Taker Of Skulls (Book 5) (12 page)

Kormak’s footing was uncertain and he was reluctant to put all his strength into a strike in case he fell. He brought the pommel of his blade down on the wolf’s nose as it lunged at him.

It whimpered in pain and crouched, readying itself for another leap.

Kormak struck again, lashing out with his foot, kicking the creature. On two legs for its spring, the wolf overbalanced. Its legs scrabbled as it tried to maintain its footing. It seemed to hang there in the air for a moment then tipped over backwards. As it fell Kormak could still hear the mad, joyous gibbering of the goblin. It seemed like it was going to enjoy the long drop all the way to the foul water below.

More of the wolves crowded forward at the end of the gap in the bridge. Their riders sent a hail of darts whizzing towards him. He knocked three out of the air with his sword. One glanced off his armour. One nicked his ear, and the rest fell onto the floor of the bridge or ended up falling away through the holes. He brandished his blade threateningly as if he was considering jumping back across and engaging in melee. Some of the wolves flinched away, while their riders giggled and looked as if they were considering leaping to meet him.

He turned and ran to where Boreas and Sasha stood on the far side of the bridge. Looking back he could see the wolves racing forward encouraged by their riders.

He glanced at Sasha and then at her stonethrower. She shook her head.

“I told you it was empty,” she said.

“Then I guess we are going to have to do this the hard way,” said Kormak.

“Get behind me,” said Boreas. “Give me room to swing. Kill anything that gets by me.”

There was not time to argue. The wolves bounded across the bridge and easily made the jump. Kormak stepped away. The women did likewise. Boreas swung his hammer.

It smashed into the first wolf, shattering head and neck with a single blow. A second wolf sprang towards the grim-faced warrior. He managed to get the shaft of the weapon in the way.

The wolf’s jaws snapped shut on the wood. He thrust forward, pushing the creature off balance, sending it tumbling back into the wolves behind. One was caught, the others leapt to one side and prepared to spring.

Boreas whirled his hammer, breaking limbs, and heads and ribs. Howling, the wolves scurried back and tumbled into the gap. One wolf, limping on three legs, tried to spring for Boreas. Kormak leapt forward and put his point through its throat. Another bounded over him, trying to rip out Karnea’s throat. Sasha put her pick into its belly. She pulled it backwards and down, ripping flesh and spilling entrails. Kormak beheaded the creature. His blade narrowly missed Sasha’s face.

“Watch what you’re doing,” she said.

“I always do,” Kormak said and turned to see that the rest of the wolves had been driven back by Boreas fury.

A couple of them managed to jump back. They rest tumbled into the gap across which they had leapt. Kormak could hear delighted goblin squeals rise from below. They ended abruptly. He thought he heard a splash but dismissed that as his imagination. On the far side, the pack of wolves began to gather itself again, making ready for another assault.

Karnea stepped forward and raised her hands. The torc blazed brilliantly on her arm. Lines of fire emerged from her fingers and wove themselves into the shape of the rune, Mankh. It blazed so brightly it hurt his eyes to look at it. Karnea gestured and the blazing shape hurtled across the gap and landed in the midst of the wolf-pack. Tendrils of flame flickered outwards, each seeking a wolf. Their fur ignited and turned a scorched black. A dozen flame strikes killed as many wolves before the rune vanished, leaving a flickering after-image on Kormak’s vision. The rest turned and fled. The smell of burning meat assaulted his nostrils along with hot metal.

“Why didn’t you do that at the start?” Kormak asked.

“Didn’t know if it would work,” Karnea said. Her face was pale and drawn. She shook a little.

“Well, at least you should be able to keep us safe now,” said Sasha.

Karnea shook her head. “The torc has discharged all its stored heat. I will need to feed it full before it can be used again.” It was always that way with magic, Kormak thought. There was always a price to be paid and it never turned out quite as useful as you hoped. Still, there was no point in worrying about it.

“We’ve bought ourselves some time,” he said, “but they’ll be back.”

“There are other ways around,” said Sasha. Her expression was grim. “Even if we could hold them here forever they could just circle around.”

“We’d best get moving then,” said Kormak. “Before the effects of the quickleaf wear off and we can’t even move.”

THE QUICKLEAF STILL burned within Kormak’s veins but now his skin felt tight and his eyes as if they were full of grit. From previous experience, he knew it would not be long now before he felt the after effects of the drug kick in.

Their surroundings grew darker and grimmer with every step. Everywhere the stonework was pitted and crumbled, as if the buildings had suffered some variant of what had happened to the Bridge of Nets. Small landings rose off the street. Open doorways yawned on every side. Over each was inscribed dwarven runic script. He understood some of the words. They announced the nature of the business. He suspected that some of the other runes represented the names of the owners or builders.

He walked up the steps and looked in through one open doorway. Pipes ran along the walls, and from them came a strange gurgling noise. He reached out and touched one. It was not hot enough to burn but it was still warm. Perhaps it had been intended as a heating system. He looked around at carved stone tables and chairs. They did not look particularly comfortable but dwarves were supposed to be a hardy people. Some small knick-knacks, statuettes of what might have been deities, combs and mugs still lay on a shelf carved into the walls. It was eerie. The city might just have been deserted days ago. It was easy enough to imagine that the owners might return at any time.

He turned and bounded back down into the street.

“Looking for something?” Boreas asked.

“A place where we can hole up and rest if we have to. These places are all death-traps, though. Too easy to bottle us up in one of them. And we can’t hide if the wolves are tracking our scent.”

The warrior nodded his understanding.

“What are we going to do then?” Sasha asked. “Keep walking until we drop.”

“Can you think of a better plan,” Kormak said. “You’re supposed to be our guide.”

“No,” she said. There was a grim set to her jaw. “Our best bet is to push on until we hit the ramps and drop down a few levels. We might be able to lose them that way.”

She did not sound hopeful. Howling sounded in the distance reverberating through the Underhalls.

“I think they found another way across,” she said. “Not that they needed to. We’re not holding the bridge anymore.”

“Have you ever seen so many goblins in Khazduroth before?” Karnea asked. “If I had known it would be like this, I would not have come here.”

Sasha shook her head. “Never seen more than a dozen at any one time until recently.”

Karnea frowned. “Where have they all come from? And why now?”

“Graghur is an Old One,” said Kormak. “And the Great Comet is in the sky. Perhaps he has a plan. Perhaps he wishes to make Khazduroth his citadel and is gathering his people here.”

“We can talk about this while we run,” said Boreas. “I am keen to put some distance between us and those wolves while we still can.”

Desperately they raced on. The howling came from every direction of the compass now. “Looks like they are throwing a net around us,” said Sasha. “They are making sure we cannot escape. The only direction we can go is down.”

“Let’s hope they are not waiting for us at these ramps of yours,” said Kormak.

“You’re not cheering me up,” Sasha said.

Ahead of them a monstrous flight of stairs descended into the darkness. There were two sets of steps, one on each side of a ramp wide enough to drive two chariots abreast on. Each step was marked with dwarf runes. Every twelve steps was a short landing. In every landing was a statue, uncannily realistic. All of them depicted either an Old One or a dwarf.

Kormak took the opportunity to study the Khazduri. They were shorter than men to judge by how their statues scaled against those of the Old Ones. The dwarves’ most conspicuous feature was their beards. They were long and often depicted in oddest positions, curving upwards in a serpent-like fashion as if caught by a gust of wind, or defying gravity. The hair of the females flowed in a similar way. The dwarves’ eyes were bigger than humans and their ears were pointed. Their mouths too were larger, thick-lipped beneath small snub noses in the case of women, and giant mole-like snouts in the case of men. There was something about the dwarves that reminded Kormak of the Ghul of Tanyth. Perhaps they came from the same stock, modified in a different way by the sorcery of the Old Ones.

The women were mostly robed, the males were mostly armoured, save for a few who held scrolls and appeared to be on the verge of making speeches.

The stairs ran down a long way, and the path was perfectly straight. They had barely reached the bottom when a chorus of howls broke out from the top. Glancing back Kormak saw a pack of wolves and riders massing at the top of the stairs. There were scores of them, too many to fight, and they were getting ready to charge.

Kormak considered making a stand but it seemed hopeless. Sasha had already broken into a run and was heading out of sight. Boreas and Karnea were following her. The goblin leader was addressing his troops. Kormak left him to it and raced after the rest.

Bones were scattered around the place. They crunched under his boots or skittered away at the passage of his flying feet. Most were goblin-sized but there were skeletons of wolves and larger creatures that were definitely not goblins. The bones were crushed and splintered. There were fewer skulls than he would have expected.

The howling behind him drove him on. He risked a glance over his shoulder. The wolves and their riders had stopped at the foot of the stairs. The wolves bayed with hunger and wrath, the goblins brandished their weapons and chittered threats. None of them made any move further.

Up ahead, Sasha and the others had halted. A few goblins lobbed futile missiles in their direction but none of them made any attempt to come any further.

“They’ve stopped,” said Karnea. A frown furrowed her brow.

“They almost had us,” said Sasha. “Why did they quit now?”

“Maybe they are afraid of something,” said Boreas.

“What could there possibly be around here that would frighten off a warband like that?” Sasha said.

“Let’s hope we don’t find out,” said Kormak. He sniffed the air. There was a foetid scent to it.

“The way our luck has been going I am not too hopeful of that.”

A goblin larger than the others strode along the front of their line, berating them, but it was clear that the other goblins were refusing to follow.

Somewhere in the depths, an unholy bellow sounded, as if some great beast had sensed the presence of intruders and was warning them from its territory.

“I hate it when I am right,” said Boreas.

They trudged deeper into the district, determined to put the goblins behind them. The others all seemed to feel that they would be safer with the wolves and their riders out of sight.

Their feet scuffed along the ground as if they were too heavy to lift. The unnatural energy of the quickleaf drained from Kormak’s body. His limbs felt stiff and achy, as if he were coming down with a disease. Dire fears of the creature that had made that awful sound scuttled through his mind but they had heard nothing more since the initial bellow.

“We need to find a place to rest,” he said. Boreas nodded agreement. Sasha grunted. Karnea reeled along as if lost in a world of fatigue. He raised his hand as a sign that they should stop. If they blundered into whatever had frightened off the goblins, they were most likely dead.

They were trudging along a street of open-fronted shops. There were no goods, only trash strewn about. They were of a shophouse design with living quarters at the back. Kormak shepherded the party into the storefront and through into the sleeping area. He chose at random but that was as good as anything else at the moment.

The others threw their packs on the ground and collapsed on top of them, using them as pillows. The drums still sounded. The vibration could be felt through the floor.

Karnea lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. “This is not quite turning out the way I thought it would,” she said. She sounded as if she wanted to cry.

“We’re not dead yet,” said Boreas. He clearly meant it to sound encouraging but it just reminded everyone of how close they had come to meeting their fates.

“We’re all suffering from the after-effects of quickleaf,” Kormak said. “Get some rest. Things will look better after some sleep.”

“We need to set watches,” said Boreas.

“I will take the first,” said Kormak. The warrior nodded agreement and slumped down gratefully. All of the others closed their eyes. Soon Boreas was snoring. Kormak sat facing the door, with his back to the wall, scabbarded blade across his knees. He found his thoughts drifting.

It had been a very long day. The events on the surface seemed a long time ago, as if they had happened weeks ago and not... He had no idea how many hours it had been since they started. If forced to guess, he would say that the sun had set above.

“What are you thinking?” Sasha asked softly.

“I thought you were going to get some sleep.”

“I can’t get my mind to stop.” She looked enviously at the snoring Boreas and Karnea who lay with her head atop her arm, propped up against her pack, the very picture of exhaustion.

“It happens,” said Kormak.

“Are you always like this? I’ve seen stones show more emotion.”

“Well, we are in a dwarven city.”

“Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“They are good sculptors,” he said. “They can make stonework show emotion.”