The Vitalis Chronicles: Steps of Krakador (18 page)

This would be a quick job, he had told them. In and out. The lights on the walls were eating at him, however. Perhaps they hadn't been taken out by the electrical team in the end; they could have been cycling the stations to test their repairs. That brought a new worry for that team, and now his team, who lay out in the frozen reeds along the banks of the loop. The men stationed at the mounted guns on top of the wall were almost guaranteed to shoot first under the current circumstances. Getting out of the city without being noticed should be easy. Working their way back to the Elandris under the lights from above would be another issue altogether.

He just wanted to get to the junction ahead now and take out his mouthpiece. There were already too many variables in play. It took them another five minutes of hard swimming to cover ground that would barely take them one on the way back out. When they finally saw lights above them, they sought out the ladders along the wall and rose in unison with their guns at their shoulders. No one presented themselves, so Keaton pulled himself up and onto the concrete slab in front of him. He was breathing hard, but the protests of his wounds had all been silenced by the freezing water.

The room was far larger than the blueprints had detailed. Dozens of pipes ran in here, pouring water into the main channel from what must have been multiple sources. The air smelt of dank ammonia, the sweet smell not fully removed from the murky water. If they were able to block this up effectively, water might even back up into the streets. It would work well.
Too well...
he realized as he pulled the explosive out of his waterproof bag.
If this water hadn't been treated already, it could easily spread disease throughout the city.

It was too late for thoughts like that, however. The mission at hand outweighed the consequences, foreseen or no. He wandered ten feet before he saw the thick gas line running behind a concrete beam overhead. His men moved ahead of him, scanning the area to ensure they were alone.

“
Room's a lot bigger than I thought it would be,” said the one whose name he couldn't remember.

“
Long too,” Grimes said as he turned on the flashlight on his rifle to peer farther into the darkness. “Thought this was just a junction for two pipes, not the runoff for half the city.”

Keaton set the charge for twenty minutes, plenty of time to disappear. “Let's just hope it moves things along even faster for it.”

“
Can't argue with that,” said the other Hunter.

“
Sir...” Grimes's voice had gone flat. Then it got quiet. “Can you join me up here, sir?”

Keaton's nerves sparked at the tone in his voice; he knew that tone, even if this man was new to him. The other Hunter covered the exit as he moved forward to join Grimes. He was a big man with broad shoulders, which left Keaton feeling like he had to strain just to see around him. The gurgling and splashing of water gave way slowly to a deeper rumbling noise he recognized from somewhere else.

“
What is it?” Keaton crouched and peered around his stone-still soldier.

“
There, sir.” Grimes's voice was barely above a hoarse whisper.

And now Keaton understood why. Moving silently in the darkness and spreading into the pipes that ran under the whole city were hundreds of low, black-haired creatures. Each seemed to be moving farther up the large sewer tunnel slowly, as if uncertain of how to proceed in the water. They looked like they could have been large mountain cats. But Keaton knew better, as did the knot forming in his stomach. The rumbling grew slowly as they began to turn and notice the soldiers.

Keaton reached silently for Grimes's light, shutting it off before signaling the retreat.

“
We need to go,” he whispered. “Now.”

“
What are they sir?”

“
Woads.”

T
HIRTEEN

A
RDIN
V
ITALIS SAT IN THE MIDDLE OF YET MORE CARNAGE, UNABLE TO STOP YET ANOTHER PERSON HE CARED FOR FROM LEAVING HIM
. The Fisherman, Cid, was gone. Ardin yelled at first, then cried, the earth shaking around him in response; but now he found himself unable to move. Unable to emote. He simply stared out of bloodshot eyes at the broken corpse of one of the greatest men he had ever known. He had never actually thought this moment was possible, and yet the Cleaver sat feet away from its master, glinting dully through tar-like blood as through a shroud of mourning.

Ardin's hands refused to move, hovering just above the Fisherman, clenching invisible clumps of his fury. His grief would overcome him, that was what he feared now. In the face of the greatest challenge he could ever endure, the one person who had never given up on him was gone. His protector. His friend. The Fisherman had been willing to give his life; now he had given it.

Ardin only grew more tense with every passing moment, his howls of anger silenced only by the tightness in his throat and an unwillingness to move. Memories of his family, of Caspian and Alisia all came rushing over him. The words of the wraith in the asylum entered his mind, accusing him again of leading everyone he loved to their deaths.

No...
H
e closed his eyes and pulled back his hands.
There was no stopping this.

And there hadn't been. It didn't stop the pain of losing Cid, nor did it make it any easier to walk away from him now, but walk away he must. There were greater things at stake, and Cid had played his part.
You can rest now, old man. Rest.

The anger was still there, though. He stood, collecting himself as an explosives technician might gather nitrous. The volatility roiling just under the surface scared him, and threatened to spark that lack of stability introduced by the Shadow King. He had to contain it, to control himself as he could sense Tristram doing every minute he was in his presence. There was nothing left to do here. He had to move on or risk losing himself and everything that hung in the balance.

“
What do we do with him?” Ardin didn't even raise his head to ask the question. Disbelief tied his stare to the corpse like an anchor.

“
Burn him.”
Tristram knelt over the man in brown, healing his wounds as Ardin wished he could have done for the Fisherman.
“
Armor, weapons and all. To bury him is to feed him to the monsters of the Relequim. To leave his affects is to supply trophies for his enemies. Burn his body, Ardin; he would desire as much.”

Ardin looked around the field now as the sun began to set in the west. Bodies littered the ground as far as he could see, some whole, others in pieces.

“
Is this what the world would become if we stood by and watched?”

Tristram alighted at his side, following his stare along the rolling ground. “
This is but a foretaste, Ardin. Scarcely a dream in comparison to the waking nightmare that awaits us should the Relequim succeed where his will is bent.”

“
There are so many...”

“
There will be far more who die in far more horrific ways if he is not stopped. There is something in the north, Ardin, something that he has been developing in darkness for centuries. The Islendans are wrong in their belief that the evil was born of Trua. The Eastern Empire is not their true enemy. His intentions have always been clear; to rule and destroy mankind is the one certainty we may have when dealing with him at any time. But his methods have yet to be revealed. Guide these people to the sea, Ardin. If Oscilian was successful in his task, ships should be on their way to meet you now. Get what remains of these people off of this continent, then join us to the north. The Relequim is planning his attack on Veria, and it is during his invasion that we might find our chance to strike at his heart.”

“
What about Veria?” The foreign name for his own Continent felt strange on his lips. “Will you leave it undefended?”

“
Veria is better defended than many know, Ardin. His method of warfare never led to the development of the technology your people possess. It is one of their few advantages. He must strike them while they are divided, for he knows he is not strong enough to attack them while united. But even should your people fall, we must take the opportunity their sacrifice provides to ensure that the Relequim never succeeds.”

“
We?” Ardin looked up at the giant that floated next to him. He wondered what his face would look like, if he had ever even had one to go behind the low mask and under that hollow hood.

“
Even combined, the Brethren are not enough to stand against the Relequim. His strength is unified in one form, where ours is divided into three. He has been pouring himself into something, however, bending what he has learned about the spiritual realm to some purpose that keeps his surplus of power at bay. If that has not changed from the last time we faced him, your presence may be enough to turn the tide when the time comes to face him.”

“
You expect me to fight him?” Ardin took a step back. “I could barely keep my feet when standing in that room with him.”

“
Next time you will not be alone. And you will not be expected to engage him directly. We need your power, the power of the Magess Charsi, to bring him to his knees. This time we aim not to imprison but to destroy him.”

“
Can... can you do that?” Ardin felt little comfort in the warrior's words. “Destroy him?”

“
None of us knows, but we will try. We must try, for to allow his return again would be unacceptable. Mankind alone may survive this age, Ardin. The Magi are gone, and soon we Greater Beings will follow. The Titans are all but extinct, and after we cleanse the land of the Relequim's abominations there will be few monsters left of which to speak. Our future promises to be grim, but there is hope beyond the struggle. Stand with us in this last fight. To so choose is to fight to give meaning to the deaths of those you loved, where otherwise they would merely be counted among the slaughtered.”

Counted among the slaughtered?
Ardin's stomach pulled at him to think that his family could die for nothing. But Tristram was right. If the Relequim was defeated, they would have died to stop him. If he was victorious, they would only have done what the rest were destined to do.

“
Your love for the girl is evident, Ardin. If you fight for anything, fight to be with her again. For if the Relequim destroys you, there is a chance he can break your link to her and separate you forever.”

“
That's possible?” Ardin was taken aback even further. “Just keep the good news coming...”

“
He has been able to separate the Magi from their destined path, Ardin. It has only occurred a few times that we know of, but somehow it is possible. We don't know where they have gone, yet we fear the worst. In your case, he cannot accomplish as much for you are human, and humanity carries a special bond in the spiritual realm that is unbreakable. But you may lose your inherited path nonetheless.”

Or I could run,
Ardin thought before he brushed the thought aside.
No. I started this and I've seen it this far...
He stared back off towards the setting sun. There wasn't anger now, there was only sadness. A deep and unyielding tug at his very core to think of all those he had loved. Of all he had lost.
Cid... what would you do if you were here?
But he knew the answer to that innately.

“
I'll stand with you,” he said after a long silence. “I have no other choice.”

Tristram was gone in a flash, though somehow Ardin could sense him depart in ways he had never noticed before. His link to the Atmosphere through the Shadow widened his perception beautifully, even if he didn't yet fully understand it. The man in brown was still ailing somewhat from his injuries, but had been patched up well enough to continue on. His name, he said, was Hevetican, and he offered Ardin his condolences before he would even permit them to discuss their route. Ardin appreciated the weight the old man gave to the Fisherman's death.

Ardin sighed, the loss still heavy on him.
I'll have time to mourn you properly someday, Cid. Just not yet. Not yet.

Hevetican's eyes had been wide at the appearance of Tristram, but they grew even wider to see Ardin burn the Fisherman's body to ash in seconds. Ardin no longer truly noticed people's reactions to his power; they were a natural side effect now.

They made their way into the hills, following a trail stamped out clearly by thousands of feet before them. The bodies of a few of the Granhal lay scattered in the more narrow sections, crushed under massive rocks and stabbed with small blades. Ardin was as surprised by the old man's reaction as he was by the sight itself. Hevetican seemed unfazed in the least.

They rounded the corner to the higher part of the trail, and Ardin found out why. Fifty young olive-skinned men awaited them bunched up in a space that was broad enough for only five to pass. They smiled to see Hevetican, who waved to them before they rushed down to greet him.

He spoke in a tongue Ardin had never heard before, then turned to explain. “These are the ones who ambushed those we saw below. They were prepared to stand in this gap and die to buy those escaping more time.” To recount what he knew to Ardin only made Hevetican's pride beam all the brighter. The relief on each and every face that they would not have to see their commitment through was plain to Ardin, who stood apart to watch them celebrate with hugs and kisses.