The Dragons of Argonath (49 page)

Cuzo nearly went berserk. He controlled himself, but he was clearly under a great strain. The urge to box Curf's ears was strong. Instead Curf was sent running with a fresh message for General Tregor.

The roof of the great house of the Running Deer River was a world unto itself. The tiled parts faced outward, but in the center was a hidden plateau of copper plates that had rusted to a rich green.

Moving quickly, Lagdalen and Eilsa explored this fantastic landscape of gables and chimneys. They needed a hiding place and an escape route.

"How are we going to get out of here?" was Eilsa's first thought.

"Find a way down that won't be guarded. Sneak out in the dark."

"Hide until dark?"

"I suppose."

"They know we came up here."

The search would begin on the roof, no doubt.

"Then, we don't have much time."

They ran lightly across the roof scape, ducked through a canyon between six paired chimneys, and emerged onto a space lined with four water cisterns. From the tanks, pipes ran down into the house via sets of conduits and air shafts. Each tank was twenty feet long and six feet wide. At each corner pipes sank down air shafts and disappeared into the darkness. Lagdalen peered over and studied the nearest air shaft.

A man's shout brought her head up. Eilsa rose onto the balls of her feet.

"Back between the tanks," Lagdalen pointed down the width of green copper. They crouched there in the dark, ears keen for the slightest sound.

Soon they heard footsteps. Voices called back and forth.

Steps came closer. A man wearing riding clothes and boots in black leather came around the corner.

As he did, Lagdalen rose up and brought her mallet down on his head, and he flopped back into Eilsa's arms like a sack of grain. They laid him alongside the cistern and listened tensely, nerves taut, for a long half minute. Silence continued. The other man had gone on. They took the fallen man's short sword, a Padmasan-style blade, plus a long knife that he kept in his boot top. The knife had a poison runnel that zigzagged down one side of the blade. Lagdalen shuddered slightly and was very glad to find the poison cache, hidden in the pommel, empty.

They returned to the top of the nearest air shaft. It was no more than six feet square, and copper conduit and piping snaked down the walls, disappearing into complete darkness. There were no windows or lights from below.

"There must be some access, though, perhaps at the bottom, to allow for maintenance work," said Lagdalen.

"Down!" said Eilsa swinging a leg over.

Lagdalen nodded, there wasn't much choice. She climbed over and began the descent.

In fact, it was not that difficult a climb. There were handholds and footholds aplenty. But farther down the shaft, the air was dank and moldy, the pipes and conduits were clammy and slippery, and the dark was absolute. They had to make their way by touch and feel, which slowed them considerably.

Fortunately the pipes conformed to repetitive patterns. Brackets held them at every bend and junction, and offered regular footholds. They developed a technique, with Eilsa leading the way like the crag climber she was.

The top of the air shaft became no more than a patch of light high above, and then, at last, they stood on a flat surface once more at the bottom. In the dim light they could just make out a ventilation grille set into the wall. It was loose. Lagdalen pried it open, and they pulled it free and climbed through.

Inside, in total darkness, they followed a curved passage around a ninety-degree turn and then squeezed themselves through a narrow stretch. They came to a place where it widened again and dropped straight down for an unknowable depth. Lagdalen could feel her feet kicking over the empty space. There was warm air coming up.

Eilsa lay on her stomach and put her hand down to examine the wall of the chute. It was smooth, more copper plates welded perfectly together. Then on the other side she found a set of steps attached to the wall.

"Probably to let them clean it out if it ever got blocked," said Lagdalen.

Again they descended into darkness an unknown depth, but now the light from above was almost nonexistent. Still, the steps went on, one after the other. Lagdalen felt herself lost in some troubling dream, as if she were actually climbing down into hell.

At last Eilsa touched down on a hard surface. They had exited the air duct and climbed down to the floor of a narrow room, dimly lit by a red button on one wall. There was an unlocked door that they went through, and found themselves in a larger room, lit by another of the red buttons. The next door was locked, but not strongly, and Eilsa broke the lock with the sword and pried the door open.

They emerged into a much larger space. There was greenish light here that emanated from a farther passage, and though it was weak, it was enough to show them that the huge room was filled with long tables on which sat dozens of large, rectangular boxes. Odd little sounds, suckings, coughings, an occasional soft sigh, came from the boxes.

Lagdalen felt the hair on the back of her head rise. She kept the long knife extended in front of her as they made their way through the room.

What was this place?

Eilsa was leading the way on tiptoes, the sword held ready. The tables were built on a giant scale, coming up to their shoulders. The things on the tables were either cages or glass-fronted cabinets. Lagdalen couldn't see anything inside them, but there was a smell of urine and excrement, covered over with a sharp, stinging odor of chemicals.

They came to a doorway leading out into a dark passage. More dim green light came from its farther end about fifty feet away. After a nervous glance around them, they moved through it with quiet strides. At the far end was another chamber, like the first, only there was a brighter light at the far end. The structure doubled back on itself, the passage heading back the way they'd come through a parallel series of rooms, much like the others, filled with long tables, stacked with cabinets and pervaded by the disturbing smell.

The light in the next room was bright enough to pierce the gloom. The cabinet had something inside that moved weakly. Lagdalen shook at the sight of a face. It was a little girl, covered in pustules. She seemed to stare out of the glass with dull eyes, but gave no sign of seeing Lagdalen.

She was the same age as Laminna! Lagdalen's heart almost stopped.

There were children in these cabinets, dozens of them. Some were distorted horribly, tortured in the foulest ways. Others were merely dull-eyed, staring back at Lagdalen and Eilsa with no change of expression.

In the cages there were women, living like animals on straw and feeding from a bucket. These women were slack-jawed: unable to speak or make any response to their urgent questions. Most were pregnant.

Eilsa's face filled with anger.

"What is this devil's work?"

"This is the work of that enemy the Lady spoke of. These are the ways of the darkness. I have seen it before."

They grimaced in horror together.

Then Eilsa spun and pulled her down below the table.

"Ssh, someone comes."

They waited, and then after a few seconds Lagdalen heard a heavy tread. The double doors crashed open. They crouched low while four bewks entered the chamber carrying a bier upon their shoulders. They walked in step, slowly and solemnly. Lagdalen thought they had to be seven feet tall. And their faces were those of enormous pigs. She shuddered—here was a fresh horror to be unleashed on the world of Ryetelth.

The four huge brutes never looked aside from their path. They bore the long bier down the passage to a smaller room, standing by itself behind a massive door.

Impelled by unquenchable curiosity, the girls followed, hiding in the recessed doorways, and then slinking quickly to the next.

The door ahead swung open at the approach of the beast men. Green light flooded out of the room, throwing harsh shadows down the passage.

After their eyes adjusted, Lagdalen and Eilsa saw the four giants bear their burden into the room of light. A heavy sarcophagus stood in the center of the room. The brutes put down the bier and then lifted off the top of sarcophagus. Even for these brutes, this was a heavy burden. They then placed the bier within the sarcophagus. Then they replaced the heavy lid.

Two of the brutes then went to stand in front of the sarcophagus and stood there, watchful and awake. The other two moved back to the wall.

Lagdalen and Eilsa found a door that opened to a push and gave access to another corridor. They slipped away down this passage into the darkness.

Relkin and Bazil saw that Nellin was a prosperous land as they moved westward through rich farm valleys, checkered with wheat fields. Whitewashed wooden houses were set back from the streams, usually under elms of considerable girth and antiquity. Barns were in good repair, as were the fences.

Seeing all this prosperity only made Relkin hungrier. He didn't want to think how hungry his dragon was, though Bazil was being heroic and quite uncomplaining. Relkin wondered how he was doing it. A famished wyvern was not normally a quiet presence.

After dark, Relkin decided, he would raid a chicken coop. These long whitewashed structures were everywhere. The flavorful chickens of Nellin were a famous part of the local diet, after all. Three or four plump pullets would stave off the worst hunger for the dragon, and provide a dragonboy with something too.

There was a risk, of course, but Relkin was confident of his abilities in this area. At dusk they crept toward an isolated farm, set well away from the nearest village. A pair of long chicken coops straddled the slope. The house was beyond a stone wall, so there was cover almost all the way to the coops.

They pitched up on a little rise under some poplars.

To their surprise, a young man appeared out of the shadows carrying a brace of rabbits over his shoulder. He gave a startled cry and jumped back, dropping his bow and quiver.

Relkin stepped forward instantly to reach the younger boy's side. The youth was in dragon-freeze. Relkin pinched his cheek and shook him to wake him out of it.

"That's an Imperial battledragon," said the boy in awestruck tones.

Bazil loomed there in the darkness, huge and menacing.

"You're right," said Relkin.

"Golly, I never seen one before. They don't grow 'em around here. In Nellin, we grow wheat. Kind of boring."

"Pretty country."

"Yeah."

"What's your name?"

"I'm Garrel, what's yours?"

"I'm Relkin, this is Bazil."

"What are you doing around here?" said the boy, as if suddenly thunderstruck by the thought of just what he was talking to. Enemy troops, of the most dangerous kind, right here in Nellin!

"They've got my girl, some men from downriver of here. We're going to get her back."

"Oh, yeah, men from the Running Deer?"

"I think so."

"Yeah, they're hotheads down there. So you're going to go down there and get her?"

"Something like that, but we have a problem."

"Let me guess," said the kid with a grin. "You're hungry."

"Right first time."

"I heard that dragons are awful big eaters. That's why no one will grow one around here."

"Yeah, we're pretty hungry."

"And I bet you were looking at Uncle Silas's chicken coops when I come through here."

"How'd you guess?"

"Uncle Silas has two good dogs watching those coops. You'd never have stood a chance."

"Damn. What can we do about this, Garrel?"

"Hell, I'll get you some food. Have to be from the feed bins, though. Think you can manage on some oats? Maybe some syrup with it? I might be able to get you something better later, but not enough for the dragon."

Relkin put a finger to his lips.

"Not so loud…" No point in telling the wyvern more bad news than he had to know.

"Sorry." The boy sneaked a glance at the dragon, and found Bazil examining him with one big, intelligent eye.

Dragon-freeze almost came back, but Garrel swallowed, and it went away. "I'll do my best, see what I can find."

"Garrel, I want you to know that we will pay for everything we eat. After this is all over, I'll make sure of it. I swear by the old gods."

"The old gods? What are you, some kind of barbarian? No one goes by the old gods anymore."

"Some folks still honor them over in Blue Stone."

"Blue Stone? Is that where you're from? We have some relatives who live down that way. In Querc. I hear it's beautiful country."

"Sure is, but not as rich as Nellin."

"Well, not many places are. Soil here is just the best; everyone knows that."

Relkin was still a little unsure of the boy in this situation. This was rebel Nellin, perhaps this kid was just acting like this to get them to let him go unharmed. Soon as he was out of range, he'd be hollering that there was an enemy dragon out back.

"You know, one thing." Garrel was troubled by something. "I don't think my dad should know about this. He ain't too much in favor of the empire these days. They got him all excited with the rebellion."

Relkin felt a certain encouragement, the way Garrel said this.

"But not you, eh?"

"Nor my brother, 'cept they made him join the army and fight. He took our three best horses and rode off. We buried him about a week later."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, but it weren't any battle or anything. His horse bucked him. Got bit by a fly, and he broke his neck when he fell."

Relkin shook his head sadly. He'd seen far more than his share of deaths both glorious and banal. Both kinds had the same end result.

"Anyway," the kid went on, "I don't carry no grudge against the empire for the death of Ulmer. Lots of folk around here, they ain't so keen on this rebellion. Looks to us like it's all just so the big landowners can make a killing."

Relkin nodded, this kid had his head in the right place.

"Thanks to the Goddess then for letting us run into you, Garrel, and not your father."