Under Fragile Stone (13 page)

The door at the end of the corridor on the other side of the pool room had a similar counterweight mechanism, and they opened it to find a low-ceilinged corridor with many twists and bends in it, leading downwards. There was no blue fungus in the walls here; the group, their heads bowed to avoid hitting the ceiling, had to use their torches to see. The Scout kept well ahead of their light, whinging any time it got caught in its glare.

‘The doors in that room both locked from the inside,’ Paternasse pondered aloud, ‘as if the room was built to be defended from either side. This corridor too, the way it bends back and forth, with the low ceiling? That’s another defence feature. Barians would nearly have to bend double to come through here, and every corner would provide cover for defenders. It’s a good design. But there is no way you could last out in that one room. A siege would break you.’

‘That’s what the water tunnel was, then,’ Mirkrin said. ‘It was too tight even for humans. No Barian would fit through. It was a means of travelling through the mountain that their enemies couldn’t use. There are probably others connecting to it too. I’m sure I felt junctions down there. Maybe the undercurrent flows somewhere in particular, could even be a way out.’

‘I don’t think even the Tuderem used them,’ Nayalla said. ‘By the size of the skull on that skeleton, they wouldn’t fit. You’d have to be an awfully good swimmer as well, to
survive
travelling in those things any further than we went. And 
besides, I don’t think they were much good as fighters. I think they built this place to be defended, all right, but they might have been relying on others to do the defending. And maybe to bring them supplies too, if they became trapped.’

She nodded towards their guide.

‘Those things?’ Dalegin chuckled dismissively. ‘Against
Barians
?’

‘Let’s see where it’s taking us,’ Mirkrin shrugged. ‘You never know, this might not be a typical one. There could be others that would rip your throat out and spit down your neck. Or breathe fire or something.’

The corridor branched in places, the Scout taking turns without any hesitation; it obviously knew where it was going. All along the walls, holes just large enough for the creature and its kind opened out, explaining why the things did not need to be able to work the doors. The Tuderem home was clearly laced with the small tunnels. The walls of the corridor also bore images, the drawings describing scenes that must have been from the Tuderems’ history. Much of it had to do with science and politics. There was little sign of the usual historical upheavals, battles or
revolutions
. Mirkrin ran his fingers over them as he walked.

‘It’s one kind of stone set into another,’ he murmured. ‘Marble and obsidian and other types set into the granite. The finest workmanship I’ve ever seen.’

He looked closer. The stone hadn’t been inlaid at all. He could see the grain of one kind of stone continue right through into another. Alchemy – they had changed the very nature of the stone itself and used it to draw their history.

The Scout stopped in one part of the corridor and pointed to a section of wall. The Myunans leaned closer to study the 
drawings, the miners waiting uninterested and impatient to move on. The scene the little creature was showing them was an image of the Tuderem gathering some kind of insect. Nayalla walked back along the wall, reading the story.

‘They bred these things from insects that they found in the caves,’ she said. ‘The end result was a kind of creature that grew in clumps. This thing isn’t just one animal; it’s made up of lots of creatures joined together in one combined body. The Tuderem were trying to build an army to set against the Barians. These things were what they came up with.’

‘So the pictures are …’ Mirkrin started.

‘A legacy from their masters. To teach the servants about their origins,’ Nayalla said quietly. ‘To teach them about their past … where they came from.’

‘… now that their masters aren’t here to tell the story themselves,’ Paternasse finished. ‘Probably because they were more interested in pictures on the walls than they were with getting out of this hole. Are we going or not?’

They were all hungry and exhausted and the cracks were starting to show. The miners were at the ends of their tethers, and had no time for history lessons. The Myunans
swallowed
their protests and waited for the Scout to lead them on. It scampered ahead of their lights, going faster now as it neared its home. They followed as quickly as their tired legs could carry them.

‘Put out the lights!’ the thing hissed back. ‘No light in the Hubquarters!’

A dim, phosphorescent glow came from the round
opening
ahead, so the group snuffed out their torches and
followed
the creature through.

‘Crux!’ it shouted in its small voice. ‘We have vanquished 
the Barian horde and brought them to grovel and beg our forgiveness. The horde is defeated!’

‘I think these things might have a slightly melodramatic view of life,’ Mirkrin observed.

Nobody heard him. They were all too busy staring at what lay before them.

Taya and Lorkrin were perched on the steps of the
meetinghouse
, under the watchful eye of a pair of Reisenick women who were sitting on the terrace, stringing skunkrin molars into necklaces. There had been a lot of other people out on the street, listening to the noise of battle that was taking place just over a nearby hill. Now some of them ran up the street, eager for news from the returning hunting party.

Down the hill that led into the village, the group of
hunters
carried two prizes: one a net full of what seemed like scrap metal, the other a large body bound head to toe.
Ludditch
and Harsq came out to watch too. The hunters carted their catch up to where the chieftain stood and dropped both at his feet. Taya and Lorkrin stared aghast as they
recognised
Draegar lying motionless before them, tightly bound, his body bearing numerous knife wounds and still carrying some of the darts that had managed to pierce his skin. They ran over and started to pull out the darts, but the hunters pushed them roughly away.

‘What’s that?’ Ludditch pointed at the scrap first.

The tangle of metal moved and the chieftain’s eyes
widened
. Harsq stared hard at it.

‘This thing was carryin’ it,’ Spiroe told him, pointing at Draegar. 

‘His name’s Draegar!’ Lorkrin shouted. ‘He’s not a thing, he’s a Parsinor … and he’s a friend of our uncle!’

Ludditch ignored him. He leaned over and peered into the mess of wire and metal junk.

‘He said it was the ghost you were lookin’ for,’ Spiroe added. ‘Sure is strange, whatever it is.’

Ludditch shot a glance at Harsq and then took a closer look at the Parsinor.

‘This thing’s a friend of Harprag?’ he frowned. ‘Parsinors. They’re desert creatures, ain’t they? ’S got a fine hide on it. Good, proud head. Look at that brow! Whose catch is it?’

‘We all sort’a had a hand in it,’ Spiroe shrugged. ‘But I got to tell yuh, he didn’t come easy. Tarne’s dead. I’m real sorry, Learup. It got Bluno and a bunch o’ others too. Some o’ the boys is takin’ the bodies back to the clans now.’

Ludditch’s face darkened.

‘Tarne’s dead?’ he moaned. ‘You let this
thing
kill my baby brother?’

‘Weren’ nothin’ I could do, Learup,’ the woodsman
cowered
back. ‘It fought like a skack and he was one of the first ones at it. Desert thing here cut his head right off.’

Ludditch’s breathing grew hoarse and then he let out a massive roar of grief. He kicked Draegar’s body over and over again, screaming hysterically with every blow.

‘Stop!’ Taya cried, the two children running forward. ‘Leave him alone!’

They were pulled back and held in check by some of the clansmen.

The Reisenick chieftain continued to stamp his foot down on the inert body of the Parsinor. Taya burst into tears and Lorkrin trembled as he fought to control his sobs. Ludditch’s 
rage eased and he laid in one last kick before moving away and brushing his hair back with his hand, heaving deep breaths.

‘We flay it!’ he snarled. ‘Tomorrow morning. And we make sure it stays alive long enough to see its own skin on a stretchin’ frame!’

He turned his attention to Harsq, who was examining the bundle of metal.

‘Well?’ he asked the priest impatiently.

‘This is it,’ Harsq smiled up at him. ‘The last remnants of Absaleth’s ghost.’

‘Do what you have to do to finish it,’ Ludditch told him, ‘then settle up and get out of here.’

He looked at the children.

‘Seems to me, if your uncle is ready to send animals like that up here to kill my kin, then he’s wore out his welcome and used up his tribute. As of now, he’s trespassin’ on
Reisenick
land and that’s a sin punishable by death in these parts. Might as well be addin’ a Myunan hide to this here Parsinor’s. Not that it’ll be the first.’ He spat at their feet, then gestured to Spiroe: ‘Truss these whelps up and cage ’em. I’ll decide what to do with them once I have their uncle. It may be that he’ll want to see his cubs cooked up before he’s skinned hisself.’

‘What about keepin’ the peace with the Myunans, Learup?’ Cleet asked.

‘Hang the peace. If this priest does what he claims he can do, there ain’t gonna be no Myunans to worry about.’

He strode back into the meetinghouse, with Harsq’s eyes following him in. The eshtran swivelled his head to look at the children, frowning. They scowled back and Lorkrin tried 
to spit at him, but they were pulled towards a row of
hanging
cages by the clansmen. Taya saw doubt on the Braskhiam’s face and wondered what the Reisenicks knew that he didn’t. Draegar was hauled across the street by six men to a building with various animal hides hung up on the walls and stretching frames propped up on its porch. They dragged him roughly inside and slammed the door shut.

The two shape-changers were locked up in a ‘Myunan Cage’. Instead of bars, it was built of a steel mesh, the gaps too small even for a shape-shifter to squeeze through. The door did not have a lock, for Myunans had been known to pick locks with their fingers; the door was held closed instead by the simple method of hammering a pin into place. The pin could not be removed without a hammer and a punch, even if the Myunans could reach it. Their tools had been taken off them and after exploring all the possibilities of escape and failing to find a way out, they slumped to the floor in glum silence.

‘What are we going to do?’ Taya shuddered. ‘They’re going to … we have to stop them from doing that to
Draegar
. We have to do something.’

Lorkrin closed his eyes. He was as scared as he’d ever been in his life. He had never thought the Parsinor could be so completely beaten. It had shaken the boy to see the proud map-maker wounded, bound and drugged, rendered utterly helpless. He could not see how they could help him. What hope did any of them have now? If Draegar could not save them, did even Uncle Emos stand a chance? And if Draegar had come on his own, did that mean that Uncle Emos wasn’t coming? And what about their mother and father, trapped beneath the mountain? By tagging along on 
this expedition, had he and Taya ruined any hope of their parents being rescued? He hugged his knees and looked around for something to take his mind off their situation.

Three Reisenicks came into view along the street, one limping and bearing a bandaged wound in his thigh, the second clansman supporting him. The third led a tall, gangly figure wrapped from head to toe in layers of shabby
clothing
. A hood covered its head and a scarf hid its face. Dull gleams from between the folds were all that could be seen of its eyes. Something about the figure bothered Lorkrin. As a shape-changer, he had a keen eye for form, but he could not place this creature. It was probably a man, but of what race, he could not tell. He thought from the walk that it might be Reisenick, but the clothes were Sestinian. He nudged Taya and she looked out. Frowning, she knelt up and leaned against the mesh.

‘What is he?’ she asked aloud.

‘Don’t know.’

The three woodsmen took the stranger up to a normal, barred cage alongside the Myunans’ and opened the door.

‘Get yourself in there,’ one said to it.

The gangly figure did as it was told, folding itself up to fit into the cramped space in the cage. The door was closed, bolted and locked and the three Reisenicks made their way into the meetinghouse.

‘What you in for?’ Lorkrin asked it.

The creature turned to look at him and at first, he did not think it would answer.

‘In…for?’ it said, in a voice like dull, plucked harp strings. It sounded like a man, rather than a woman.

‘Why have they locked you up?’ 

‘I … don’t know.’ The stranger spoke hesitantly, as if struggling to find the words.

‘Probably ’cause you’re strange. They don’t go in much for strangers around here. Where are you from?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Right,’ Lorkrin gave his sister a sideways glance. ‘What’s your name, then?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Do you know
anything
about yourself?’ Taya asked.

‘I know … I have travelled a long way, but I don’t know where I’ve come from. I can’t remember … anything else.’

‘Nothing? That must be awful,’ Taya said, sympathetically. ‘Like having to start your life all over again.’

Lorkrin regarded the lanky figure folded up in the cramped cage and then looked around at the Reisenicks’
sinister
, stinking village.

‘Probably could have picked a better place to start,’ he said.

No one said anything for a while. The stranger failed to provide enough of a diversion to distract the children from their morbid thoughts and Lorkrin stood up and slipped his fingers though the gaps in the mesh. The building where they had taken Draegar was the tannery. They could smell the tannic acid from where they were, but could only guess at what was taking place inside.