The Lord of Lies: Strange Threads: Book 2 (12 page)

‘My lord,’ said a fellow called Commander Balen, ‘we are nearing Harten.’

‘Ah.’

It was the first town they would come to that owed no fealty to Tallahow, thus marking the edge of Forger’s territory. In the distance he could see its smoking chimneys and people fleeing in various directions, some on horses, others with their possessions on their backs.

‘Look at
them,’ said Forger. ‘At this rate there won’t be anyone left! What’s the point of conquering nobody? They should not run, but bow down as we pass.’

‘What do you want done, lord?’

‘Send riders after them. When they catch groups, kill one in every two. For the lone travellers, cut off a foot.’

If Balen balked at the odd savagery of the order, he did not show it.

‘I hate it when people run away,’ muttered Forger.

He was momentarily distracted though, as a couple of rocks rose from the grass before his feet and floated away, up into the air.

Tarzi had never
tried to enter Althala Castle on her own before and, as expected, guards stopped her at the front entrance demanding to know her business. Luckily, when she told them she was looking for Rostigan, one of them recognised her.

‘He came here earlier today, Miss Tarzi, looking for Lady Yalenna. Would you like me to take you to him?’

‘That would be very nice, thank you.’

The guard led her through the castle, asking questions of others along the way. No one could give a definite answer about Rostigan or Yalenna’s whereabouts, until they found Jandryn in the armoury. Swords and polished metal hung from lines of racks, which Jandryn moved between with a scribe on his heels.

‘These can be sent to the camp,’ he was saying as they entered, and the scribe made a note.

‘Captain,’ announced
Tarzi’s escort, ‘Miss Tarzi is trying to find Skullrender.’

Jandryn turned, and something flickered across his face. He dismissed the guard and nodded to the scribe to carry on without him. Once he and Tarzi were alone, he lowered his voice.

‘I must apologise, good minstrel, but it seems your warrior and the Priestess have left the castle.’

Despite half-expecting to hear such a thing, Tarzi was irritated.

‘Where did they go?’

‘I do not know. They retired to a meeting room to discuss a plan to which I was not privy, and did not emerge. I checked inside a short time ago and found the room empty. I can therefore only assume …’

‘They have threadwalked somewhere.’

‘Indeed.’

Tarzi shook her head. She did not like it – if something happened to Yalenna, how would Rostigan get back? He could end up stranded halfway across the world and no one would even know. Why was he so damnably close-lipped?

‘There’s something I must tell you, Captain,’ she said.

‘Oh? That will make a change.’

‘I was walking in the city this morning – I don’t know if you’ve been on the streets today?’

‘Not today.’

‘I noticed
an odd mood out there, a pervasive kind of sadness. It got hold of me too, but once I was free of it, I remembered where I felt it last.’

‘Where?’

‘When Rostigan and I came across a village that had been beset by a Worm of Regret.’

Jandryn paled. ‘I … but, well, I don’t think we can say that a glum mood is really proof …’

‘Let me continue. The worms, as you probably know, feed on hope and happiness, which is why folk in their presence become so maudlin. Then, once a person has been sucked dry, they offer themselves up to be finished off, seemingly of their own volition. Well, today I saw that happen.’

‘You did? Where?’

‘It was a beggar, which is how it starts – those with the least hope to begin with make for the easiest prey. I saw this man crawl into a drain where a worm was waiting for him.’

‘A drain? Then … ah, but of course.’

‘What is it?’

‘All the drains flow into a cavern beneath the city, through which the Glymph runs underground.’

‘That would be perfect for a worm then. Or worms.’

‘Though you saw only one?’

‘Yes, but a city this size could easily support more.’

Jandryn rubbed his chin. ‘This is dim news indeed. There have been recent reports of worms appearing all throughout Aorn, but, well … somehow I thought a place like this would be safe. How naive of me.’

‘No,’ said
Tarzi, ‘it
should
be safe. It just isn’t.’

Jandryn nodded. ‘The river emerges to the city’s south, out of a cave – it would be easy enough for a monster to slither in there.’ He reached a decision. ‘I shall take a troop and see what we can find.’

Tarzi felt a kernel of fear for him. ‘Shouldn’t you wait for Rostigan?’

Jandryn almost scowled, but quickly smoothed his expression. ‘Why?’

‘He has fought worms before.’

‘Well then,’ said Jandryn, with a reckless kind of glint to his eye, ‘it is time for someone else to have a turn.’

Tarzi wasn’t sure why Rostigan’s name had fired him up so much, and he noticed her uncertainty.

‘As Captain of the Althalan Guard,’ he said, ‘the city relies on me for protection. I should not require help from anyone else to do my duty. No offence to your fellow, but we have done without him before, and will do without him again.’

‘Of course,’ said Tarzi carefully. ‘Just be warned that a worm will herald its coming with prevailing misery.’

Jandryn glanced about – up the other end of the armoury a couple of soldiers were trying on armour.

‘Trant! Garran!’ he called. ‘Assemble our finest in the square – fifty, I should say.’

The guards saluted and headed off. Jandryn watched them go, then turned back to Tarzi with an appraising expression.

‘You seem
like you are having a thought, Captain.’

‘I wonder if you would accompany us?’

Tarzi was so used to being ruled out of things that she took a moment to hear his words.

‘What? Why?’

‘The cavern is part of a network, so potentially we could poke around for hours without discovering anything. However, as you have said, worms are attracted to happiness – so I wonder if a jolly song would lure one from hiding? Or, indeed, protect morale, if it was being threatened?’

A mix of emotions ran through Tarzi, not the least of which was surprise. Always she hoped to witness great deeds, but she was frightened by the idea of entering a dark cave crawling with evil creatures. Here was a chance, however, to actually do something, and had she not been lamenting a lack of such purpose just that very morning?

Besides, Rostigan would no doubt strongly disapprove.

Noting her hesitation, Jandryn spoke up. ‘Perhaps my suggestion is unwise,’ he said. ‘I should not like explaining to Skullrender that I lost his lady down Althala’s drains.’

The threat of having the choice withdrawn spurred her to decision. ‘No, I shall come. Fifty of your finest, you said?’

‘Aye, and threaders as well.’

Tarzi nodded. ‘I will come.’

As they made their way along the southern road out of the city, Tarzi could not quite believe what she was doing. Being surrounded
by guards was something of a comfort at least, and there were three threaders with them as well. They seemed more outwardly nervous than anyone else, and conversed amongst themselves in low voices.

The road led down a hill and, at the bottom, they left it to enter a thick wood. From there they looped back towards Althala, the walls of which could be seen looming above the canopy, atop a cliff on the southern side. Soon she heard a river bubbling, and there, between the trees, ran the Glymph. It was not a wide river, but busy, with curls of mucky froth flowing along the surface. They followed it upstream along a rocky shore, against which skerricks of Althala’s waste collected or caught in reeds. All too soon, they came to a mossy cave at the base of the cliff from which the river emerged. Roots hung over the entrance, and there were ledges of slick rock on either side. The darkness beyond was every bit as forbidding as Tarzi had expected, and the smell was not especially pleasant either.

As the guards formed up to wait for orders, Jandryn conversed with a small man, one of the castle architects. He gestured into the cave at the right-hand ledge.

Tarzi swallowed, clutching her lute tightly. She wished that Rostigan were here. Then he would either send her home, or she would feel safer under his watchful gaze.

‘All right everyone,’ announced Jandryn, making her jump. Would the worms hear him? But then, she thought, that was what they wanted – for the worms to
come to them.
That was, in fact, the whole point of her presence.

‘We’re heading
in. We make for the main cavern, which will take some time to reach. Threaders, light our way – one of you with me at the front, one in the middle, one at the back. We don’t know how many worms to expect, but I reckon we’ll be a match for them.’ He put a hand on his sword. ‘Won’t we?’

The soldiers muttered affirmatives, nodding to each other. Well, they were brave, Tarzi gave them that.

‘When we find the bastards,’ said Jandryn, ‘we want to kill them quickly, before their magic can infect us. So weapons out at all times, whatever you favour.’

Soldiers drew swords or notched arrows in bows.

‘If we see nothing before reaching the cavern, we may have to trick the beasts from hiding. Luckily we have a fine minstrel with us.’ Jandryn shot Tarzi a fierce grin, which she returned meekly. ‘Some of you may even have heard her sing already.’

There were a few friendly nods and a woman next to Tarzi slapped her on the shoulder.

‘Is everyone ready?’ said Jandryn. ‘Are there any questions? Very well! Keep your wits about you, stay together, and everyone head up the right-hand side. Threaders!’

The threaders set about sparking their torches to life with flints and daggers. As they flared, they waggled their fingers over the flames, growing them taller and tighter like amorphous fiery staffs. After a brief argument amongst their number, one of them came forward to stand with Jandryn. Together they led the way into the cave, the soldiers following closely. When it was Tarzi’s turn to clamber up the wet incline under the roots, she was relieved by how bright the light made things inside. An orange glow bounced off the water and chased reflections around the tunnel, which widened ahead of them. She trod carefully, for the ledge was slippery with moisture and moss, and there were loose rocks underfoot. She had always been nimble, however, and uneven ground did not worry her as long as she could see it. Water churning against the ledge sent a cold spray against her legs, and she wished she had known the day would bring her to such a place as this, for she would have chosen trousers over a skirt. What frightened her most were the dark holes and passages that appeared in the walls they passed, like so many open mouths which the torchlight did not penetrate. It would not matter how many guards stood around her if a worm chose the moment of her passing to snap out of the darkness.

As they
continued on the air grew danker. Frequently she caught a whiff of human stench, or something like old vegetables rotting. Cave skitterers – how she hated them – dodged the light, retreating into their cracks and crevices. It would be easy, she reflected, to lose oneself to despair in a place like this, with or without any Worms of Regret. She tried to imagine happier places, lazy days lying in bed with Rostigan.

They passed
a steel drain poking out of the roof, a sign that they were now moving beneath the city. It was positioned above the river, and from it dripped a steady trail of brown liquid, making Tarzi wrinkle her nose. As she watched it hit the river, she thought for a moment that she saw something moving under the surface. She gasped and grabbed the arm of the closest soldier, pointing. He sprang to the water’s edge, bow trained into the river, and others quickly did the same … but it was hard to see anything beneath the frothy swell, especially with three giant torches casting light from different angles.

‘False alarm, I think,’ said the soldier and, after peering for a few moments more, the others agreed and moved on.

Tarzi followed uneasily. Maybe she had seen something, maybe she hadn’t – glistening black skin, just for a moment?

The sides of the tunnel fell away into blackness as they entered a large cavern, where the torches less easily found the edges of their surrounds. Drains glinted everywhere, haphazardly purging their contents at different rates, some trickling, others dry, others sloppily flowing. Some stuck out of the roof directly above the river, while others were in walls near ground level, their contents leaking across the path in runs to the water. Some of the filth was piled up, clogging that which followed.

‘Clean-up crew hasn’t been through for a while,’ Tarzi heard the architect mutter.

The stench was bad, but it wasn’t solely caused by Althala’s waste. Up ahead, on either side of the river, she recognised what she knew to be worm mounds. Sheets of hardened brown slime peppered with salvaged objects sloughed against walls, like fetid collapsed tents. Some of the objects, she saw, were grimily shining bones. How many beggars and vagrants had been dragged down here unnoticed? From where she stood, looking over the heads of soldiers, she could make out at least three mounds – did that mean three worms, or one worm with three beds?