Under Fragile Stone (21 page)
Read Under Fragile Stone Online
Authors: Oisín McGann
‘We’ve got to find some food,’ Mirkrin thought aloud. ‘I wonder if those Seneschal are edible.’
‘Anything’s edible if you’re hungry enough,’ the old miner assured him.
‘Well, at this point I’d eat sand if it smelled good.’
‘You’d probably manage some roasted Seneschal then, so …’
A ragged scream froze their blood. It echoed around the cave and slowly died away.
‘Gods,’ Noogan croaked. ‘That was Dal.’
‘It came from down that way,’ Paternasse pointed, his voice tight in his throat.
They hurried back down the path and took the branch that they had passed, wanting to rush, but wary of running headlong into the darkness and whatever it held. Their breathing came fast and shallow, and each was sure the beat of their heart must be resounding through the cave. A
blue-white
glow came into sight and they crept towards it. It was Dalegin’s torch, resting against the slope of the wall. On the very edge of its light, they could see a boot lying on its side, the laces torn open.
‘Oh no,’ Paternasse rasped. ‘Oh no, what’s happened to him?’
He edged further forwards, the torch in his hand stretched out ahead of him as far as he could reach. He was panting and the sweat was cold on his skin. In the stillness he felt a drop run down his back. The light picked out a piece of torn trouser leg and then Dalegin’s satchel. Wedged between the glistening columns of two stalagmites was what remained of Dalegin.
* * * *
Being on the run from the Ludditch clan had given the four fugitives a certain celebrity status in the storyhouse. Two outlandish stories from Draegar had cemented the
Maggitchs
’ good will and now Draegar and the Myunans were entertaining their hosts even further. Taya added the
finishing
touches to Lorkrin’s face, his head and shoulders now a striking resemblance to Learup Ludditch III, if slightly smaller than the original. Draegar, who had never seen the Reisenick chieftain, started to draw the likeness onto a sheet
of vellum provided by the proprietor. The drawing was taken and pinned up on the wall, and used for a blowpipe contest. Any man who could land a dart in each of
Ludditch’s
eyes, with the allotted three shots, received a free pitcher of mead. Draegar had the honour of being the first to deface his own drawing, and the room cheered heartily.
Lorkrin slunched and let his face settle back so as to avoid any of the hostility that was being aimed at the picture. He and Taya sat back, feeling bloated and sleepy after their huge meal of wild hog and rice stew. Taya saw Rug stand up, make his way to the door and slip quietly outside.
‘Tell us another yarn, there, feller!’ a Sestinian with an acne-ravaged face called out to Draegar. ‘And make it a chiller!’
‘I have just the tale,’ the Parsinor announced. ‘And it’ll make you think twice about walking out on a dark night such as this! I’m going to tell you the story of the Lantern Lady!’
‘I’ve heard this one,’ Taya murmured to her brother. ‘I think I’ll go outside, I could do with some air.’
‘Me too,’ he replied. ‘But we’re bringing the doughnuts.’
He grabbed the plate of doughnuts and they squeezed out through the mass of bodies, keen for the clear forest air after the hot, smoky atmosphere of the storyhouse. Outside, they found Rug sitting in a chair on the terrace, looking out into the night.
‘You all right, Rug?’ Taya asked. ‘You didn’t eat anything.’
‘I don’t feel hungry,’ he answered, without taking his eyes of the gloom. ‘I don’t feel well at all, actually. I have a … pain, inside me. And sometimes I hurt all over.’
‘Uncle Emos knows a thing or two about healing,’ Lorkrin
said to him. ‘When we catch up with him, he should be able to tell you what’s wrong. With all you’ve been through lately, it’s not surprising you’re feeling out of sorts.’
Rug didn’t answer, so the two Myunans decided to leave him to his thoughts, idly wondering what a person thought about when they didn’t remember anything about
themselves
. They probably thought about getting their memories back. Lorkrin swatted the gnats away from the doughnuts and they both sat down under the orange glow of one of the windows with their backs to the wall.
‘When are we going to get moving?’ Taya complained. ‘I mean, I’m glad for the meal and the rest, but we’re wasting time.’
‘Draegar knows what he’s doing – this is his thing,’ Lorkrin reassured her. ‘We don’t have any money to pay for a ride, so he says we need to make some friends and find someone who’s going our way.’
‘Well, I wish he’d hurry up. Here, stop hoggin’ those doughnuts.’
* * * *
Draegar knocked back some mead and belched, holding his hands up for silence. When the noise had died down, he began his story in a low, soft voice.
‘I was one of three travellers; the others a Noranian
mercenary
and a Braskhiam trader, and we had two Karthar guides.
‘We were making for the valleys deep in the Kartharic Peaks, where most of the Karthars live. We had to pass through the Axmantle, a stone jungle of latticed spars that
is as complex as the growth of the cobrush trees here. The sun shines through in thin spears during the day, and at night, it is pitch black and the sounds of the animals that inhabit the place reverberate around the stone. Only a fool would try to travel through this maze without an
experienced
guide.
‘We had two oxen as pack animals, for the Karthars do not allow vehicles to pass through to their valleys. We stopped on the first night and made camp. It was as black as a cave, but the wind blew through that web of stone as through a mountain pass and it chilled us to the bone. The guides lit a bule-oil stove and set about making some supper, while the rest of us stood looking up through the network of stone in the hope of spotting a star or two.
‘I confess, I wanted to explore and I am not one to shy away from a wander when I’m curious, but the guides insisted that we not leave the trail and that we stay in easy sight of the camp lanterns.
‘It was the Braskhiam who spotted it first – a light flitting through the shadows just within sight of us. He called out to the person holding the light, and strode out to see who they were. He was an ambitious man, always looking for a chance to sell his wares. The guides called him back, and the urgency in their voices persuaded him that he should do as he was told. We settled down to eat and saw no more of the light before we went to sleep.
‘I woke later to find the Braskhiam was gone. I looked up in time to see him carrying one of our lanterns into the darkness of the stone web. Cursing his stubbornness, I called after him and the others woke up. The Noranian and I wanted to go after him, but the guides would not have it. They jabbered something about a “Lantern Lady”, and their faces barely hid their fear. In the end, the Noranian and I
took a lantern each and went by ourselves. Careful to keep the camp in sight, we crept out into the maze, calling the Braskhiam’s name. There was no answer. We heard a
tearing
sound out in the blackness and hurried after it.
Surrounded
by a mesh of rock that looked the same whichever way you turned, it was all too easy to imagine ourselves getting lost and we looked back constantly to check we could still see the lights of the camp.
‘We found the Braskhiam – or what was left of him – in a hollow out of sight of our guides’ light. The Noranian stayed where he could see the camp, and I walked down to examine the body. What I saw there will stay with me the rest of my life. The man’s body had been peeled like a piece of fruit and the bones removed. The meat lay where it had fallen, but there was no sign of a single bone – not one. To do such a thing would take a measure of power and ferocity that struck fear even into my stout heart. Drawing my sword and battleaxe, I backed out of that hollow and told the Noranian what I had seen. He loaded his crossbow and pulled down the visor on his helmet.
‘We were loath to leave the body unburied, but we were vulnerable out there in the darkness with a terrible
predator
nearby. The remains were in such a state as to make collecting them a difficult and messy business, so we decided to forego the task and make our way back to the camp as quickly as we could. It was then I looked to where the light of the camp was and something struck me as odd.
‘I am a map-maker, and I am blessed with an accurate sense of direction. I was sure the light was in the wrong place. The Noranian assured me it wasn’t and started off in that direction. I followed, against my better judgement. As we got closer, I realised that the quality of light was
different
from a bule-oil lantern and I said so. The Noranian was
suspicious too, but, unwilling to admit that he might be wrong, he kept on going.
‘We drew near enough to see that it wasn’t our camp at all, but a lone figure holding up a light. She was moving, and we could see what appeared to be an old woman. The Noranian called out and ran up to her and then stopped in his tracks. He turned and started running back towards me, shouting at me to flee. The old lady’s lantern went out and suddenly there came the sound of heavy, drumming feet. The Noranian spun to fire his crossbow – there was a cry, but the creature kept charging. Unable to see what was coming at us, I yelled at him to get out of the way and threw my lantern into the animal’s path. The glass smashed against something and the oil sprayed out and ignited,
setting
fire to the thing. Whatever it was, it was certainly no old lady and it was at least my size, probably larger. The Noranian fired another crossbow bolt into it and I scored a blow with my battleaxe across its neck as it passed me. But it kept going. It charged on into the night, the flames engulfing its body. It stumbled on, dying noisily and
eventually
we lost sight of it.
‘We had no doubt that it was dead, but we were not about to go looking for the body and trust our lives to our remaining lamp, so we started looking for our camp. I was confident of the direction, and before long, we saw the light again. In our relief at finding our way back, we forgot the crucial rule: always announce yourself when approaching a camp from out in the dark. There was the muffled blast of compressed air and something smashed through the lantern, punching straight into the Noranian’s chest. I shouted at the Karthars to hold their fire, but it was too late for my companion. They had shot at the light in his hand, fearing he was the very beast we had just killed. The
harpoon had killed him outright. I stamped out the
burning
oil and cursed their names. The guides watched me warily as I approached, their harpoon guns reloaded.
‘The rest of the night and the following day passed
without
further adventure, but the guides assured me that there were many more “Lantern Ladies” out there in the
Axmantle
. They prey on the gullible and the lost, feeding on their bones and leaving the flesh like discarded rind. I don’t know how this one fooled us as it did, but never again will I go hunting strange lights in the dark.’
* * * *
Something sailed down out of the trees and landed lightly on the ground. Taya and Lorkrin stopped talking, looking out into the dark yard, ringed with apple trees that lay at the front of storyhouse, trying to make out what it was. Another glided down and this time they caught sight of it while it was silhouetted against the sky. The animal had jumped from high up in the tangle of trees on the hill and controlled its fall with the flaps of skin, which ran down the sides of its body from its elbows to its knees. The two creatures snuffled their way along the ground, approaching the building.
‘Hunnuds,’ Lorkrin whispered. ‘They must have found our trail.’
‘We have to tell Draegar,’ Taya replied softly. ‘If these things get back to the Reisenicks … I mean, the other Reisenicks, then we’re in trouble.’
‘We’re downwind of them, and they haven’t seen us yet. Maybe we can sneak inside.’
They both let their colours fade to match the worn, oiled hide of the wall behind them. Looking up, Lorkrin saw that
Rug was lost in his thoughts and tried to get his attention by hissing softly at him. Rug heard him and looked down.
‘What is it?’ he asked in a normal tone of voice.
The hunnuds both looked up at them.
‘That’s torn it,’ Taya sighed and grabbed Rug’s arm,
pointing
. ‘We need to get inside, quickly.’
The first one growled and squatted, baring its teeth. It launched itself forward with incredible speed, covering the distance to the terrace in moments, aiming straight at Rug. Taya tried to push him aside, but failed to budge his
awkward
frame. Rug reached out over her head instinctively and even as Taya felt claws dig into her back, there was a stifled yelp and the claws let go. She ducked down and rolled away, and saw that the hunnud’s throat was held firmly in Rug’s hands. The animal clawed desperately at the tall man’s arms, but he did not seem to feel a thing. The second hunnud let out a hoarse, shrill bark, much like that of a fox, and the two Myunans knew it was calling to others in its pack. They had to shut it up.
‘Over here!’ Lorkrin shouted suddenly, jumping up onto one of the windowsills so that he was silhouetted against the light. ‘Come on, you big louse! Come on!’
The hunnud snarled and charged forwards, pushing off the ground and spreading its arms and legs so that it swooped up towards the boy on its stunted wings. It came in with the speed of a cat, and although he went to drop down out of its way, Lorkrin was caught in its jaws and their two bodies crashed through the window and onto a table inside. The table tumbled over and Lorkrin screamed as the creature got a better grip with its jaws. But then half a dozen weapons descended in a savage blur of stabbing and cutting, and
eager hands seized the dying animal and dragged it off him. He stood up with some help and winced as someone pressed a cloth against his bleeding shoulder.
‘You need to get that seen to,’ the landlady said, getting him to hold the cloth in place himself. ‘Their bites can get infected. Are you all right?’