“We both have,” Dilo said, pushing back a sleeve. A large purple welt ringed her forearm. “That is what it did to me. With its tongue I think. I stabbed it hard as I could but I don’t think I hurt it. We drove it away... but some of us died.”

  “I’m sorry, Dilo.” Notch put a hand on her shoulder. “How large is it?”

  She spread her hands, an oddly adult gesture. “It’s fast so I don’t know. Three times as big as a man I think.”

  “More,” Tenaci said.

  “And it attacked you here?”

  “Each time.” Dilo pointed to the opposite end of the causeway, where a series of openings ran along the path beside the water. “It’s hard to see but it came from one of them on the left.”

  Notch took the bottle of Fire-lemon and his torch. “Then we draw it out, into the open. Shoot straight, can you?” He gave them a look. Tenaci nodded and Dilo sniffed. “Wayrn, watch the other openings.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Start a fire.”

  “Will that work? I mean, is it even attracted to fire?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “If it doesn’t work?”

  “Then I’ll go into those tunnels.”

  Notch dashed across the causeway, bottle held ready. It was a fool’s plan. Not as though he could drink the creature under a table. But nothing else came to mind, it was act now or wait who knew how long for the monster to emerge. His heart beat in earnest and he grinned. Stupid. Not as stupid as going in after it would be, but stupid enough. At least he was no longer slinking around spying on people.

  Slowing, Notch chose the second opening and hurled the bottle at its mouth. Shattered glass rang across the water and the liquor glistened on the stones. The bitterness of the dark liquid was strong, even standing over it. Notch turned his face away and thrust the torch down. A flash lit the room and he jumped back. Steady flames hissed in the damp, revealing a trail of muck leading into the tunnel. Notch ran back to the causeway and firmer footing. No doubt he would need it.

  Torch held aloft and sword ready, Notch thumped Wayrn’s shoulder when the man joined him. “Now we wait.”

  Wayrn swallowed. In his hand he held an axe and his own torch. “I’ve just realised what I’m doing. I’m not trained for this, Notch. Nor is Seto paying me enough.”

  “I’ve been saying that for years,” Notch said. “You’re agile. Use that.”

  The passage of water followed. Some distance away, the fire from his bait still burned but the monster did not appear. Water flowed.

  Time passed.

  “There,” Tenaci shouted.

  Notch followed the boy’s finger. Something large crawled or maybe slithered along the roof, speeding at them from beyond the puddle of fire.

  “Tira’s Shade,” Wayrn said.

  Notch spread his feet, putting a sword’s distance between them as the thing approached. It leapt down near the fire, splashing into the water. Too fleet to be seen clearly, all Notch could be sure of were scales and long tentacles, a blue hue and the fact that its body alone was wide as a man was tall.

  “Watch the arms,” he shouted.

  It splashed onto the causeway and reared up, droplets spraying. Its face was indistinct, he had only an impression of teeth and a wide, glowing eye before it charged. He swung his sword and severed a limb as the beast slipped between them. The arm twitched, leaking slime. He gagged on the wet stench as it slithered back into the water. No humming – a different creature to the one that attacked he and Flir then.

  Quiet. Notch took a few more steps along the causeway, motioning to Wayrn for silence. From the opening to the tunnel leading to the children’s chambers, one much too narrow for the creature to use, Tenaci breathed hard. At the sound Notch raised a finger to his lips but the boy couldn’t stop. His knuckles were white on the bow, torch thrust into an old ring in the wall.

  “I hear it in the water,” Wayrn said, turning.

  Notch spun. The beast sprang from the channel, limbs flailing as it charged. The hiss of arrows passed his ear, but they bounced off its scales. The thing’s tentacles wrapped his sword arm and leg. Fetid breath steamed over his face as the jaws snapped inches away as he struggled. The pressure on his arm grew and he gritted his teeth. The beast tried to drag him closer, but again, its stunted neck prevented it from biting him. It gurgled, squeezing harder, as if in frustration.

  Notch roared as he shoved his torch at the eye. Another tentacle batted his hand aside. The light was gone, darkening the causeway. Scrambling at his belt for a knife, Notch drove it into a patch where no scales covered the beast – only to have the blade and handle disappear into the bulk.

  Wayrn gave a shout, axe flashing as he hacked at its arms. One blow sliced the limb holding Notch’s arm and a spray of blue liquid covered his clothing. He bent to tear at the tentacle around his leg. His fingernails were useless, and Wayrn had been driven back, ducking and weaving.

  Dilo appeared, a long bladed knife in both hands. She hacked at the tentacle, only to be knocked to the stones by another arm, and then the creature was moving, leaping for the channel. Notch barely had time to take a deep breath before being plunged into cold water and dragged along in a maelstrom of bubbles. He kicked and struck out at the beast, chest tightening, but landed no blows, being torn this way and that.

  It burst from the water again, and he bounced into the stones, jarring his hip. The sound of air and water rattling in its lungs neared and he twisted, jamming a boot into its face. He managed to keep the creature at a distance, even as the tentacles that held him tried to draw his other leg into its mouth.

  “Help me,” he shouted.

  The creature slid backwards, dragging him across the stones. The scent of Fire-lemon was strong, the crackle of flames nearing. It was trying to pull him into its lair. Already another tentacle had caught his sword arm, his free hand scratched for a weapon.

  His fingers stopped on something smooth.

  With a circular opening.

  Glass!

  Notch slipped a finger into the broken bottle neck. He heaved himself upright and jammed the fragment into the glowing eye.

  The beast convulsed. Gurgling followed and it released him. He thumped to the ground as it shied away. Notch struck again, gashing along an unprotected flank. Mottled skin tore, a wet mess spilling out. A flailing limb knocked him from the ledge and he splashed into the water. Bubbles surrounded him once again, as he thrashed his way through the chill. Unable to stand, he broke the surface and grasped for the lip of the walkway. Wayrn had reached the creature and was fending off limbs, a torch in one hand, his hatchet in the other. The man lived up to his training, spinning and rolling, fending off tentacles.

  It couldn’t escape into its lair.

  Notch hauled himself from the water and jumped onto its back, dodging the few remaining arms. Blinded, it was unable to ward off Wayrn’s blows as effectively. Wayrn stepped back when Notch leapt.

  The creature stumbled and half-collapsed against the wall. Notch flung out a hand. “The axe.”

  Wayrn tossed the weapon. Notch caught it, got a grip high on the handle and drove it deep into the thing’s eye socket.

  Blood and slime sprayed from its mouth and the creature fell still.

  Notch slid from its carcass and stumbled back. Wayrn caught an arm to steady him but said nothing. The thing twitched as gases and more blue slime leaked from its bulk. Patches of the creature had no scales for protection and stout legs, many of them, with clawed feet, were half-visible. Tiny fins protruded uselessly from its body, some even growing from the arms, most of which were halved. Or stubs.

  Notch wiped gunk from his face and arms. It had no numbing effect, but smelt and tasted foul. His clothing was covered in it.

  Wayrn’s eyes were wide in the light of his torch. “What was such a creature?”

  “Something unnatural.”

  “Truly.”

  Notch turned to the causeway. “I’ll get my sword. We need its head.”

  Chapter 24

  “Who are you?”

  The harsh voice echoed in the crater and Ain raised his hands. “Pathfinder Ain, of the Cloud Oasis. With me is the Warrior Schan of Snake Clan.”

  The dark shapes moved closer together and voices conferred. He could not guess their number, darkness was falling too quickly. Schan held one arm out of sight. Not the one holding his knife, but the one which held water.

  “Leave your weapons and climb up. You first, Ain of Cloud Oasis.” The man waved a hand and Ain finally bent to take the rope. He glanced at Schan. The snake was removing his weapons, laying knife, bow and sword on the stone. The water flask was nowhere in sight.

  Ain shed his own weapons and threw the rope up. Was he climbing to his death? Whoever was up there spoke well enough, if slowly, and had no accent Ain could place. “What do you intend to do with us?”

  “Here.” A rope followed his voice down. “That depends on the truth of your words.”

  Ain took the rope, rough against his palm. “I am a Pathfinder, I am sworn not to deceive my people.”

  “I know the oaths. Climb up, Pathfinder.”

  Schan nodded at him and Ain gave the rope a good tug before starting. When he reached the lip of the crater, arms pulled him up and he was held in place. Schan soon followed and a torch was lit, raised by a man dressed in Medah tans. His head was completely shaven and he wore a necklace with flashing jewels.

  Ain squinted when the torch came closer.

  “So, you are speaking the truth,” the man with the torch said. Before Ain could reply the stranger turned to those visible, dressed in a similar fashion and all with shaven heads, and waved a hand. “Back to Mazu-Kam. Prepare food for our guests.”

  “Guests?” Ain had tensed at the word ‘Mazu’ and he heard nothing after it until the mention of ‘guests.’ He looked over his shoulder to where Schan stood, open-mouthed.

  The man with the torch, obviously the leader of their captors – or maybe it was hosts – clapped Ain on the shoulder. “Someone will bring your belongings, don’t worry. I am Tanija and you are both welcome here.”

  ***

  Tanija’s home rested within a series of caves beneath the earth, accessed via a curling path that ringed a large crater. A series of torches carried by the men who’d found them lined the path. At the rear, Tanija’s boots crunched along beside them.

  “The caves extend back some distance but we only use the rooms closest to the surface or the openings,” he was saying. “Smoke usually escapes from cunningly cut holes in the rooves of the kitchens. No idea who made ‘em either, but they’re a blessing.”

  “Wait, then you aren’t Mazu Clan?”

  Tanija burst out laughing. He slapped Ain on the back and gestured at his face. “Do we look like darklings to you, lad? No, we aren’t Mazu Clan. Though I don’t doubt that’s who built this place.”

  “The caves are man-made?”

  “Not all of them. Some I believe are natural.”

  The closer they came to the bottom, the more doors appeared set into stone. Not all fit perfectly, as if they’d been built as an afterthought. Light slipped from beneath some doors, while others were dark. He was still unsure of Tanija and his people, but there were no overt signs of danger yet. At least no-one had asked for blood.

  At the crater’s floor waited several large openings, within which many doors were set between passages. Old paths led inside, stretching deep beneath the earth. Men and women went about their business without paying the visitors much attention, and it wasn’t until Tanija led them to one of the openings and into a large room that Ain got a close look at one of the residents.

  A woman arranged cutlery and mugs around a broad table, long dress swirling around her legs. She wore a necklace similar to Tanija’s and her head was shaven too. Ain stared, a hand moving up to his own hair. Short, but nothing like the people who dwelt in the caves.

  “Hello.” Her voice was sweet and she smiled at him, but when she turned to Tanija the amusement in her face turned to fondness.

  “Husband.”

  “Ashia, we have guests tonight. Ain from the Cloud and Schan from the Snake Clan. Have we room at our table?”

  “Of course, welcome to you both. I hope Tanija has been a good host.”

  “He has,” Ain said as he was shown to a seat. Ashia went to a small water barrel and removed two more mugs and plates. As she set them down, she called two names in quick succession, unfamiliar names that ran together. A moment later two children, dressed only in pants, skidded into the room. At the sight of Ain and Schan, the boy blinked. The girl pointed at Schan.

  “Who are you?”

  The warrior’s mouth twitched. “Schan.”

  Her finger moved. “And you?”

  “My name is Ain.”

  “Mother, father, what are they doing here? Will there be enough food?”

  Tanija laughed, then stepped over, scooping her into his lap. “Of course, Sae. They are guests. They come from the middle of the desert.”

  The boy gasped. “Beyond the white gods, father?”

  “Yes. They’re searching for something to the east.”

  He lowered his voice. “In the secret city?”

  Sae shook her finger. “No, Bemn. Sekkati.”

  “Time to eat.” Ashia spooned ladles of steaming brown sauce onto hunks of meat.

  Ain swallowed saliva. His mouth tingled and even Schan sat with cutlery in hand. “It smells wonderful,” he said.

  “Well said.” Tanija smiled. “Ashia is the best cook in the caves.”

  Ain finished half his plate, smiling as he listened to the children squabble and their parents indulging them. Even Schan put his spoon down to play clapping games with Sae. Despite the pang in his chest, he sat back in the chair. Perhaps they were safe for a time. A fat, pot-bellied stove in the corner of the kitchen pumped out warmth and though the night was not cold, it was comforting. Even the reddish walls and roof of the room were softened by the sounds.

  Once the meal was finished and the children were abed, Schan lay his eating implements down and thanked their hosts. Ain added his own thanks and checked to see the children had truly departed before asking about the Mazu Clan. “You said they built this place?”

  Tanija gestured to the walls. “Deeper into our caves are chambers with their symbol, rooms carved with columns and benches, recesses set into walls that remain a mystery. We rarely use them.”

  “There is no need, as we have enough room for our people without them,” Ashia added. “Though our grandparents explored them at length when first we arrived.”

  “Then you settled here only recently?” Ain asked.

  “Yes. Few travel this far north any more. Once it was people like us, who left their clan or even were banished or lost.”

  “Now it is mostly Pathfinders or stray Anaskari folk,” Tanija said.

  “You have seen others like me?”

  “Yes. All searching for the Shrine.” He met Ain’s eyes. “They do not come back.”

  He fought the urge to swallow. “I will be different.”

  Tanija said nothing, but Ashia patted his hand. “I hope so.”

  Schan leant back in his chair. “You said you also see the Anaskari?”

  “It is rare, but they come at times. If they pass at a distance, we let them. If they come too close, we kill them.”

  “Can you tell us anything of them? Or their land?”

  “Not I,” Tanija said. “I have never travelled there, but tomorrow you may speak with Ashia’s father. He remembers.”

  “Would that trouble him?” Ain asked when he caught her sending Tanija a look.

  She shook her head. “No, no. He will be fine.”

  “You both must be tired.” Tanija stood and led them from the kitchen and into a passage opposite his home. Halfway down, the darkness thick, he opened a door and fiddled with something on the wall. Sparks jumped as flint rasped and a torch crackled into life.

  A small room with two beds and a water barrel was revealed, their belongings placed neatly at the foot of each bed.

  “Here you are, men. Rest tonight. I will wake you at dawn.” Tanija nodded as he left. Ain went to the water barrel and splashed the worst of the dust from his face before sitting on the bed as Schan repeated his actions.

  “We must be better off now, surely?”

  Schan chuckled as he sat on his own bed, pulling his boots off. “We aren’t dying of thirst.”

  Ain sighed. That was a positive summation. “Hopefully whatever Ashia’s father can tell us begins to make up for losing Ibranu.”

  “You think it will?”

  “No.”

  Schan snorted in agreement.

  “But it has to be better than nothing.”

  ***

  After a breakfast of warm bread and goat’s milk, Tanija led them to a cave set high along the curving ramp, where he knocked and waited. He’d told Ain only that the old man was ‘never in a good mood.’

  “Ho, Wilatt, are you awake?” The words had barely left his mouth when the door snapped open. A short man in a creased robe stood with a glare, his head shaven except for a long strip of white running along the middle. He tapped his fingers on the door where he held it.

  “Hell on water, what is it?”

  “Wilatt, these men have come to speak with you about Sekkati.” Tanjia’s voice was level.

  “Eh?” Wilatt’s gaze narrowed at Ain before waving an arm. “Off with you two, I’m busy today.”

  “You’re busy every day, Wilatt. Can you not spare a moment?”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Boy, I put myself up here so no-one would bother me. None of you three look like ‘no-one’ to me.” He slammed the door.

  “He’ll come around,” Tanija said, and opened the door to a large room cluttered with benches, scrolls and shelves. A bed was buried beneath a mound of paper. Before a small water barrel was a chair, free of clutter.

  Wilatt stood at a bench, shuffling papers. He growled when he saw them. “Tanija, that better not be you.”

 

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