The White Towers (7 page)

Yoon licked fish-pale lips. “Him, him, that one, he has the right idea.” He gestured wildly at Zastarte. “This place is unholy. Not fit for men. There are things down there!” Yoon’s eyes flitted from one Iron Wolf to the next, to the next. His hands, tied tightly behind his back, were clammy with the same sweat that shone across his brow.

Narnok stepped closer, and Yoon blanched, his head moving back from the terrifying, scarred gaze and single working eye of the huge axeman. “You talk like you’ve been down here recent-like,” breathed Narnok, dangerously quiet.

“No, no!”

“Oh, I think you have, little worm.” Narnok hefted his axe and held a blade under Yoon’s chin. “Speak more, little king.”

“No, well, I might have explored a little; it is my fucking fortress after all!” he snapped, anger and madness flashing for a minute across his face, through his eyes. He struggled at the ropes, hoping to snap them in the same fashion Narnok had snapped his own bonds back on the gallows at Desekra, but without luck. Or the required strength. Narnok was something special.

“Good,” said Narnok, straightening. “That means you can show us the way.”

“What?” shrieked Yoon. “Are you insane? I’m not showing you, you, you fucking
traitors and infidels
… not showing you anything!”

“Well, lad, looks like I’ll be removing that kingly head from those kingly shoulders,” grinned Narnok, and loomed yet closer.

“Leave him!” snapped Kiki. “We haven’t got time for this. As far as we know, that bastard could be feeding us lies and horse shit. We’ll move on down through the tunnels, heading north and west. Dalgoran, God rest his soul, told me about the deeper tunnels, which form a network right under the mountains.” She glanced at Yoon and gave a nasty smile. “The King’s Guard will have to be extremely dedicated indeed to follow us that far into the unexplored wilderness beneath the mountains.”

Yoon scowled, but remained silent.

The Iron Wolves filled packs with supplies; dried and salted beef and fish; daggers; canteens of water; fish oil for the brands Kiki and Dek carried; and emergency candles for lanterns, which they found hanging in a bundle against one wall. They noted how well stocked this supply chamber was; it was obviously used with a regularity that surprised them all. Kiki asked Yoon, but he was no longer talking.

They moved on, Kiki leading the way, Narnok dragging Yoon like a dog. Zastarte and Trista were curiously silent, each withdrawn and growing more so the deeper the Iron Wolves descended into the subterranean darkness. Dek was the only one who seemed even remotely happy. Happy to escape the noose. Happy to escape battling mud-orcs and insane witch-queens. In a world of sudden violence and the necessity of the blade, to Dek, wandering through a few gloomy tunnels was a veritable party.

The tunnel they followed was wide, with a sandy floor. It sloped gradually down, and they trekked in silence. In the sand, there were boot prints, but there was no way of telling how old they were. Kiki kept her hand on the hilt of her short sword, just in case.

They journeyed for several hours, in silence, with Yoon making the occasional grunting sound or muttered curse as Narnok kept the king close to hand. As the ceiling grew lower, so Narnok muttered his own curses for it forced him to walk with a stoop, bent over, and he began to rub at his neck and spine as shooting pains bothered him.

Eventually, the tunnel split, then split again, and Kiki stopped, gathering her bearings. She glanced at Yoon, but the king looked away, pale face worm-like in the gloom, dark curls gleaming like insect carapace.

Kiki led them down a narrow tunnel, so narrow they could only move in single file. Occasionally they had to turn sideways themselves, to squeeze through narrow apertures, and once they came to what looked like an old rock fall that had been cleared above. They scrambled over a pile of large rocks, glancing up nervously at where it appeared huge, blocky boulders hung in a precarious balance, ready to tumble.

“Is that safe?” grumbled Narnok, grazing his knees as he climbed. He took it out on Yoon, tugging hard on the rope. Yoon made a strangled grunting sound.

“Is anything, in life?” replied Kiki from up ahead, her voice almost metallic as it reverberated.

“Suppose not,” muttered Narnok.

The scramble led to a large, hollowed-out chamber. Their firelight illuminated the rocks in streaks of silver and red. Kiki stared at the scene, confused for a moment until she realised there was a huge pool of water, an underground lake, which reflected the rocky angularities and protuberances of the ceiling. There were ledges to either side of the lake, and Kiki picked the left hand one that rose to a level just a few inches above the still, mirrored platter.

“Not sure about this,” said Narnok, uneasily, following the others onto the narrow ledge. “I don’t like water at the best of times; it’s only good for eels and fishes.”

“The interesting thing is,” said Yoon, stumbling along the ledge after him, “this lake formed because of the flash floods.”

Narnok stopped, and turned, and stared at Yoon. “You what?”

“Flash floods.” Yoon grinned almost maniacally, and seemed to gain some major satisfaction at the discomfort on the big axeman’s face.

“What does that bloody mean?”

“Storms, above, high up in the Skarandos Mountains. There are several fissures above here, high above, I believe. Sometimes, if the weather is bad – like now, during winter, for example – the mountains can dump millions of gallons of water, which come running down gaps in the rocks, finding their way and flooding chambers like this in seconds. I’ve had a lot of my men drown down here during exploration.”

Narnok stared at him, then glanced along the ledge to where Kiki had stopped and was frowning at him with a
what the Hell is wrong now?
face. Narnok growled, “This maggot says this chamber can flood!” He tried to keep the panicky whine from his voice, and was mostly unsuccessful.

“All the more reason to hurry along, then,” said Kiki through gritted teeth.

“But… I don’t want to drown,” said Narnok.

“Look at it this way,” said Dek. “If you drown, so does Yoon.”

They moved down the ledge, firelight dancing from walls and glowing against the lake’s surface like a sun’s dying rays over a distant world. The whole scene was intensely beautiful, filled with fire and subtle pastels. But Kiki was staring off ahead, mind working hard as she tried to remember,
tried to remember
, Dalgoran’s quiet words…

And that’s where it falls down, bitch,
said Suza, voice crowing like a diseased cockerel in Kiki’s mind.

Kiki paused. Her head titled sideways a little.
I thought you’d given up haunting me. I thought you’d crawled off somewhere to die; some poisonous little hole, some abandoned tomb, some place of death and desecration.

Kiki heard her own laughter inside her skull. She blinked. The world seemed to have gone into slow motion. The flames in the brand flickered, casting light across the underground lake, and yet she felt suddenly like the still water had become a huge mouth, opening like a vertical tunnel leading down to the bowels of the earth where she’d be swallowed whole and chewed into a bloody mass of mashed up bones and pulped flesh by teeth made of rock – deep down in the World Engine…

She took a deep breath, hand reaching out to steady herself against the wall. It seemed to take an age.

You cannot banish me,
and Kiki could not miss the smugness in Suza’s tone.
With all your power, with the curse of the Iron Wolves, with the
mana
of the
Shamathe
running through your blood and bones and brains, you fucking cannot even get rid of me. Because you killed me, bitch, and I, also, carried the seed of the
Shamathe
. And I fled my dying shell. And I fled into you. I am part of you, now, dear sister. Until the day you, and I, both die.

Kiki blinked, snapping out of it, and dropped to one knee, suddenly panting. It was like waking from a dream. A really bad dream.

“Kiki!” And Dek was there, tight beside her, his powerful body supporting her.

“I’m fine, Dek, I’m fine.” She stood, leaning against the wall for a moment.

“What happened?”

Kiki gave a narrow smile. “Bad ghosts. Come on, before one of Yoon’s flash floods comes thundering down and sends us swimming with the fishes.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” said Dek, and she saw in his eyes the gleam of emotion. He cared for her. He cared for her, dearly.

She smiled, and patted his hand in thanks.

“After everything that’s happened in the last few weeks, I don’t know what to believe any more,” she said.

 

The underground lake was an hour behind them. The tunnel had levelled out, was reasonably wide and had a breeze blowing through to cool the Iron Wolves and their unwelcome captive.

Kiki halted, and waited for the others to catch up.

They all stopped, and stared, and then looked to Kiki.

“What, by all the demons in the Furnace, and by the Tails of the Seven Sisters, is that?” said Zastarte, smoothing back his curls.

“It’s slime,” said Dek, and knelt beside the glowing yellow substance. He reached out as if to touch it, then thought better and withdrew his hand. “Looks a little like when a slug has passed on by.”

“Well, it goes all the way down there, dear boy,” said Zastarte, pointing with his fine-bladed rapier. “That would take a lot of slugs.”

They all peered at the pale, sickly substance. It mainly coated the floor of the tunnel, but up ahead they could see it on the walls as well.

“Is it dangerous, d’you think?” rumbled Narnok.

“Ask your little dog, there,” said Dek.

Narnok turned on Yoon. “Is it dangerous, lad? Eh?”

Yoon gave a shrug. “It’s the worms. We came across them several months ago. They are dangerous, but primitive. Nothing an axe through the head can’t solve, axeman. And I’m pretty sure you’ll be the right thuggish brute for the job.” Yoon sneered up at Narnok.

“You never answered the question,” rumbled Narnok, and before the king could retort, he dragged him to the edge of the faintly glowing slime and threw him down. Yoon cried out, and span around on the ground. The slime coated his hands and legs and finely embroidered coat. His head snapped up and he glared at Narnok with murder in his eyes.

“You fucking psychopath!” Yoon shrieked. He scrambled to his feet, slipping several times in the slime which now seemed to coat everything. “It could have been poisonous! It could have burned my flesh from my bones!”

“Well? Is it?”

Yoon stared at Narnok, mouth flapping. “Is it what?”

“Is it poisonous? Or burning you like a particularly bad case of syphilis?”

“What? No!”

“Well, stop moaning, lad. And remember,” he loomed close, baring his teeth in what might have been a smile, but was more reminiscent of something big and dark living in the caves below a deep river, “when I ask you a question, I expect a fucking answer. You hear me?” He reached out, grabbed Yoon by the throat, and shook him.

“I hear you,” gurgled the king.

“Come on,” said Kiki. “At least you proved one thing. It seems to be… safe. If that’s the right word.”

“Unless it has some terrible chemical side effect,” flourished Zastarte, and he smiled, his beautiful face cracking into a glow of handsome ruggedness. “Something that, I don’t know, damages us over a period of time, maybe socially as well as psychologically?”

“Prince Zastarte, we’re all psychologically damaged. Or had you forgotten our curse?”

“It may be a curse to you, dear Kiki, but if I’m brutally honest, the ladies enjoy a little bit of the animal in their adventures. Aren’t I right, Trista, my beautiful little scorpion?”

“You certainly stink like an animal,” said Trista, and smiled sweetly.

“I rest my case,” said Zastarte, and patted his mouth and nose with the lace ruffs of his silk shirt.

Kiki led the way through the tunnel, boots squelching through the sticky mess. The further they moved, the thicker the slime appeared, and the faint, almost fluorescent glow made it almost unnecessary for the fire torches they carried.

“You could put them out,” said Dek, catching Kiki up.

She glanced at him. She looked ashen. Weary, drawn, gaunt. She forced a smile. “I thought we might have a sudden need for fire,” she said, and Dek gave a thoughtful nod.

“You look tired, Keeks. Is it time for a stop?”

“When we get past this… area,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep here if I was dead on my feet. Which I practically am.” She gave a weak smile, and Dek reached out, touching her shoulder.

“Hang in there, Captain,” he said, his eyes shining, mouth forming a smile.

“I’ll do my best, Dek. Just hope my best is good enough.”

As they travelled, so a bad smell started to seep into the tunnels. It was rancid, like rotting fish and bad eggs, woven intricately into an aroma that made a human want to puke. Zastarte was the most offended. He pulled out a tiny little green bottle, and as Narnok and Dek watched with absolute disbelief, he squirted a little perfume onto a silk embroidered handkerchief and held it over his mouth and nose. He saw their stares.

“What?”

“You really are a fucking girl,” rumbled Narnok, scratching at his scarred chin.

“Hey,” said Zastarte, words muffled from behind the silk, “is it my fault I’m such a sensitive, delicate soul? I confess, despite being an expert in the lore of exploring a woman, and indeed on the intricacies of experimenting with a torture victim, one thing that really invades me worse than any anal rape is a truly offensive aroma.” He frowned from behind his perfumed barrier. “I cannot help it that the rest of you are stinking heathens who do not wash their armpits and are happy to carry rancid lice in their lank and un-honeyed hair. Why, you all bring shame to the concept of warriors with honour and nobility, when a damsel is being rescued from certain death, the last thing she needs is some hairy brutal oaf with all the toiletry finesse of a rutting hog.”