Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments (36 page)

Before going any further Toil pulled a small wooden pot from her pocket and carefully unscrewed the lid. Inside was a whitish substance that glowed in the arcane light of her lantern. She dipped one finger in and covered the whole tip before replacing the lid.

‘What’s that?’ Kas asked.

‘Old relic hunter’s trick,’ she said. ‘Well, the ones who don’t just kill everything in sight, anyway.’

‘Ain’t that more your style?’

‘Just folk who deserve it or get in my way,’ she said pointedly. ‘You can trust Wisps more’n people, though, and this is their home ground, which could be the advantage we need.’

With the pot tucked safely away she shouldered her gun and gestured for the others to do the same. That done they headed through the room and into a small tunnel, low enough to make Reft duck his head but short enough for Lynx to cross without rekindling the fear in his belly. Beyond that appeared to be some sort of shrine room. A complex array of interlocking stone arches running from floor to ceiling occupyed most of the centre of the room. At the heart of it on a broad pedestal was a massive crystal geode that glittered with remarkable light as Toil picked her way through the arches.

While the others marvelled at the light – Sitain enraptured – Toil merely sniffed and passed by without a second glance, heading for a wider doorway on the far side. As Lynx neared it he began to detect a warm, organic scent that seemed to have no place underground and he realised there was faint light coming from beyond. Down another spiral slope, this one glittering with crystals, the light grew and Lynx started to be able to make out colours in the rock. As the tunnel opened out on to a large room he saw green and red lichens on the walls and floor with a trodden path running down the centre. Scents filled his nose as he walked, nothing he recognised, while the sound of trickling water came from all around. Sweet and earthy organic odours, a faintly acrid smell of smoke and musky scents he couldn’t guess at all mingled in the air, but as his eyes adjusted Lynx immediately forgot about them as he gasped at the sight ahead.

They stood on a high ridge of rock that led down to a great dark lake two hundred yards in length. It was studded with small islands that surrounded each of several dozen natural columns which supported the undulating ceiling. Strata of shining rocks shone down over it all, whether crystal or not Lynx couldn’t tell, but somehow a strange sort of garden had grown up across the cavern.

It was made up of moss-like plants in the main, but larger shrubs rose up from the bigger islands and twisting sprays of blue spotted the edges of most formations. Oval leaves with a white star-shaped flower at each end floated alone or in clumps on the water, while trailing curtains of brilliant green clung to columns and outer walls. Insects darted through the air, some dark and others perfectly white, while V-shapes in the water betrayed the movement of something just below the surface.

Toil walked to the top of the grooved slope leading down to the first of the columns, but instead of descending she knelt and bowed her head. The mercenaries stared at her in surprise but after a moment she glanced back and gestured for them to do the same. One by one they did, Sitain the last to do so, being too occupied by the dark shadows on the walls until Varain grabbed her arm and dragged her to her knees.

There was a long moment of quiet, but then the Wisps stepped forward into the light.

‘Looks like our quarry’s gone to ground,’ Sergeant Oudagan commented. The man was stood beside the empty cave mouth that Exalted Uvrel was glaring at. ‘Want me to flush ’em out?’

The man was idly tossing a grenade up and down in his hand, an evil smirk on his face.

‘I can see that grenade’s not primed, Sergeant,’ Uvrel said, not bothering to look directly at him, ‘but you’re making the cavalry nervous.’

Oudagan’s grin widened. He tilted his head to look around her at the main troop of Knights-Charnel. ‘Why’d you think I’m doing it?’

‘Enough.’ Uvrel went back to staring at the cave in silence.

The last thing she wanted to do was pursue them underground, for tactical reasons as much as the skittishness of her command. The dragoons and grenadiers would be no problem, but the rest would likely drag their feet or even refuse. The fear of Duegar ruins was ingrained for many and taking a soldier out of their comfort zone was asking for trouble. Lines from the creed of Insar’s worshippers appeared in her mind –
to embrace the dark, the holy stillness of night
– but she doubted their daily prayers would be in the minds of most.

‘Sauren, how are we for torches?’

The lieutenant hurried forward. ‘Some, not many. Not enough to cross the entire city-ruin.’

‘Mebbe there’s light down there,’ Oudagan suggested. ‘Duegar can’t have used torches all the time. Burn all the air bad.’

‘They lived there,’ Uvrel pointed out. ‘I doubt they needed to see as we do. Anything that may once have been down there will likely be long since looted by relic hunters anyway.’ She shook her head and turned away. ‘We can’t risk the ambush either. It’s too confined, just takes one burner to hit a grenadier and we’re all dead.’

‘Grenades’ll spread fire a lot further down any tunnel.’

‘Grenades can’t be thrown too far if the ceiling’s low and unless you can see in the dark, you don’t know where you’re throwing. No – we follow the ridgeline. That runs all the way to the city proper. If we can get ahead of them we can set an ambush of our own.’

Uvrel twisted in her saddle to call behind her. ‘Commander Quentes, gather the mercenaries’ horses and bring them with us. Set a few troopers to watch the cave, in case they try to double back. They’d be fools to attempt it on foot when the ford is under guard, but let’s not overestimate the intelligence of these mercenaries. They
have
chosen to enter Shadows Deep, after all.’

Lynx heard his comrades gasp or breathe soft curses at the sight, but his astonishment was so complete he couldn’t even move. There were four Wisps up on the ridge with the mercenaries, but he caught sight of more moving on the nearer shore of the lake. The Wisps were tall, about Reft’s height and similarly pale but slender where he was muscular. Their narrow hairless heads sported four large cat-slit eyes – an upper pair set slightly wider and higher than a human’s, and a lower pair where a jaw hinge should be. The mouths were almost invisible, just a narrow opening below a short flare of a nose.

They wore complex wrapped lengths of cloth around their torsos that bore intricate swirling patterns, while their arms and legs seemed to be covered in something more like leather – textured with ridges or scales and all segmented to allow for a double set of joints in each limb. Three carried hooked axes on their belts but none had the weapons drawn – instead they all four had their hands outstretched towards the mercenaries. In the palm of each was a flicker of movement. Flames danced over the skin of two while a trio of pebbles spun slowly in another’s hand and a coil of darkness in the last one’s – four mages all standing guard together, as many as Lynx had actually spoken to in his entire life.

The stand-off continued for half a dozen heartbeats, then the Wisp holding the darkness make a gesture with its free hand. One of the fire-holders closed their long fingers and extinguished the flame before moving to kneel before Toil to echo her pose. As it did so Lynx saw two of its fingers glow with a similar dull light to the rocks in the tunnel. Toil raised her hand and made some gesture which the Wisp returned in one fluid sweep.

Toil continued to move her whitened fingertip through the air, hesitantly at first but then with a greater fluency. The mage, the largest of its kind, with a grey darkened brow, watched her intently, fingers folded inward to partially obscure the light.

‘What’s going on?’ Ashis asked, her voice startlingly loud in the hush. ‘We dead yet?’

‘They’re talking,’ Lynx whispered back.

‘Eh? I don’t hear ’em.’

‘Talking with their hands. Look.’

Ashis blinked. ‘Oh. That’s fucking weird.’

‘Someone shut her up,’ Toil called back, pausing in her gestures.

‘You heard the woman,’ Anatin snapped. ‘Let her work.’

It didn’t take long. A minute or two more, just as Lynx’s knees were starting to ache, Toil gave a grunt and stood up as the Wisp stepped away.

‘All good?’ Anatin asked.

She nodded. ‘Aye.’

‘Just like that?’

Toil shrugged. ‘They don’t give much of a shit about humans, one of the reasons why I like ’em. So long as we don’t cause trouble for their kind or their light-gardens, we’re fine. They appreciated a warning about the Charnelers; they’ll pack their things and head home to pass on the word. The Orders don’t have the best history with Wisps, you won’t be surprised to hear.’

‘Light-gardens?’

She gestured to the lake. ‘Places like this, where they grow most o’ their food.’

‘What about us?’

‘We’re going with them.’ Toil smiled. ‘Bit of escort duty, you lot should be good at it by now. Better, anyway.’

‘Escorting what?’

‘The thirds, down there, and whatever’s been harvested.’

‘Thirds?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Watching dark, don’t you know anything about Wisps?’

That produced a scowl from Anatin and a general round of non-committal grunts from the rest. Lynx kept quiet. He’d been surprised they even wore proper clothes, of a fashion – from what little he’d heard Lynx had been expecting animal skins and warpaint.

Toil nodded towards the stone mage. ‘He’s male,’ she said, ‘the other three warriors are female.’

‘So what are thirds?’

‘What I call the others, not like there’s a word I can speak for it. The thirds look different to the males and females.’

‘Slaves?’

‘Nah – a third sex. They’re the ones that carry the children, all three make ’em though.’

‘All three?’ asked several of the mercenaries at once in varying tones of disgust and wonder. Kas cackled loudly, startling the Wisps.

‘All three,’ Toil confirmed. ‘Don’t ask how it works, I never got that close to proceedings.’

As she spoke, more Wisps came up the slope from the lakeside, each of them wearing tall reed baskets on their backs, mostly containing plants Lynx couldn’t identify. The last basket held small fish, some still wriggling fresh from the water amid the coils of what he assumed was some sort of eel. Several of the Wisps themselves were noticeably shorter and thicker in the torso than the others, the thirds Lynx assumed, but others were clearly male or female. They all filed past the mercenaries, sparing them only what seemed curious glances, while two of the warriors led the way out.

‘Come on,’ Toil said, hefting her mage-gun again. ‘We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.’

As Lynx went through into the first chamber he saw the Wisp warriors moving with an eerie silent grace as they stalked towards the grille, magic ready. It didn’t take them long to be satisfied that the great tunnel was empty and the whole group started off along the level road towards Shadows Deep. Lynx saw that the Wisps had no lanterns of their own, just the faint glow from their fingertips when they conversed, which illuminated nothing.

He shivered at the thought, a crawling sensation on his skin as he imagined a life underground all too easily. The memories slithered back into his mind; cramped half-lit tunnels, the stink of bodies and headaches from the poor air. His heart began to judder, his chest tightening as he felt the prickle of sweat on his skin. With an effort Lynx fought his memories back, forced himself to look up at the high ceiling above and send his thoughts away from fears of the dark.

He looked around him and saw Sitain nearby, one hand perched nervously on the butt of her mage-pistol. Suddenly he was desperate to talk, to hear a normal voice pierce the cloying dark that surrounded them and seemed to seep inside him with every breath.

‘Sitain,’ he whispered, sidling over to the young woman. ‘How far can you see?’

‘Down the tunnel?’

‘Aye. Further than the light o’ the lantern?’

She squinted forward. ‘I guess. The rough shape of the tunnel anyway, no detail. Why?’

‘Just trying to work out what advantages we’ve got down here. What if you let a little magic out to play?’

Sitain shrugged and didn’t reply, but from the little Lynx could see she seemed to be focusing on doing what he’d asked. Before she could say anything the nearest of the Wisps gave a start and turned its narrow face her way. It was one of the thirds, a half-f basket on its back and a long robe down to its lower set of knees. It blinked its lower eyes twice in quick succession then rubbed its hands together with a papery rasp. One of the others made a long fluid gesture with its glowing finger and others joined in the rasping of palms.

‘What’re they saying, Toil?’ Sitain said, alarmed.

‘Don’t worry, it wasn’t very rude,’ Toil replied with a small laugh. ‘No malice in it, just friendly mocking, like you might a child.’

‘Aye well, they don’t get strung up or sold off for magery.’ Sitain scowled. ‘Sure they’ve had more time to practise.’ She looked at Lynx. ‘I can see better now, further. Wouldn’t be able to hold it for too long, but at a pinch, sure.’

‘Hey, Reft,’ called Varain from behind them. ‘You sure these ain’t your people? You half Wisp or something?’

‘Ulfer’s horn, there’s a thought!’ Anatin said. ‘Would explain a few things. What you say, Reft?’

The big man shook his head but before they could press him Toil spoke up again. ‘Keep it down back there. Sound travels well underground. Best we keep it to a minimum less we attract something nasty.’

Lynx bit back a reply, pursed his lips and kept his eyes on Toil up ahead instead. The anxiety settled back around him again like a cold blanket tightening, but he ignored it as best he could, trying to focus elsewhere. There was little distraction to be had, though. The darkness was a veil he wanted to ignore and no sound reached him beyond the crunch of dirt beneath human feet and the soft pad of the Wisps.

The dry and still air carried only the faint musky sweat of his comrades and an earthy, bitter smell he guessed was the Wisps, so he contented himself with watching the sway of Toil’s hips instead. The memory of her naked was an easy one to conjure up, it was burned into his mind, and once more he cursed himself for just standing there like some gormless little boy.