The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 77
“Only once. As a child. Father thought it necessary, to learn our history.”
Notch nodded. He strained his ears, but their back trail was quiet for the time being. Ahead, a low stone wall appeared, but like nearly everything else in this part of the Bloodwood, vines crawled across its weathered surface. Nia stopped at an empty opening, where a gate must have once stood. Beyond waited rows of tombstones. More vines covered them, but many were broken and stained an ugly brown.
Old blood. It had worked its way deep into the pores of the stones.
Nia wove into the cemetery with soft steps. She passed each grave without turning her head, moving toward a small building. Notch paused by one of the tombstones. Old Braonn writing. Back when they built with stone by choice, before the Anaskari came.
Much of the writing had been smashed away. Stone fragments lay half-buried in the dirt, obscured by dead leaves and green shoots. He brushed some of the vine back. A bolt had been driven into the tombstone, its head marked with a wave-like symbol.
He touched it and fell back as a rush of nausea hit.
“Notch?”
He shook his head. Strange. “I’m here.” He stood and joined her at the building. A small temple, open to the trees above, its columns carved to resemble trees. As with all other stone in the graveyard, it was splattered with old blood. Vines spiralled up, tiny white flowers budding. “What is this place?”
Nia turned a slow circle, feet scraping on dusty stone. “Here my ancestors worshipped and buried our dead. We did not show true respect to the forest then but there was harmony for centuries at least. Until the Ulag came. What they could not take, they simply destroyed.” She walked deeper, stopping at a circle of stone chairs several rows deep. All faced an empty space where interlocking circles were set in the floor, darker stone used. And this time, not the echo of blood.
“It’s said their brutality was unmatched.”
“It is true. Did you know, they wormed their foul magic into the very tombstones that we could not even clean them?”
He shook his head but it explained the ill-feeling that came from touching the bolt.
Voices called to one another.
“Here they come,” Notch said. He drew the serrated torturer’s knife he’d taken.
“Ready?”
“A good night’s sleep and a decent meal would have been nice.”
“If we survive this, I’ll look after both.” She gave him a look.
His pulse gave a skip. Did she mean...? He should have been able to recognise when a woman was interested in him. Idiot.
Nia was amused now. She patted his cheek. “Come, Warrior. It hasn’t been that long, surely?”
He had to laugh. “Shouldn’t we worry about the Sap-Born first?”
“We should.”
“So how do we handle them?”
“For a large group...I’ll surprise them. Pick off as many as you can; they’ll be stunned. Then, lead them back here, into the temple.”
“Here?”
“I feel better here.” She shrugged. “And we can use the columns as barriers.”
“And a small group?”
“Let them spread out so we can pick them off. Come here if you’re in trouble.”
Did it really matter where they made a stand? Probably worse to do it out in the open of the cemetery. “All right.”
They moved between the graves, crouching down behind one of the taller, vine-covered headstones. Nia waved him across the path, where he concealed himself behind a similar stone. His leg throbbed but he ignored it as he waited.
Voices neared. Someone wanted the group to spread out. He heard at least four distinct voices, the tension clear even at a distance. Nia raised two hands, one with only her thumb showing. Six. She made a motion for him to circle away from the temple and put a finger to her lips.
He signalled back and crept to the next headstone. He peered around the vines. A pair of Sap-Born headed toward him, angling to his left. Birds had stilled and the thump of his heart was like a hammer within his chest. Surely they’d hear it.
The first pair chose the middle path and two more veered right, heading deep into the cemetery. He whispered a curse. Efran led the pair in the middle. Notch ducked to another tombstone, this one with a low stone wall surrounding it. More of a family crypt. With each move he came closer to heading his prey off. No choice but to act fast. If either made a sound, they’d draw the others down.
Both men held swords. Their eyes roved and they took careful steps. Notch grabbed a piece of headstone and held his breath. Just a little closer now.
A leg came into view and he inched around the crypt until he approached their backs. He glided forward but froze when one man paused. He started to turn and Notch leapt. He swung the hunk of stone down, cracking the man’s skull and spinning on the second man, jabbing the knife into his side.
Notch jammed a hand over the man’s mouth, pulling him down before he could cry out. The fellow struggled, his veins beginning to glow but it faded quickly. Notch removed the blade, smeared with amber-coloured blood, checking on his victim. “Gods,” he whispered. A young man. Stupid kid.
But then, how old was he when he joined the Shield?
Notch checked the first man. A huge dent lay in the back of his head, blood weeping to the earth. Without honour, but the job was done.
He circled behind the temple. Neither Efran nor the other pair were visible between the stones. Had Nia already taken care of her two? He crept closer, his foot slipping on a loose stone. He froze. Mere feet away was one of the openings, the green of a vine climbing.
Movement beyond the wall. Someone was within the temple. He inched nearer, crouching as he peered around the edge. Efran paced between the chairs, a second Sap-Born close by – only on the opposite side of the temple. Efran’s veins pulsed and he shook his head.
“They’re here somewhere.”
“Maybe,” the other man replied.
“We keep looking.” Efran left the temple, passing through the opposite columns. Notch followed. He’d barely taken three steps when the second man gave a shout. Notch sprinted as best he could, crossing the temple and bursting into the cemetery. Efran’s man was down, powder faint in the air over his body.
Nia circled Efran, keeping a headstone between them. Her face was set in a glare. Efran grinned, light from his veins spreading until the whole of his body glowed.
Bad news.
Notch bent to take the short sword from the body and approached.
“Captain Notch?” Efran slowed. “What a surprise. But I am glad to see you both. Have you come to sacrifice yourself along with the lovely Nia?”
“You’re alone, Efran.”
The man laughed. “I’m trouble enough, believe me.”
Nia met his eye, then gave a slight nod, before hopping onto the headstone, where she leapt into the air, arms spread with a scream.
Efran fell back, his glow pulsing even as Notch charged. He slowed when her clothing tore and her limbs elongated, so quickly that he could have imagined it. Yet long before she began her descent, a stunning, giant butterfly took her place, and with a huge downbeat of her wings, she buffeted Efran.
The man raised his hands. Another wing beat and powder coated him as he stumbled.
Go, idiot, go!
Notch cursed himself even as he sprang forward again, swinging his blade in a vicious arc. The weapon tore into Efran’s torso, lodging deep. Efran wheeled, tearing the sword from Notch’s grasp. Sap pulsed and the blade turned pure yellow. Efran battered the weapon and it shattered, half still deep in his body.
But he did not fall.
Instead, he advanced on Notch, who gaped as he gave ground, knife ready. Efran moved slowly and his hands were raised. Was he blinded? Notch ducked away. Behind the leader of the Sap Men, Nia hovered. She couldn’t hit him with powder again, not without coating Notch.
He feinted.
Efran reacted, slowly.
And yet, if Notch made a mistake, he’d be a statue of sap. Could the man even be stopped? Maybe the head. Notch came up against tombstone. Efran lunged.
He dived from his good leg, rolling to his feet in time to see the headstone explode in a shower of amber. Efran climbed to his feet. The man’s glow had grown so great Notch had to squint. Nia swooped in and coated the leader of the Sap-Born again. He fell to one knee in a daze.
This time her flight dipped as she backed away. Her wings showed patches of translucence. She couldn’t keep it up. Notch belted his knife and hauled a slap of stone above his head. Heaving it at Efran, his stomach flipped when the slab shattered in an amber shower.
Could Efran even be touched anymore? “Nia, we have to leave,” he shouted.
She hovered but didn’t turn from the man, instead hitting him again with her powder. Efran slumped to both knees, hands deep in the ground as he heaved for breath. An amber glow began to spread from the man, infusing dirt, vine and stone alike.
Notch fell back, cut off from Nia. Her wing beats were faltering but she coated Efran a fourth time and dipped even lower. She’d used too much powder. “Nia!” He started forward but the amber blocked him and she was already too close.
A wingtip brushed the glow.
Amber shot along her body. It froze her outstretched wings, froze her whole shape in a terrible flash that left only a softly glowing statue of a butterfly in her place.
Chapter 68
Ain strode deeper into the earth.
His lamp wasn’t going to last forever and already he’d descended two flights of stairs and bypassed several side passages, two of which were blocked by closed doors and one which led back up, and as the newest footfalls led down, he was not willing to change course.
The Sands had truly cursed him.
It wasn’t enough that he was underground again, the weight of all that stone above pressing down, but he was alone without food or water, only one lamp and naught but a knife to defend himself against the darkling – or worse, darklings. Surely more than one creature had to have been involved in killing so many of Tanija’s people? Else more would have escaped.
The passage opened before him. A vaulted ceiling watched over tall columns, each marked at the base with the curved outline and twin triangles within, sign of the Mazu clan. The columns glittered in his lamp light – more quartz? He didn’t check, instead hurrying through the open area. The path led to an archway and another set of stairs leading down.
It was a short flight.
At its bottom the path split in two, spreading around a set of double doors, again in stone, and again closed, marked with the Mazu symbol. By the shape of the paths, both choices appeared to curve around the central chamber, which was much larger than he first assumed.
Up ahead, something small lay against the wall.
Ain slowed his approach, kneeling when the lamplight caught on a water flask. A long gash had emptied the water, though the stone was dry beneath it. It was a sign at least, the path was not deceiving him. Tanija’s people had come this way.
He walked on, counting his paces. Forty before the tunnel curved again, revealing another set of doors, these a mirror of those at the opposite end. Across from the closed doors were another set of stairs, these leading down.
But the most recent footfalls of the path went into the giant chamber he’d circled. Ain pushed on the doors. Nothing. He leant harder, putting the lamp down and straining until it gave a distance so small he might have imagined it. Ain slumped against the stone a moment, wincing when he bumped his hip.
If he couldn’t open the door he’d have to go back up. Or down further. Neither option appealed. The path went through the doors, that was his best chance.
Wait, did voices murmur beyond?
Ain held his breath. Yes, voices – speaking with urgency but not panic. He smacked the hilt of his blade against the stone and shouted. “Ho, can anyone hear me?”
The voices stopped.
“My name is Ain and I’m a Pathfinder from the Cloud Oasis.” He paused, waiting for a reply. When none came he added, “I’m looking for my friends. Can you help me?”
Footsteps approached and once again, voices conferred, hushed. Then the doors swung open and two men in long white coats and black pants were revealed. Both men were older, their features, down to the grey in their short hair, almost identical. So too were the heavy belts they wore, weighted with hammers and other tools.
“Come with us, quickly,” one said, his accent strong and unfamiliar. The men were Medah, and yet none of the Clans spoke in such a manner.
“Wait, have you seen my friends, the people who live in the caves above?” he asked.
“No time, not safe.” The other dragged Ain into the giant chamber.
“But I –” He stopped. In the centre of the room, more grand than any of the surrounding columns, was a huge, trunk-like shaft of stone and quartz, running from floor to roof. Parts of it were still dark stone, but the majority was clear quartz tinted with gold – as if a sword were being unsheathed and the blade running into the stone floor.
But what made him stop was the figures rising within the quartz, standing calmly on a platform of some sort. They continued up and into the roof, disappearing in moments.
“It’s hollow,” he said.
“Come.” The same man tugged at his arm and he followed them across a tiled floor, the images interlocking triangles. Light grew as they neared, until the quartz shone as a torch, spilling fractured light across the room.
He blinked, shielding his eyes when they stopped before the quartz. Eventually the light dulled, though it remained luminous. Ain closed his mouth; he’d been gaping at it.
“Who made this?”
The first man strode to the quartz and pulled open a wide door, the heaviness of its construction clear by the effort it took. No hinges were visible.
“Your friends are above,” the man said, pointing.
A surge of relief. “And they are well?”
The men exchanged glances before the first replied. “Most.”
His relief dissolved. “What do you mean? Is someone hurt?”
The second man turned his head, as if hearing something Ain could not. He ran several steps toward the doors, then flung an arm at the quartz. “Go,” he roared.
Ain was dragged inside, the second man rushing in after, pulling the door closed. Both men had tensed. One clutched a hammer and the other’s jaw worked.
“What’s happening?”
“Old Ones.”
Before Ain could ask more, the other man shouted something to the roof, the words unfamiliar. High above, the shaft rose toward a point of light, winking as if something or someone passed before it. The platform had began its descent.
“There!”
Something had slipped through the doors, racing toward them. A shadowy thing, wisps of red coursed through it. From behind came another and Ain fell back as the first creature flashed across the remaining distance, crashing into the door.
The quartz barely shook, but the thing did not appear hurt. It struck again, joined by its fellow. Yet again, the quartz held.
“Can they break it?” Ain asked.
The first man shook his head, eyes never leaving the darklings.
Up close they were still things of shadow, but hints of white flashed within and whenever the creatures paused, wisps of red began to solidify. The shapes were never the same. Once he thought a long-fingered hand appeared and after another attack, he could have sworn he saw a gaping mouth, large enough to swallow a man whole.
He inched back from the door. Above, the platform continued its steady descent.
The darklings continued to slam themselves against the quartz, but not even a scratch appeared on the surface. Neither man had relaxed truly, but when the platform finally touched down behind them, Ain noticed an easing to their shoulders.
The first man shouted up again and the platform began to rise.
Below, the darklings soon grew smaller but Ain sucked in a breath as a third creature joined the first two. And then another and another, until at least a dozen of them milled about below, the red flaring.
“They cannot follow,” the second man said. But he was frowning down at them.
“What?”
“Their numbers grow.”
The platform continued to rise and Ain shivered. One of the creatures was enough.
Light grew above, the small square soon resolving into a wide opening, beyond which lay a spacious courtyard of stone, protected by a ridge of dark rock. Men dressed in a similar fashion to his saviours were shifting heavy wooden chests and stone carvings from a staging area beside a great wheel and cog, to an open cart. Stout horses waited for their masters to finish working where the cart stood before another broad opening in stone, this leading gently down.
“Are we safe here?”
The second man shrugged. “Most of the time.”
Reassuring. “And where is here?” Ain asked as he stepped from the platform. He nearly missed the reply, as the sense of a path returned. On the trip up the quartz it had receded to become no more than a faint pulse.
“Above Haven, our home,” the first man said. “You will find your friends below.”
“Thank you, and thank you for saving me,” he said.
“Welcome.”
He gestured to the cart. “What of your carvings?” Many were more patterns than figures. “You risked your lives for them?”
“They are part of us.” He pointed to the slope. “Down to your friends.”
His guides set a quick pace, passing the men who worked at the cart, none of which gave Ain a second glance, and moving down the slope and back into the shade. The path was ancient. The search behind the old caves, the quartz and the darklings had distracted him, but now the feet of thousands pummelled his senses. Not unlike the path leading to the Sea Shrine in Sekkati.
Another circle of light appeared below, and when they reached it his eyes widened. An intricate carving arched the exit, Mazu symbols hidden between other patterns. In the centre were a pair of open hands carved from quartz. He couldn’t fully suppress a shudder. How many stories about the Mazu Clan featured them stealing the hands of their victims?
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