Chapter Nine
Below The Ruins
With Bug now safely if unhappily on her way home, Niam needed a moment to collect himself. The Voice had wanted him to go and listen. He had no problem going and listening, but he took the time to make it clear to himself that he was going because HE wanted to go. And IF there was something directing him to do its bidding, Niam was willing to bet lots of someone else’s money that it already knew what was happening beneath the abbey. And Niam would have preferred that the Voice have just told him the deal fair and square. It could have skipped the ghost dog and all of this mess. Instead, something seemed to be playing with him. A great cosmic joke.
And he was the butt of that joke.
“I’m doing this for me,” he said. “And for Bug.” As he moved around the back of the ruins where he wouldn’t be spotted if Bode or one of his lackeys suddenly emerged from the other side, he added, “And if I had known about Tim, I would have gone down there anyway to help him. I didn’t need whoever you are sending me a dog—and if you really cared, you have sent a horse so I could have helped him quicker.”
As carefully as he could, Niam skirted the edge of the ruins. He had heard the abbey had been beautiful to look upon. The fire that had destroyed it removed something precious from the world, for the Pirim Bells had been known throughout the island kingdoms and on the continent as well.
The night of the fire, the old abbot had gone up from his cell into the chapel at midnight to chant the high moon prayers, and it was there that the fire had started. By the altar. As the monks had tried to brave the flames licking up the chapel walls, they caught a brief glimpse of the old abbot’s body, wreathed in hungry flames, kneeling where he had died in prayer. Apparently he had toppled the lamp from the alter as his own life spilled from him. Had the conflagration worked its way across the ground floor rather than traveling by rooftop, most of the monks would have died, trapped and baked alive in their narrow little cells.
Only the portion beneath the outer cloister where the sacristy once stood still remained. Its entrance, Niam knew, lay hidden behind a thick row of hedges that had grown wild so that their shaggy green border touched the jagged ruins in a rectangular blanket of dry and yellow foliage. Thick tangles of vines choked the rubble beneath; now, only the blunt and skeletal walls stood like emaciated animals. Their leaf fringed forms rose in effigy to the grand towers that stood where the famous Merry Bells of Pirim once tolled from dusk to dawn, sounding seven times each day, once for each hour of the world’s making. No new bells had been cast for the new monastery built in the heart of Pirim Village. The old ones, Niam’s parents told him long ago, had been relics from the age before this one when men still had the ability to imbue metals with strange and marvelous qualities. When the old bells struck their sonorous notes, it was said the tolling could be heard nearly to Kalavere, and that as the echoing peals reverberated throughout the valleys, all sadness was dispelled. Such was their power, and their passing from the world was counted a great tragedy.
Silently, Niam crept between the wild thickets now surrounding the abbey’s remains. He saw the entrance clearly now. Ancient steps led down into what little remained of the cellar system. As Niam approached he listened carefully. Nothing. Apparently his quarry was tucked deep within, and now was the time to move, so he made his way through the opening. Just beyond the entrance lay a lantern. Bug or Corey must have dropped it as they fled the darkness. Niam bent and rapidly retrieved it. Just to his left a passage turned and continued before it abruptly stopped where the floor above had fallen through. When his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, he moved along the path leading to the large cavern deep within the heart of the ruined cellar. Just ahead, he made out a dim glow. Silence, sepulchral and deep surrounded him.
As he drew nearer, Niam recognized animated light dancing against the stone walls from one of Bug’s candles. He walked silently to it and lit his. If someone saw him, he’d just have to do what he had learned long ago: Shout something insulting and run like mad. Usually he managed to get away.
Usually.
As he tip-toed forward, the passage split to the right where the entire side of the great building had come crashing down. Niam held his lantern out and peered into the gloom. Just at the edge of the light, where the visible touched darkness, he saw the barrier Bug told him about, which turned out to be an old saw-horse. As Niam lingered there for a few seconds, a thick and unpleasantly cloying stench began to tickle his nose.
Bug had done well to cordon off the passage. Anyone unfamiliar with the tunnels could easily mistake the safe passage for the one leading into the exposed privy well, Even though it had mostly filled itself in over time, the slight drop could tumble an unwary visitor into the sludge that remained. The ground drained poorly where the old abbey had been built, and once the structure had burned, the pipes and trenches carrying water from the building no longer needed maintenance. This was the result.
And that’s when Niam realized a little payback was in order. He hefted the old saw-horse away and backed it out from where it stood and placed it in front of the passage leading out of the ruins, taking care not to make a sound. Noises beneath the ground here played strangely off the walls. Everything close sounded loud to his ears, but still, he could not hear Bode and his gang although they were less than a two hundred feet farther in by his estimation.
When he was done, Niam left just enough room between the bench and the wall that he could quickly slip through if he had to make a fast escape. With any luck, the four of them would fall in before they realized what had happened! And if it wasn’t Bode, Niam hoped it would be Card. Niam had seen the way he looked at the younger boys and girls. A wave of disgusted washed over him with the memories.
Shaking the thought out of his mind, Niam held close to the wall as he moved farther into the darkness. At last, he began to hear the unmistakable voices of Bode and his friends.
Niam lightened his footsteps as he continued down the remnants of the long corridor that took him into the heart of the abbey’s ruined cellar. Candles left by Bug and Corey along the wall’s edge flickered eagerly in the still air. Niam reached down and turned the lantern’s down as far as it would go without extinguishing the light. A meager flame clung to the wick, and its soft illumination shone through the opaque lantern’s hood as if it were a glowing lump of alabaster. If he had been anywhere else, Niam would have taken time to admire the effect. The lantern cast a soft and soothing light, and it was too bad he was going to have to give it back to Bug. If he remembered, he was going to have to ask her where it came from.
From ahead, the rough voices he knew all too well grew. Their voices raised goose bumps of fear across the skin of his arms. The passage seemed to press against the darkness around him like a vice.
Rude laughter carried from the large room at the end of the corridor. A lump of fear formed in his stomach. Niam thought briefly about turning and making his way out of the cellar and running as far away as possible. He could outwit each one of them at a time, but could he outwit them all at once?
No. He would not run. He had to find out what had been so important that it had drawn them here for secrecy. And he had to run them out of Bug’s Shakta lair.
When the corridor emerged into the cavern several paces ahead, Niam pressed his back against the wall. Laughter erupted just ahead as someone made a crude joke. Niam slowed his breathing to be able to hear. He already knew what he was going to see. Although years had passed since he had been down there, he remembered the place well. If the structure beneath the ground was only half as stunning as the building that used to stand above, the thing must have been as spectacular as everyone said it.
The room itself contained zagging patterns of columns that rose from the stone floor and melded into the ceiling above, creating a dizzy
ing ribwork of arching vaults. The columns themselves were as thick as two grown men, and bore friezes depicting the Creator’s archangels giving life to the things of the lands, oceans, and air. Beautiful frescoes covered all four walls with large renderings of the saints and prophets carrying their work to the corners of the world. That was before the Time of Judgment, when the far lands of the east held nations dedicated to the light and glory of the Creator. That was long before the Dread Lords visited their destruction on the world after the evil land of Kobor rose like a baleful star in the east.
Niam wasn’t disappointed. The room remained just as he remembered it. At the moment, Bode’s little circle of followers sat in a ring around a small fire, and he could tell none of them were looking his way. With a silent prayer, he crouched and carefully stepped between small shards of masonry, being sure not to accidentally kick one and send it clacking noisily across the floor. He made his way to another column where the ceiling above had divested itself of a layer of masonry onto the floor below. Niam stooped behind a low mound of rubble, where he heard them easily.
“How can you be sure nobody’s up there?” asked Card’s. Niam couldn’t help the mask of disgust he felt creep across his face.
“Because I know,” Bode snapped.
Salb spoke up, unperturbed by Bode’s raw mood. “If they did just get up and leave, none of us wants to get caught if they decide to come back while we’re walking off with their things.”
When he answered, Bode dropped the annoyed tone. Niam supposed Salb’s presence made everyone naturally leery. Maybe even the likes of Bode.
Or maybe Bode genuinely liked Salb.
But really, was Bode even capable of something as complex as the emotion of LIKE? Sure, he hated plenty of things, but actually liking someone took an amount of humanity Niam wasn’t sure actually existed within any of them.
“My Dad’s been up there,” Bode said, with bitterness and disappointment ringing in his voice “He’s helping someone look for something big, something really important—and it’s something he’s been promised a lot of gold to help locate.”
Undaunted by Bode’s annoyance just moments before, the greed in Card’s voice was clear. “What are they looking for?”
“If I knew, don’t’ you think I’d tell you?” Bode asked petulantly.
Niam peered over the low spill of rocks and masonry. He wanted to see them. Bode was rarely this moody. Nothing else appeared unusual. Bode’s features were blunt as always. His sloping forehead met an already thinning hairline, and his face sported a nose that was too large, sitting like a squashed melon above unattractively thick lips. Niam knew that Ravel was to blame for the nose, having once broken it in a drunken tirade before setting to work on Mrs. Grimmel.
The four of them leaned against crates Bug and Corey had dragged down there. To the left lay a large pile of hay mounded four feet high. That was going to be their reye nest—and Niam was impressed by the amount of work they put into their hideaway.
Beside that sat another large pile of straw. And beside that was a carefully laid pile of firewood. On the opposite end of the chamber, a fire crackled merrily in a pit, which was covered by a tight iron grate to keep embers and ash from escaping. The ambiance of warm firelight throwing off undulating shadows was oddly comforting in a primal and elemental way. If anything sparked a blaze in all of the hay and straw, the large chamber would quickly become an oven.
Niam dimmed his lamp and scooted farther down the trailing edge of the rockfall. He wanted to hear everything before leaving. A cool breeze brought fresh air to his nose from an opening somewhere in the chamber.
“I wouldn’t tell any of you about this if I thought I could walk away with gold and keep it to myself,” Jalt said with a snicker.
“You better tell me,” Bode rumbled.
“You know you’d keep it a secret from us,” Salb said. “If you thought you could keep it all for yourself.”
Bode let out a mirthless laugh. “Perhaps I would. Dad won’t tell me what he’s looking for,” he said, kicking a small wooden box. “I can’t believe the bastard won’t let me go with him.”
“So,” Salb began, “you want to go up there anyway.” It was a statement rather than a question. They were hungry for whatever Bode was going to promise them, just like a flock of scavenger birds waiting on the leftovers of a kill. All Niam had to do was remain there concealed long enough to find out what that kill was. At least now he understood what had upset Bode so much. Something was afoot, and his dad was keeping him out of it. Niam filed that away for future use.
“Of course I want to go up there whether he will let me or not,” Bode continued sourly,” Plus, the more of us that go, the quicker we find where they keep their valuables.”
Jalt spoke up skeptically. “They took it with them. Nobody will leave something like that behind. Not even the filthy Vandin.”
“Dad said his employer did something to encourage them to leave. He must have scared them big, because they left their cook pots sitting over the fires.”
What if he already found it?” Salb asked.
“If he found anything valuable, he’d be in Kalavere whoring and gambling it away, and me and Mom would be sitting here hungry because he’s not doing any work,” he said bitterly.
“You don’t sound like you like him much anymore,” Salb said.
“I never said I liked him,” Bode growled. “He is what he is.”
“At least Maldies isn’t around,” Salb added. “I hate that little freak.”
Niam went very still at the mention of his name.
Bode drove his fist into the flat of his hand. “I’d break his face if he was. He’s always around meddling in things that don’t concern him.”
“Like the time he put glue on your saddle seat . . .” Card blurted out.
Bode rounded on him. Niam peaked over the pile concealing him and saw storm clouds flash across the bully’s face. Before Card finished the sentence, Bode’s hand closed on his collar and he said in a low voice, “Say one more thing about that, Card, I dare you.”
Card backed away like a scared dog. “He should have been the one they found in the lake last year.”
“I wanted to take his sister and . . .”
Niam wasn’t sure who began that sentence. The four of them snickered as they talked about Sarah. Her looks. Her body. The times they watched her swim alone in the lake when she thought no one was watching. Their laughter fell on Niam’s ears like the rutting sounds of animals in heat while they recounted the sick fantasies of her. Niam closed his eyes and wished he could close his ears.
Desecration. Violation. Vile. Vile. How much worse could it get when they tried touching her with their filthy minds? Niam’s gut lurched when the breakfast in his stomach suddenly turned rancid. They continued for a long while, and he dimly felt himself starting to tremble. His hand slipped, knocking a loose rock to the floor.
The talking stopped. Niam slowly pulled his arm back in alarm.
“Where did that come from?” Bode snapped.
The silence went on for a moment; Niam held himself completely still. Inside, a fire raged.
“Probably just a loose stone,” Salb said absently. “Or rats.”
. Suddenly the urge to do something to them overwhelmed him. This was supposed to be Bug’s hiding place. Now that they knew about it, he knew he was going to have to break her heart by forbidding her to come back. And as his stomach heaved, he thought about something Bug had told him before he came down there. “You just have to know how to handle your bees.” Well, bees were noble creatures, unlike these four. But Niam had seen how Bug’s father handled the insects: he used a smoker whenever he wanted to deal with them. When Niam looked over at the larg
e pile of hay and straw, he grinned. He’d do this Bug’s way. For her and Corey. For Sarah and Seth.
Silently, he worked his way along the mound separating himself from Bode’s gang. The four thugs were now talking about the things they were going to do with the valuables after they were done plundering the empty Vandin camp, causing Niam to clench his fists tightly. The four brutes were like vultures or bottom-feeding fish.
Quickly, Niam darted like a ghost from his hiding spot and flattened himself against a massive column. He fought hard to control his breathing. The cold of the stone wormed through his shirt, sending an uncomfortable chill through his body. He pulled away and prayed none of the boys had heard him. If they had, he was in big trouble. Salb had once cut his initials in the back of an unfortunate boy one village over in Old Flood.
That might be me, Niam thought, barely managing to suppress a shudder.
Niam peered around the column’s edge. Their backs were to him. Peering into the gloom, his gaze locked onto the pile of hay.
Still, no one noticed his presence.
Quietly, he scuttled across the floor. With every step, his nerves fired a hundred contradictory messages to run! Flee! Crouch! Stop! All at once. Feeling more exposed than he ever had in his life, Niam wondered for about the thousandth time if he really wasn’t crazy.
Finally, he made it to the hay pile. Bode and his gang were still none the wiser. His heart raced, but he was half giddy over what he was about to pull off. Taking a moment to steady himself, Niam gathered up a fistful of hay and opened the lantern. The hay lit easily, and he sat it on the base of the pile. Without waiting to see it catch, Niam scurried back the way he had come. This time he didn’t hide behind the columns. The idiots were too absorbed to pay any attention to him.
With his lantern thrust out before him, Niam kicked out the candles as he dashed down the stone corridor. Then he burst out of the cellar and into sunlight. The fresh air smelled wonderful, like the smell of victory. Before clearing the edge of the shrubbery, Niam paused. His heart raced. Now it wasn’t fear that drove it, but elation. He wasn’t ready to go just yet. Half the joy of doing something like this came from hearing it take effect, so Niam went back and hunkered down behind one of the thicker stands of bushes. It didn’t take long before he heard the angry shouts echoing along the corridor. Bode’s loud dog-like curses carried the loudest, and they were full of frustration and shock.
“I bet it was that little twerp and her cousin!” Card shouted. “I can’t see a bloody thing!”
“Just keep going you stupid idiot!” Bode yelled, “and watch where the corridor goes or you’ll take the wrong turn! They might have taken that saw horse down!”
Good, Niam thought to himself. Stumble through the dark, you half-witted inbreeds. Those candles were meant for Bug and her cousin. Besides, he added, I didn’t take the sawhorse down. You’ll see.
And in a moment Bode’s gang did see.
“Found it!” Card shouted in triumph. “It’s still here!”
“Keep going you oaf!” Bode demanded. “I’m going to kill someone when I get out of here!”
Niam began to laugh uncontrollably. A short silence followed, then . . .
“What’s this?! What’s this?!” Bode bellowed in rage. “You idiot, you led us the wrong way!” His voice rose to new levels of pitch. “It’s all over me!”
“I didn’t take the wrong way!” Card screamed.
“I didn’t fall in,” Salb yelled in the dark. “It’s just all over my shoes.”
“I DON’T CARE IF IT’S ALL OVER YOUR SHOES!” Bode screamed. “JUST GET ME OUT OF THIS!”
Niam laughed so hard he bent over and had to use one hand to support himself. This was the best thing he had ever heard. In a moment he knew he was going to have to—
Out of nowhere the voice spoke to him. RUUUUUN.
Abruptly, Niam stopped laughing. From within the ruins, while the group of thugs continued shouting at one another, an unusually strong urge to run fell upon him.
Nervously, he licked his lips and looked around. The command came again. RUUUUUN.
Okay, Niam thought, maybe I won’t argue with you this time. Perhaps he HAD stayed too long. Fearfully, Niam placed both hands into the soft earth and pushed himself up. Just as he turned to run, Niam froze. His head jerked up in surprise, and he let out a soft curse.
“Oooooh, you’ve done it this time you stupid runt.” Salb stood in front of him wearing a malicious grin. “We’re going to do all kinds of things to you that you’re not going to like.” At his side, Salb wore a tattered old scabbard. The rusty pommel of a short sword topped it, and Salb brushed his hand against it menacingly. “I’m going to stick you with this and make you beg me to stop.”
“Really?” Niam asked. “Because I heard your mother liked it when her customers made her beg.”
And then he ran.
He ran like mad.
The Dread Lords Rising Page 12