, we will take it back.”
Katherine was about to ask him what he meant, but he stepped forward, following behind the Ferinan, his own blade whisking from side to side, cutting a large swath in the path so that the others might follow. Katherine forced a smile and turned to Sonya. “Come. The city will have a nice soft bed. How does that sound?”
Sonya grinned. “Good.”
Katherine nodded. “Alright then.” She turned back to Marta who was standing alone, looking out of place, almost lost. “Well?” she said, extending her other hand. “Aren’t you coming?”
The girl hesitated for a moment, then a slow grin spread on her face and she nodded, coming forward. Then, hand in hand, they walked out of the darkness and into the light of day.
The Warriors of the Gods Page 4