Duel At Grimwood Creek (Book 2) Page 10

  “Nysta?” The warlock rubbed at his ankle. “Shouldn’t we-”

  “Move!” she spat, snatching a fistful of his robe even as another arrow tore through the air and pinged off a stone in front of her foot. Had she not moved to make a grab for the warlock, it would’ve gone into her chest.

  Eager not to press her luck any further, she moved fast.

  A string of curses erupted from the depths of the small hut and her mind twisted into a knot of decisions until instinct took over and she took the best course she could take in the face of the danger of more arrows spitting from the dark.

  Straight at them.

  Wrenching on the warlock’s robe, she sent him cartwheeling to the right of the hut and out of range of the archers. Put all her bets on the Twins not being too fast with their bows and let out a roar of hate as she sprinted at the closest window, zigzagging to avoid more arrows which didn’t come.

  Ducked to the right of the window, shoulder slamming hard into the wall. Let out a gasp of pain. Saw a glimpse of Chukshene as he tumbled out of view down the side of the hut.

  The elf sucked at air. Heart pounding in her throat and wires of white hot hate burning brightly in her veins.

  Wiped her jaw with the back of her hand, wondering why the Twins weren’t making a sound from inside the hut. Guessed they were frozen in place. Though surprise hadn’t quite worked how they’d expected, they still had all the advantages.

  She considered waiting them out.

  At least get a bead on them before smashing into the hut. They knew she was there. Knew exactly where she was. They’d be waiting, crouched and ready to strike. It was two to one. It would be suicidal to attack.

  The smarter thing would be to get the warlock to explode the hut, she thought. Blow the fuckers into little pieces. She could count them later.

  “Ah, fuck it.”

  And dove head first through the window.

  Rolled with fluid grace that ended with her on all fours in the centre of the small room like a spider, a dagger in each fist. Eager to strike. Hungry to spill the blood of two more men who’d murdered her husband.

  But the Twins were gone.

  Hissing curses, she darted toward another window in the back wall and thrust her head out without thinking of the possible arrow which could have punched through her skull and into her brain. Bootprints in the sludge led quickly from the hut to angle between a small row of storehouses.

  But the Twins weren’t searching for a new site for ambush. They were running. Fast. She could hear them scrambling toward the back of the fortress. Knew they were out of her reach.

  For now.

  She spat through the window in direction of the retreating archers.

  With the dome still firmly in place, they were trapped as much as she.

  But they’d discovered that there was only one way they could go. Toward the cavernous maw of a roaring opening in the cliff wall at the back of the fortress. She could see it rearing over the huts like a snarling dragon’s maw. And if Neckless had been right, it promised the possibility of a tunnel leading upward and out.

  A tunnel which the elf reckoned was once used for defenders to reach the top where more fortifications had protected the fortress below from attacks from above. She remembered the massive stones littering the plain and guessed it was also from where catapults rained apocalyptic death on Grim’s armies.

  Chukshene breathed hard as he entered through the front window. Only, his entrance was a lot less elegant. He hopped awkwardly over the sill and bounced forward to avoid falling over again. “Sorry,” he said, red-faced. “I fell. The floorboards. They were-”

  “Don’t sweat it, Chukshene,” she cut in easily. “Twins aimed to bring me down. Chances are they were too much for me to take at the time, so I reckon that trip of yours was just the break I needed.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The entrance was wide enough to fit a few wagons both side by side and on top of each other. It looked to lunge from the cliff as though snapping at the light. And beyond the jagged overhanging rocks, narrowed swiftly to a single point of darkness.

  At first, she thought her hunch was wrong. That it was just a cavern with no purpose. But then she saw a slender path leading into its shrouded heart and her mouth widened to a grim line. Could also see stairs carved crudely into the stone. And fresh scuff marks showed the Twins had entered the tunnel in a hurry.

  “Be careful,” the warlock said nervously. He sucked loudly on his bottom lip and his grimoire was open in his hand. “They could be waiting for us. They’ve got bows, remember. And arrows. Not only that, they sound like they’re scared. Which makes them dangerous if you corner them up there. We got lucky once. I don’t think we’ll get lucky again.”

  “Do I look stupid?”

  His voice was dry. “Remember Gaket? I told you not to let his shit touch you. What did you do? You not only touched it, you let it nearly possess you. And the cage? Didn’t I say not to open it? So, you know. Yeah, you look kinda stupid enough to need some fucking reminding.”

  The elf almost choked on her retort as a roar of wind belched dust and grit from the tunnel’s mouth. Ejected in the rush of wind, small stones skittered down the stairs and across her boots. Squinting into the hot exhalation, the elf kept one hand hovering close to A Flaw in the Glass while the other shielded her eyes. Could smell raw earth and burnt metal.

  “What the fuck was that?” Chukshene coughed and spat as dust settled in the echo of the blast. He took a step backward, his face pale and horrified.

  “No idea, ‘lock. But even if it was the Gates of the Shadows Halls opening, I’d still be heading in there.” She tightened the bracer on her left arm. Though outwardly she appeared determined, inside she felt cold chills of fear strumming on her guts like they were lute strings. “Two fellers I want dead are still alive in there and I ain’t letting them get away. Besides, it’s also looking like the only way out. We ain’t got any idea what happens while the walls are up, but chances are we don’t want to know. Also a chance we’ll find out any second. Which means we ain’t got time to fuck about. So you open that book of yours and stick your nose in it. Then pick up your dress, Chukshene, and move.”

  “It’s not a fucking dress! It’s a robe! Big fucking difference, you long-eared thug. Shit.” He looked around, desperate for another option. Struggled with indecision before noticing she was already making her way up the uneven steps. “Hey! You’re crazy. You know that? Fucking crazy. You belong in a madhouse! It’s the only solution. Protect you and me.”

  “Relax, Chukshene,” she said, half turning. A crooked smile toyed at the corner of her mouth. “I ain’t got suicidal tendencies. So quit whining and start climbing.”

  Angling steeply upward, the tunnel led deep into the heart of the cliffs. Scraped out of the solid stone, the unnatural cave twisted and turned like a cut snake. Where it was too step, more stairs had been chipped into the rock, but mostly it was the uneven ground that provided footing.

  Her vision being better than a human’s, the elf didn’t need light to see the slick edges of the tunnel and strode confidently forward. But the warlock had no such gift. He barked a few quick words of power and a small globe of sickly yellow light unfolded itself from the darkness with a wet hiss to hover obediently a few metres ahead.

  Something moved swiftly up her right wrist, and she slapped it, looking down sharply.

  Nothing.

  She pursed her lips and twisted the loose-fitted bracer to see if whatever had crawled over her skin had burrowed under the leather, but saw nothing. Felt nothing.

  Maybe it was her imagination? Still, she could have sworn there was something real.

  “Everything okay?” The warlock watched her intently, the yellow light staining his face and giving it an eerie demonic glow.

  She nodded. “Fine. And what did I tell you about
asking me that?”

  “Fuck off. If you don’t want me to ask, then wipe that expression off your face. It creeps me out. Makes me want to piss myself. And, stuck here under a mountain of rock makes me want to piss myself enough as it is.”

  She allowed there was something repressive about the tunnel. It wasn’t high enough for starters. She could have touched the roof by lifting an arm without stretching.

  And in some places the walls had crumbled inward on a wave of grit and stone, forcing them to squeeze through more narrow passages. A bleak reminder of the fragility of tunnels.

  About all that pleased her was when that she occasionally caught a glimpse of bootprints in the rubble. Which meant she was still on the right track as she hunted her prey.

  Though her heart clamped whenever they made a corner, she didn’t yet expect the Twins to make their stand. Their bows wouldn’t be much use in here. They’d most likely try for the end of the tunnel. All the same, she paused at every sharp turn and was careful in case they’d grown sick of running and decided to use their swords.

  They hadn’t gone far into the tunnel when she heard a slow drumming sound.

  Like a heartbeat. Muffled and heavy.

  Motioning the warlock to silence, she knelt on the moist stone and pressed her hand against the ground. Felt it there, like a soft pulse between her fingers. It was distant. But she could feel it.

  And for her to feel it, it would have to be big. Which meant it had nothing to do with the Twins, and everything to do with the force which had trapped them in the fortress to begin with.

  “What is it?” he whispered as she started forward again.

  “Drumming.”

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  “It’s those little round ears of yours, ‘lock,” she said with a tight grin. “Ain’t good for much. You’ll hear it soon enough, I reckon.”

  He strained to hear, but gave up. “I’ll trust you. What’s making it, you think?”

  “Ain’t sure. Reckon whatever controls those walls is between us and the top of the cliffs. Could be the tunnel’s bait. Which means whoever set the trap could be up ahead somewhere.”

  “And we took it. Oh, great. I don’t suppose they’re friendly, do you?”

  “Relax. Could be someone chopping potatoes for all I know. Maybe they’re setting the table right now. Give you a fucking banquet.”

  “Don’t say that,” he said sourly. “I’m fucking hungry. Just thinking about a table of food right now is enough to make my guts try crawling up my spine.”

  “You ate not long ago, ‘lock.”

  “Did I? Tell my stomach that.” He tapped on the corner of his grimoire thoughtfully. “Look, Nysta. Are you sure about this? Whatever can raise walls like that is bound to be powerful. And mean. So it’ll easily do for your two. There’s no point following them to their deaths. And maybe there was a way out of the wall. We didn’t even try looking around. Maybe we’re wasting our time. Maybe we’ll get killed for nothing. There’s still time to get out of here.”

  “You reckon there’s a way out back there, ‘lock?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Look, I’m just saying, if we’re going to die, I’d rather not die in a hole in the ground.”

  “There’s no good places to die.”

  “I know that. I just meant-” He cut himself off and exhaled sharply, eyes widening. “I can hear it. The drumming. What is it? I think I just swallowed my balls.”

  “Hardly a meal.”

  “Funny. What were you again? Joker’Jadean?”

  The elf stopped so suddenly that he threw his arms up in front of him, certain he’d gone too far. Afraid that the hand which blurred to the knife at her hip meant to punch the blade deep into his chest.

  Unaware of the warlock’s reaction, the elf seized A Flaw in the Glass and fell into a fighter’s crouch as a hot wall of air roared suddenly up the tunnel. The warlock’s ball of light flickered as the wind slammed past. The sound was like a heavy metallic crunch mingling with a scream.

  His robes whipped around, forcing him to spin with them, eyes wide and fear draining the colour from his face.

  Violet eyes glinting, the elf held her pose until the air was still and the only sounds she could hear were the muted drumming and Chukshene’s gasping breaths.

  He waved for the light to come closer to him, as though it would provide protection from things lurking in the shadows. Said; “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Didn’t smell too good, either.”

  “It’s a wyrm,” he decided, pressing his back against the wall. “A fucking wyrm. We are so fucked.”

  “Ain’t a wyrm,” she said thoughtfully. “Something else.”

  “Like what? What else makes tunnels in the ground? What’s big enough to make this much fucking noise and breath hot air?”

  “Don’t reckon it was breath,” she said, letting go of the knife at last. “Smelled like burnt metal. And something else. You never been near a blacksmith’s, ‘lock?”

  He studied her carefully. “You’re telling me we’re headed into a smithy? Next you’ll tell me it’s a lost tribe of dwarfs. We’re too far south and a long fucking way from Dwarfsholme. There can’t be any dwarfs in the Deadlands.”

  “Only one way to be sure,” she said, grinning without humour. “Walk and find out.”

  How long they climbed the crude stairs up the twisting path, it was hard to tell. With no light to reference herself to, she could only guess. But she guessed a few hours. A few hours in which the warlock was mostly silent as the exertion of the constant climb took its toll.

  The elf kept a cautious pace, though her heart pounded impatiently. She’d spent years training to be what she was. Had learnt everything her teachers had been willing to teach. But patience wasn’t one of them.

  One of her first trainers had told her it was a good thing she’d turned out to be so good with knives. Because she was never going to be able to master the slow art of sneaking into a fortress.

  About the only way she was going to kill her target, he’d said, was to fight her way through the front gate.

  This, he told her, was her single greatest gift.

  And also her weakness.

  Grunting in memory of his tone, which had bordered on pity, the elf consciously slowed her pace even more. Took her time to feel out every change of air as though she might sense the slightest vibration of movement.

  The warlock caught the sudden shift in pace and chewed nervously on a fingernail. “What is it?”

  She kept her voice low and steady. “Ask me that again and I’ll cut your tongue out through your throat. Feed it to you. I mean it, Chukshene.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  “Want to find out?”

  “It’s not high on my list of things to research.”

  “Then shut the fuck up.”

  He spat out a corner of nail and threw her a frustrated look. “I’m not like you, Nysta,” he said. “I don’t move fast. I don’t have a shitload of fucking knives to cut shit up with. I wouldn’t know what to do with a sword. Or an axe. I’m not that kind of fighter. But I can fry your face off. I can summon a demon big enough to stomp on pretty much anything. But these kind of spells take time. Time to prepare. Time to cast. It helps if I know what the fuck is coming.”

  “I’ll think about telling you when I know.” She rubbed hard at the scar on her cheek as they approached another twist in the tunnel. Slid along the wall. Glanced sharply around the corner. Then, satisfied it was empty, led the way around. “Until then, ‘lock, just shut the fuck up so I can listen.”

  “I don’t know what you’re listening for,” he growled. “Can’t hear anything over that fucking noise.”

  And he was
almost right. The drumming had grown loud enough that her ears were beginning to ring from the constant drone of it. But she could kind of make something else out in the background. Something familiar, but she couldn’t pin down what it was. “Means we’re getting closer,” she told him. “Think of the fun you’re about to have making it dead.”

  “What if it’s already dead?”

  “Then it’s had a lot of practise dying, so should be easier to kill.”

  “I don’t think it works that way,” he said drily.

  She frowned at the ground heading toward the next bend. More scuff marks of boots scrambling in patches of dust. Small pebbles flicked away as heavy footsteps scattered them this way and that.

  And something else. A strange hollow sound. The drumming sounded different.

  Crouching in front of the corner, she cast a quick glance at the warlock’s glowing orb before deciding it was too late anyway to tell him to turn it off.

  While it was just a hunch, she had a feeling the Twins were just around the corner. There were too many tracks in this area for them to have simply passed through. They must have doubled back, then doubled back again.

  Perhaps they’d thought to run back to the fortress, then heard her coming and sought a fresh ambush. She figured the blasts of hot air must have unnerved them to the point they quickly decided to make a stand.

  The warlock picked up on her fears and opened his book slowly. Mumbled lightly as he sifted through the pages.

  Sliding Go With My Blessing and Reasons to be Cheerful free, she rolled her shoulders. Tilted her head to stretch her neck.

  Sucked a breath.

  And threw herself around the corner.

  In that split second, she knew her mistake, but it was too late. Diving across the ground, she had time only to widen her eyes in surprise as the ground seemed to drop out from under her feet and sweep downward into a slippery incline. Desperately trying to fight gravity, the elf let out a yelp as she lost balance and pitched forward. Bounced heavily as she tumbled out of control.