Conflict (9 page)

“This is unbelievable!” he said as he put away his weapons.

“Yes, and it’s terrifying… A lot of power has been used to seal this slab.”

“Shall we try another tunnel, then?”

The Ranger smiled at the hardened officer, “On the contrary, my good Captain, this is exactly where we have to go through. That’s why it’s sealed.”

“But if we can’t pass, surely the two fugitives won’t have either…” Toral reasoned.

“Are you sure? I bet they have. And if not, we still have to make sure. Whichever way, we have to open this sealed door and find out. I don’t know what’s behind it, but it must be something important.”

“I see… if we go on we won’t know for sure whether they got in there or not, even though it seems unlikely…”

“Exactly, Toral,” said Lasgol, patting the officer’s shoulder.

The Tracker stood in front of the slab, his nose an inch away from the shining black surface, practically trying to smell that rock and the Magic which sealed it.
How on earth did they manage to anchor you against the rock? You clearly haven’t been built by man, nor by nature or the elements. You’ve been created and fixed here by arcane means. We can’t move you, but if I’m not mistaken you’re a door, that’s your purpose, therefore somehow your creators used to open and close you. I just have to find out how…
He touched the rock wall around the perfectly rectangular structure in search of some spring or mechanism that would activate it.

Nothing.

He sat in front of the square shape, thinking.
Something has to trigger it, even though there doesn’t seem to be any hidden spring.
Lasgol breathed deeply, summoned his inner energy and used his power. Focusing on the black surface, he tried to sense the Magic which resided in it. Suddenly a primeval, elemental, mineral sense reached him, as if that slab were imbued by a power whose root, whose origin, were the earth itself. He went on using his inner energy, grasping, feeling with all his senses that strange, perfectly formed rectangle, but his power was ebbing…

No, it’s not earth I sense. It’s something elemental, something very basic, it’s liquid…
The image of the lake over their heads came into his mind.
Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before? It’s…Water!

Lasgol scratched his chin thoughtfully.
Water. The element of Water. What does that mean? Why do I perceive a power based on the element of life emanating from a still surface?
And then, as if someone were whispering in his ear, an idea took shape in the depths of his mind.

“Captain, a flask of water! Quick!”

Toral, bewildered, handed one to the Tracker, and Lasgol immediately poured some of its contents over the surface of the enigmatic stone.

They all looked on, expectantly.

With a loud snap the slab slid two paces to the left, revealing an opening in the rock wall and a mysterious cavern behind.

“I…I don’t know what to say…” mumbled Toral.

Lasgol smiled at the discovery in delight. He had deciphered the ancient enigma those caves held: a powerful magic based on the primeval element, Water, which flowed throughout that underground labyrinth of rock. Without more delay, deeply satisfied, he went into the cave.

It was huge, with a round lake of indigo blue filling it almost completely. A ring of clay surrounded the peaceful lagoon. In the center of it a gigantic geyser rose to the ceiling of the cavern. The jet was so strong and rose so high that they all stood staring at it as they entered the hall. They could not see the top of it, so high and majestic that it melted into the blackness of the lofty vault.
What is this huge geyser doing inside that cave?
From the roof, the liquid which was forced upwards showered down again, feeding the lagoon in an endless circle, as if an eternal dew rained down inside the cave.

Lasgol looked at the ceiling, searching for an explanation of this unlikely phenomenon of nature. An impenetrable grey mist covered the upper part of the chamber. Its thickness was impossible to determine.

Using his Gift the Tracker tried to feel for any living thing in that enormous cave, but could only sense something liquid and earthy.

Water. I feel water born out of the depths of the earth. That’s what I haven’t been able to identify… An ancient magic lives in this strange place which imbues everything, and whose power comes from Water
.

“It’s unbelievable, a geyser like that in here. What’s it doing inside a cave?” Toral whispered in Lasgol’s ear.

The Tracker looked at him. The veteran’s cold eyes showed fear, a fear of the unknown, of the irrational. He turned to the rest of the men, who were staring at the unearthly scene in awe. Lasgol could feel the incredulity of those hardy warriors. He could almost touch the fear in their hearts. He shrugged.

“I don’t like this at all, Lasgol. I have a bad feeling. Nothing is as it should be in here. I’m sure there are White Demons of the Mahuro in this accursed place. I can feel them.”

“Don’t be superstitious, Toral.” Lasgol said with a smile. “The Demons of Mahuro are nothing more than a legend to scare the children. Let me remind you that we aren’t in the snowy mountains of our own land, and you stopped being a child many years ago.” He was trying to calm the Captain, but without obvious success.

As they neared the shore of the lagoon, the Tracker noticed various hieroglyphs carved on the great boulders at the foot of the geyser.
A message or a warning?
thought Lasgol as he studied them. The geyser was alive in the midst of that frozen place, it beat with its own life. He looked thoughtfully at the great lake at his feet and something caught his attention, something which did not fit into the scene.

The waters of the lagoon did not move at all, they were completely inert; the surface was smooth as a mirror, apparently frozen in liquid form, as if lacking life, in eternal repose. For some unnatural reason not even the jet from the geyser created any impact on the surface of the lagoon. Before he could finish his reasoning, out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the soldiers inadvertently stepping into the water at the edge of the lake.

He held out his hand. “Stop!” he warned. The soldiers looked at him in surprise. Instinctively most of them reached for their weapons. They all stood still, waiting.

A wave spread from the soldier’s foot, crossing the lake surface at incredible speed until it reached the boulders at the foot of the geyser. The strange carved symbols began to shine, changing color and turning to an intense gold. The brightness increased and a strong golden light emanated from the geyser, lighting up the walls of the enormous chamber and filling the shadows with its golden radiance.

Absolute silence filled the cavern.

Lasgol’s brow wrinkled with worry.

Nothing happened. He looked around. All the men were at the ready, tense, prepared for an attack. Several moments went by and nothing happened. Lasgol tried to use his Gift to seek out hidden presences, but nothing was revealed. The magic of that underground place intervened, not allowing him to use his skills. After a few moments of hesitation, seeing there was no apparent danger, they decided to go round the lagoon and keep on in the same direction. They divided: Lasgol and ten men on one side, Toral with the rest on the other. They walked warily, alert to any movement, following the edge of the ring of clay. When both groups were half-way round, there came a splash in the stagnant water.

And suddenly terrifying scaly jaws, revealing rows of sharp fangs, came out of the water at lightning speed. Enormous reptiles with horrendous jaws of long saber-like fangs attacked the group.

Before Lasgol could react, three soldiers had been trapped in those lethal jaws. In the blink of an eye they were dragged to the bottom of the lagoon, violently shaken all the way, by gigantic crocodiles with murderous golden eyes.

“Beware! Giant crocs!” Lasgol shouted as he nocked his bow.

Another enormous greenish crocodile surged out of the lagoon, advancing rapidly, dragging its belly above its four short strong legs. The soldier who was its victim took a step back, taken by surprise, and this allowed the monster to sink its deadly fangs in the leg of the wretched man. He yelled in agony and hit the beast’s head hard with his sword in a vain attempt to free himself. The cuts barely penetrated the tough scales of the reptile. With a sudden thrust the beast spun round and dragged the man back to the water. Two other soldiers tried to block its way, but their attacks merely wounded it. Bleeding, it disappeared under water once again, taking the desperate soldier with it amid deafening screams.

“Giant reptiles! Beware!” Lasgol shouted, seeing the fierce fight the group on the other side of the lagoon was waging against the creatures.

Lasgol made his group retreat to a safer position and ran round the lagoon, keeping his aim on any new attack from the water. Behind him, less than two paces away was the rock wall; ahead was the great lagoon, seething with those lethal giant crocodiles. They were trapped. Suddenly another beast launched itself out of the water at great speed, its jaws wide open to show the huge, menacing rows of teeth. Lasgol fired an arrow which hit the beast in the heart, but it kept going in spite of the mortal wound, the arrow had not penetrated deeply enough. Lasgol nocked another one and let it fly, and this one hit the animal in its thick neck. The enraged beast looked at the Tracker and headed quickly towards him.

It’s just an animal, I must relax and trust my talent and my training,
he told himself determinedly. He tried to calm his nerves. He needed something more powerful he could fire, something which could pierce the tough scaly skin of the beast. He needed a powerful shot. His talent would provide him with an extreme potency, capable of piercing steel plates. He focused, and a green light flashed through his wiry body. Without taking his eyes off the appalling reptile, he tensed the bow, breathed and aimed. The beast was almost on top of him, the huge maw searching for its prey. Lasgol aimed at the animal’s right eye, calmly, then an instant before the beast reached him he let the arrow fly. It went into the right eye with such brutal strength that it pierced the skull and made the beast vault over itself in a grotesque pirouette. The gigantic animal fell down dead just a hand-span away from Lasgol’s face.

“Phew!” he snorted... “By a hair.”

He nocked another arrow and used his skill again for another powerful shot. He aimed at a new beast which was coming out of the water. While three soldiers distracted it with thrusts and sword strokes, he hit it squarely in the heart, piercing it. This time the beast dropped dead.

The shouts of combat from the other shore made him look in that direction to see the soldiers fighting three enormous beasts. Several men lay dismembered on the ground, their torn limbs lying grotesquely amid a sea of blood. The reptiles launched themselves against the remaining soldiers, to be repelled repeatedly with shields and swords. The fight was furious and brutal. Screams echoed, wild and rending, blood splashed both men and animals. Beasts and men fell, hacked by swords, axes and jaws. The veteran soldiers, once recovered from the initial surprise of the attack, were holding back the fierce assault of the enormous crocodiles without losing ground, but they were suffering losses in the face of the strength and brutality of those monsters. Captain Toral shouted orders to his men and encouraged them on, all the time covering their flanks with one of his men. His face was covered in blood and his left arm hung inert.

Lasgol kept shooting at the beasts in a desperate attempt to prevent them reaching the soldiers. He could feel his source of inner energy running out inexorably. The battle flared up, with new crocodiles issuing from the depths of the lagoon in a frenzy to kill the intruders. The ground was stained red with the blood of men and beasts. On the opposite shore the group was barely holding up against the enraged reptiles, with only Captain Toral and one other man standing. The rest had perished, most of them torn to pieces. Lasgol looked around him. His group had sustained fewer losses; there were still five men standing and fending off two of the reptiles, their swords hacking furiously at the monsters.

The last three crocodiles of the abyss succumbed, hacked to pieces by the brave soldiers.

A disturbing silence filled the chamber.

The reptiles vanished.

Tense, the survivors waited.

What’s lying in wait for us now?
wondered Lasgol uneasily.

Lotas turned round and faced the heavily embossed door of his office at the sound of two loud knocks. As it creaked open, his lieutenant Santes came in looking like someone who has seen a ghost.

“What the hell is going on?” Lotas demanded, angered by the interruption.

“The Norriel!” shouted Santes harshly, his eyes staring. “They’re coming!”

“It can’t be!”

“Boss, the Norriel and the young woman have managed to escape the ambush we prepared, and they’re coming this way!”

“But that’s impossible, how could they have survived?” Lotas exploded. He hurled the glass of vintage liqueur he was drinking against the floor.

“I don’t know, boss. When I reached the ambush from my position I found all the men torn to pieces, their lifeless bodies in a sea of blood. All dead, boss! All of them! There was blood on the walls and floor, like in a slaughterhouse. I can’t think how they could have survived the ambush and killed all our men. They’re demons!”

“That’s nonsense! How can they be demons?” fumed Lotas. He turned his back to think for a moment.

He had not calculated on this. What were the odds on them beating his men and coming out alive from the ambush? Practically none. Zero. On the other hand, they had already survived another ambush which had never previously failed. He could not take risks, it was not worth it.
Escape today and kill them tomorrow, that’s what I should do. I can always catch them some other time, when the winds are more favorable
.

“Are you absolutely sure they’ve escaped?”

“I swear it by my late mother. I saw it with my own eyes, boss. Our men’s corpses were thrown all over the room, and in the middle of the hall there were the three strangers drenched in our comrades’ blood. When I saw them I turned round and ran until I got to one of the hidden passages before they could see me. Luckily they didn’t. But they’ll soon be here, sooner or later they’ll find their way through the labyrinth. What shall we do? Regroup and face them here? Do you want me to call the rest of the men?”

“Yes and no… Call the rest of the men and tell them to regroup and face them. They must prevent them from getting here, by whatever means. But I’m not going to wait… If they were capable of surviving the ambush, they could cause me serious trouble. We’ll get away through the sewers. I won’t risk my life today against these worthless nobodies. Organize the defenses and gather my bodyguard together.”

“As you command, Lotas,” Santes said as he went hastily out of the door.

A few moments later the lieutenant came back, followed by five men as rough as they were strong. They were armed to their teeth, and were huge men, their bodies marked with scars.

“Follow me!” Lotas ordered impatiently. He lifted an expensive Nocean carpet, under which was a trap door. He pulled a ring, and the trap door opened with a discordant noise. He was filled with a feeling of triumph. They would never catch him, he was too smart for those savages. He was the master of deceit.
But they’ll pay, oh yes they will. With pain and blood.
He would torture them himself until they begged him to put an end to their lives.
Nobody crosses Lotas the Ruthless and lives to tell the tale! They’ll die in torment, oh yes!
He’d see to that.

He quickly let himself down through the trap door, followed by his lieutenant and the five body-guards.

They went fast along the dark, dismal sewers. Lotas knew them well. Every nook and turn was engraved in his mind. He had marked particular spots with secret signs only he knew, so that even in the utmost darkness he could find his way without hesitation. The boots of the seven men splashed in the vile-smelling liquid which covered the floor. The stench was nauseating, but Lotas had applied eucalyptus ointment under his nose as a protection. Huge rats crossed their path, making him smile; he liked these queens of dirt and darkness. He thought them admirable, capable of not only living but reigning in that underworld of filth.

They took two right turns, then one to the left. The sewers were a true maze, and anyone not familiar with them would be hopelessly lost. The next turn was to the left again, and Lotas began to relax. They were putting enough distance between them and their pursuers, they would never catch them up.

He saw some hidden marks which signaled a left turn, and took it with calculated abruptness. Before him opened a long channel, which ended at a circular crossroads. That was where he would find the longed-for exit which would allow him to reach the surface of an alley, behind a little-frequented tavern. He would escape once again, and he could not hold back a smile of triumph when he came to the intersection. He stopped running and signaled his men to do the same, checking the ceiling as he did so to make sure they were in the right place.

The way out of the sewer.

He had made it.

“It seems we’re in a hurry,” said an unknown voice suddenly from his left, hidden in the dark.

Lotas turned immediately, caught by surprise. His heart skipped a beat. He half-closed his eyes and made out one of the two Norriel. The shorter and more athletic one came out of the shadows, a sword in one hand and a long knife in the other.

It was impossible!

“They must be late for an important appointment!” another, deeper voice thundered, to the right.

Lotas turned again and saw the giant smiling broadly and carrying a huge two-handed sword. Fear hit him, like a whiplash in his face.

“Treason! I’ve been betrayed!”

Then he understood. They had set a trap for him, and he had fallen into it head-first, like a novice. This was an ambush, well-planned and perfectly-executed, with himself as the unsuspecting prey. He suddenly realized who had betrayed him. It could only have been done from inside his organization, an inside job by someone who wanted his downfall so he could gain control. Santes! It had been Santes! How well he had played out his role, the gutless, treacherous worm! And what was even worse, he had not seen through him.

“Santes! You treacherous dog!” he shouted to his lieutenant. But the latter, ignoring him, walked toward the Norriel on the left and calmly stood behind him.

“After all I did for you, you crawling vermin, you betray me like this?”

“There’s no honor among thieves, that’s the first thing you taught me, Lotas,” Santes replied with an ironic grin.

“You bastard! I’ll tear out your throat with my own hands, you gutless pig!”

“It’s time for new blood to take command of operations,” Santes said reproachfully as he spat. “You’ve become too paranoid, frightened of your own shadow like a child. Today I take over, and I’ll lead your empire with an iron hand, not like the cowering scum you’ve turned into.”

“We’ll see about that, you bastard! Kill them! Kill them all!” Lotas shouted at his bodyguard.

They hesitated for a second, looking first at Lotas and then at Santes, seeming unsure who to stand with. After a tense moment they attacked the Norriel.

Filled with fury, Lotas watched his men. Two of them lunged at the most athletic of the warriors, who was the closest. The others attacked the giant with the enormous sword. With almost insulting calmness, he blocked the attack of the first bodyguard, crouched with unusual agility and perfect balance, then cut open the guard’s stomach from one side to the other. Lotas swore and unsheathed his own sword. His second bodyguard aimed a blow at the Norriel’s head, but the latter dodged it with a quick turn of his waist. He counterattacked with simultaneous thrusts from sword and knife, which his opponent barely managed to block. Lotas realized his men were no match for this accursed warrior. They were strong, hardened men with a knowledge of many weapons, experienced in dirty street fighting. But this man was an expert with the sword, nearly a master.

He looked at his other three men, who were fighting the giant and his enormous sword. They did not seem to be winning this battle either.

Just as he feared, he saw the green-eyed warrior pierce the heart of his man with one clean stroke after a feint with the knife.

Damnation! I have to do something fast
. He would come for him now. Lotas was a pretty good swordsman, with ample experience and a well-trained arm, but he was not sure he was good enough to defeat this young mountain devil.

“Santes, help me and I’ll double whatever they’ve paid you. I’ll triple it!” he shouted.

Santes looked at him, amused.

“Sorry, Lotas. They’ve paid me with something you can’t match,” his late lieutenant said from the shadows. His arms were crossed over his chest in a clear gesture that showed he would have nothing to do with the fight.

A severed head rolled by Lotas’ feet: one of his guards. He was so startled he jumped back. He looked to the right and watched with horror as the giant skewered the last of his opponents still standing. The other two were lying on the floor with their heads cut off. Fear spread through him like a deadly disease.

Run, I must run! Now!

He turned to flee, back the way they had come.

The sharp end of a sword at his throat stopped him before he could even take the first step. He raised his eyes from the shining sword and recognized the woman who was blocking his escape.

She smiled. “Were you thinking of going somewhere?” she said caustically.

Lotas dropped his sword. He knew he had been defeated. Beaten at his own game. He could not understand it. How was it possible? How had he been fooled? He would never know…They would soon kill him, of that he had no doubt. A bitter end, to die in a stinking sewer, one step away from freedom and two steps from his wealth…

Kayti looked Lotas, the slippery lord of the smugglers, in the eyes. She pressed her sword against his Adam’s apple. She watched him in silence. The plan had come out exactly as she had planned it, perfectly. It made no sense to attack a wild animal in its lair, they would have perished. The strategy was to make it come out into the open. Deceit was the course to follow. When she presented the plan to her friends she had met with opposition from the two Norriel; needless to say they preferred direct action. How typical of men: plenty of muscle, not much brain. If the world were ruled by women… What a shame that kingdoms were governed by men with the brain of a marsh mosquito and the short temper of a black mountain bear.

Luckily, although her companions were men, and quite rough at that, they were not completely lacking in intellect. Which was an exception to the rule, and she thanked Zuline the Custodian Lady for it. A couple of arguments about the assault strategy and its possible results had been enough to dissuade the men from their preferred option of direct attack. Even Lindaro, who rarely gave his opinion on questions like that, had supported her.

Her plan had been simple and risky. Finish Lotas with the help of someone from inside his own organization, someone he trusted. The chosen: Santes, his right hand. As despicable and vicious as Lotas, he had more to gain from his boss’s disappearance. In a couple of nights of discreet investigation, Hartz and Komir had gathered enough information at taverns and brothels around the docks to have been able to write Santes’ memoirs. Apparently he was very popular, with regular habits centered on alcohol and whores. That made the plan much easier. But how would they convince that sewer rat to betray his boss? The answer had come to her with the dazzling clarity of the lightning bolt which comes before the thunder. They would offer Santes a deal he could not refuse.

The night before the assault they waited for him outside his favorite brothel. Inside, Hartz and Komir took care of the three body-guards who were somewhat distracted by the girls’ attentions. Once captured and dragged out of the brothel naked, the deal was easy.

His life and the leadership of the band for betraying his boss.

If he refused he would die there and then, in a dark wet alley. Santes had looked her in the eye while listening to the proposition, and Kayti had seen how his eyes went from fear for his life to a flash of greed and triumph. It was a proposition he could not refuse. And Santes accepted the deal without hesitation.

Kayti was proud of her plan and the way they had carried it out. Everything had come out as expected, smooth as silk. But now she was aware that whatever the man at the other end of her sword revealed could be of supreme importance. It might even break the delicate balance of her current relationship with the two Norriel. Everything depended on what that vile, disgusting sewer rat knew and told. A chill ran down her spine, but her firm hand did not move. Those years of training in the Custodial Brotherhood had served her well. She had to stay calm, and that was not her forte, as she well knew. She would have to contain the inner rage which sometimes overpowered her, there was too much at stake. She could not fail the Brotherhood. She had a sacred mission, and she would either fulfill it or die in the attempt, just like her brothers.

She saw Komir approach, with Hartz following. Both stood behind Lotas. If truth be told, since she had known them the two warriors had surprised her: surprised her very pleasantly, she had to admit. She had expected two mountain brutes with no skill or noticeable quality other than the renowned fierceness of their people in battle. It had been a mistake to think that. They had impressed her, those two young warriors. There was something about them, an ethereal quality, which made them special. They were not aware of it themselves, but Kayti could see it clearly, they were the chosen and every day she spent with them she was more certain of it.