Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments (39 page)

Any high ground with limited access would be useful – there was no shortage of wood now as their biggest impediments were the various low-spreading trees that had colonised much of the open ground. Uvrel’s limited knowledge of these ruins did extend to an awareness that darkness hid a multitude of terrors and, despite their firepower, she was concerned about finding a secure camp.

At last they found what she was looking for, a strange half-open rock formation that was certainly not natural, but seemed to be unfinished or unfathomable in its original purpose. A mossy meadow was enclosed on three sides, twenty yards above ground level and almost a hundred across, with the only access being a great stepped slope up the eastern flank. Once Uvrel ordered the camp to be set her soldiers raced to obey, eager for food and rest after the miles they’d covered. Pickets were set on the steps and the horses corralled as the cooking fires were lit.

The sun had dropped behind the ruin’s great jutting stones by the time they stopped – the sky was still light but a chill descended and Uvrel could see a long drawn-out dusk was upon them. By fits and starts the sergeants of each squad waved their troops down on one knee and spoke the dusk greeting to Insar then barked a repeat of their orders as soon as they were done.

In short order the scent of food wafted over a regulation line of tents, and the squads slumped down around their assigned fire. Uvrel heard snores escaping the tents before she’d even managed a mouthful of beans and rice, but with the light fading fast she knew the reveille would still come all too soon. While shovelling food into her mouth from a shallow metal bowl, Uvrel forced herself to visit each fire in turn and speak to the officers there. They were all as drained as their men, but she knew both the effect an Exalted’s presence had on regular troops and that what she asked of them would need every ounce of strength and resolve they possessed. Careful not to tarry, she soon found her way to the pickets on the slope where a squad of dragoons, bolstered by a pair of sharpshooters and grenadiers each, stood watch under Lieutenant Sauren.

‘As you were, Lieutenant,’ Uvrel said, acknowledging the woman’s salute. ‘Damn, you can’t see much out here, can you?’

Sauren gestured at the fires behind them. ‘You need a few minutes more, sir. It’s not great, but the line of sight’s clear. We’ve no issue with friend or foe and there’s enough to make out movement. Besides, Jokaim there has got eyes like a cat, I’m assured.’

A slim figure ahead of them touched the upturned brim of their hat as Sauren mentioned their name. The sharpshooter didn’t turn and Uvrel couldn’t work out if it was a man or a woman, only that Jokaim also possessed that innate stillness of a natural hunter.

‘Nothing’s been tracking us, Jokaim?’ Uvrel asked.

‘Mebbe,’ the sharpshooter replied, the whisper of his voice sounding younger than Uvrel had expected. ‘Can’t be certain what I’ve seen, not out here.’

‘But you’ve seen something?’

‘Aye, glimpsed. Just pale shapes is all, though. Folk say there are ghosts and monsters out here. I couldn’t tell you which it was I saw. Could be cougars catching scent of the horses, or a chamois with its winter coat.’ He shrugged. ‘Or my mind playing tricks ’cos of where we are.’

‘Best guess?’

‘Don’t care to guess. If it’s maspids, I’ll shoot ’em. Not much else will bother us so far’s I know and ghosts I can’t do nothing about anyway.’

Uvrel grunted in acknowledgement and repeated the man’s name in her head. An Exalted was always on the lookout for good troops and Jokaim’s unflappable manner was the sort of thing she valued, given the usual missions dragoons were sent on.

The activity of the Knights-Charnel in Grasiel would have been noted by the other Orders as well as other cities, their failure as much as their purpose. Wherever the Lords-Sovereign intended to direct their attention to next, their actions would be opposed by a number of factions and the elite Torquen would be at the forefront of any conflict.

She shook her head as thoughts of political manoeuvring began to encroach on her clarity.
Time enough for that if we survive this cursed ruin
, Uvrel reminded herself.
Keep to the task at hand.

‘Carry on, Sauren,’ she said with a nod at the lieutenant. ‘Try not to wake the rest of us unless it’s important.’

Sauren smiled as she saluted, both knowing perfectly well that a single mage-gun would wake the whole camp. ‘As you say, sir.’

The mercenaries left Olut’s body where she fell and Lynx let the others see to her. There was enough to do for Sitain, who had quickly become feverish and dizzy. It was impossible to tell how far they were from the surface, or anywhere else that might serve as a burial site, but clearly the mercenaries had their own more pragmatic traditions. They stripped Olut of her gun and cartridge case then searched her clothing with the swift efficiency of battlefield looters. A few possessions were removed and handed to Anatin, then to Lynx’s surprise Ashis helped herself to Olut’s boots after comparing their feet.

No one seemed to bat an eyelid at this so Lynx kept his own counsel and accepted Olut’s coat when Kas brought it to him. The Wisps had cut four segments of chitin from the centipede with practised efficiency, using some sort of sinews from the body to turn it into a drag cradle. With Olut’s coat laid over their neat butchery, Kas and Lynx placed the shivering, chattering Sitain onto the travois before Reft took hold of the sinews and wound them around his left hand.

‘I’ll take her, she’s my responsibility,’ Lynx had said to the giant, but Reft had simply regarded him for a short while then started to haul Sitain forward.

‘We don’t argue with Reft as a rule,’ Kas had told him, patting Lynx on the shoulder. ‘’Specially when it comes to matters of strength.’

Unwilling to lose any more time, they had set off leaving Olut with hands folded across her chest and a single silver coin protruding from her lips. Lynx noticed it wasn’t one from Olut’s purse, they had been particular about that. Whether her money was to be shared among the rest or not, Anatin had selected a large, relatively shiny piece from his own coin purse and placed it in the Knight of Stars’ mouth.

‘We’ll miss you, sister,’ he had said to the corpse, words echoed by each of the rest as they pulled on their packs and started off down the tunnel. Once the party was a short distance away Anatin stopped and turned, levelling a mage-pistol.

‘Let the gods see your pyre and gather your spirit to them.’

The mercenaries lingered only a moment longer to watch the burner’s flames spread over Olut and start to consume her clothes. The mage-shot would burn hot and fast, and flames still lit the tunnel as the curve of the passage took them out of sight. They left her death behind them and pushed on as fast as the Wisps were willing to accommodate, covering several miles in silence before another rest was called.

That pattern continued for a while; bursts of walking and brief rests in an unreal, eternal night that seemed to just hold exhaustion at bay. Lynx had lost track of time by the attack and after a few more rests he was unsure whether it was night or day on the surface. They had walked well into the night, knowing that their pursuers had horses up on the surface, but where dawn was Lynx couldn’t guess at and was too tired to try.

One massive tunnel turned into the next, a great crossroad was passed where smaller tunnels merged to meet theirs. One ran like an aqueduct above their heads as they crossed a huge cavern, faintly lit by unknown constellations of crystal set into the far-off roof. The light there was too feeble to support any life beyond lichens and a few pus-filled fungi, the cavern as quiet as a tomb.

The Wisps were efficient and almost silent as they scouted the path, assured on their home terrain but never complacent about checking each overhang or tunnel. The mercenaries were too tired to offer to help, but Lynx knew one word of alarm would snap them back into battle readiness.

Only their footsteps and tiny whimpers from Sitain broke the hush, the young woman moving from fevered twitches to periods of alarming stillness. After three rests they came to a complex of chambers set off the main tunnel that were also protected by an iron grille over the single entrance. There they managed a few hours’ sleep, by Lynx’s estimation. Not enough to feel fully refreshed, but that and a few scraps of food restored some life to his limbs at least. He tried to take a turn pulling Sitain but Reft gently ignored him, the giant’s strength indefatigable, and Lynx left the man to it after that. Sitain had woken by that point and mumbled some sort of curse at Lynx, enough to fill him with relief. She was too weak to walk by herself, certainly at the pace they were setting, but Toil proclaimed the worst past and said Sitain would be on her feet soon.

They continued on under the direction of the Wisps, veering steadily right – Lynx’s head said east but he knew he could have been turned around long ago – and passing other parties of Wisps also out on foraging missions. The greetings were brief and Lynx guessed they knew each other, most of their darting conversations probably taken up by explanations about the humans.

One such silent conversation resulted in a thin youngster being sent at a sprint towards their settlement to herald their arrival, which made Lynx both relieved and apprehensive. Nothing was explained to the mercenaries and Toil just shrugged when Anatin asked her what was said, falling in behind the warriors as they set off once more.

They came to an even larger cavern soon after, at the recessed heart of which was a pool of water and three great columns. The peak of each column shone with weak light, gleaming from cottage-sized chunks of crystal that seemingly passed sunlight down from the surface. It was briefly blinding after their travels underground, but once he became used to it Lynx realised the light was still low and would only barely sustain the strange glowing vegetation that filled the cavern.

To his surprise there were grazing animals of a sort there, half a dozen hairless, six-limbed creatures the size of lambs under the watchful eye of more Wisp youngsters. The warriors didn’t stop, only made a brief acknowledgement of the greeting offered and continued on through the curious underground oasis. On the other side the tunnel was even larger and Lynx made out scraps of decoration on the increasingly smooth rock walls, great geometric designs surrounding elegant flowing shapes that could have been Duegar script. Before he could make out much detail in the twilight they had passed on by and through one of a half-dozen peaked archways. Beyond that was the Wisp settlement and there the mercenaries stumbled to a halt, gaping at what they saw.

A long shimmering lake, the water faintly phosphorescent, stretched away in front of them. Nearby stood a complex, multi-tiered building set just back from a narrow strip of what Lynx assumed was beach. The windows and doors were high and wide, but covered with grilles, and a curve of spiked defences skirted it, behind which half a dozen warriors stood. Behind the guardhouse were more buildings of similar size, also carved straight from the rock but without the defensive details. A long path led past them, up and around to where dozens of such houses were located on the shallow slope of a huge arch that ran all the way over the lake itself.

Lynx couldn’t see how big the lake was. The far shore looked a long way off and his view was obscured by the great arch supporting the village and narrow boats clustered around large rafts on the water. It was at least half a mile, though, he realised, and by the jagged seams of glowing bluish rock scattered across the roof he guessed at significantly more.

A Wisp in long robes moved forward to meet them, one arm raised, and their escorting warriors stopped. The labourers made their way around and off towards the main part of the settlement, but Lynx could see the mercenaries weren’t welcome. The elder – at least that was what Lynx assumed it was, by its slower movements – approached them and Toil was waved forward. She knelt respectfully and waited a long while as the elder and the leader of the warriors conversed.

‘What’s going on?’ Sitain croaked from the travois beside him.

‘Looks like we’re not so welcome,’ he said. ‘But no one’s shooting, so that’s a good start.’

When gestures started to be directed their way, Lynx found his fingers twitching for his gun. He had to force the feelings down, remembering that the warrior had made a specific point of greeting Sitain. Despite the growing rumble of anxiety and fatigue in his gut, Lynx kept very still as the elder turned to gesture towards the warriors behind, waiting for Toil to be invited into the conversation. When that did happen the Wisps were careful to move more slowly for her and Toil spent a long while explaining their intrusion.

By the time she was finished the mercenaries were all sat on the dry gravelly cavern floor, legs splayed and leaning back on their stuffed packs. If it had been a human settlement they waited outside, Lynx knew most of them would have gone to sleep where they were, but the alien scene was at once too unnerving and fascinating despite their fatigue. Weak blue and red lights dotted the edges of the high settlement, white painted lines marking the flanks of boats that plied the lake.

There was a perceptible drift of the water towards them, nothing so large as to make waves, but a regular creep up the narrow beach every five or six heartbeats, so Lynx counted. It never encroached beyond a certain point and receded quickly again, but where any sort of tide was being generated he couldn’t fathom.

He jerked back to wakefulness when Toil stood and walked stiffly over to Anatin. None of the mercenaries rose, but they all blinked owlishly at her as they waited for news.

‘There’s good news and bad,’ Toil announced eventually.

‘Well? Give us one of ’em first.’

‘We’re not welcome to stay,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Was no point lying to them about why we’re here, their scouts will find the Charnelers quick enough on their night patrols.’

‘So?’

‘So lovely to meet us and can we please piss off as soon as we’re bloody able to. We’re free to sleep a few hours here under their watch, but not in the settlement itself and then they’ll expect us to move smartly on. They’ve got warrior-mages but too few to start a fight with a score of guns and they know enough about humans to know how much the Militant Orders like their kind. This isn’t a fight they want anywhere near them.’