Duel At Grimwood Creek (Book 2) (15 page)

His nod was curt, but the yellow light dissolved with a wave of his hand. “Sorry.”

The rumbling ground thundered suddenly and the elf put a hand to the wall to keep her balance. The warlock did the same, eyes widening in alarm as a shriek of metal wrapped around the sound of rock dragging over rock.

The elf lowered her head and concentrated on the ball of fear in her belly. A ball which was like frozen ice. She felt it tumble hard, its sharp edges cutting at her spine. Clipping her ribs.

Shivering, she waited for the shaking earth to calm.

Which it did with an explosive crunch.

She paused, hearing something the warlock couldn't hear yet. A sweeping sound. Like the beating of massive wings.

Licked her lips.

Then snatched the warlock's robe and dragged him to the ground. With a yelp, he slammed face down onto the stone as a terrifying gust of hot air howled past, tearing at their clothes. She couldn't help but to look up, heart thudding in her chest. Anticipating a mountainous black shadow to come pounding around the knotted corner. But, for now, it was just the rancid wind. It carried boiling moisture with it, blasting her face with a slick sheen.

It didn't last long, and the burst of air travelled past, eager to escape the tunnels.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand and sniffed. “Burnt metal again,” she muttered.

“That's it, then.” The warlock sounded morose. “I knew it. It's a fucking dragon. I'm in a dragon's lair with a mad elf. No other explanation. I'm fucking dragonfood. You know, my father always said I'd end up like this. Dead in a ditch, he said. Grim's teeth, I'd love to see that old man once more. I'd tear his fucking head off and feed it to a demon I'm friendly with. Fucking asshole. Used to hit me, you know. Always used the fucking buckle across my back.”
 

“Ain't a dragon,” the elf said. She toyed with one of the long ropes of black her, fingertips nudging the clotted lumps of cloth. “If it were, we'd be dead already.”
 

“Maybe it's toying with us. I heard they like playing with their food.”
 

“It'd need to be pretty game to eat you,” she countered.
 

“Then I hope it eats you first, Long-ear. See if you're laughing then.”
 

She was about to say something, but then heard the low moan from deeper into the tunnel. And something else. Their eyes met, his widening in fear as he heard them too.

The chains.

An evil metallic dragging sound which seemed to scrape at the very bones of the earth.

Chukshene let out a strangled gasp. “Oh, fuck.”

“Reckon we can agree that ain't no dragon, 'lock,” she said tightly. “Leave it to you to figure where we fit in the food chain now.”
 

“That's not funny,” he moaned, ducking his head low as terror gripped him hard. Chewed hard on his fingernail and spat a splinter out. Blood dribbled down the edge of the nail. “That's it. We've got to go back.”
 

The elf shook her head. “Can't. You go back if you like, Chukshene. Me, I'm getting out. If it wants to stop me, it'll have to kill me.”

“It'll do just that, you fool,” the warlock hissed. “You can't fight it. You haven't seen it, Nysta. It's fucking massive. Arms bigger than your fucking waist. A jaw full of fangs, and those fucking chains aren't for show. It tore a troll apart with them! I'm telling you, it's bigger, badder, and it's even fucking uglier than you. Just this once, do the smart thing. We'll find another way out.”
 

“There ain't no other way,” she said softly. “You know it. I know it.”
 

“You're mad. This bullshit fucking revenge of yours has addled your fucking brains. We can't stay here. You think you can kill it, but you can't. I'm telling you. It's suicide. Please, Nysta. Listen to me.” Fear made him shudder as the awful sound of chains grinding on stone scraped down through the tunnels. His eyes were wide and he looked ready to weep in desperation as he sought to convince her to leave. “Please.”
 

“Reckon you're feeling more afraid than you ever felt before, Chukshene?”
 

He blinked. Nodded. “You've no fucking idea.”

“You're wrong.” She peered through the shadows of the tunnel at the pale glow which promised nothing but death. “I got a good idea. Feel it all the time. But I've learnt to hold it in. Keep it chained inside, if you like. Never let it go. That's what they trained me to do. Crush it up into a white hot ball. Break it open. Spit in its face. And use it. Use that fear, Chukshene. It'll keep you fast. It'll keep you alive. Now, I ain't a spellslinger like you. Ain't faced everything there is to face in this world. And I don't pretend to know what the fuck it is that's in there. Never heard of anything like it. But I know one thing. I know it breathes. And if a thing can breathe? Well. That thing can die. Just a matter of how.”
 

“You didn't see it.” His eyes slid away from the glow. Down to the ground between his feet.
 

“But I will. And when I see it, I'll kill it. Seeing it won't change a fucking thing for me right now. You say it's got a lot of chains? Well, I've got something I reckon can counter them. Something I can use to shut them down long enough to cut its fucking heart out.” She slapped him roughly on the shoulder and flashed a crooked grin. The kind of grin which made his stomach roll hard in his belly as he realised she was mad enough to rush into even the Shadowed Halls. And that, right now, he was mad enough to follow. So he judged it to be his madness, drunk on terror, which made him suddenly feel giddy as she finished; “Got me a 'lock for those chains.”
 

“If I were you, I wouldn't count on me being the key to your success on this one,” he said, voice quivering in the dark.
 

“Don't sweat it, Chukshene. I never mistook you for that kind of key,” the elf said mockingly. “On account I always figured you for the missing link kind.”
 

CHAPTER TWELVE

The elf called Nysta often dreamed of her father. In her dreams he was a tyrant. A nightmarish beast of savage power draped in his black cloak of office. He'd swoop down upon her shivering body and scoop her up in dry insect arms. His face, an impassive mask. Alien.

Always, she would scream. Beat at his chest and rake splintered fingernails across his face.

The gates of his Hold would open.

The streets, thick with ice and snow, beckoned with casual violence. He would hold her, away from himself. Suspend by the scruff of her neck like a mewing kitten. Glowing red eyes studying her struggles as though surprised by her pleas for forgiveness. Not for having done anything wrong, but for having been born in the first place.

For a moment, they'd almost connect.

And she thought he might relent. Might pull her back and hold her close. Whisper  apologies and promises.

Then the sharp exhale of poisoned breath and he'd toss her hard into the howling maw of the frozen street.

Rolling across the ice, Nysta wept. Tears scarred her cheeks. As she shuffled away from the only home she'd ever known, she cursed his Hold. Swore never to look upon it again.

But no matter where she went, the chains of blood which bound her there still tugged at her soul. Called to her. Sang to her.

Now, as she moved with desperate stealth toward the gaping hole rent in the tunnel wall, the elf found her mind filled with the recurring nightmare. Her knuckles, white around
A Flaw in the Glass
, threatened to crack.
 

She wondered if her father knew.

Wondered if it ever occurred to him that she'd been the one to burn his Hold to the ground on the day she left Lostlight forever.

Her mouth curled into a cruel line toward the scar on her cheek as she remembered the smell of smoke. And her heart beat harder in her chest.

She'd faced her nightmares, she told herself. Faced them and turned them to ashes. The dream which used to leave her curled up in a weeping ball now left her smiling in the dark.

It was, she reckoned, how to deal with fear.

Destroy it.

The ceiling beyond had collapsed with the creation of this new hole in the tunnel's ribs. So any hope she'd had of sneaking past the opening and avoiding another fight was lost to her.

Rubble was strewn across the tunnel ground. Deep scars showed where the creature's chains had gouged into the rock. Smeared blood both old and new were sign of the creature's gruesome burdens. More bodies for the wall, she thought.

Shouldering up to the edge of the wide gaping hole, she sucked a deep breath and glanced at the warlock. He edged closer, book wide open in his trembling hand. Though fear was a vivid aura around him, he nodded for her to take her first look at the creature she could hear shuffling inside.

With dread making the hairs on the back of her neck rise like steel pins, she rolled her cheek along the edge of the wall until the room within was in view.

And caught her breath.

The cavernous chamber was enormous. The ceiling reached so high she could barely make it out as more than a covering of shadows.

Centuries ago, the chamber may have been regal. But mould and thick cracks torn into the smooth plaster tainted what echo of pristine glory that may have been. It was lit by many large torches set against the right side wall. Light which seemed afraid of the gloom hovering at the rear.

Shattering any last impression of finery, a mass of steaming oil-drenched gears and immense pulleys crudely dug into the wall along the left side. Crude because they looked to be made from whatever junk had been littering the area. Chunks of stone and twisted metal. Charred wood. Bones. Some of the gears were as large as houses and the iron chains could be thicker than her torso.

She frowned. Knew that somehow, the chaotic junkpile controlled the walls outside. Figured the explosive gusts of hot air had something to do with the steam jetting from a few massive rusted pipes which ran up the side of the chamber like metal veins.

Knew also there was no way they had the combined strength to work those massive gears. So the wall outside would remain closed.

The brutish stone tiles along the floor were cracked and broken, and in some places the sodden oil-soaked earth clawed out of the uneven depths. The kind of earth that looked ready to spit out its dead.

Two giant pillars formed a massive arch in the middle of the chamber. Carved from the same stone as the shattered mountain itself, they were given the task of keeping the heavy ceiling from collapsing on the room. A task they'd performed faithfully for thousands of years.

Perhaps longer.

Curling mist weaved around the broken tiles like sullen ghosts. A slight greenish tinge to it made her think of poison. Or something more necrotic.

Hunched at the far end of the long chamber was a throne of massive size. Glittering darkly, the throne seemed made of obsidian and steel. She couldn't make out any distinctive design, but there was something about it that made her uneasy. Like it was alive.

Like it was watching her with curious amusement.

Just beyond the throne, however, she could make out another breach in the wall and she chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully.

But by far the most disturbing thing she could see, was the shrouded creature walking in a wide circle in the centre of the chamber. He was of hulking size. Bigger than any ogre she'd ever seen.

With each step, the ground shook and dust drifted down from the cracked ceiling like snow. She gave a dry swallow at the slow pace of every step. There was something horrible about the way he moved. Something unearthly.

Greenish-grey skin gleamed wet in the flickering torchlight. Draped in tattered blue robes, the creature looked like something which had itself only just emerged from the cold depths of a tomb. But these features stirred nothing in her. It was instead the chains which made her shiver with the cold touch of fear.

Chains, many as thick as her wrist. Some thicker. Dozens of them. Long and flowing behind him like shredded metal wings. She could see, even from this distance, how the links burrowed into the creature's back like iron serpents. How his own blood dribbled from the constantly agitated wounds.

Could see the impression the chains left as they coiled under flesh and snaked around bones. Down his arms. And knew each movement only added to his torment. That each slow aching step served to soften the agony he might feel if he moved any faster.

She withdrew slowly, and pressed her head against the tunnel wall. Looked up at the pitted ceiling and wondered just what the fuck she was doing here.

It was Raste, not this tortured creature, she wanted to kill. Seeing the pain the chained creature felt with every step had numbed her desire to rip its heart from that monstrous chest.

“Good news, Chukshene,” she said quietly to the expectant warlock. His expression began to lift in hope before she dashed it with; “It really ain't a dragon. Definitely our friend with the chains. And he's a big fucking boy.”
 

“Shit,” he rubbed hard at his temples. “Now what?”
 

She stuck out her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Kill him, I guess.”

“You don't sound pleased. For a change.”
 

“Nothing about this fucking place is pleasing me,” she said sourly. “Reckon we should get out of here, 'lock. Quicker the better.”
 

“Agreed. So. We kill him. How?”
 

“You reckon you can fry him?”
 

“Not sure. Depends.”
 

“On...?”
 

“How powerful he is. Normally, I'd say it's pretty easy. I mean, he's a big enough target, so I can't really miss. But there's magic surrounding him. And I can't tell how strong it is. But it's old. Ancient, maybe. At a guess, I'd say it's fucking strong. I mean, that wall he's put up around us? That takes power. Lots of power. I could summon something. A minor demon or two. But that takes more time than I think we've got. He'll hear us long before I finish. So anything I can use will have to be simple. Relatively powerless.” He glanced back down the tunnel, as though hoping she'd suggest they return that way.