City of Scars (The Skullborn Trilogy, Book 1) (26 page)

His body knew it would be another hour before daylight, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep.  He was too elated at the notion of seeing a piece of his home.  If he were to sleep again in the underground it would be in Black Sun, for that was as close to returning to Meledrakkar as he was ever going to get.

Kruje’s eyes again fell on Dane.  His armor and weapon marked him as a member of an order that had been feared and hated by the Voss during the Blood Queen’s war, but it was obvious to Kruje that Dane had fallen on hard times even before the incident at the arena.  A cold void waited behind the man’s eyes, a storm of loss and loathing.  Those knights were the sworn enemies of all who’d allied themselves with the Blood Queen…so it made absolutely no sense why this human had helped him.

Would he side with me again if I made a bid for freedom? 

The air darkened as the flames Dane conjured started to expire; the knight would let them die entirely before he created new light.  Dane used the Veil often – more often than he realized, Kruje thought – and the giant could tell how exhausted his constant contact made him.  The Veil used the body, wore it down, just as it wore down Vossian machines and made them unstable after just the first use.  Even if Dane were to become Kruje’s ally the giant doubted the knight would be a stable companion.  The Veil drove humans mad, and it didn’t treat the Voss much better.

Kruje turned his attention back to the door.  He’d dreamed of seeing one of the siege cities when he’d still been destined to wear the Third Iron Crown…back when being Voss had meant something to him.  Miserable and disheartening as his situation was, Kruje was excited to see what waited on the other side of the door.  Most of his dreams had died, but standing there somehow made him feel young again. 

He breathed deep so he could attain Kar-Thelud.  The peace wouldn’t last, but he’d enjoy it while he could.

Thirty-Nine

The cold air made Dane’s injuries ache, and the old scar on his stomach itched like mad.  He hated the wound – it made him think about what had happened in the Razortooth.  Normally he could shut the memories out with the Veil, but he was too exhausted to try. 

His hands trembled.  He saw piles of bodies with their eyes torn out, and his boots were wet with blood.  He stood near the circle of women and the black-faced man as he circled them, trying to choose which would be the first to die.  Ash filled the air like grey snow.

He saw the boy, dead on the ground by Dane’s hand.

Dane felt nauseous, like he’d been at sea.  Tears froze where they fell to the ground.  He wanted to fold in on himself. 

Goddess, why can’t I be rid of this pain? 

He wanted nothing more than to forget, and yet he thought about it nearly every day.  He tried not to, tried to distract himself with what he was doing, with thoughts of the future…but there was no future.  Not for him. 

Dane couldn’t face what had been carved from his soul.  He knew he’d spend the rest of his life in a shadow.

Enough
, he told himself. 
Enough tears.  Get on your feet.

Kruje hadn’t moved in quite some time.  He just stood and watched the door.  Maddox and his henchmen quietly talked amongst themselves as they watched Dane and the giant. 

I have to get the hell out of here.  I still have a job to do.

Dane walked up next to Kruje and waited.  For some reason he sensed it was almost time.

A low rumble issued from the wall like the growl of a huge animal.  Pale starglow bled around the massive doorframe.  Without speaking a word the Kruje stepped up and threw the full force of his weight against the door.  The heavy stone groaned, and a strong and meaty blast of putrid air pushed out at them. 

The space beyond the door stank of decay and old waste.  Kruje continued to push, and Dane was about to help when the door finally gave way and crashed open.  Motes of crystal dust drifted down in a veil of debris.

Dane held his
vra’taar
ready as he cautiously stepped forward.  His boots echoed loud on the old stone floor on the other side, which he noted was devoid of frost.  The new air wasn’t as cold as what they’d grown accustomed to. 

He kept moving, feeling small in the shadows.  Solid shapes slowly came into view, slender columns of rune-carved stone.  Dane heard the others shuffle along behind him.  He watched above and below, but the mist obscured view of anything more than a few feet away.  The sounds he’d heard from the other side of the door were markedly absent, and the air was heavy with moisture.

“What do those carvings say?” Cavus whispered, but in those vaulted halls his voice carried like a shout before fading into ghostly echo.  The only wall Dane could see was the one behind them, and there was no ceiling in sight, so the columns just vanished into the mists overhead.

“Quiet!” Maddox commanded.  His own voice thundered around them like a storm.  Dane shook his head. 

He moved deeper into the ice-blue fog.  The veil lifted after a few dozen yards and the air turned dry.  Cold stones set in the walls and floor illuminated the massive area.  Dane’s eyes took in the breadth of their surroundings, and he couldn’t suppress a quiet gasp of awe.

Beyond the tendrils of mist stood a fortress-city carved into the black rock, an assembly of dozens of shadow-wreathed towers wrought of iron and stone.  Vast spirals of grey quartz rose to the fog-shrouded ceiling. Cylindrical fortresses stood in the distance, massive dark structures of granite and lead topped with bladed crenelations. 

The group spread out.  More of the strange towers came into view, vast and dark and eerily silent.  Tall windows peered down at Dane like hollow eyes.  The structures were vast – even Kruje seemed tiny compared to the great towers, and Dane realized with cold terror that at some point many, maybe hundreds of Voss had filled those halls, monstrous creatures of morbid intellect and unending cruelty.  The city must have taken centuries to build. 

Kruje stood in awe of the place, as did they all.  Was the giant’s home anything like this?  It had occurred to Dane that Kruje might have been an outcast of sorts, for it was generally believed the Voss rarely stirred from their behemoth city of Meledrakkar unless they were sent on some special mission, or else were driven out.  Even though Dane felt he had something of an unspoken understanding with the giant he decided he’d better keep an even closer eye on him now that they were in the city.

Maddox waved Dane over to take a look at something. 

At least he finally learned to keep his idiot voice down
, Dane thought. 

He moved quietly towards the lumbrous slaver, and he was halfway there when a grinding metallic scream tore through the air.  Something metal splattered Cavus’s body against a nearby column in a spray of sparks and gore.  Dane saw an enormous X-shaped blade embedded in the stone, dripping the henchman’s remains.  Maddox screamed.

They heard movement in the darkness.  Gulg pointed to a space between two of the stone towers and drew his sword, but a crossbow bolt struck him in the forearm and made him drop both his weapon and torch as he cried out in pain.  Kruje charged into the shadows with his massive axe ready. 

Dane ducked behind the nearest column and carefully circled around with the stone at his back.  Something big – very big – had thrown the weapon that had killed Cavus, and Dane didn’t intend to be the next target. 

A pair of black-clad men with longswords came at him.  Steel clanged against the stone just over Dane’s head.  More lights were in the distance, which meant more men.  Dane turned and swung his
vra’taar
.  Headless bodies fell to the ground behind him as he ran for cover.

Silhouettes closed in fast, shouting to each other.  Dane heard crossbows being fired, and Maddox and Gulg shouted closeby.  He focused his thoughts and extinguished the light on his
vrat’taar
.  The crystals and torches provided enough illumination now, so he moved fast and low through the stone forest, staying close to the columns. 

Who did the soldiers belong to?  It seemed someone not associated with the Voss had taken control of the siege city, and they weren’t too keen on visitors.

Light shone from around a corner.  Dane sprang forward and severed an arm holding a torch, then cut the man’s throat with the short blade of his
vra’taar
.  A second soldier thrust at Dane with a long spear, but Dane sliced the shaft in two and drove his sword deep into his attacker’s thigh.  Blood oozed from the wound.  The young man screamed and tried to fight him off, but Dane was bigger and stronger, and he forced the blade all the way through and grabbed the boy’s hair with his free hand. 

“Who are you?” Dane growled.  “What are you doing here?”

“Please!” the boy shouted.  He was eighteen if he was a day.  “Please…”  Dane twisted the blade, and the boy screamed louder.

“Quick,” Dane said.  “Or you’ll never walk again.”

“I’m Marus…”

Dane pulled the boy’s face close. “Who do you work for?  Where’s the way out?”

Marus pointed back the way he’d came, towards the city.  “The main…halls…that’s where we’re stationed, where we were waiting…”

Dane heard something big approaching.  “Waiting for who?  Who sent you?”

“Goddess…please…”  Dane turned his blade, slowly.  He heard sinew rip, and blood spurted.  “Kleiderhorn, all right!” Marus screamed.  “Bordrec Kleiderhorn!”

The sound of massive footsteps shook the ground.  A great shadow fell over Dane.  He pulled his blade free and dove backwards.  Marus didn’t have time to move before a massive broadsword smashed his skull down into his torso with a sickening crunch. 

Dane hid in the shadows.  The severed arm on the ground still held the torch.  The sword-bearer stepped into view.

At first Dane thoughts it was Kruje – the creature was roughly the same height and size and was similarly clothed in black, but there the similarities ended.  This giant’s armor was thick iron mail soaked with Marus’s blood, and the creature’s red fingers tightly gripped the hilt of an enormous black blade.  Its flesh was crimson, and its misshapen skull was set with a sloped forehead and large and pointed ears.  Two of its tall and sharpened teeth were larger than the rest and protruded from its mouth like tusks.  Strange tattoos of serpents and blades covered the beast’s ungainly face and well-muscled arms, and its black pinprick eyes gazed wildly into the dark. 

The creature sniffed the air with its snout.  Dane pushed himself closer against the column, just out of the torchlight.  The creature paused, sniffed the air again, and swung its blade right at Dane.  He ducked and rolled away and the sword sliced through the air just over his head and smashed against the stone. 

Dane dove at the beast and sank his
vra’taar
into the creature’s side.  The brute howled and lashed out with a backhanded blow that painfully struck Dane in the chest and threw him off his feet.  Everything spun.  He hit the ground hard, and the air blasted from his lungs.  Dane distantly heard his sword clatter to the ground, and he rolled onto his back just in time to see the creature step over him with its blade held high. 

Kruje came out of nowhere and rushed at the red-skinned beast.  The Voss tackled it, and they both went down with a thunderous boom.  Dane slowly rose to his feet, every muscle aching, his chest heaving with pain.  The giants rose and charged at each other.  Kruje’s axe clanged noisily against the red beast’s sword.  Sparks fell to the ground. 

Dane hastily picked up his
vra’taar
.  Frenzied shouts sounded behind him, and dozens of feet were closing in fast.  He looked around, desperate.  A shadowy figure moved into an open doorway in a nearby tower.

He reached out to the dead chill of the Veil.  Dane’s vision honed in on the red creature.  The space between them seemed to vanish.  He sensed the heart, felt its putrid black blood pump through leathery veins. 

Dane’s blood turned to ice.  A bright flash of light exploded inside the creature.  It howled and threw its hands over its face as bolts of lightning burst from its skull.  The stench of burning flesh was nauseating.  Its eyes exploded. 

Kruje didn’t hesitate, and his axe shattered the creature’s hands and head with a loud crack.

Dane collapsed.  He was so disoriented he couldn’t stand, and his vision had blurred to a haze of red and black.  The sound of men grew louder. 

“Kruje!” he shouted.  He pointed to where he thought he’d seen the open tower door.  Kruje lifted him up and practically threw him through the doorway.  Dane fell hard on his hands and knees.  He heard Kruje’s axe, heard muffled shouts and cries of pain, and then the giant was there in the tower with him.  They threw themselves against the stone door to seal it shut.

Dane’s vision bled back into focus.  The tower was tall and hollow, with a narrow spiral staircase winding its way up. 

“No!” Maddox shouted.  “They saw you!” 

“Help us hold the damn door!” Dane shouted.

Maddox reluctantly came to their aid, and together the three of them pushed against the portal.  There was no question it had been knocked open earlier by Kruje or the red giant, because it must have weighed a ton, and there was no way Maddox could have opened it on his own. Kruje was doing all of the work as they tried to push it closed, even though Dane heaved with all his strength.  His muscles burned and his face was layered with sweat. 

The stone groaned and scraped across the ground inch at a time.  They heard shouts just on the other side.  Dane’s heart pounded furiously in his chest.  If Kleiderhorn had more of those red brutes they were as good as dead. 

The stone portal sealed shut.  Kruje slid an iron bar across the door with a defeaning clang.  Maddox shouted and fell back against the wall, while Kruje hefted his axe and looked up the stairs. 

Dane collapsed.  He floated at the edge of consciousness, his strength sapped away.  He could barely keep his eyes open.  Weapons pounded against the door. Dane heard an inhuman roar, the clarion call of another of those crimson marauders.