Kelfor- the Orthomancers

by Gillian Andrews

  I step up. “Where do you want me?”

  Zivan gestures to the back of the cavern. “You are the one person who should be able to go on with this journey. You will take the back position. Doven and I will come out of these tunnels ...” she points to one on either side of the cavern, “... to surprise them. You wait. If we do not succeed, the rest will be up to you. Your task is to escape. Your job is to find Kelfor. That is all. There is no other goal for you. If Linnith had told us which is the right way to go from here, I would have sent you on alone, so don’t complain!”

  “But ...”

  “No, Remeny. If Doven and I have fallen, you will be the only hope of the rest of the Inmuri. You must not risk yourself. Hide, run, disappear. Do what you can to survive. Only fight if you are cornered. If that happens, I pray that you can give a good account of yourself.”

  My shoulders slump. Kalyka ... a child of eight ... is being allowed to fight, and I am only allowed to run away? This is not what I wanted to hear. Not at all. My hands clasp into fists, but they are impotent. I want to argue with her. However, she is right. I know she is. Too many people have died already to get me to Kelfor. It is not my place to risk my own life. Not yet.

  Zivan sees my acceptance. “Good girl! Doven, I don’t have to tell you what to do?”

  Doven’s teeth flash in the dark of the cavern. “We will have to be quick. They will have blasters.”

  “They will, but they will be wary of using them down here. We can take advantage of that. Let me do the hand to hand at the beginning. You take on those brought down by the rope. Make sure they stay out of the fight.”

  Doven’s tone is grim. “I will.”

  “In that case, we are ready. Remeny, I want you in that far tunnel. Make sure you are not seen and keep out of the way of stray fire if they do have time to use their blasters. Doven, you take that tunnel behind you. I will take the one opposite. We have at least a couple of hours, so try to relax a little.” She hands each of us part of the food and water. “Eat. Drink something. That will give us another advantage.” She passes some of the rations up to the top of Kalyka’s boulder, before walking over to her own tunnel. I watch her for a moment. She retreats inside it a few yards until she thinks nobody is watching. I see her reach down to her ankle. She removes the circlet of silver, the one with the words ‘NEVER AGAIN’ engraved. She looks at it for a long moment then lets it drop onto the ground, leaving it to lie against the cool rock, where it will never be found.

  She thinks that this will be her last fight.

  She meets my gaze across the cavern. She raises her chin defiantly. She is telling me this is none of my business. I look away.

  Kalyka is staring down at me. “Don’t feel bad, Remeny. We are all in this together. None of us can go back.”

  I am shocked. Only eight, and she has figured that out. She is telling me that she also is willing to give her life for mine. She is only a tiny thing, thin and wiry like a young skulk, yet prepared to sacrifice herself for me. She is, I realize, brave. Brave far beyond her years. Tears start to track down my cheeks.

  “Don’t cry, Remy. Never cry. That is what my grandfather would say.”

  I smile through the tears. He would. I can see him now, herding us all in front of him, keeping many of us safe when we were still too young for the mines. Another one gone.

  “Be safe, Kally.”

  “Be safe, Remy. Doven. Zivan.”

  We take our positions and settle down to wait. My heart seems to thud slowly in the dark. It is not afraid. Not yet.

  11.

  The Scoriats come tumbling into the cavern. We see and hear them long before they reach us. They are carrying some sort of torch to light their way, and the light from this precedes them down the tunnel.

  They are taking little care to be quiet. There is a prepotency about the Scoriats; they simply believe they are so much better than we are. Perhaps they are, but this time we will not give in without a fight. Even though I am cowering in an escape tunnel, I feel fierce. I want to attack. I am pleased with myself; I am no longer afraid of them. For just a second, I think again of Tilan, of his expression as the guards hanged him. I wish with all my heart that he could have been here. He was a strong boy. What an asset he would have been to us now. What a waste! Such a terrible waste of so many lives over so many years.

  I realize that I am going to have to fight to survive. I must get to Kelfor. Zivan is right. If I don’t reach my goal, everything is lost. Not just this quest, but the centuries of mindless slavery. All of it, every last minute, has been forming a timeline with me at the apex. And I still don’t know why. I experience anger again. Anger at my mother, at Quondam Azrial and at Praetor Thurifer. Why did they not explain more to me? How do they expect me to succeed when I have no idea what my role is?

  I tuck the amulet well inside my tunic. That must survive, too.

  The Scoriats are entering the cavern.

  They realize that the walls of the tunnel have dropped away. The leading one raises his torch to find the ceiling height. It is about twice his own stature. I hold my breath. The cord across the cavern at knee level is visible in the light now bathing it.

  But he must be looking up. He misses the thin rope, is too busy making a comment to the man following him. They continue.

  I smile. They both fall, brought to the ground easily by Zivan’s trap.

  There is a high-pitched cry from Zivan’s tunnel as she throws herself onto the Scoriats immediately behind these. And a holler as Doven leaps to make a start by putting the two downed Scoriats out of the fight. This he does by the less than scientific method of knocking their heads together. There is a heavy thump and then they both lie silent.

  More Scoriats spill into the cavern. One of them is brought down by the rope. Another sees it and angrily slashes with his knife so that it falls to the ground, now useless. The same Scoriat scouts around and disables the second cord. He is a tall man with a proud stance.

  There is a flash of movement from my left. Another cry, this time young and proud. I see Kalyka, silhouetted against the torches, as she swings down into this very tall man. Her knees are snagged up into her chest, her feet facing out.

  She sweeps down from her hiding place on the rock. He sees her out of the corner of his eye, but not in time to react. He has only started to duck when her feet slam into his head. She is a slight girl, but she has caught the man full on; he falls heavily straight to the ground, where Doven’s knife can reach him. The man lies still.

  Kalyka has fallen to the ground too. The blow was so strong that it knocked her off the rope. But I can see her scurrying back to the rock. She scales it, not without quite a struggle, and I see her tugging on the cord linking her to the swinging rope. It begins to move obediently in her direction. I am pleased. She has shown her worth today.

  Zivan is having less luck. Despite her experience and determination, she is fighting two of the Scoriats at the same time. They are both larger and stronger than she is. They were bred to be.

  So she is not winning. But, on the good side, she is still standing. They are moving apart to make it more difficult for her to attack them both at the same time.

  I squint into the darkness. There are more bodies pushing to get through into the cavern. I hope there are not many more. I don’t think we could deal with many more. We are lucky to be in this dark, confined space. The Cohort soldiers are careful about using their guns.

  Zivan is gasping. One of the Scoriats she is fighting has fallen. Another has immediately taken his place. It doesn’t deter her. She gives a shout. “I can fight all of you!”

  From the depths of the tunnel, way behind, there is an answering cry. “Zivan? That you?”

  Her head snaps around. “Jethran?” I hear the sharp spike of hope.

  “Sure is. Be with you in a moment. Hang on in there!”

  Shapes move into each other in the entrance tunnel. I squint harder, trying to make sense of it. The figures blur. Fighti
ng is taking place. I cannot make out who is who or what. It is impossible. I even think I hear Karith’s voice. But that can’t be right. Can it?

  More Scoriats are now inside the cavern. One of them is using his blaster. The enclosed space is full of ozone after the first shot. Doven yells, grabbing at his right shoulder. He has been hit.

  I am almost decided to go to his aid, when a shadow launches from the rock. It is swinging directly at the figure with the blaster. Kalyka.

  She tears down into the Scoriat. He sees her coming around a second before she hits. It gives him time to raise the blaster in her direction. He must be about to shoot when her small feet smash into the weapon. It rockets out of his hands, clattering across the floor of the cavern to come to a halt around six feet from the end of my tunnel.

  I don’t have to think. It is obvious what needs to be done. I wriggle out, as close to the ground as I can get, snaking along toward where I saw the blaster fall. In six seconds I have secured it and am back inside my tunnel. Now things have changed. Now I can be useful.

  I settle back, behind a rock, waiting for my opportunity. I cannot fire yet. The light is bad and I would quite probably hit the wrong person. But I am feeling better. I have a weapon; I can make a difference. And without risking my safety. Well, not much. I will wait.

  But while I am getting to the gun and back, Kalyka is not having so much luck. She is hanging from the rope by her knees, having been displaced by the blow, and the Scoriat is quick enough to get one hand into her hair, his large fingers threading through the long strands. As he falls he drags her down with him, and now he is threshing her head savagely from side to side. She is screaming terribly.

  I cannot stand to watch this. I run up to them and fire the blaster into his head. He slumps into death immediately.

  Even so, I cannot break the hold he has on the little girl’s hair. I grab my knife.

  Kalyka is still screaming.

  “Shush! I am here!”

  Tears of pain are streaming down her face. “It h-hurts,” she sobs.

  “I know, sweetie. Be still a moment.”

  I start to hack between her scalp and the now inert hand. She screams again.

  “I’m sorry; I can’t help it.”

  She squeezes my knee with one hand. The other is tight around the roots of her hair, trying to protect the torn scalp a little from my ministering. “Go on!”

  I resume my hacking. And young Kalyka bravely shuts her eyes and bears the pain.

  I am desperate. We will be noticed soon. We make a fine target out here in the center of the cavern. I rip at the matted strands, wishing I could just cut the whole man’s hand off at the wrist. That would solve it. But I doubt I have the strength, and I can’t see Kalyka walking around wearing a man’s fingers as a hair adornment.

  I shiver at this thought and renew my effort.

  A large figure looms over us. Another blaster is pointing at me.

  Without thinking, I discharge mine right into his face. His head explodes, covering both Kalyka and I with blood and mess. We duck, too late, uselessly. Kalyka is sick. I sympathize. I feel that way too.

  But the hacking at her hair is working. The last strand parts and we leap for my tunnel, for partial safety. She looks at me and then moves her eyes to the other blaster, which has fallen near her hand. I nod. She picks it up.

  We retreat, each with a blaster in our hands, back to the rock at the beginning of my tunnel.

  Zivan has been knocked to her knees. There are two Scoriats about to kill her. I am raising my blaster when I see another shape slam into both of the Scoriats. I peer more closely. It can’t be Jethran; this shape is taller. It must be a Scoriat.

  “Now do you trust me?” It is shouting, at Zivan.

  Koban! Koban and Jethran are here! We may have a chance after all! I grin like an overheated skulk in the darkness. My hand finds Kalyka’s. She squeezes excitedly. She has realized the same thing, too.

  Another shape has joined Koban. Between them, they soon deal with the Scoriat threatening Zivan. The offending man slumps to the ground, joining many of his colleagues.

  Doven has already accounted for several Scoriats. But the injury to his arm has slowed him down. He is now standing, hands up, facing two blasters.

  Kalyka rises to her feet, pulling me up with her. She looks at me and then aims her blaster with some care before pulling the trigger. The recoil knocks her off her feet. She catapults backward, disappearing from my side.

  I fire, hitting one of the men in the leg. He limps for cover. The other is down, exterminated by Kalyka’s shot. I stare. She has blown a hole in his back. I reach down to pull her up. “Well done!”

  “Did I hit him?”

  I look over at the Scoriat. He is not breathing. “You certainly did.”

  Kalyka begins to hyperventilate. “G-g-good!” She is shaking.

  I make her sit down with her back to the rock. I push her head between her knees. She is sick again.

  “Stay here, Kally. And keep a good hold of that blaster. Use it if anyone attacks you.”

  She gives me a weak nod.

  I slither over to Doven. He is breathing through his teeth. “You should be safely in the tunnel.”

  I bend down to pick up the gun Kalyka’s victim has dropped and push it into his hands. “I know!”

  He shakes his head, but turns away. He is already aiming the blaster. Within seconds, the tide of the fight has swept our way. All the Scoriats are either dead or injured. We control the blasters.

  Zivan comes over to me. Her face is stony. Now we have the torches, I can see the expression clearly. I realize, when I do, that there are advantages to being in the dark.

  “I thought I told you to stay put!”

  “Yes, but ...”

  “But nothing! I told you to survive, not to take up arms against them!”

  This is most unfair. “If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have won!”

  “That has nothing to do with—”

  “—Zivan, she is right.” A hand comes across and pats her on the shoulder. It is Jethran. “If Remeny and Kalyka hadn’t done what they did, the outcome would have been very different. You should be thanking them.”

  Zivan clicks her teeth. She doesn’t agree. But she turns away and moves toward Doven, who is making sure the injured Scoriats cannot initiate any secondary fighting.

  Jethran tousles my hair. “Well done, Remeny! You and little Kalyka here did pretty well!”

  Kalyka retches again, causing the big man to laugh.

  “You will be better soon, small one. The first time is always a bit of a shock to the system.”

  Kalyka tries to hand him her blaster. Jethran shakes his head. “You earned that. You keep it. We will all feel safer knowing you can defend yourself!”

  She is unconvinced, but he walks away. There are more than enough guns. We can each take one.

  “Doven! Are you all right?” I wriggle over to him.

  He gives me a tired smile. “Just a small hole in my shoulder. Zivan will see to it. It is nothing too terrible.”

  I surprise him with a hug. “I’m glad. So will Linnith be.”

  His eyes open. “Linnith! The other tunnel! We have forgotten about the others. We have to do something about them!”

  Kalyka is the one who stops him. As if she were Quondam Azrial herself, instead of an eight-year-old, she gently stills him by putting one hand on the top of his head. “Furian and Vannis will take care of a few Scoriats, Doven. You don’t have to worry about that!”

  Doven smiles at her. “You grew up all of a sudden, Kalyka!”

  She nods. “I was part of it. I am not a baby anymore.”

  “You certainly are not. You saved my life, little one.”

  She straightens up, stretching her head as high as she can. “I don’t want to be called that. I am not little!”

  He grins again. “Then I shan’t use it any more. I am grateful to you.” He bends his head. Then he nods to me. “
And to you, Remeny. You shouldn’t have come out of your tunnel, but I am very glad that you did.”

  I risk a glance at Zivan. She is checking on the Scoriats, her face still set. “Thank you.”

  Her eyes slide in my direction. She gives me a slight nod. She is not as angry as she pretended to be. A sudden euphoria sweeps through me. I did well. Even Zivan thinks so! I wish suddenly that my mother could have seen me. That evaporates the elation, bringing the guilt back. I look around at the dead and at the injured. More lives wasted because of me. I know they are Scoriats, but they are Inmuri too. At least, they should have been. They were all born of Inmuri women. Women just like me.

  There is movement behind Zivan. I see Karith hobbling up to us, accompanied by the figure of our most familiar Scoriat. Koban steps forward. “Where is Ammeline?”

  Doven explains about the two groups. Koban’s face drops. “They sent more of their force down the other tunnel. We should go back immediately. Our help will be needed.”

  Doven tries to struggle to his feet, but Koban pushes him back down. “Not you. You are injured. Let Zivan heal you as best she can, get some rest. Jethran and I will go.”

  Karith opens her mouth, then closes it again. She must still be in a lot of pain. The light down here is not much good but her face seems considerably paler than usual. I give her a hug. She looks surprised, but allows herself to be helped over to the wall, next to Doven.

  “Thank you, Remeny. I just need a little rest.”

  I decide to go with Koban and Jethran. I take one step in their direction. Suddenly Zivan is standing between me and the rear tunnel. “You won’t!”

  “Please, Zivan. I can’t be kept away from everything. You are behaving as though I have no free will!”

  “I am only fulfilling my contract with the timeworn.” Her voice is stiff.

  “I made no contract with anyone.” I hear the bitterness in my own voice, but can’t stop it. “Nobody bothered to tell me what all this is about.”

  Karith is the one to put her arm up to stop me. “There are so many things that have been lost, Remeny. Things that should have been passed down, but weren’t.”