The Fabled Beast of Elddon (7 page)

The
group huddled together in the shadows at the entrance to the mine. Loth looked
out across the vast cavern in front of them. The landscape had an alien feel,
like another world, a bleak, cheerless scene without joy or comfort, like some demented
painter’s interpretation of Tironed-dum, the land of the dead.

“This
is bad,” Ander said. He gave Loth an appraising look. “Surely you know some
spell that could help in this situation.”

“I
know a great deal about magic,” Loth said, “mostly theoretical. I’m not a
wizard. And I know no enchantments that will open locks or spirit prisoners to
safety.”

“We
have to do something,” Ryia said.

“We
will,” Loth assured her. “We will win their freedom, but we will have to rely
on courage, speed, and cold steel to do it.”

“We
can’t just go charging in there,” Tristan said. “There’s too many of them.”

“We
don’t have to overcome every last kerram,” Loth said, “just enough to free some
of the captives. They will join the fight and there are more of them than there
are guards.”

“There
doesn’t seem to be a lot of fight left in them,” Ander observed.

“Be
that as it may--“

The
scrape of sandals on stone alerted Loth to the presence of others. He turned in
time to see two kerram coming down the tunnel. There was a moment’s hesitation
as the confused kerram eyed the strangers, their muzzles twitching, then the
kerram on the left brought up his staff. Loth raised his bow in the same
instant and put an arrow through the kerram’s eye. The creature made a low
gurgling sound as it fell. The second kerram barked a warning and brought up
his sword, but Ander was already in motion. The big Northman blocked the
kerram’s steel with his shield and brought his own heavy blade down on the
creature’s shoulder, nearly cleaving him in two. The kerram collapsed and lay
twitching in a widening pool of blood.

Answering
shouts came to them from deeper in the cavern.

“So
much for having the element of surprise,” Ander snarled, turning back.

Tristan
was reaching for Ryia, his eyes searching back the way they had come. He might
have been thinking of running, but the girl was already in motion, moving into
the cavern. A kerram guard appeared in front of her, brandishing a sword. Ryia
raised her staff, twisting the end of it. A ball of yellow fire struck the
kerram on the shoulder, spinning him around and throwing him to the ground, the
sword clattering from his hand.

“Come
on, Tris,” Ander grabbed Tristan by the tunic and pressed him forward. “There’s
nothing for it now but to kill as many of the mongrels as we can.” Ander drove
his sword into the guard Ryia had just knocked down, wrenching the blade free
and flinging blood across the cavern wall. Then he plunged forward, sword
raised and a war cry spilling from his lips.

Ryia
and Tristan followed, but Loth held back, pausing to scan the broken cavern
floor, the tunnels and alcoves, the wooden ladders and catwalk. He drew an
arrow from his quiver, fitting it to the string, drawing and firing, all in one
swift motion. The arrow took one of the kerram on the catwalk in the throat.
The creature squealed, then pitched forward, dropping from the walkway like a
stone. A second arrow followed the first, leaving Loth’s bow before the first
kerram hit the floor. The arrow struck another kerram in the chest. The
creature gave a grunt and collapsed.

Loth
heard a popping sound and saw two yellow balls of flame roar across the cavern,
narrowly missing their targets. He saw Tristan cut down one of the staff-wielding
foes and Ander remove the head of the other. Some of the prisoners were
cheering now, forgotten hope kindling in their souls. A ferocious-looking
kerram with a whip was poised over them, trying to lash the prisoners into
submission. Loth put an arrow into the creature’s shoulder, causing him to drop
the whip, then put a second shaft through his eye, the point ripping out
through the back of the kerram’s skull as he fell.

An
assailant Loth had somehow missed rose up before him, swinging a curved sword.
Loth blocked the stroke with the haft of his bow, spinning as he drew his own
blade from its sheath. The clash of steel was like the ringing of a bell as the
two swords met. Loth swept his opponent’s blade to one side, then opened the
kerram’s throat with a backhanded slash. The kerram fell, his life’s blood spilling
onto the cold stone.

Ander,
Tristan, and Ryia were running across the uneven floor, dodging bursts of flame
from kerram staffs as they moved deeper into the cavern. Loth slung his bow and,
gripping his sword tightly in his fist, ran after them. Ryia reached the spot
where the whip-wielding kerram Loth had shot lay sprawled in a puddle of
crimson. Ander engaged two kerram guards, roaring like a bull, while Tristan
and Ryia quickly searched the kerram’s body, coming away with a set of keys on
a metal ring. Ryia went to work, unlocking fetters on the prisoners nearest her
while others shouted, clamoring for freedom.

Ander
opened the chest of one of the kerram with a powerful stroke, but a second
creature, who appeared to be something of a swordsman, pressed the Northman
hard, forcing him away from Tristan and Ryia. More guards appeared, but by then,
some of the prisoners were indeed joining the fray, wielding pickaxes and
shovels.

A
kerram sprang at Loth and he dodged the stroke by instinct more than design,
slashing his foe across the face with a vicious cut. Loth ran to where Tristan
and Ryia crouched, working at the shackles of the chained villagers. At that
moment he saw them. Three boys, all of whom looked to be brothers with dirty
faces and mops of tangled blond hair. They were cowering next to a wheelbarrow
filled with faintly glowing ore. A kerram with a whip was closing on them,
spittle flying from the creature’s jaws as it cursed and shouted, trying to
restore order. Loth pounced, putting himself in the kerram’s path. The guard
drew his sword, but Loth hewed through the kerram’s wrist, severing it. The
bloody hand, still gripping the sword hilt, fell away as Loth’s counterstroke tore
a bloody swath across the kerram’s torso. The creature staggered, fell, and did
not move again.

“Come
with me,” Loth reached for the nearest boy, taking him by his tunic and pulling
him to his feet. “I was sent by your mother and I will protect you!”

“Mama,”
one of the boys said.

“Is
father with you?” the second boy asked.

“Later,”
Loth said. “There is no time for talk now. First, we must get you out of here.”

The
beetle-like monstrosity had been going about its business, oblivious to the
battle, until a wayward ball of flame burst along the side of it. Ander was
using the monster for cover, an obstacle to the kerram’s repeated attempts to incinerate
him with their staffs. The beetle shuddered, jerked to a halt, then stilled
altogether. A moment later a pair of hatches opened on the thing’s back, and
two kerram emerged. They were bleary eyed and disheveled, their fur matted with
sweat. Ander pounced onto the beetle, grabbing hold of one of the kerram and
tossing him out onto the ground. The second kerram reached for a knife, but
Ander split his skull before he could draw it.
 

The
guards converged on the beetle and Ander found himself surrounded. Fortunately,
he had the high ground and he used it to fend off his attackers, blocking with
his shield and hewing down at them with his heavy blade.

“Ander!”
Tristan shouted. He scrambled forward and attacked the kerram’s flank. He cut
down one of the guards from behind, but two others turned to face him. Ander leaped
from the beetle’s back, trusting to his shield and armor, and using his body to
bowl over several of the kerram guards. He rolled, sprang to his feet and was
beside Tristan in an instant. The two men put their backs to each other, their
swords flashing in the yellow glow of the lamps.

“This
is almost as bad as that time--” Ander began, but Tristan suddenly cried out in
pain as a sword slashed his arm and his blade clattered to the ground. Ander
half turned, but a sword grated against his chainmail and another kerram aimed
a cut at his face. Ander narrowly avoided the blow. He ducked beneath it, cutting
the kerram across the thigh, then followed up by driving his elbow into the
other kerram’s snout, lifting the creature off his feet. The kerram crashed to
the floor and lay still.

Ander
raced away from the machine, searching for Tristan, and saw two guards dragging
him toward an odd-looking contraption against the back wall of the cave. The
thing looked like a wooden box, open on the front, with a collection of wheels and
pulleys above it and a track that ran up along the wall, disappearing into the
gloom. A third kerram waited inside the box, waving urgently to his companions.

Ander
glanced back to where Ryia stood, surrounded by people from the village, most
of whom had been freed from their chains and were now defending the girl with
whatever weapons were at hand. Loth was with them, appearing beside the girl
with three blond-haired boys clinging to him.

“Go!”
Ander shouted. “Get them out!”

Loth
turned to look at him, his face questioning. Ander nodded, waving him off. He noticed
that there were several strong men among the prisoners, all of whom had taken
up kerram swords and were now hewing a path toward the entrance of the cave,
urging the others to follow. But there was no time to see more. Ander turned
away, running after Tristan.

The
Northman ran across the cavern floor, moving as fast as he could. The kerram had
manhandled Tristan into the box. The youth’s arm was bleeding profusely but his
face was lit with fury as he fought against his two captors. The third kerram
began hauling on a rope and the box began moving, lifting up off the floor and
climbing up the wall.

“Onar’s
balls!” Ander swore. He threw his shield aside, jumped, and caught the edge of
the box with one hand. He dangled there for several heartbeats, breathing hard,
the weight of his hauberk like an anchor. He threw his sword arm up over the
edge of the box and tried to haul himself up. One of the kerram let go of
Tristan and reached for him. Ander thrust with his sword, stabbing the kerram
in the calf. The creature reared back, howling in pain. Ander swung a leg over,
rolled, and climbed awkwardly to his feet as the other kerram, still holding
Tristan with one hand, struck at Ander with his sword. Ander grabbed the
kerram’s wrist, butted him with his head, then pulled the stunned creature
forward and shoved him out the open door.

The
kerram with the bleeding calf wound swung his sword. Ander narrowly avoided the
blow, but lost his balance and staggered to the edge of the box, catching hold
of the side before he fell. The kerram raised his sword, but Tristan shoved him
from behind. The kerram pitched over the side of the box and disappeared. Ander
looked down just in time to see him slam into the cavern floor below. The
remaining kerram, who had been hauling on the rope the entire time, released it,
bringing the box to a shuddering halt, and reached for his sword. But Ander,
recovering his footing, drove his sword into the kerram’s belly. The creature
squealed, then groaned as Ander wrenched the blade free. The kerram staggered
forward and Ander shoved him out of the box with a booted foot.

“Tristan,”
Ander said, moving to his friend. Tristan slumped against the wall, blood
dripping from his fingertips. “Half a moment.” Ander tore the opposing sleeve
from Tristan’s tunic and used it to wrap the wound, cinching it tightly. The youth
grimaced, clenching his jaw.

“Let’s
see if we can’t get this thing back on the ground. Once we’re clear of the
cavern the elluen should be able to--” with a jerk the box began moving again.

Ander
turned, reaching for the rope. The kerram had been pulling on it and somehow
raising the box. Now it appeared to be moving by itself. Ander took hold of the
rope, managing to halt their progress for a brief time, but someone was
fighting him from above. He looked up and could see light, a hole in the
ceiling. The rope twisted, tearing loose from his hands and tearing flesh from
his fingers. They were moving again.

“Onar
and Iden!” Ander swore. He looked down at the cavern floor sixty feet below. It
was too far to jump, much too far.

“Tristan!”
Ryia and Loth stood at the mouth of the cave as the prisoners ran up the tunnel.
The girl had her hands cupped around her mouth, but Ander could see the worry
on her face.

“Get
them out!” Ander called. “Don’t wait for us.”

“Come
down,” Ryia shouted.

“We
can’t!” He looked down at the cavern floor, then back up at Ryia again. “Tristan
and I can handle this. We’ll find you, but get them out now while there’s still
a chance.”

A
ball of flame hit the wall close to Ryia’s head. Loth shot the kerram holding
the staff, then grabbed the girl’s arm, pulling her into the tunnel.

“Cut
the rope,” Tristan suggested.

“If
I do that,” Ander said, still watching Loth, “this thing falls to the ground
and kills us both. Just hang on. Wherever we’re going, we’ll be there soon
enough.”