Scarred Man (21 page)

‘Maida,' he whispered.

Maida gasped as if taken by surprise by his audacity.

‘What are you doing here?' she said breathlessly.

Lying silent and motionless in her own bed, Myrrhini almost laughed out loud in disbelief.
How could anyone be fooled by that?

Clearly Patecoatl was. He swept into the room to kneel beside Maida's bed and took her hand in his.

‘I had to come,' he all but sighed. ‘I couldn't bear to think of you locked up in here.'

‘Well, you know what you can do about that.'

‘I can't just release you. You know that.'

‘It's all I want, all I need.'

‘I thought …' Patecoatl did not finish the sentence.

Myrrhini had to clench her teeth together to prevent herself from bursting out in laughter.
Was the man such an idiot? How could he not see what she was doing?

What happened next made her reconsider her opinion of him. When Maida sat up in bed, allowing the blankets to fall away from her near-naked body, he rose slightly to embrace and kiss her. Maida returned his caresses with fervour. He stood up and allowed her to wrestle his clothes from his body before lifting the covers and climbing into bed with her.

Perhaps he knows exactly what game she is playing, and is simply playing along.

Myrrhini tried not to listen to the sounds of passion and the whispered words of endearment, but could not block them out. She did not dare move, unless she reminded Patecoatl that there was another person in the room with them, as he had so clearly forgotten. The sounds of their lovemaking grew in intensity until Maida cried out. Myrrhini blushed hot and red in her own bed and looked away.

She had forgotten the rodent that had scurried in earlier and in the moons' light she saw it again, sitting on the table with its head cocked to one side as if concentrating on the activities going on in the bed. When Maida cried out again, it moved swiftly, leaping from the table onto the floor.

The moment its claws touched the ground, it changed. Myrrhini could not help but scream in terror as the rodent shifted before her eyes, becoming a huge black cat with a stiff yellow mane. It roared and sprang onto the bed. Patecoatl had barely time to roll off Maida to see his death land on his chest, its claws raking, its gaping jaws closing on his face. Blood splattered across the room, some landing hot and heavy on Myrrhini's face. Both women screamed as Patecoatl's lifeless body fell to the ground, slashed and ripped, bitten and torn by the massive black feline who now stood over the body, dripping blood, a savage growl rumbling in its chest.

Maida stopped screaming and stared hard at the cat. Incredibly, she rose from her bed and approached it.

‘Tatya?' she said. ‘Is that you?'

The City of the Wall loomed over Keshik as he ran towards it. He knew the base was dotted with caverns and fissures, but that all of the entrances were guarded from within, above and on every side. The one time he had sought entrance before, he had come with a small merchant caravan, seeking trade with the secretive Wall dwellers.

They had entered what felt like a cave, but was in fact a carved entrance hall. At regular intervals along either side, in the floor and overhead, there were narrow slits, through which light shone fitfully. Keshik had not needed to hear the occasional scrape of metal against stone or the creak of bows being drawn to know that they were being tracked by alert guards. At the massive, ancient doors, their requests for entrance were refused once, and then their knocking was not again heeded. For two days the desperate merchant camped in the shadow of the massive structure before giving up and heading east to seek a ship across the Great River of Kings. It took another six days to reach the end of the canyon that lay before the Wall and a further three to
negotiate passage. The delay did not ruin the merchant, but it came close.

And now Keshik ran towards the same obdurate structure seeking entrance by stealth. Overhead, a wyvern screeched its characteristic cry and every member of the running troop dived instinctively to the ground as the beast swung low. They were notoriously dim-witted, but their eyesight was keen.

It swooped fast, and the archers securely strapped on its back trained their weapons downwards, seeking what had alerted their mount, but like that of their wyvern, their eyesight was better at detecting movement than motionless dark shapes against a dark ground. After a few passes, the wyvern screeched again and rose high into the sky to continue its patrol.

As soon as it lifted its head, the troop was on the move and they reached the base of the Wall without drawing the attention of any more wyverns.

The night was darker, bleaker, crouched at the very foundations of the Wall. Where he rested his hands against the stone, Keshik could feel the cold that had seeped through from the eternally flowing river, so far below. He could also sense the low hum, the rumble of ancient magic that kept the gate functioning. As many stories were told about the origin of the magics as were told of the origin of the Wall itself, and the only thing he was sure of was that whatever had raised this Wall and kept it functioning was long gone from the world.

A hand grabbed his sleeve, breaking his reverie. He looked up to see a flash of white as a cloth was raised, then lowered: the signal to move again. The woman
beside him started edging along the Wall. Keshik followed. They slipped silently past several openings before Guaman stopped at an unremarkable patch of darkness. He crouched and peered into it.

After a short while, he straightened up.

‘Sssa,' he hissed. ‘Here.'

Three members of the troop moved silently out of their positions and slipped into the dark area, ducking low. Keshik waited with the others for what seemed like an eternity until they returned. Hand gestures were exchanged. Keshik was unable to see the gestures, but Guaman's reaction suggested he had found what he wanted. Keshik was gathered into a group with three others who entered the darkness under the nondescript rock overhang.

The sudden change from normal night to the inky blackness of underground was palpable. Keshik felt as if he had instantly shifted into a new world that had never known light. The dark was so tangible as to be almost felt. It swallowed any sounds they made, leaving him feeling deaf as well as blind. He moved slowly, concentrating on feeling his way. His right hand rested on a wall and his feet edged forward, seeking anything on the ground. Beneath his fingers, the stone was smooth and cool, slightly damp.

They walked like that, in silence, in utter dark, until Keshik lost all sense of time and direction. He followed as they turned corners, walked along passages sloping up and down and twisting this way and that. It seemed that someone knew where they were going as there was no halt or hesitation as they slowly moved deeper into the Wall. Without
warning they stopped, causing a small clatter of noise — welcome in the oppressive silence — as they bumped into each other.

Keshik heard a soft whisper make its way along the line as the command was passed down from Guaman.

‘We rest here.'

Keshik turned his head and repeated the words. When the whispering stopped, it was replaced by a muted rattle and scrape as they lowered themselves to the ground. It was only when he allowed himself to stop and sit down that Keshik realised how exhausted he was. It was not just how far they had come, it was the tension. He had been tense ever since the wyvern had swooped them and now that he was not moving, all the tension caught up with him. He slumped forward, allowing his swords to scrape loudly against the stone wall, earning a jab in the side and a harsh hiss.

‘No sounds,' the voice said into his ear.

He bit off his instinctive reply and stared into the blackness, wondering where they were, where they were going and what they would be doing when they got there.

After an unmeasurable time, he was jabbed again and pulled up. He had been dreamlessly asleep, but he awoke fully. Some food was thrust into his hand and he ate it as he followed along. Again the silence and the darkness enveloped him, leaving him alone amid this strange troop on their unlikely mission.

Some time later, he saw a flash of light. At first, he thought it was his eyes playing a trick, but the flash
reappeared, then steadied, then started moving towards them. Slowly a man appeared. The light showed him to be pale with fair hair that hung low to almost cover dark eyes. He was dressed in a leather jerkin and pants with heavy boots on his feet. At his side hung a Warrior's Claw not unlike Slave's.

The man stopped in front of Guaman and gave a short bow before speaking in a peculiar, somewhat sibilant and lilting tongue. Guaman answered in the same language. The two of them talked for a short while before the man carrying the light turned and started leading them further on, deeper into the Wall, but more upwards. They passed many side tunnels, stepped around pits and ducked under unexpected projections, all of which they would have missed without the light leading them.

They marched in silence, but ahead there were sounds, strange to Keshik's ears. At a junction of three tunnels, Guaman held his hand up to call a halt. He turned and hissed a command in the sibilant tongue. Everyone in the troop, except Keshik at first, unsheathed their swords. He followed suit. At Guaman's next gesture, they all advanced in attack formation along the left-hand passage.

Unlike all the passages they had traversed so far, this one was wide enough for four and smoother, with fewer loose rocks on the floor. Keshik walked on the right-hand side of his band of four — almost none of whose names he knew — three from the front, awaiting the battle to come.

Rounding a corner, he saw a guarded door ten paces ahead. The first rank fell on the two guards
and had them down before they could call out. Guaman ripped the keys from one guard and unlocked the door, pushing it aside without hesitation. He gave a rapid series of signals and the first four ranks sprinted ahead, through the open door into the room beyond. Without speaking a word or uttering a cry of any sort, the sixteen fighters spread out and engaged the surprised men sitting at tables, talking quietly or playing dice or lying on simple cots. It was simple slaughter done in heartbeats. None of the men were armed or prepared in any way. Some of them showed no signs of being fighters and fell to their knees at the first sign of the attack, but they were hacked down without pause.

Keshik wiped the blood off his blades and resheathed them as he watched the others ransack the room. There was something odd about them. They weren't simply looting as was the custom with soldiers, they were leaving valuable trinkets, even coin, behind while they hunted. It dawned on him suddenly — they were searching for something specific. He shrugged and pocketed whatever took his eye. If they were leaving the goods behind, there was no reason he should. After a while, one of them looked up and caught Guaman's eye. He shook his head slightly and Guaman nodded. He gestured and two men moved to open the door that led out of the room while the others formed up behind them, ready.

The door was not locked and it opened smoothly onto another room. It was as well the murder done in the first room had been silent, for there were ten armed men standing at the ready, guarding a large metal door opposite. There was no stunned surprise
here: the guards reacted with the speed of trained warriors. One nocked an arrow and brought down an invader, another took two steps to one side and struck a large bell, while the remaining eight drew swords and advanced.

The troop surged forward, spreading out to allow as many of their number in as possible, but the guards copied their action, so that the two groups met in the middle of the room with a clash of steel. The guards shouted, but the invaders remained disciplined and silent, even when cut down. Keshik was engaged quickly, but for all his training, the guard was no match for him and he went down without landing a blow. An arrow sliced the air past his cheek to land with a soggy thud in the throat of the man behind him. Keshik stepped forward to engage the next guard, but in the close quarters of the fight, one of his swords snagged on someone close and, for a moment, left him undefended on the left. Again, the guards were shown to be little more than armed amateurs and his opponent failed to take the chance.

He wrenched his blade free and cut the man down. For a fleeting moment, he had a space around him, so he sought the archer who was still firing into the melee. So far he had brought down three and, as Keshik saw him, he was taking aim on another. Keshik spat a curse in Tusemon at him, causing him to falter and look around. When their eyes met, the archer shifted his aim to Keshik. It was what he had wanted. He lowered his blades, as if in expectation of death, but when the archer loosed his arrow, Keshik slashed upwards and cut
the shaft from the air. The archer's eyes widened as he realised what had happened. Before he had the chance to nock the next arrow, the Swordmaster was upon him.

The room fell silent. Keshik looked around. All the guards were down, along with six of the troop, of whom at least three would never rise. Keshik was surprised when Guaman gestured to another man who quickly killed the three wounded. When he was done with his bloody work, he wiped his knife on the coat of one of his former colleagues. He gave the salute to the dead — raising the blade in front of his face — and stood. Guaman gave a curt nod before gesturing to move on.

Beyond the door was a room the likes of which Keshik had never imagined possible. It stretched, perfectly straight, as far as he could see, and was lit at regular intervals. Dominating the whole scene was a vast slab of rock that extended apparently the length of the room. Attached along the slab maybe three paces apart were heavy chains, each link of which was about as tall as a man and as thick as a man's torso. The chains rose high above the top of the slab to disappear into darkness. The sheer scale of the room was intimidating.

The air was thick with moisture and water lay everywhere: pooling on the floor, dripping from the chains and falling like raindrops from the roof. There was movement as people walked beside the slab of rock, apparently checking every portion with infinite care while others were clambering along the chains like monkeys. How they managed to keep their grip on the wet metal and not fall to
their deaths was a mystery to Keshik, but he had little time to ponder it as Guaman gave another hand gesture and pointed to the right.

As one, the troop sprinted into the darkness away from the huge slab of stone. As they moved, the sound and smell of animals quickly built up. Great bellows and grunts, like monstrous horses in pain, together with heavy pounding like vast footsteps. The stench was unbelievable. They kept running — it seemed to Keshik that they must surely leave the Wall — but ahead the light was that of torches, not sunlight.

Guaman held up his hand and the troop came to a halt, all breathing hard and drenched with sweat. Despite the unimaginable size of the area they were in, the air was foetid, still and close, with now no end in sight. It was as if they were in an underground plain that never saw the daylight.

‘We have achieved our first aim,' Guaman said in a low, harsh whisper. ‘Now we set camp here and start the next stage.'

Camp? Here?
Keshik was unable to grasp the concept. Setting a camp inside, near no wall or any sort of cover? Outside, on a real plain where the wind blew clean and the sun shone, he would camp anywhere, but here? Nonetheless, the troop settled themselves and prepared to rest. A basic guard roster was set up and Keshik eased himself down onto the stone to try to relax.

Sleep would not come, but as he rested he tried to work out what he had gotten himself into. And how to get out of it. It was clear these people knew more about the inner structure of the Wall than
they should as Tusemon raiders. There was complicity with the inhabitants at some level, which just complicated matters. Was he a part of a revolution? An uprising? Like just about everyone he had ever known, he knew next to nothing about the inner workings of the City of the Wall, so it was possible for there to be complex politics, but what was that to him?

He was only here in order to stay alive to find Maida.

He had to leave this troop, whatever their purpose, before things got too ugly. Dying here with these people was not going to happen. But how to leave, and where to go? He recalled the brief conversations he had had with Slave, usually at night, about his training in underground fighting and finding his way in utter dark. He would be at home here in this stinking hole where sunlight never warmed the ground and wind never stirred the air. But he was gone, chasing after Myrrhini as he, Keshik, should be seeking Maida. Just the thought of her name was enough to bring her back to fill his mind, so he gave himself over to enjoying his memories — memories that could always drive the blood and death away.