“With you to lead us, I believe we could hold back anything.”
Wolff looked away with a pained expression on his face. “I can’t,” he
muttered. He handed his torch to Ratboy and placed a hand on the young captain’s
arm. “Join me in prayer, for a moment,” he said. He led Felhamer to the far
corner of the old barn and they knelt together on the straw. Ratboy could not
hear their words, but as the priest led Felhamer in a series of muttered
catechisms, the air began to hum with a tangible energy that tingled deep in his
bones and raised the hairs on his arms. The torches spat and flickered oddly,
and a sense of foreboding filled the room, as though a great storm were brewing.
Ratboy saw that Anna and the guards had noticed it too; they were looking around
nervously at the lurching shadows and had placed their hands on the hilts of
their weapons, as though expecting an attack.
After a few minutes, Wolff and Felhamer rose to their feet and returned to
the top of the steps. The captain’s face was transformed. The fear had vanished
from his eyes and there was a stern, determined line to his jaw. As he gripped
Wolff’s arm, his hand was trembling with emotion. “Good luck, Brother Wolff,” he
said. “I shall not forget what you did for us here today. Whatever unholy powers
your brother has allied himself to, I doubt they’ll be a match for such
unshakable faith as yours.”
Wolff nodded but his eyes were full of doubt. He gave no reply as he stepped
down into the darkness.
“Stay close,” muttered the priest as he trotted quickly down the steps. As
his boots clattered across the ancient stone, the sound was swallowed by the
thick gloom. The light from their torches only reached a few feet either side of
them, but every now and then Ratboy glimpsed pale, delicate columns, rearing up
into the blackness.
“Who could have built these rooms?” he whispered, afraid to disturb the
centuries-old silence.
“Who can say?” replied Wolff, without breaking his stride. “The world is old
beyond reckoning. Man was certainly not the first race to inhabit these northern
regions. Older, stranger folk came here long before we did.” As he turned to
face Ratboy and Anna, the flickering light threw deep shadows across his brutal
features. “Some say that it was the dabbling of those ancient peoples that
unleashed the winds of magic on the world; that they unshackled the Ruinous
Powers and gave them access to our realm.” He shrugged and turned away. “But if
such a people ever did inhabit this place, they fled long ago, leaving us to
deal with the consequences of their hubris.”
Wolff paused as they reached the bottom step, and held his torch over the map
Felhamer had given him.
As the priest frowned at the scrap of parchment, Ratboy held his own torch
aloft, peering into the gaping void that surrounded them. His light revealed
nothing but rat bones and a few pale spiders that scuttled quickly back into the
shadows. The air seemed different this far down though, and his throat grew
tight at the thought of all the earth above their heads. A thousand childhood
tales nagged at the edge of his memory: tales of creatures that lived below the
earth. Were these chambers really uninhabited, he wondered?
“This way,” barked Wolff as he strode off to the left.
Ratboy and Anna had to move quickly to keep pace with the priest’s broad
strides, but they were keen not to lose sight of his torch. Without a map, it
would be all too easy to get lost in the maze of archways and tunnels. They
rushed through a succession of ornately carved doorways and Ratboy sensed from
the echoes of their footfalls that each room they entered was slightly smaller
than the last. As they crossed the third room, a flash of light caught his eye.
Something was reflecting the glare of their torches. He guessed it was only a
few feet away and veered off from Wolff’s light for a minute to get a closer
look.
“Ratboy,” snapped Anna, from behind, “what are you doing?”
Her voice echoed strangely through the darkness and Wolff stopped immediately
to see what was happening.
“There’s something over here,” replied Ratboy, lowering his torch towards the
glittering object. As the light washed over the dusty stone, a pale face grinned
up at him and Ratboy yelped with shock.
“What’s that?” cried Wolff, dashing over to his side and thrusting his torch
towards the object. A skeleton lay sprawled across the flagstones. It was
fractured, ancient, and obviously not human. The limbs were unnaturally slender
and the skull was elongated in a way that none of them had ever seen before.
Clutched in its hand was a slender, curved sword. Most of the blade was hidden
beneath centuries of dust and cobwebs, but a tiny section of the hilt flashed
merrily in the shifting firelight.
Anna staggered back from the bones with a look of horror on her face. “Don’t
touch it,” she gasped, “it’s some kind of daemon.”
Ratboy didn’t hear her. The glittering metal entranced him and before Wolff
could stop him, he reached down and grabbed the sword.
“Let me see that,” growled the priest, snatching it away from him. He wiped
away the dust and muck and held the sword up to his face. The blade flashed in
the torchlight, scattering lances of brilliance around the chamber and revealing
tantalising glimpses of the crumbling architecture. The sword itself was a thing
of incredible beauty, and of a similar design to the knife Felhamer had showed
them earlier. Delicate scrollwork ran along its entire length, depicting
astrological symbols, and a series of long, sculpted characters were entwined
around single red stone embedded in the hilt. Wolff peered at the sword for a
few minutes, turning it slowly in his hands. Then he shrugged, and handed it
back. “This is no ordinary weapon,” he said, looking closely at Ratboy, “but I
can’t see anything
unnatural
about its manufacture.” He watched as Ratboy
cradled the sword in his trembling hands. “It seems strange that it’s lain here
for all these centuries, hidden from everyone and yet the second you entered the
room, you noticed it.”
Ratboy boy’s eyes were wide with excitement as he ran a finger along the edge
of the blade. He snatched his hand away with a gasp and placed his finger in his
mouth. “Still sharp,” he muttered, “after all this time.”
Wolff nodded. “It’s a good sword.” He placed a hand on Ratboy’s shoulder.
“Just be sure to tell me if you notice anything strange about it.” He looked at
the twitching shadows that surrounded them. “Well made is one thing, but an
aspirant priest should always be on the look out for any signs of sorcery or
occultism.”
Ratboy’s face flushed with pride at the suggestion he could even aspire to
being a priest. As they marched out of the chamber, he felt as though he had
discovered two prizes in the dark beneath Mercy’s End.
They passed into another chamber that smelled strongly of damp and rotting
vegetation. Ratboy frowned at the overpowering stench and, after slotting the
sword securely in his belt, he held his hand over his mouth to try to block out
some of the stink. He looked back at Anna and she twisted her face into an
exaggerated grimace.
They reached a doorway so wide that even when Ratboy stretched his arms out
to their full extent, he couldn’t touch the sides. It led into a broad, empty
passageway that continued onwards, arrow straight for as far as they could see.
“This is the central route that leads up into the hills,” said Wolff, pausing
for a moment so that they could catch their breath. He removed one of his
vambraces and massaged the bruised muscles of his forearm. “The next attack will
have already begun,” he said in a voice tinged with regret. “And I fear we
hadn’t seen the half of what Mormius had in store for Felhamer.”
Anna shrugged. “I don’t think we saw all that Felhamer had in store for the
enemy either. There’s a strength in him that won’t be easily broken.”
Wolff nodded as he pulled his armour back on and strode forwards. “You’re
right, sister,” he said, as they rushed after him. “But I can’t help feeling
I’ve sent a good man to his grave. Many good men, in fact.”
Anna gave a hollow laugh that echoed strangely around the passageway. “Isn’t
that your job, Brother Wolff?”
They walked in an awkward silence for a while, each lost in their own
thoughts. After a while, the passageway began to slope upwards and the
atmosphere grew a little less oppressive.
“This must be it,” said Wolff after nearly an hour had passed. Their torches
lit up a pair of massive stone doors at the end of the passageway. “If Felhamer
was right, they should open out onto the far side of the valley.” As he reached
the doors, he pressed his shoulder against them and shoved. The hinges groaned
and the doors moved, but only an inch or so, and Wolff gave a bitter laugh.
“They’re locked,” he said, peering through the gap. “There’s a chain on the
other side.” He stepped back and lifted his warhammer from his back. “Stand
clear,” he said, as he prepared to smash it against the stone.
“Wait,” cried Anna, grabbing his arm. “You must be joking. Those doors are a
foot thick. You’ll break your arm.”
“Master,” said Ratboy, rushing up to the door and drawing his new sword. “Let
me try.”
Wolff drew breath to speak, then shrugged and stepped back.
Ratboy peered through the gap and then slid the slender blade carefully
through it. After a moment’s pause, he lifted the sword and then brought it down
with a grunt of exertion. It sliced downwards with a flash of sparks and
clattered on the flagstones. Ratboy turned to give Wolff a mischievous grin
before gently pushing the doors open to reveal the star-laden heavens beyond.
The chain dangled at the edge of the door, sliced neatly through the middle.
“Well made indeed,” he said, proudly twirling his sword as he strode out into
the cool night air.
As Felhamer had promised, they emerged nearly a mile away from Mercy’s End.
The door was cut into the far side of a small hollow, and the Forest of Shadows
was spread out below them, for as far as the eye could see. They closed the
doors carefully behind them and replaced the nettles and branches that grew over
them. As they stepped out onto the hillside, Ratboy noticed with surprise that
the doors had completely disappeared from view. He remembered his master’s
instruction to be vigilant for signs of sorcery, but bit his tongue. If the
doors had remained hidden for all these centuries, he did not think he should be
the one to ask why.
They clambered up to the top of the hill, savouring the cool night air and
the open sky above their heads. Once they had reached the summit, they looked
back towards the castle. It was adrift amongst an ocean of flickering lights and
even from this distance there was something sinister about the fires. Greens and
blues mingled with the more natural yellows and every now and then great gouts
of flame would erupt from one of the lumbering, indistinct shapes that towered
over the crush of smaller figures.
“They’re still holding on,” said Wolff, with a note of awe.
Ratboy peered at the castle and saw that his master was right. Fire had
spread all along the battlements, but Felhamer’s banners were still flying. The
black and white designs were tinged a sickly green by the daemonic fires raging
beneath them, but they were a clear sign that the citadel had not fallen.
“What happened to Gryphius?” exclaimed Anna suddenly. “Is he still down
there?”
Wolff nodded. “I think I may have underestimated him. I took him for a mere
dilettante, but he has proved himself to be much more than that.” He turned to
Anna and noticed the tears that suddenly glistened in her eyes. “There’s nothing
to be done for a man such as that, sister. His wounds are old and deep. But I
assured him that he will find peace at last in this battle—whatever the
outcome.”
“Peace in death, you mean?” she snapped. “Do you really think the only way to
ease a broken heart is to stop it?”
Wolff shrugged. “We should keep moving,” he said, ignoring her question and
turning away from the besieged ruin. “We aren’t safe travelling in such a small
group. The sooner we can find von Raukov’s army the better.”
With that he jogged down the hill towards the trees, leaving his acolyte to
bear the brunt of Anna’s fury.
“Pig-headed hammer hurler,” she muttered, scowling at the priest’s back. She
turned on Ratboy. “Why do you people always believe bloodshed is such a
cure-all?”
Ratboy shrugged, in unconscious imitation of his master and moved to follow
him.
“Wait,” said Anna, grabbing his arm. “How’s your hand?”
Ratboy paused as she removed the bandages.
“Improving a bit, I think,” she said, in the same angry tones. She unclasped
a small bag that was slung over her shoulder, and removed a large dried leaf. As
she pressed it onto the wound, Ratboy’s eyes widened with pain. “Don’t be such a
child,” she said as she replaced the bandages and rushed after the quickly
disappearing Wolff. “It will do you good.”
As they reached the edge of the trees, Wolff paused and looked up at the
shadow moon, Morrslieb. It was hanging unusually low in the sky and seemed to be
almost resting on the black, shifting peaks of the forest. As Ratboy and Anna
approached, gasping for breath, he turned to them with an odd smile. “What a
choice,” he said, gesturing to the trees. “Take our chances beneath these malign
boughs, or risk the open country.”
“I’ve spent my entire life crossing this forest,” replied Anna. “The trees
themselves are no more dangerous than a field of corn.” She shrugged. “And wise
travellers know how to move without calling too much attention to themselves.”
She waved at the hills that surrounded them. “Mormius will doubtless have many
more recruits heading this way. I think it would be safest to use the cover of
the trees.”