Taker Of Skulls (Book 5) (11 page)

“If we can get to the Bridge of Nets, we’ll have a better chance,” said Sasha.

“Why?” Kormak asked.

“It’s narrower, only a couple of them at a time will be able to get at us. We can maybe hold them there.”

“How far?”

“A long way.”

“Then let’s get going,” he said. “Run!”

He broke into a trot and saw the others do the same. It was not easy to keep up a good pace while carrying heavy packs but fear was a wonderful motivator. They ran until the breath rasped from their lungs

Kormak’s knees started to ache. He cursed the way age was creeping up on him. There had been a time when he could have made a run like this and fought a pitched battle at the end of the day but that had been twenty years ago. Even ten years before this would all have been so much easier. Now the weight of the pack tore at his shoulders like the claws of a beast. His shirt and britches were soaked with sweat. The two women did not look as if they were in any better condition. Only Boreas showed no sign of physical strain yet. Kormak envied him his youth and his fitness. He forced his legs to move and found he was moving in time to the drumbeats.

More howls rang out. They seemed closer. He gestured for them to stop.

“We can’t go on like this,” Kormak said. “If we don’t rest we’ll be in no shape to fight if they overtake us.”

Boreas gave him a grim smile. Was he feeling superior because of Kormak’s weariness? Karnea held up her hand. “Wait,” she said. “I have something.”

She pulled off her backpack with a grateful sigh and began to rummage among its contents. It seemed she was well-organised for she quickly produced a small leather package, marked with runic script. She flipped it open and a familiar scent hit Kormak’s nostrils.

“Quickleaf,” she said. She pulled out four large desiccated leaves. “Chew it and let the juice dribble down your throat.”

She proceeded to follow her own instructions then wearily lifted her pack onto her shoulders again and started to walk. Kormak pushed the leaf into his mouth and began to chew. The bitter taste in his mouth brought back memories of other times when he had used the drug; nights when he had sought monsters in the dark places of the world, days of siege that he had thought he would never survive, rides across the wilderness on errands that required desperate speed.

At first he felt nothing. He was just as weary and it was just as hard to get himself moving again as he had expected it to be. By silent agreement, they had not started running again. It was a good thing. A mixture of marching and jogging was the best way to keep up this killing pace over the long term.

He began to take notice of his surroundings. The walls around them had been defaced, smeared with goblin excrement in places. The stonework was chipped and there were random lines scratched in the walls as if small creatures had been at work with pickaxes and blades.

“Where did the goblins come from?” Boreas asked suddenly. “How did they get into this place?”

Karnea shrugged. “No one knows. They are first mentioned in the records from the time of plagues, the Long Dying. They appeared before the city was sealed and its location lost.”

“Another Old One slave race?” Kormak asked. “The Old Ones bred orcs as warriors. Maybe they did the same for the goblins.”

“They don’t seem nearly as tough as orcs,” said Boreas.

“Maybe they breed quicker. Maybe they were intended to be tougher and something went wrong.”

“It’s possible,” said Karnea. “Such powerful magic must be hard and the potential consequences would be unpredictable.”

She fell silent as if contemplating the possibilities.

Sasha led them first one way and then another, following a twisting and winding path. It occurred to Kormak that she was simply following a safe route she had memorised, quite possibly the only one she knew through this underground maze. That was all right as long as it took them to where they wanted to go. But what if she lost her way, moved off the beaten path, took a wrong turning, part of his mind whispered.

He recognised the flash of paranoia that accompanied the use of quickleaf for what it was. It was one of the reasons he did not like using the stuff; his life was spent in a perpetual state of wariness anyway. The drug had a tendency to exacerbate his natural suspicion and raise it to the level of a sickness.

His mouth felt dry now as if the leaf was absorbing all the moisture in it, and his tongue was starting to feel thick. His heart beat faster and faster. He realised that he had not felt the weariness in his limbs for some time. He looked at the others. Their eyes were bright, and they surveyed their surroundings with quick nervous glances. Without saying a word, Kormak lengthened his stride and broke into a run. The others followed, moving effortlessly, as if they had just had a full night’s sleep and were in perfect condition. Even the pain in his knees seemed to have been numbed, along with his lips and tongue and fingertips.

“Useful stuff, quickleaf,” said Sasha.

“This is the finest,” said Karnea. “It grows on the slopes of the Forlorn Mountain. I picked it and dried it myself.”

“Save your breath for running,” said Kormak.

The howling of wolves erupted behind them, closer still. Images of giant beasts racing after them, loping along with untiring stride, fangs glittering in their drool-filled mouths leapt into his mind. He could picture their light-reflecting eyes burning with the lust to rend human flesh, his flesh. He felt certain that if he looked back over his shoulder he would see them now, springing towards his back. The sensation was so intense that he turned his head but there was nothing there, yet.

He cursed the necessity of ever having to use quickleaf and loped on. The howls were getting closer.

“THAT’S THE START of the Forge Quarter,” said Sasha. “Once we cross the Bridge of Nets we’ll be in it. That’s where I found your rune.”

It was easy to see how the bridge had got its name. It was a long and barely wide enough for two people abreast. It looked as if it had been partially destroyed. It was shattered. In the middle a gap dropped down into darkness. Even what remained was not solid but latticed, where magic or acid had eaten through the stone. Parts of the stonework were so eaten away as to be like a web. Through the gaps in the stonework the long drops to the glowing water below was visible.

What had caused this, Kormak wondered? Had it been some ancient struggle between sorcerers? Maybe some alchemical weapon such as acid had done this. He realised he would never know.

“Is it solid? Will it hold our weight?” Boreas asked.

Sasha nodded and said, “It will, or at least it has every time I have used it. Just be careful of the gaps. You don’t want to fall through.”

“There is strong runework in the bridge,” said Karnea. “That’s all that’s holding it up. A normal stone structure would have collapsed an age ago. We don’t want to place undue stress on it.”

The howling was very close behind them now.

Kormak’s heart beat against his chest like the wings of a trapped bird thrashing its cage. His mouth felt even drier. All sorts of fears invaded his mind: of the long drop, of the bridge giving way when they were all on it, of losing his balance and falling through the gaps in the stonework.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm. Think rationally, he told himself. They needed to get across. Once they were there the wolves would have exactly the same problems crossing. Maybe they could kill enough of the beasts to drive the wolves and their riders back.

Another thought struck him. Quickleaf had its price. Soon their bodies would have to pay back all the borrowed vitality the drug had given them and with interest. At any moment, they might become too weary to fight, even to move.

“Go,” Kormak told Karnea. “You too, Boreas. Sasha and I will hold them here.”

“Why me?” Sasha asked. “He’s the one with the bloody big hammer.”

“You’re the one with the ancient dwarf stonethrower.”

“Only a few shots left now,” she said.

“Then make them count,” Kormak said. “You two get moving.”

Boreas nodded and gestured to Karnea to tell her he would go first. He obviously still saw himself as her bodyguard, which was a good thing at this point. They had no idea what might be waiting for them at the other side of the bridge.

With surprising grace for a man so big, Boreas moved across the bridge, flattening himself against the sides to pass one gap, leaping over another when there was no other way to pass. He gestured for Karnea to follow him.

“I’ve never liked heights,” the sorceress said. Sweat beaded her face and her eyes were wide. Kormak could see her pupils were dilated to the maximum extent.

“Get going. I doubt you’ll like the inside of a wolf’s stomach any better.”

Karnea swallowed and very slowly made her way out onto the bridge. Kormak cursed again. The quickleaf was probably magnifying every fear in her mind.

“Here they come,” said Sasha.

Bestial eyes glittered in the darkness. Mangy diseased-looking white shapes bounded out of the shadows and raced closer. Kormak heard Sasha counting to herself above the howls of the great beasts. He picked out the leader, a massive brute whose long pink tongue lolled out over yellowish fangs. He hoped if he could kill this one and its rider it might give the others pause. At very least, he would have the satisfaction of sending the beast into the Kingdoms of Dust before him.

His heart pounded as the lust to kill rose in him, drowning out the drumbeat of fear. A savage smile twisted his lips. He was ready to deal death.

Sasha unleashed her firestone. It sped straight and true to the beast Kormak had picked and exploded in a gout of flame. The wolf’s howling became a high-pitched yelping like that of a beaten dog. Its fur caught fire. The force of the explosion tossed more wolves backwards as if hit by a giant mallet. They tumbled through the air, fur ripped and burning. The leader rolled on the ground trying to extinguish the flames that were consuming it, trapping its rider under its moving body.

“What happened?” Kormak asked. Sasha looked appalled and amazed.

“I don’t know. Sometimes they just do that. Maybe it was an especially powerful stone.” Maybe all of the stones were once like that and had simply lost their potency over time. He had seen it happen with alchemicals. In any case it did not matter.

“That’s the last of my ammunition,” she said.

“Get back over the bridge,” he said. “I’ll hold them here.”

Sasha did not need any more encouragement. Kormak did not watch her go. He kept his eyes focused on the beasts that were pursuing them. It looked like at least three were down along with their riders but there was at least half a dozen more. He counted heartbeats and watched the wolves, hoping that Sasha would have enough time to get across. He kept his sword ready to strike but nothing came towards him yet.

The riders were trying to goad their mounts forward but the wolves were nervous and snapped at the air, clearly worried by the fate of their pack mates. Kormak wondered how intelligent the creatures were. He had heard folks say they were gifted with a fell understanding that made them almost as smart as men. He had met a dire wolf in the Elfwood who was probably smarter than some of the people he had met. He fought to suppress a laugh. The quickleaf was still affecting him.

He glanced left and right to make sure nothing was coming at him from a different angle out of the shadows. Fairly soon now it was going to occur to those goblins to start tossing their darts at him. He wanted to be ready for that. He felt as if he could knock the missiles out of the air with his sword. His reflexes seemed that fast. He knew this feeling of overconfidence was a product of the drug.

“Kormak, come on,” he heard Sasha shout. “I’m over.”

Reluctantly he turned his back on the wolves and began to make his way over the Bridge of Nets. Behind him the wolves howled, as if they had gained courage at the sight of his flight.

The bridge creaked beneath his feet. There was an odd sensation of it giving way beneath him with each step.

Through the gaps in the stonework, he could see the tainted water a long way below. He risked a glance back over his shoulder. There was no sign of the wolves or goblins starting to advance yet, but it was only a matter of time.

In front of him was a gap in the stonework. The distance looked almost too far to jump.

Reluctantly he sheathed his sword. He could have tried throwing his weapon across but he was not about to risk a dwarf-forged blade falling into the waters below. The loss of his blade while still alive was the greatest possible dishonour that could befall a Guardian. He took a few steps back and raced forward, hoping to get enough momentum to make the leap. If he stumbled or hit the edge halfway through a stride he was doomed.

“Look out,” Karnea shouted.

A wolf howled, unnaturally close. Kormak glanced back. One of the great beasts was bounding nearer. Its goblin rider had a dart poised in his hand. With a wild yipping, it let loose. Kormak watched the missile arc through the air towards him. It flashed just by his cheek, fell to the floor and rolled backwards. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it roll into the abyss. Kormak sprang, and realised with a sick feeling that he was not going to make it. He had been distracted at exactly the wrong time. He threw himself forward, stretching out his hands, and managed to catch the edge. His fingers closed like claws. He looked down and saw the glowing waters a long way below. His shoulders creaked as he swung forward. Exerting all his strength he pulled himself up.

The mangy wolf came right to the edge of the gap. Kormak feared it was going to spring on him and its weight would send them both tumbling to their doom. At the last moment, it came to a halt. The goblin on its back began to gnaw on its ear, trying to make it go forward, chittering what sounded like curses and imprecations. Kormak kept moving as the rider forced the wolf to move again.

The wolf raced forward, legs gathering beneath it to spring.

Kormak whipped his blade from its scabbard as the wolf leapt. It landed in front of Kormak, jaws snapping, eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and fear. The goblin on its back gibbered with crazed joy as if it had taken mad delight in the wild jump.