The Wanderer's Tale (67 page)

‘When was the last time you used it?’ asked Nibulus.

‘A fair few years ago,’ Kuthy informed them, ‘but there’s something that tells me the door’s been used a bit more recently than that.’

A sigh of disappointment whispered around the company.

‘So it would appear that this hidden tunnel of yours isn’t quite as secret after all,’ Nibulus concluded, regarding the adventurer with annoyance. ‘I do hope you realize what you’re leading us into, here.’

Kuthy looked genuinely uncomfortable. He clearly was not used to his secrets being discovered by others, and thoughts of wringing the neck of that bloody Drachrastalandic theurgist were now uppermost in his mind.

‘Yes, so do I,’ he replied to Nibulus’s question, ‘but I’m sure it’ll be all right.’

‘It had better be,’ Finwald remarked. ‘We’ve come too far to turn back now.’

They ate their meal in silence after that. Half an hour later, after washing their bowls and refilling their waterskins from the spring, the company followed Kuthy down the high-sided cleft and disappeared from sight.

Taking one last backward glance at the world of light behind him, Bolldhe followed.

‘Here we are,’ Kuthy announced, pointing at the rock-face. ‘The portal.’

Had it been secured, they could see, the door would have been very nearly undetectable; it would have appeared nothing more than a cracked seam in the rock (even if a distinctly millstone-shaped cracked seam). But, now it was unsecured, it stood out clearly from the rest of the rock-face, and could have been easily rolled aside by anyone who might have sought shelter in this cleft over the intervening years.

Both Kuthy and Wodeman searched the ground for signs of anyone passing that way recently. After a while, Wodeman spoke up:

‘There are some tracks over here,’ he confirmed, ‘and they’re not that old. Could be that a few people came by in the last month, even two weeks ago.’

‘Two weeks?’ Nibulus exclaimed, ‘Then they could still be in Eotunlandt right now. We’ll have to be extremely cautious. Kuthy, roll back the door. We’re going in.’

Kuthy leant his temple sword against the rocks, so he could give the great granite door a firm push. Surprisingly for something the size and general appearance of a millstone, it rolled back easily. Immediately a cold blast of air howled out of the dark cavity beyond, causing those standing immediately in front of it to back away and shield their faces. There was a damp smell with an unmistakable undercurrent of decay. Around the edge of the ancient stonework hung trailing growths of semi-crystallized moss, which now glistened like dead elvers as they swayed gently in the air currents.

Appa gagged and held a hand over his mouth. ‘Cuna preserve us all,’ he jabbered. ‘We’re not going in there, are we?’ His watery eyes bulged as he stared down into the blackness. There was no sound other than the shrill whistling of the wind, but his hand instinctively groped for the talisman around his neck.

‘Don’t fret, Appa,’ said a quiet voice at his shoulder. ‘It’s only a hole. Finwald’ll see you’re all right.’

‘Fetch the torches, men,’ the Peladane ordered abruptly. ‘Finwald, Appa, Kuthy, you get ’em lit. We may as well get this over with as soon as possible.’

They did as instructed but, just as they were about to enter, Kuthy grabbed Nibulus by the arm and placed his torch firmly in the Peladane’s hand. Eyeing him hard, Kuthy said, ‘I’d rather you held the torch, if you don’t mind. I may be your guide for the present, but I am
not
your link-boy.’

Nibulus glared back at him through narrowed eyes. Then he merely responded, ‘Just make sure you stay in front, then, hero. Whatever happens, I’d rather it happened to you first.’

‘And good luck to you too,’ the adventurer replied dryly.

One by one, they passed through the portal and into the darkness beyond. Kuthy led the way, followed closely by Nibulus, who was determined not to let this slippery customer out of his sight. Then came Bolldhe, sword in one hand, Zhang’s rein in the other.

The sword had now faded to a midnight-blue with just the faintest corona of silver. Zhang, too, had darkened; at least, his mood had. The horse was none too happy about this strange new place his friend was leading him into. None too happy at all. He sensed by the smell of the air what lay down there, and could not understand why they did not continue travelling the beautiful foothills instead. Head down and nose to the ground, he picked his way forward, and felt even more alarmed when the tunnel began to slope downwards. To make matters worse, Bolldhe had wedged his lantern under the saddle’s girth-strap, where it was beginning to get uncomfortably warm. This was not the first time his master had done this, and Zhang felt like having a quiet word with him about it – but then, he thought ruefully, the human never seemed to understand a word he was saying. Maybe the man was a bit slow.

At least in one thing the slough-horse had an advantage: he was more nimble-footed than most of the others. But the clatter of his hooves did cost them any advantage of stealth they might otherwise have had. Nibulus cursed softly and considered he might as well have donned his clanking armour after all.

Behind the horse came the two mage-priests, torches held aloft and weapons gripped tightly. Wodeman followed, his eyes wide as an owl’s, his nose twitching like a shrew’s. Paulus took up the rear, a position he assumed out of habit now, and no one seemed particularly inclined to object. As he stepped through and over the threshold, he turned and heaved the door back into place. It rolled to with a dull thud, and the now dim torchlight was barely able to hold back the darkness that crowded in upon them now.

‘Have you set the catch, Paulus?’ Nibulus called back from somewhere further down the sloping tunnel.

‘Of course,’ the Nahovian lied. (He was happy to be let loose upon huldres like a terrier in a barrel of rats, but he would
not
pull the lid shut over him.)

They descended.

Though high-ceilinged enough, the tunnel was narrow and crudely fashioned. It soon began to slope down even more steeply through the granite, forcing the company to pick their way forward with even greater care, and sent a scattering of loose stones slithering down the passage ahead of them.

‘Kuthy,’ Nibulus hissed, ‘how far down does this damn hole go?’

‘Not far, not far,’ Kuthy replied with infuriating equanimity. ‘Just a few more minutes and we should reach the bottom.’

‘And then?’

‘And then, the chamber . . . I think.’

‘Chamber?’

‘Yes, like a room, only bigger.’

‘
Tivor!
’

‘Sorry. It’s a wide space linking this entrance tunnel with the tunnel proper. No idea what it’s for, but from there on the passage is fairly level, and better-constructed.’

‘But what’s in the chamber?’

‘Nothing, as far as I know. Least, there wasn’t anything last time. I wouldn’t worry, really.’

Nibulus grumbled. ‘Better be on your guard, men,’ he called back. ‘Tivor here says there’s nothing to worry about.’

Suit yourself
. Kuthy sighed to himself.

They descended with extreme caution, even though their torches – which none of them had any intention of extinguishing – and the din they were making precluded any possibility of avoiding notice.

‘Keep close, and have your weapons ready,’ Nibulus instructed. ‘And, Bolldhe, take your horse to the back of the line. I don’t want him suddenly panicking down here.’

‘Don’t you worry about Zhang,’ Bolldhe replied. ‘He’ll be the last one to panic, I assure you. Besides, if there’s any trouble, I wouldn’t mind finding out what this sword is capable of.’

As soon as he said it he chided himself; there was no need for Kuthy to know anything about the flamberge, or their mission.

‘I’d be careful, Bolldhe,’ Finwald whispered in his left ear. ‘You don’t want to risk damaging it unnecessarily.’

‘For Jugg’s sake, preacher,’ Bolldhe hissed, ‘it’s a bloody sword! What in hell’s name am I supposed to do with it? Skin rabbits?’

‘He’s right, Bolldhe,’ Appa cautioned. ‘Don’t be too quick to solve all your problems with the sword. Only death lies down that road.’

I thought that was the whole idea of this quest
, Bolldhe reflected, but did not bother to share this thought with his uninvited counsellors.

There was a little whispering from ahead, and soon Kuthy appeared beside him. ‘If you do want to try out your new sword,’ he whispered, ‘why not go on ahead? I’ll stay and mind your horse.’

‘Oh, really,’ Bolldhe replied. ‘I suppose you’d like to hold my coat while you’re at it?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Doesn’t matter. Anyway, I thought you said there was nothing dangerous down there?’

‘That’s right,’ the shadowed face before him replied smoothly. ‘There wasn’t, last time. But you saw the unlocked door – something may have wandered in since I was last here. And you’re the one with the big sword . . . What’s so special about it anyway? Haven’t you ever used it?’

Bolldhe cut him off swiftly. ‘Just shut up and go away! Look, take the damn horse if you must, and get him to the back of the line.’ He handed the reins to Kuthy and pushed his way past him and Nibulus, before the soldier of fortune could ask any more difficult questions. Kuthy hung back and let the rest of the line pass by. He grinned, and followed at a distance.

Minutes later, the company emerged one by one into the chamber. It was dank and freezing, and here the stench of decay was almost overwhelming. All eyes strained to see beyond the feeble radius of torchlight, until the Zhang-borne lantern arrived.

‘Ugh!’ Finwald whispered in disgust. ‘What is this place?’

They paired off and carefully explored the chamber. The sound of their boots upon the stone mingled with the sputtering of torches and the occasional sharp intake of breath.

‘I don’t like it,’ the Peladane stated flatly. ‘It reeks of death.’

He cast his torch about and surveyed the walls. They were simple and undecorated, carved out of the mountain to form a roughly rectangular chamber. From somewhere beyond the light of his torch, the cold wind still blew.

Just then the glow of his torch fell upon a pile of rags on the floor. Nibulus went over to look closer, holding one hand over his mouth and nose against the growing stink. Yes, as he had suspected, they were corpses, partly rotted and crumpled in a heap against one wall.

‘
Hsss!
’ he called out. ‘Over here!’

The rest of the company moved over and stood around the two cadavers at a respectful distance, inspecting them with distaste.

‘Two weeks old, I’d guess,’ Nibulus said, ‘judging by the state of the skin.’

‘Two months, I’d guess,’ Bolldhe commented, ‘judging by the smell.’

‘Yes,’ Finwald agreed. ‘Not very nice at all.’

With the tip of his sword, Bolldhe poked one of the corpses. It shifted a little, crumpling slightly, and there was a brief buzz from inside it. Then its head fell off. Paulus laughed.

‘Who do you think they are?’ Nibulus asked Kuthy, who had now come up from behind. ‘And what happened to them?’ There was no mistaking his meaning.

‘They’re nobody
I
know, if that’s what you mean,’ Kuthy replied defensively. ‘It’s been a long time since I was here last . . . Let’s have a closer look.’

He went over and prodded them roughly with his own sword, causing a further angry humming noise from within. There was a popping sound, followed by the hiss of escaping gases, then the ribcage of one of them collapsed. The others stepped right back in distaste, save for Paulus.

‘Oh look!’ Kuthy exclaimed with a smile, lifting a small drawstring leather bag from the crumpled debris on the floor. He undid the strings and poured out a small collection of shiny emeralds into his palm.

‘Jackpot,’ he breathed in excitement. ‘This should make up for my sledge and dog-team, and more besides!’

Appa spat in repugnance. ‘Surely you’re not going to rob the dead! Have you no respect?’

‘Er, no, don’t think so,’ Kuthy responded absently, and fingered through the gleaming little gems in his hand.

‘Well,
we
have,’ Nibulus stated, ‘and we’re not having anything to do with these corpses. No good can ever come of robbing the dead.’

‘Possibly less harm than robbing the living,’ Kuthy chuckled, clearly very pleased with himself. ‘Anybody else want to have a look? They’re bound to have something else on them besides.’

‘No we do not,’ Nibulus growled. ‘Now, please would you put away your precious little jewels and let’s move on. Whatever killed these two might still be hanging around here somewhere.’

‘I wouldn’t say no,’ Paulus replied to Kuthy’s suggestion, and promptly set about searching the corpses. The others wrinkled their faces as they watched the mercenary delve his hands into each bundle of rags and bones. ‘Many of these adventurer types have gold teeth.’ He prised open their trap-like mouths and peered inside.

They left him to his necrophile preoccupations and went off to search the rest of the chamber. Suddenly Appa noticed a series of scratches etched upon the stone.

‘Finwald, over here! I’ve found some writing on the wall.’

He beckoned his brother-in-faith over, and pointed to the characters with trembling fingers.

Finwald stared at them curiously, and read: ‘
Fahscheia ul ichnaia Cerddu-Sungnir
and
Bolca og Yngstre Kvascna uilldacht okkin-veik Pericciu . . .
’

‘What does it mean?’

‘How should I know? I’m just a priest, not a bloody linguist.’

‘“Cerddu-Sungnir the Supreme was here” and “Death to the scum of Pericciu Thieves Guild”,’ a voice behind them translated. It was Kuthy, speaking from the safety of the entrance tunnel. ‘Either these two were thieves belonging to that guild, or just a pair of treasure hunters who stopped here for a rest, and got themselves killed by something lurking in the passage beyond.’

For a moment there was a pensive silence. ‘Enemies of the Pericciu Thieves Guild,’ Finwald muttered, ‘or guild members themselves . . . ? I wonder why either would be trying to get into Eotunlandt.’

‘They left enough litter behind them,’ Wodeman commented. ‘I can’t believe there were only two of them. There must have been more.’