Night of Wings and Smoke, page 18
A clap of his hands, and a handsome servant enters from a side door. He bows low in his prim suit.
“If you are ready,” he says, and gestures behind him. “I shall show you the way.”
*
The room is cozy and well-furnished. A small stone statue of the goddess, Lyra, rests upon the bedside table, her head bowed and her hands locked in prayer. It is far from the only sign of faith in the Sisters you’ve seen in the home, but when you set your traveling pack down and turn about, you find a much more impressive one.
The entire wall beside the door is covered with an elaborate, and no doubt expensive, painting of the Three Sisters. It’s a scene often recreated by artists, simply referred to as the Three Suns. On the left is Alma, a woman in white with pale skin and golden hair. The sun rises with the dawn behind her, illuminating her with its rays. She holds a dove in hands extended toward the next Sister, Lyra. Lyra is shown accepting the dove lovingly, its white feathers a sharp contrast to her dark skin and even darker dress. Her long black hair spills out across the grass at her feet, the strands seemingly dozens of feet long. A second sun is above her, high in the sky to represent the midday.
The third Sister, Anwyn, stands beside Lyra, patiently waiting with her hands outstretched to next receive the dove. Her skin is clear, almost translucent, and the painter represented her as such with faint strokes of color that almost resemble smoke. Unlike the other two, she stands naked, her head shaved and her face hidden behind a perfectly smooth porcelain mask. Behind her is a third sun, this one deep red as it sets behind the rolling hills.
Someone is trying too hard, you think as you admire the painting. Despite Clifford’s constant invocations of the Sisters, you suspect much of it is an act. Not an uncommon tactic, sadly, but if Clifford knows the people of Roros are faithful then he will pantomime the same faith, if not attempt to go above and beyond the norm. Yet to your ears, accustomed to the prayers of the broken and beloved, his reference to Anwyn bore no familiarity, and no love.
Or perhaps you just don’t like Clifford, and want to make up a reason for it.
A knock on the door stirs you from your thoughts. You open it to find Lyssa waiting on the other side.
“I’m armed and ready,” she says, patting her brace of pistols holstered at her hips. “Want to go kill a mysterious teeth monster?”
You hide a shudder at the many images your mind conjures to represent such a threat.
“Sisters help me, I am.”
26
“Is this all of you?” you ask as you arrive at the group waiting at the entrance to the mines.
“Were you hoping for an army?” Lyssa asks in return. The group is composed of six soldiers, along with two men in thick, worn shirts and trousers, both hopelessly stained with dust. Unlike the soldiers, who wield swords, one carries a hatchet, and the other, a sharpened knife. Standing awkwardly to the side of them, club in hand, waits Ansel. All nine carry little hand lanterns.
“I only jest,” you say, not wanting to insult the squad you’ve been given. You nod at the soulless man. “How’s it going, Ansell?”
“I have been instructed to avoid being eaten, and strike things that try to eat me,” he says, perfectly flat and bored as if such concerns were normal.
“Good plan,” you say, turning to the others, and noting their armaments. “Where are your rifles?”
“Flamestone arms are forbidden inside the mines,” one of the soldiers tells you. “Safety reasons.”
“We’re about to fight a monster made of teeth,” you say. “Surely that’s the more dangerous threat?”
“It’s the flamestone,” one of the two regulars says. He’s got a rugged, handsome look to him, his hair dark and his mustache long enough to curl down below his chin. “If you think being eaten is bad, imagine a whole tunnel collapsing on top of you because of an errant shot. Maybe you die quick, maybe you die of thirst over several days while we try to dig you out.”
“And who are you?” you ask.
The man dips his head to show you respect.
“Liam, ma’am. Been working these mines since I was old enough to hold a pickax. That’s why I’m coming with you, to guide you through. The whole place can be a maze once you get in deep enough.”
You pat your holstered pistol.
“Well, Liam, I think being eaten is still worse, so I’m bringing this along.” You lift a hand when he starts to protest. “But, I’ll keep it as a last resort, fair enough?”
Liam hardly looks happy about it, but he also carries no authority, and knows it. He shrugs.
“All right, but if you start a chain eruption, it’s on your head, not mine. I just pray I’m not caught in the thick of it.”
“That’s enough,” one of the soldiers snaps. He offers his hand to you. “Henli Fairbough at your service, Soulkeeper. I hope the stories I heard growing up about the fighting prowess of Soulkeepers were not exaggerated.”
“Oh, I’m sure they were exaggerated,” Lyssa interrupts. “But we’re still pretty damn good. Have you fought this thing before?”
“Once,” Henli says. “And despite what Liam may try to tell you, we even had our rifles. The thing surprised us at an intersection, but we did fire a volley off. Didn’t even break its skin.”
“Its skin?” you ask.
“Skin, hide, armor, whatever you want to call it. Its brown, its thick, and it sure as shit didn’t bleed when we shot it. That’s all I can tell you. It killed six of us before we could reload, and the first fool to rush at it with his sword was swallowed whole.”
You stare at the soldier.
“Whole,” you say dully.
Henli offers you one of the lanterns he’s holding. “Did I stutter?”
I’m going to kill you for this, Forrest, you think as you reluctantly accept the lantern.
Lyssa lifts her own lantern at you and shoots you a wink. “Makes you miss the owls of Londheim, don’t it?”
Without ceremony, the eleven of you enter the wide tunnel of Roros’s flamestone mines. The initial entrance has been heavily worked and expanded, with wood supports built every few feet. A small rail runs through the center, and you glance inside one of its thick iron carts. Empty.
“We don’t know where the monster is staying, but it’s been consistently attacking the deeper portions of the mine,” Henli says, walking beside you with his lantern raised. As the entrance recedes, the darkness quickly grows. “Problem is, those deeper portions are where our flamestone resides, and where our miners must go.”
You know little of flamestone mining, and you glance at the walls, curious. Much of the stone is chipped at odd angles, as if someone carved away at it with an ax or knife. The stone is not uniform, for across much of it you see a darker substance, much of it broken into thin chunks. More of it litter the ground, and it crunches beneath your boot.
There’s little chatter among the soldiers as you walk. The ground generally slopes downward, and with each passing minute, you feel a growing awareness of the mountain above you. The walls narrow in, and eventually you reach the end of the laid down mine cart track. Liam leads the way, and as your nerves start to fray, you decide to join him at point.
“Do you know where you’re taking us?” you ask.
There is little that’s polite about the look he gives you.
“I know these mines better than you know your own ass, Soulkeeper.”
“I’m not sure I’m all that familiar with my ass, miner. It’s behind me.”
“It’s a pretty good ass, Robin,” Lyssa pipes up. You didn’t realize she was listening in. “Happens when you spend so much time hiking and traveling like we do.”
You’re glad for the dim light to hide your slight blush.
“Ignore her,” you say as you trudge deeper and deeper into the tunnels. “I more meant if you had a specific destination in mind.”
“The monster seems to hate it the deeper we go,” he says. “So I’m taking us to our newest dig. It’ll be dangerous fighting there, with the highest chance of a chain eruption, so I’ll again repeat my desire that you keep your pistol holstered.”
“What do you mean by a chain eruption?” you ask.
“You see this?” he asks, touching the broken black substance that litters the wall. “We call it the coating. Flamestones are usually caked in the stuff, which is good, because it means we can safely extract it. We chip around it until it flakes off, and then we transport it out of the mine where our flamestone chippers can do their own delicate work.”
With a bit of effort, he pulls a chunk of coating from the wall. It reminds you of stripping tree bark from a pine.
“As you can see, it’s pretty brittle,” he says. “Which means if you strike it hard enough, there’s a chance you punch right through and hit the flamestone pellets underneath. Do that, and you can rupture the pellet.” He looks to you with a smirk. “You’ve plenty of experience with that pistol of yours, I’d wager. You know well the danger of carelessly breaking a flamestone.”
“I do,” you say. “A ruptured flamestone is loud and a bit hot, but generally the only worry is a bit of burns, or maybe losing a finger. You’re talking about bringing down entire tunnels.”
Liam pauses at an intersection, glances at you, and then grins.
“Right,” he says. “One flamestone might do that, but what happens when an erupting flamestone breaks the ones near it, which then break its neighbors, and so on?” He turns right and pauses not a few steps later to raise his lantern. “What happens when you’re not breaking just one, but thousands?”
Your mouth drops as you step into the cavern. It’s about three times your height to the top, and every single inch of the walls is a deep black. Here the coating is unbroken, allowing you to see the little bumps of the flamestone pellets trapped underneath. They ripple along the walls, thousands upon thousands.
“Has it happened before?” you ask softly.
“Aye,” Liam says. “Not often, but living in Roros, we all hear the stories. The ground’ll shake, and even people in town will hear the eruption. Tunnels collapse, not just the ones with the fire, either. Each time, it takes weeks to clear out the rubble, because you got to do it slowly. Never know when you’re hauling out that much stone and broken coating whether there’s flamestone still uncracked from the initial explosion. If you’re trapped inside when it happens, well…” He shrugs. “We hear those stories, too. About what men and women do to each other to survive when food and water runs out.”
You decide you don’t want to think about those stories, not when you can feel the omnipresent weight of the mountain all around you.
“Should I watch where I step?” you ask, for the flamestone coating covers not only the walls but the ground as well.
“Unless you got spikes on your heels, you’ll be fine,” Liam says. “It takes a lot to pierce unbroken coating. Just…don’t go testing it with your sword, or stars forbid, go shooting it with your pistol.”
It’s meager comfort, but after watching him calmly walk atop the coating, you follow…but that confidence doesn’t prevent you from wincing slightly the first time you set your boot upon the bumpy black surface.
Twice you pass through intersecting tunnels, but Liam does not hesitate. At one point, you enter a surprisingly spacious cavern. Within are chairs and a table, plus some barrels of lantern oil and a crate in the corner with changes of clothes. A rest area, you presume, for miners unwilling to make the trek all the way back to sunshine.
Lyssa slides up beside you as you pass through the cavern.
“Have you any sort of plan?” she asks softly.
“My plan is to stab the monster with my sword,” you say. “Beyond that, it’s going to be mostly improvisation.”
Lyssa glances over her shoulder. “I fear we might regret this, Robin. You and I aren’t trained for this, and we can’t even freely use our pistols.”
Of course, Lyssa’s pistols. She’s a crack shot with the pair, but for now, she’s stuck wielding her two short swords. You smile and put on a brave front.
“We’ll make do,” you say. “The Sisters will keep us safe.”
“I’m not sure the Sisters can find us this far down below the earth,” she says, then winks to let you know she’s not as upset as she sounds.
“Hold,” Liam says. The rest of the group pauses at his command, though not without comment.
“What is the matter?” Henli asks, pushing up to the front.
“Something’s wrong,” Liam says, and he glances at the other miner for confirmation. The red-haired man had been keeping to the rear of the group, to ensure no one fell behind or got lost.
“It’s the stone,” he says. “Come feel it.”
Liam does, his face paling in the dim light.
“Vibrations,” he says, and steps back. He rubs his fingers against his shirt as if distressed by what he touched. “The whole mountain is rumbling.”
“An earthquake?” Lyssa asks.
“No,” the other miner says, placing his hand on the opposite side of the tunnel. “It’s even worse over…”
The wall cracks, then collapses completely from tremendous force. Screams mix with the thunderous noise of breaking stone, together forming a cacophony painful in its volume. You stagger, clutching your lantern in a death grip between your fingers. Liam knocks into you, and you catch him to prevent his fall while you stare in horror at the damage before you. Two of the soldiers plus the red-haired miner are already dead, crushed beneath the stone. The others lift their swords and shout, for the monster has arrived.
Its enormous, you think, staring at the thing lit by the lamplight. It mostly resembles a worm, at least in rough shape. If it has eyes, you do not see them. Its entire front is simply an enormous, circular, gaping mouth. Rows upon rows of teeth gleam a pale white down its throat. What you can see of its sides are scaled like a serpent, and colored a deep, dark brown. Behind it is a newly revealed tunnel, one you suspect has been carved by the monster.
Don’t get eaten, you think, and then leap aside, bringing Liam with you as the creature lunges out of the tunnel, blasting aside the rubble. It scoops the three corpses into its mouth, along with broken chunks of stone and black coating. Without care of your presence, without fear of your swords, it begins to chew.
The sound of the crunching and cracking scrapes along your spine like nails.
No one makes a move. No one is brave enough. The only one to remain in front is Ansell, who stands before the gigantic worm with his head tilted to one side.
It swallows. Its mouth opens. Blood and saliva drip along its circling teeth.
Cursing every one of the three Sisters for bringing you here, you lunge at Ansell, bodying him with your shoulder and flinging him out of the way. Together you tumble further into the tunnel as, behind you, the monster slams its non-existent face into the wall, separating you from the rest of the group. You hear its teeth scrape the stone and shudder to imagine yourself pinned there by them.
You pull out of the roll and disentangle yourself from Ansell, who looks surprisingly alert and energetic.
“Was that creature trying to eat me?” he asks.
“Yes,” you say, for there isn’t much else to add.
“I see.” Ansell lifts his club. “Then we must attack.”
Despite its tremendous size and weight, Ansell charges straight at the worm. From the other side, you hear a clang of swords, and you can only pray Lyssa and the soldiers are assaulting the creature, too. It turns their way, so its brown-scaled back is facing Ansell upon his arrival. He leaps into the air, his arm extending and his back curling to throw tremendous power into his strike.
The club hits the scales, cracks down the middle, and goes flying from Ansell’s grip. The monster, with the most dismissive movement, flicks a tiny segment of its long body to knock Ansell aside. He trips, dropping his lantern as he rolls back toward you.
The soulless is back on his feet in seconds, a bit of blood dripping from his nose and a cut across his forehead.
“A club is insufficient,” he says, with a tone so calm it is maddening down there in the deep dark.
You push through your shock. If your group is to survive, that monster has to die. You hand Ansell your lantern, grip your sword in both hands, and charge in.
Given the scales that cover its body, you suspect any blunt or slashing attack will fail, so you pull the sword back for a thrust. If you can slip your sword underneath one of the scales while the creature’s attention is turned away from you…
It’s dark, and moving, but your aim is true. You jam the tip of your sword against the creature’s side, shift the angle, and then slam it underneath a scale. It slides deeper until hitting resistance, which only encourages you to pour additional strength into the thrust. It slows, stops, and then punches through. Black blood gushes across your hands. The thing lets out a horrific screech as you rip your sword free. You retreat before its sudden thrashing can knock you aside, and you join Ansell and Liam in the light of their held lanterns.
The creature turns your way, its mouth open, exposing the horror of its many, many teeth.
“We have its attention,” Ansell says.
You draw your pistol and aim straight down the thing’s gullet as a sickly sweet warm air washes over you from its exhalation. You cock the hammer, swallow your fear, and pull the trigger.
The noise is deafening in the tunnel, but even more deafening is the high-pitch shriek the worm lets out. It pulls back, closes its mouth, and then coils tightly. You recognize that movement, that shape. It’s of a snake preparing to attack.
The way forward is blocked. There is only one other way to go.
“Run!” you shout, grabbing Ansell by the wrist. You sprint despite knowing deep down in your gut it is foolhardy to do so. You don’t know these tunnels, and the light of your lantern is so limited you can only see a few feet ahead of you, but you have to run. You have to try.
To stand and fight that monster in a tunnel with no place to avoid its teeth means a quick, certain death.
