Cradle of Darkness Read online

  A loud farting noise cut across Magthrum’s observation. It emanated from four squat hairy bipeds built as wide as they were high. They were Kalti, a sub-race of Kaldorans that lived deep in the catacombs of Regev, and their manners left a lot to be desired. Several troglodyte miners shuffled away from the creatures, holding their noses. The wretched albino creatures were immensely strong and obedient, but lacked intellect and language, only able to communicate their primitive desires by grunts and snarls. But they were the power-house of the cave-crawler.

  The scene was set and Nalin was ready to reveal the full extent of what he had created. He walked around the machine one final time and checked each gearbox. Once satisfied, he signalled to Kalor the lead Kalti to turn the crank.

  “Urah urah!” Kalor signalled to his team of hulks.

  Nalin smiled. He knew the Kaltis would be rewarded well with a feast of stray human flesh from the unfortunates captured while entering the upper tunnel system. They groaned as they took the strain and started to turn their individual cranks. The flywheel engaged and the giant machine edged towards the wall at the back of the cavern. It inched forward and, as it came within a pikiarch of the wall, Nalin pulled a lever engaging the cutting disc drive gear. As the massive disc started to rotate, Nalin stepped across the bridge of the machine and set the sequential pumps in motion. He watched with trepidation as the refined fyredrench sprayed onto the wall ahead. Unperturbed by the scream of a stonegrabe who had strayed too close to the spray, Nalin held his breath as the cutting wheel ground into the rock. Acrid smoke and vapours rose from the front of the machine, causing the crowd to stumble backwards to avoid inhaling the noxious cloud. Several were trampled in the process.

  Then, from the midst of the cacophony, there appeared the first signs of smoking carbonate crumbling, and Nalin heaved a relieved sigh.

  “More power, more power,” he shouted to Kalor. The Kaltis responded and the cave-crawler’s speed increased to the cheers of the assembled Kaldorans. To Nalin’s surprise, the machine made even quicker progress than his previous test runs, and after it had cut to a depth of twenty spans, he signalled the Kaltis to stop. The flywheel slowly came to a standstill and Nalin dropped the cutting disc out of gear. He then signalled Kalor to turn the crank in the opposite direction, and the cave-crawler reversed back into the main cavern.

  When he descended from the machine, the cheering mass of stonegrabes greeted Nalin. Magthrum stood at their head with his hands aloft, applauding the engineer. “Magnificent, magnificent, you have succeeded in revolutionising the way we dig. Break out the flagons and feed the Kaltis. This demands a celebration.”

  Nalin’s pride knew no bounds and a broad smile spread across his swarthy face. Several stongrabes scuttled off to fetch ale and a supply of jarva-leaf pipes, while Magthrum slapped Nalin on the back as they inspected the circular cut in the cavern wall.

  “You are indeed a magician Nalin my friend, your machine cuts rock like an axe through flesh.”

  After sharing a couple of pipefulls of jarva, Magthrum changed the subject of the conversation to the Cuscosians. “So Nalin, what news of the Cuscosian kruts?”

  Dragging himself back to reality Nalin focussed his mind, took a swig of ale and turned to Magthrum. “Speedwill delivered my last message, yes?”

  “He did indeed. The Rock Council discussed the developments, and concluded we should play a waiting game. Let the Cuscosians and Dragonians fight each other. It will be a short-lived battle as we all know the Dragon Riders are no match for the might of Cuscosia.” Magthrum swallowed over half a tankard of ale in one gulp and ordered more. “From what you report,” he continued, “only that interfering wizard suspects our involvement. You should keep watch on him. He has a reputation for deceit.”

  “He is a strange one, yes. Not to be trusted. He sides with Eétor, and there is clearly an understanding between them. I even think they may be plotting against Etezora. But I suspect there is something deeper going on. It is as if the sorcerer has eyes everywhere. I fear I must take care in this, as the mistrust within the ruling house means I am not above suspicion despite my privileged position. In fact I should hasten my return or my absence might raise further concern.” Nalin lowered his tankard and met his Fellchief’s gaze. “You should also beware. I have no direct evidence, but the Cuscosians are massing troops on the north-west road. Could they have desires beyond acquiring new mines in Kaldora?”

  “An invasion? It would be madness for them.”

  “Yet a madness has taken hold of Etezora. You should see the purple fire burn in her eyes when she is roused.”

  “You have given me food for thought, and by putting heart and soul into your work have proved yourself to be a great servant of Kaldora, Nalin my friend. But before you leave, another question: could the rock grinder help us burrow a way beneath the Cuscosian Castle? Could it be used as a weapon of war?”

  Nalin took another long drag from his jarva pipe and closed his eyes. “I feel you ask too much. We would have to start digging near to the castle. It might be possible on the western side where the underlying strata are calcareous, but we could well be detected.”

  Magthrum’s eyes flared with the same purple hue Nalin had observed in Etezora’s, and a dark crackling energy seemed to fill the air causing the engineer to stop swigging his beer and stare dumbfounded at his FellChief.

  “I ask too much, do I?” Magthrum said.

  “Fellchief, I meant no — ”

  “Hah! I know I ask a lot of you, but this is your next mission, my friend.” As quickly as it came, the darkness shrouding Magthrum’s countenance disappeared and Nalin exhaled with relief. Magthrum took a considered sip of his ale, and then said, “Find a weakness in the Cuscosian defences so the Rockclave can plan our next move. Perhaps we will need to strike before the Cuscosians breach decades of treaties. I sense things are changing, and we must act if we are to avoid oblivion.”

  Nalin nodded. The day had started with so much promise, but now he felt a twinge of fear that even his jarva-leaf would not assuage. He looked at Magthrum one more time, and then gazed ahead into space. The engineer could sense changes that spread far beyond the impositions of the Cuscosians. Fear for his hard-won position bloomed, but more importantly, fear for his family and future.

  21

  All flags fall

  Brethis woke soon after dawn; sleep proving impossible after the previous evening’s events. The tryst with Mahren would have been enough to lighten up his existence, but the dissidents’ assembly exceeded all expectations. He’d been amazed at the commitment and determination shown by his fellow conspirators. Not only had they rounded up a dozen or more capable men and women, but each had made the preparations required of them — even taking the initiative when encountering obstacles. The only reservation was Mahren’s hesitation in providing exact details of the personnel she could provide. But Brethis wasn’t downcast by this. He understood he was asking a great deal from her, but the Dragon Riders’ presence was more of a morale boost than a requirement for the success of their operation.

  The previous get-together of the dissidents had seen him striving to convince the group their cause had a chance of gathering momentum, but last night’s gathering had seen such an eagerness for action that they had determined to bring forward their strike to the next evening — tonight! It was an audacious move, but Brethis had planned the attack for months: observing watches of the guard, checking that the Ravager’s entrance to the castle was undiscovered; gathering torches and portable combustible materials. He had shared the plan, apportioned roles and ensured that everyone knew the part they had to play. Most importantly, he had prepared notices and communiqués that would follow the attack, letting all in Hallow’s Creek and the city of Cuscosa know that the dawn of rebellion was upon them. Cuscosa was pre-occupied with its preparations for war and the summit with the Dragon Riders. This was the ideal time to strike.

  He quietly exited the simple cottage he had called ho
me all his life and surveyed the awakening township. Sol-Ar had just cleared the Wareshall foothills to the north-west, and not even the violet Hallows haze could darken his mood. He heard marketeers setting up stalls in the town centre, and the knocking of a cobbler’s hammer. It was the ensuing hive of activity that would provide cover for storing weapons and materials for tonight’s roguery.

  He paused for one more moment and an unbidden image of Mahren entered his mind. He saw her rich fawn-like beauty as he remembered it, lit by candle flame from the previous evening. Her face was bronzed by wind and sun, and he recalled the touch of her close-cropped, honey-coloured hair. Now, in the light of morning he dared to think they did have a future together — once Cuscosa was overthrown. Their union would be the first of many, a forging of alliances and families building a just and prosperous society.

  These notions added speed to his step, and he was so focused on his goals for the day that at first he did not notice the commotion from the suburbs he had just left. Shouts in the distance could easily have been the early morning continuance of a local family feud, the shriek of a child the result of a simple physical admonishment from a tested parent. But when Brethis caught the clash of steel on the wind, he spun round.

  Black smoke over in the Lutek quarter — the district in which he lived. Is Hallow’s Creek under attack?

  He sprinted back the way he had come, passing astonished townsfolk paused in their mundane duties. As Brethis rounded the corner where his family’s abode was located he stopped in his tracks.

  This is no attack from without. Those are members of the Praetorian Guard.

  He recognised Eétor’s Captain, Chalmon ordering his soldiers to drag villagers from their houses. Some instinct made him retreat behind the wall of the cottage next to him.

  “Take them to the town centre,” Chalmon growled, “Eétor wants a public spectacle made of them.”

  Before Brethis’s horrified eyes he saw his own mother, father and sister thrown to the floor and their home put to the torch.

  Where were Eryx and little Jeramin?

  The answer to his question came when he saw Eryx appear at a bedroom window, thick smoke already billowing past his petrified form. “Momma, Papa,” he cried, “the stairs are afire. We can’t get out!”

  Brethis’s father rose to his feet. “I must save them,” he said. “They’re trapped.” His plea was answered by a cruel swipe to the head from a guard, sending him sprawling to the floor.

  “Your children are forfeit, as is your house, peasant. They will burn as an example to all who would seek to rise against Cuscosa.”

  “No, you monster,” cried his mother. “My baby is still inside. Let us rescue her.”

  Chalmon considered this for a moment. “I will let you, if you tell me where your cur, Brethis has gone.”

  Brethis’s mother greeted this demand with a dismayed look. “If I tell you, will you spare his life?”

  “Of course. Are not the Cuscosan Guard known for their mercy?” The Captain said with a sneer.

  His mother hesitated, but then the cry of a tormented infant rose from the house.

  “Momma,” Eryx shouted in desperation, “I’ve got Jeramin but I can’t get to the bottom floor.” He held up the screaming child in his arms, both of them edged with amber from the flickering flames behind.

  “Drop her to me,” shouted the mother, scrambling to her feet.

  Chalmon responded by placing his booted heel on her back, pushing her face into the dirt. “Your eldest,” he breathed menacingly, “where is he?”

  The mother was beyond discretion. Brethis could see the sheer panic born of a mother’s protectiveness written across her face. “He set off for the market twenty minutes ago, said he was helping Jan with his stall.”

  Chalmon nodded and then removed his boot from the woman’s back.

  As Brethis watched, he attempted to gauge his options. His parents were doomed to certain death, of that he was sure, and by the looks of the neighbouring houses and palls of smoke beyond, his fellow dissidents were heading for a similar fate. Reason left him and he made to run at the nearest guard. Perhaps he could surprise him, wrest the sword from his hand. But a strong grip on his upper arm held him back. He turned to see Oathair, his face grim but determined.

  “You can’t save them,” he said, “there are too many guards. We must flee and re-group.”

  “Krut off!” Brethis snarled. “They will butcher my family.”

  Oathair held his gaze, pathos and anger in his eyes. “I know. They have already put my wife and bairn to the sword.”

  “I’m not going to stand by and — ”

  A blood-curdling scream snapped his attention back to the dreadful scene playing out in the street. He observed with abject horror how Chalmon withdrew a broadsword from his mother’s torso. He’d impaled her where she lay. Another guard swung his mace at the helpless father, dashing in his skull with a sickening crunch.

  Shock and anger immobilised Brethis, numbing every muscle and chilling his bones. This cannot be. It must not be. Yet the morning had not had its fill of tragedy.

  Up above, desperation smeared Eryx’s face. He took a final look behind and then climbed on to the window sill. His clambering was all the more difficult as he tried to keep hold of Jeramin in his arms, and it was this that doomed his escape bid. Brethis’s gaze was drawn away from the brutal murder of his parents to his brother, Eryx, as he launched himself from the window, the infant in his arms. Eryx’s trailing leg caught on a creeper, pitching him forward, sending him head first toward the unforgiving ground. The baby, torn free from his grasp sailed to the ground, bouncing once then lying still.

  Brethis turned his head away, tears streaking his face. He shook with rage and grief, but Oathair held on to him firmly. “We must go. They are lost; but if Chalmon finds us, then their deaths will mean nothing. Your loved ones have bought us time. We must use it.”

  Brethis felt bereft of any powers of decision, the shock still leaving him transfixed. So Oathair imposed his own choice. He dragged his disconsolate friend away from the building and headed towards the woods.

  “If we can make it to the forest, then we have a chance,” Oathair said. “My life as a woodsman has blessed me with knowledge of the secret trails, and we can take shelter in the place we set aside for this purpose.”

  Brethis succumbed to Oathair physically removing him from the scene. His limbs possessed no volition of their own, and it wasn’t until he had been dragged to the next street that his senses returned, albeit in a surreal swim of emotions.

  “What of the others?” Brethis said in a cracked voice.

  “They know the back-up plan. Those that survive will make their way there.”

  A greater horror impinged itself now. “The planned attack — Mahren will be walking into a trap,” Brethis exclaimed.

  “The plan is in ruins,” Oathair replied. “She will have to take her chances.”

  “No. I will not lose her too.”

  Oathair pulled him up behind a hay cart, gripped him by his shoulders and locked him with a stare of steel. “We have suffered a rout. Return if you want, but you face certain death. You saw what they did. Our best chance is to get away and try to get word to the Dragon Riders.” He released Brethis, indicating he was free to choose. “I’m heading for the woods now. Stay if you must, but recognise that I have lost much today too. You said our cause would require sacrifice. Now you see how immense that can be.”

  He glanced back at the burning houses and then jogged off into the woods.

  Brethis looked back also, realising that his decision would determine whether he died now or simply postponed his demise. Either way, his was a path of suffering. With a sheer act of will he uttered a raw, agonised cry, and sprinted after Oathair.

  22

  One blasphemy too many

  “This is ill-advised,” Cistre said.

  “It is a formality,” Tayem replied, “I am under no illusion as to the ou
tcome of this farce.”

  “Then why undertake it? We know what the Cuscosians have done, and they obviously have no intention of honouring the treaties. We should crush them while we have the chance.”

  They had secured their dragons in the shade of the garbeeches a mile hence, a condition of the Cuscosians. The Donnephon had in turn demanded their own conditions: no troops within a mile radius and a maximum of five representatives from each faction.

  Tayem scanned the blasted plain, site of the Gigantes Decimation and focused on the approaching Cuscosians. Even at this distance she recognised Etezora’s haughty gait. Flanking her was the unmistakeable form of her wizard and the shambling form of the troll. No Eétor? That was only sensible. To put all members of the royal family in a potentially treacherous situation was foolhardy — which was why she’d insisted Mahren remained at the Vale despite her protests. Her sister seemed preoccupied in any case, although what could weigh more heavily on her sister’s mind than this meeting was beyond Tayem.

  Tayem felt the Hallows light burn behind her eyes at the sight of the approaching Cuscosians. Here on the exposed plain, site of the Cuscosians ultimate blasphemy, the scorching rays of Sol-Ar seemed to augment the stirrings within. It was like a cauldron, driving her to a boldness and concomitant rashness that was difficult to contain. She was also aware of other enhancements: her arrows flew with an unerring accuracy on the practice range; the Hallows influence increased her strength and dexterity with the glaive tenfold. Most of all, the Hallows seemed to transfer to Quassu. He was swifter in the air, more easily stirred by an aggressiveness that threatened his usual bounds of discipline. This would have disturbed the Tayem that ruled before her baptism at Dragon Ash, but now it filled her with a confidence that spurred her toward whatever consequence followed this meeting.

  She stepped forward, striding across the charcoal coloured dust of the plain under which was buried the charred remains of a thousand Gigantes. Cistre, Darer and two of her most adroit guard followed, surprised at her sudden action.