Awoken (25 page)

The stone melted down like hot wax, closing over the tunnel entrance beneath the stonesong’s insistent caress. The narrow passage, a winding corridor of stone only a short hour’s climb from the surface, opened along the wall of the wide tunnel Michael and the falcryn riders had been following for over an hour. Unlike some of the others, this opening was only a few feet wide, and so shouldn’t have taken him long to close. Or so Michael thought.

A section of the liquid rock he was so carefully teasing into a new shape with the stonesong suddenly stiffened and cracked. Breaking away from the rest, it fell to the floor with a crash, leaving a two-foot opening in the otherwise smooth stone he had molded over the passage.

Michael released the stonesong and glared at the hole. “Nuts! I thought I had it that time.”

Sensing his agitation, the falcryn shifted under him, whistling a kind of snort before settling back down.

“You must be gentle when singing the rock, Awoken,” Tallpath advised from the back of his falcryn. “You must be the chisel, not the hammer.”

Standing on the falcryn, Jericho peeked at the damage over Michael’s shoulder. “Pay heed, Awoken,” he said. “Elder Tallpath knows the stone.”

“I’m trying.” Michael wiped the sweat from his face. This was the last passage they needed to seal, but it was twice the size of the first, and he was exhausted. “This isn’t easy with the elderstone stunting the stonesong. I feel like I’m trying to lift the whole mountain.”

He looked to where the falcryn riders stood guard at a northern tunnel, the way the VEN troops would come. Tallpath had sent a half-dozen riders up the passage so that VEN would not take them unawares, but time was running out.

“I’m going to take this thing off for a minute,” Michael said. He reached for the elderstone’s clasp. “It’s just too hard with it on.”

Tallpath stiffened in his seat. “Do not!”

The head of the dollman’s mount jerked up at the harsh words. It shrieked, its hooked beak opening wide in warning as it took a step toward Michael.

Michael felt a moment of alarm as his falcryn swiveled to face the threat, but then Tallpath barked a single, sharp syllable, and instantly the two animals lowered their heads. Tallpath gave Michael an apologetic look before speaking again. “Your power will have grown greatly since you entered the city,” the dollman explained. “If you remove the elderstone, the stonesong will consume you. You will die, Awoken.”

Michael swallowed hard, and then slowly lowered his hands from the pendant. “Thanks for the tip, Tallpath. I’ll just take a few minutes to catch my breath, then try again.”

“Very wise, my Michael,” Jericho said.

A shout arose from the north, and one of Tallpath’s scouts burst into the chamber. “Elder Tallpath, the Fallen are upon us!”

Tallpath turned his falcryn. “Where are your brothers?”

“The Fallen came from the shadows in great numbers, Elder Tallpath,” the scout said. “We tried to flee, but only this one escaped.”

Tallpath’s silver eyes smoldered with rage. “How many Fallen?”

The scout lowered his head. “Your People cannot stand against them, Elder. We must flee.”

“They must have found their way down from the tunnel Lina and I used.” Michael asked, “How far are they?”

“They will be here in moments, Awoken,” replied the scout.

Michael turned to the gaping hole he’d left in the rock. The VEN troop must have travelled for hours to get this far into the warren of tunnels. This deep, they were far from being able to rely on any support from the surface. But if they found this side passage, that would soon change. Utilizing the passage, VEN would have a way of rushing down reinforcements. Worse, the discovery would cut through three-quarters of the maze of tunnels leading to the dollmen’s city. “Tallpath, take your riders and go.”

“What of you, Awoken?” Tallpath asked.

Michael put his palms to the wall, merging himself with its humming music. “I have to finish this. Don’t worry. Jericho and I will be right behind you.”

Tallpath’s expression hardened. “This cannot be, Awoken. Your People flee together, or die by your side.”

Before Michael could argue the point, a pack of black hounds burst from the northern tunnel. Falcryn screamed and bucked as VEN tore at them and their riders.

Michael gasped and clutched at the webbing as his mount reared, and Tallpath yanked a green lance from the webbing of his saddle. “Finish the seal, Awoken,” said the dollman. “Your People shall hold back the Fallen.” Kicking his heels, he spurred his falcryn into the heart of the fray. A hound leapt for the elder and Tallpath rammed his lance into the dog’s throat, killing it instantly. “Death to the Betrayer and the Fallen!”

“Death to the Betrayer and the Fallen!” the riders roared.

“Tallpath, no!” Michael shouted. “There are too many.”

“Leave him, my Michael,” Jericho said. “The riders do their duty. Do not dishonor them. Close the tunnel.”

Giant hounds flowed from the tunnel like an evil tide, and were met by the razor-sharp beaks of the falcryn, a forest of green lances, and the indomitable courage of the People of the Mountain. Four hybrids died for every rider they brought down, but the hounds just kept coming.

With every moment costing more dollmen their lives, Michael gathered his will and forced the stonesong into the fragile rock. His falcryn held perfectly still between his thighs, as if sensing his concentration. He didn’t rush, trying his best to ignore the battle riot around him. He had to do it right this time, no mistakes. After what seemed an eternity, the rock melted together, concealing the tunnel behind it.

Michael exhaled explosively. “It’s done.” Turning his falcryn, he looked for Tallpath amidst the melee. But the riders had bunched up at the northern entrance, and he couldn’t see the elder. “Tallpath!” He hoped desperately that the plucky rider still lived.

Michael breathed a sigh of relief when Tallpath galloped from the battle. Blood streaked the elder’s lance, and his falcryn bore deep gashes along its side.

“The way is sealed?” the elder asked.

Michael nodded. “Gather your riders, Tallpath. We need to get back to the bridge.”

Tallpath shook his head. “I cannot, Awoken. Even now, there are barely enough of us left to hold the tunnel. If we attempt to withdraw, the Fallen shall swarm over us like hotstone and butcher us.”

Michael’s mouth went dry. “What can we do?”

Tallpath’s face was grim. “You must return alone, Awoken. My clan will hold the Fallen as long as we can.”

“No.” The stonesong surged, and Michael’s eyes flickered silver. “We leave together, or not at all.”

Tallpath smiled sadly. “And who shall spring the trap if you fall here? No. If you would honor our deaths, Awoken, defeat the Betrayer before he reaches the city, and save the earthbone from the Fallen. Do this, and my People will not have died in vain.”

Michael dug his fingers into the falcryn’s webbing. “Tallpath, I—”

Jericho touched his elbow lightly. “It is the only way, my Michael.”

A pair of transformed belua broke through the riders, charging toward them. Raising his lance high, Tallpath swung his falcryn to meet them. “Go, Awoken. Go now!”

With an anguished cry, Michael kicked his falcryn into a run. Shame ate at him as he fled the cavern, and he urged his falcryn to greater speed as they twisted through the passages. His falcryn was fast, but the screams of the dying echoed in his mind long after he’d left the battle behind him. As they neared the Great Bridge, Jericho tapped his elbow again.

“The Fallen will track us, Awoken. We must beware.”

Blinking hot tears from his eyes, Michael shook his head. “You’re wrong, Jericho. From now on, it’s VEN who should beware.”

Michael’s falcryn came over the bridge, running full-out. The line of grim-eyed dollmen waiting on the far side split to let him through and then closed ranks behind him. He dismounted, and Warmsoil, Greendown, and Blacksong came running over.

“Where is Tallpath?” Warmsoil asked. “Where are the riders?”

Michael steeled his aching heart. “Tallpath and his riders died holding off VEN,” he said with a catch in his voice. “They died protecting me.”

The elders’ faces fell.

“Are you certain, Awoken?” Greendown asked. “I could send scouts to look for any survivors.”

“We’ve no time, Greendown. VEN will be here any moment,” Michael said. He nodded toward the bridge. “There’s more dollmen here than when I left.”

“You see well, Awoken,” Blacksong said. “Before we could close the ways, the Fallen discovered the tunnels and attacked two of the secret gates. Many of the People perished before we could finish the work. Rockspeak and the elders have reconsidered your words, Awoken. The People rally now to every tunnel that leads from the surface to the city. The secret ways are few and small compared to the tunnels leading to the Great Bridge. Nevertheless, all must be sealed before the Fallen discover and use them to take us unawares. Many warriors of the People are seeing to the work, but Rockspeak sends what few spears he can spare to stand with us here.”

“Was Equinox at either of the attacks?”

“None have seen the Betrayer, Awoken,” Greendown said. “He was not among those at the gates.”

Michael breathed a sigh of relief. They needed Equinox here.

An eerie howl echoed in the air, and all eyes turned to the bridge.

“That’s a belua.” Michael’s eyes flooded with silver light. “Get the People ready, guys. We have to hold VEN on the bridge until we spot Equinox. Everything depends on it.”

The elders bowed. “As you command, Awoken.”

“As you command, my Michael,” Jericho said.

“Good enough,” Michael said. “Stay close, and remember to wait for my signal.”

“We elders shall help you as much as we are able,” Warmsoil said. “But the rock of the Great Bridge is strong and you have no waystone. Are you certain your strategy will succeed, Awoken?”

Before Michael could reply, a pack of black hounds appeared on the bridge, followed by hairy belua and scores of men in dusty combat fatigues.

“Equinox is the key,” Michael said. “We stop him, and we stop VEN. Stop the Betrayer, and we save the world.”

“A gift, Awoken.” Blacksong tossed Michael a spear three times the length of the dollmen’s crystal lances. “My clan forged it for you while you were away. Use it well.”

“Thank you, Blacksong.” Michael hefted the weapon. Metallic fiber covered the blue metal shaft, and the tip was a razor-edged point of crystal. “I think this will come in handy.”

Jericho lifted a shorter spear from a pile nearby. “Death to the Fallen, Awoken.”

Fear clamped Michael’s belly, and he gripped his spear more tightly. “Death to the Fallen, Jericho.” He ran with the dollmen to join the battle line.

The VEN troops came over the bridge like an evil tide—mercenaries in the rear, shock rifles leveled and ready, and belua and hounds in the front, jaws wide and foaming. But of Equinox, there was no sign.

Michael raised his arm high. “Ready!”

The dollmen drew back their spears.

The horde rushed toward them.

“Now!” Michael shouted, dropping his arm. The dollmen flung their spears, filling the air with deadly crystal rain.

The front line of VEN evaporated. Those behind pushed forward without slowing, crushing the bodies of the dead beneath their heels as they came.

“Hit them again!” Michael bellowed.

The dollmen picked up more shafts and sent them flying after the first. Hounds and belua went down, but VEN kept coming. Close enough, now, to use their shock rifles, the men at the rear opened fire. The harpoon-like shafts struck with bright flashes and thunderclaps.

Dollmen flew back, trailing wisps of foul-smelling smoke, their pale flesh charred black by the shock rifles. Before the dollmen could return fire, the hounds and belua hit their line. Small bodies flew into the air, and the tiny line bowed dangerously as the cries of the wounded and dying filled the air.

A black hound vaulted at Michael, its gleaming fangs aimed for his throat.

Michael reacted without thinking, ramming his spear into the hound’s open jaws. The dog squealed, twisting in the air and falling short. Jericho leapt on the hound and, raising his spear, finished it with a sharp stab to the eye.

“Hold them, my brothers,” Greendown shouted. He caved in a belua’s knee with a swing of his serrated mace. The belua howled and fell, and he brained the hybrid before it could recover. “Death to the Fallen!”

“Death to the Fallen!” the dollmen answered. Their flagging line tightened, and VEN found their advance thwarted by an immovable wall of silver-eyed fury.

Minutes passed into an hour, and the battle raged on with neither side giving an inch of ground. Shock rods and spears crisscrossed the air. VEN and dollmen died by the score, bled by claw, tooth, or spear, or electrified by rod.

Michael ripped his spear from a black hound’s ribs. The weapon made a wet, sucking sound as it came free. At the sound, sour bile rose in his throat, but he managed not to vomit. This was the sixth hound he’d killed, or was it the seventh? He’d lost count, and he hated it. The blood sickened him to his very core. He hadn’t faced one of the belua or a mercenary yet, but it was only a matter of time. The dollmen were outnumbered ten to one, and their line was failing. He searched the faces of VEN on the bridge, looking for the telltale flash of a white coat among the fatigues and fur.

“Jericho,” he called. “Can you see him?”

Jericho, who’d been playing double duty guarding him and watching for Equinox, shook his head. “The Betrayer has not come, Michael.”

At the front of the line, a belua with a half-dozen spears sticking from his chest picked up a struggling dollman and threw him out over the chasm. A foursome of angry dollmen brought the hybrid down a moment later, and a pack of hounds tore into them in turn.

Michael ground his teeth at the carnage. Where was Equinox?

“Awoken!” Warmsoil and Blacksong, their pale skin covered in blood, came running.

“What is it?” Michael asked.