Текст книги "The Raven Collection"

Автор книги: James Barclay

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Текущая страница: 154 (всего у книги 235 страниц)

Chapter 23

Denser had turned from the exhausted Kestys and reached the door of the Soul Tank chamber just in time to see Erienne scream his name and collapse to the floor. His triumphant words died on his lips and he had been about to move when a mana gale struck the catacombs.

Uncontrolled power surged from Erienne’s mind, grabbing what it could from the elements and augmenting it with the keenly focused Xeteskian mana. Denser gripped the frame of the door but no one else he could see was so lucky.

While Erienne lay motionless, the Al-Arynaar mages operating the ForceCone were pitched into the hub room. Auum’s Tai cell, reacting with typical speed, spread themselves linked across the passageway, sliding down it only gradually. But Hirad, Rebraal, Darrick and The Unknown tumbled in a heap, trying to grab each other to arrest their progress while Sian’erei was plucked from the ground and flung straight into Dystran.

And the Xeteskians fared no better. The gale hit them full force, scattering the Circle Seven and their confused Protectors like chaff in a breeze. He heard the clatter of metal striking stone and knew soldiers as well as other mages were suffering beyond his vision.

Dragging his head round, he could see Porrack and Jaruul clutching to corners much as he was while at the far end, Marack and Harroc were pressed hard against the wall, barely able to move.

Denser had no choice. He dropped to his hands and knees, braced himself against one wall and began to edge his way down to his wife and into the teeth of the gale in whose eye she lay helpless, her mind being ripped apart with every beat of her heart. Beyond her, chaos held sway. The Raven’s warriors had been swept into the hub room to join the helpless mass at the mercy of the extraordinary wind. He could see them struggling to create distance between themselves and the enemy. Auum and his Tai still resisted and it might prove a crucial advantage.

Denser fought every inch against being thrown back up the corridor. He couldn’t afford to fail. Not for The Raven and most particularly not for Erienne. The last few yards, he was flat on his front as the wind howled past him. Erienne was its epicentre and its focal point.

Reaching her body, everything stilled. He lay very close to her, feeling her ragged breathing, seeing the blood trickle from ears and nose, the drool from her mouth and her eyes twitching horribly beneath their lids. Her body quivered. Every muscle was taut to breaking and every nerve end fired. She was hot, too hot to live for too long, her face and hands sheened in sweat.

‘Hold on, love,’ he said, pushing aside his emotions for the moment. ‘I’m here. Please hold on.’

He knew what he had to do. He could shield her from the Xeteskian mana, starve the One of its fuel. Of course, that was why the Circle Seven were present. In their typically arrogant way, they thought that by doing the same, they could keep her safe until they understood the power and brought her back to herself. It had led them to this ridiculous folly and risked her life.

Of course they had an advantage. They were six powerful mages and could keep up the casting indefinitely. He was one man and it was terribly draining. He looked up and caught Auum’s eye. He mouthed ‘be ready’ and though not sure if the elf understood, bent to his task.

Partitioning his mind, he tuned to the mana spectrum and pulled in an oval construct, packed with pulsing mana energy. That was the simple part. Keeping the construct rotating and feeding on the mana about it, he sought the centre of the gale. What he saw all but made him lose his concentration. Into the darkened pit that was Erienne’s mind, mana was being dragged like water thundering into a sinkhole.

And from the centre of that same hole, the power was being channelled out. Struck through with a deep brown, the Xeteskian-based energy was gouting from her, thrashing in every direction. But it shouldn’t have been the Xeteskian colour. Every fibre of his training told him that mana dragged into a Dordovan mind would be coloured the vibrant orange of that college because her manipulation of it, the lore she applied instinctively, made it that way.

He drew breath and moved the oval construct forwards, feeling it buffeted by the tumult around it. Dragging on every ounce of the learning he had gleaned from his time with Dawnthief, he forced his shielding spell in. He couldn’t see Erienne’s mind but he knew its position. He stopped the rotation of the spell, opened it along one side, shot it down the sinkhole and snapped it shut.

The effect all around him was instantaneous. Without the energy to get to his feet immediately, he opened his eyes and looked straight ahead. Quickest to react, Auum, Duele and Evunn stormed into the hub room. Swords in hand, they attacked the soldiers on the left-hand side. Only just regaining their feet and sense of direction, half of them were dead or about to die before they’d even formed a defence. Blood flowed across the floor.

Auum tore the throat from one man, backhanded his blade into the chest of a second and straight-punched a third in the windpipe. He couldn’t see Duele but he saw the body that tumbled into view, Evunn leaping it smartly before crashing his left foot into the stomach of his first target.

In the centre of the room, Sian’erei wrestled free of Dystran and struck him on the nose, skittering back towards the corridor at an order from Hirad. She began to cast. The Raven warriors and Rebraal regained their feet quickly. The Unknown’s blade flew from his scabbard, tapped once on the ground.

In front of them, the Circle Seven mages, ever quick when self-preservation was needed, had scrabbled to stand and were diving for cover behind the statuesque Protectors or running headlong for stairs or other passages. Denser saw Dystran take a single pace and disappear, a look of thunder on his face as he went. Another of the Circle Seven did likewise before all of them had taken themselves from the immediate vicinity.

Hirad snarled and lashed out at a mage too slow to rise. The blade caught him on the top of the skull, splitting it apart and spreading gore across the stone flags. Darrick fenced briefly with a soldier before dragging his blade hard across the enemy’s stomach and stepping back smartly as entrails disgorged through his wrecked armour.

It was carnage, all watched with total detachment by the men in the masks, the former elite fighting force of Balaia. And it was all over in moments.

‘Back off, back off,’ said The Unknown. ‘Auum, leave the Protectors. Sian, keep the shield going. Rebraal, make sure they understand. ’

A shout went up behind Denser, urgent. Rebraal answered and the TaiGethen backed away into and down the corridor. Protectors watched them go, weapons slack in their hands.

‘How is she, Denser?’ asked The Unknown into the sudden uneasy calm.

‘What are we going to do, Unknown?’ Denser felt his world collapsing around him. ‘What the fuck are we going to do?’

Sha-Kaan bellowed and tore a hole in the roof big enough for his head. He plunged it inside and snatched up a Protector, crushing his bones and spitting him aside. Somewhere a woman was screaming. He looked around again. A mage was backing away. Nyam.

He swivelled and took in the room. One Al-Drechar was dead. The other, apparently unaware, was asleep. Other Protectors stood in the room but none made a move. There was something altered about them. None made any attempt to cover the mage but three still stood in front of Diera who had run in, sensing something at the last moment. She was too late, though at least was safe. But it was she who was screaming. The babe in her arms was too traumatised even to cry.

He turned back to Nyam, arrowed in his head and stopped inches from the mage’s face.

‘Speak,’ he ordered, knocking the man back against the wall with his breath. ‘Explain now. Your life hangs by the merest thread.’

‘We can’t stay here,’ said The Unknown. ‘Denser, can you get up?’

Below him, Denser nodded and pulled himself up. ‘Be careful with her. I’m shielding her but I won’t be able to do it for long and it isn’t protecting her, only us.’

‘All right, Denser, all right. Let’s get ourselves away from here,’ said The Unknown, dragging the mage towards him. ‘Keep your concentration. Thraun, carry Erienne. Be careful.’

Thraun nodded and padded over, smoothing Erienne’s hair from her face before picking her up, resting her head in the crook of one arm, her knees across the other.

‘She is fading,’ he said.

‘Just look after her,’ said The Unknown. ‘Ideas. Darrick?’

‘Gods know how much time we’ve got,’ said the erstwhile general. ‘Not long. The Circle Seven mages all got out and they’ll be back in strength. All we can do is lose ourselves from here, I guess. The TaiGethen are at the access points right now but whatever we’re going to do, we need to do it now. What about them, Unknown?’ He pointed at the Protectors.

There were fifteen of them standing in the centre of the hub room amongst the blood and bodies covering the floor. Weapons had been stowed and they stood in a loose circle, saying nothing.

‘I think you’re needed, Unknown,’ said Denser, levering himself away, ‘I’ll be all right. Go on.’

‘Right,’ said The Unknown. ‘Rebraal, Hirad, go with Denser into the research room. Take what he says we need. Everything else destroyed, all right? Oh, and make sure Kestys is dead. He knows far too much about all this.’

The Unknown walked into the hub room, his heart heavy when it should have been singing. He had released them, all of them. So simple in the end. And that made him angry. Dystran wouldn’t ever have done it, however easy, and might even have increased the number. Behind him, Erienne was probably dying because of what that man had chosen to do, and in front of him were men he wasn’t sure would thank him for returning them their souls despite the dream he knew they had harboured in the Soul Tank. It was different when you lost the brotherhood. He knew.

The circle opened when he approached, admitting him to its centre. It closed around him again. He turned slowly, taking them all in, still masked, unwilling to test their freedom. He understood that too.

‘I know what I have taken from you,’ he said. ‘I know the loss you are all feeling. I know the quiet in your minds feels like the murder of your family. But I know the prayers of the Soul Tank too. The desire of every Protector. The legend of the free man. Me. I have survived. I have known the love of a woman and the joy of the birth of my son.

‘There is life for you. It is different to anything you can remember from your pasts. But it is what you craved. And you will always have a bond as close as I enjoy with The Raven.’ The Unknown allowed himself a pause. ‘Tell me I have done the right thing by you. Tell me you can forgive me all that you have lost for all that you have gained.’

They said nothing. For a timeless moment the eye of every Protector bored into his head.

Hands moved to the backs of heads and buckles were snapped free. Slowly, nervously, masks were taken from faces and, one by one, dropped on the ground at The Unknown’s feet.

He turned full circle again, saw youth, saw the strength of full manhood and the craggy knowledge of early middle age. Every face, pale and covered in red streaks and weals where the masks had rubbed, gazed back at him and on their first moments of a new life. Every eye held fear but it also held hope. It was enough.

‘Good,’ said The Unknown. ‘Now if you’ll take my advice, you’ll put those back on for the last time and bluff your way out of the gates of the college. Find your other brothers. Get out of the city. Please. You owe nothing to anyone.’

‘No,’ said one, a voice The Unknown recognised as Myx’s. ‘We will not abandon you here.’

‘You must. Ally yourselves with us and you’ll be killed. Don’t waste the opportunity. Please, I beg you.’ There was no movement. ‘If you respect me, you’ll go. We will prevail. We’re The Raven. Please, pick up your masks and go.’

‘Do it,’ said Myx but he kicked his own mask aside as his brothers stooped to retrieve theirs, watching it kick up a trail in the blood. ‘I will come with you.’

‘Why?’ asked The Unknown.

‘Because one with you means all are with you. We are brothers. We are one.’

The Unknown looked into his eyes, saw his conviction. His was a face that had seen so much beneath his mask. The first lines of age were on him and grey flecked his temples.

‘I understand.’

‘And,’ said Myx, a glint in his eye, ‘there is another way.’

Deep blue light flared in the corridor left.

‘Move!’ yelled Auum, flinging himself right.

The Protectors and Unknown scattered. Duele and Evunn turning to face the danger and dancing aside. The FlameOrb seared into the hub room, scorching blood into steam, baking dead flesh and splattering against the far wall, setting hangings on fire.

‘Raven!’ yelled The Unknown. ‘We are leaving!’

‘Brothers, obstruct,’ said Myx ahead of him, running up the Soul Tank corridor, TaiGethen in his wake.

‘Go, go!’ shouted The Unknown. ‘Follow Myx. Come on, Hirad. Anything you haven’t got to hand, forget.’

‘We haven’t—’

‘No time. Come on.’

The Raven, Al-Arynaar and TaiGethen charged away into the depths of the catacombs.

Dystran, dabbing his still bleeding nose, strode into the hub room behind a quartet of college guards, including Captain Suarav. He was met by the blank masked faces of over a dozen Protectors. One pace in, he slipped on the blood-slick floor, grabbing out at Suarav for balance and standing on a corpse while he regained it. He sighed.

‘Look at this. Look at what they have done.’ He shook his head. All his years as Lord of the Mount. All the years of near constant war and he hadn’t seen this much death close up.

It stank. Entrails and their contents were strewn over the floor, still steaming gently. Bodies lay in the twisted attitudes of their deaths. Eyes stared at him, sightless and reproachful. The course of the FlameOrb was marked in blackened, smoking gore. But it was the blood that really shocked him. How many people were there lying here? Twenty perhaps but even so, how could they disgorge so much blood? It spattered the walls and the ceiling and across the floor it was a slick that splashed with every footfall.

‘We didn’t even kill one of them. And they’ve got away. Temporarily. ’ He turned on the nearest Protector. ‘And what did you think you were doing, eh? Nothing. Standing like statues while real men were slaughtered by bandits. I don’t know what they have done to you but I will find out. Anything to say?’

Silence.

‘No, I thought not. Suarav, where are you?’

‘Here, my Lord.’

‘Extend the search. Split into six groups, it’s your only choice. One Circle Seven mage with each group to direct you. Who knows what they think they’re going to do? I also want every exit from here into the complex guarded. I—’ He clapped his hands together. ‘The vents.’

He walked towards the Soul Tank corridor. ‘Of course, how can I have been so stupid. Suarav, let me show you something in the map room.’ Protectors were standing in front of the corridor entrance. ‘Out of my way.’

The three masks turned to look at him. ‘Things have changed,’ said one.

‘Don’t I bloody know it. But I still have the magical power to obliterate you. Now move. In fact, get out of the catacombs altogether. ’

One of them shifted. ‘Let us talk of respect.’

Dystran closed his eyes. He was going to have to be very careful.

‘It’s a good distance and they will find us,’ said Myx.

He was keeping the pace high, trying to put a sensible gap between them and any immediate pursuit, but anything was going to be only a temporary breathing space. The Unknown and Hirad ran with him, Thraun and Denser behind with the unconscious Erienne. Darrick and the elves followed. Already, Denser had made them stop once to feed more energy into the spell around Erienne’s mind and he looked a tired man.

‘How big are the catacombs?’ asked Hirad.

‘Bigger than you know. It is mostly this.’ Myx gestured around them. ‘Interconnecting tunnels between each hub. We were in Dystran’s hub. We’ll slow at the next one. It has . . . history.’

The Unknown let the remark pass.

‘And you know all this because . . . ?’ asked Hirad.

‘I am . . . was, the Lord of the Mount’s Given. It was my job to know.’

‘Fortunate.’

‘I hope so.’

The Unknown had been a Protector such a short time but still he understood the method behind the apparent madness of the catacomb construction as if it had been bred into him. Generations of paranoia bred by violently short tenure in the Circle Seven had led to the chaotic maze of finished and unfinished passages that encircled every hub.

It was a twisted morality that had driven it. While assassination by poison or blade had been a recognised method of advancement in years past, the use of destructive wards in the catacombs had always been considered unethical somehow. Naturally, entering a chamber uninvited was a different matter but in the myriad corridors which were considered almost neutral territory, such traps were beyond the pale.

The Unknown had no doubt they would have tripped many alarms and reminders for anyone working down here but that was a risk they had to take. To avoid every one would have been tantamount to suicide, so long would they have had to delay.

At the rear of the group, Auum jogged along easily. His limbs could stand the activity indefinitely but he was very unhappy. For the first time in his life, he considered that he was not in control of the situation. Deep below ground in the fetid tunnels of a Balaian city, he was out of anything he understood. He could, though, feel the patterns of space in the rock. It was the only crumb of comfort he had.

He had been confused by the turn of events, as had all his people. Rebraal’s explanation did little to help. He understood that the woman, Erienne, carried an ancient elven magical power and that the enemy had murdered one of the Al-Drechar to claim her. It was typically human ignorance. The TaiGethen would attend to it another time.

He held up his hand and his Tai stopped with him, letting the echoing boots of the others recede. Marack turned but he waved her to continue. It would not be hard to find them again; the noise The Raven made would see to that.

‘We will pray and we will listen,’ he said. The Tai gathered on their knees. ‘Yniss, hear us. Tual, hear us. Guide our senses in this place. Where the air is bad, where no birds fly or animals walk. Where no tree could survive or river creature swim. Yniss, we ask that you look down on us as we complete your work and return that which was stolen to your bosom. We remain, as ever, your servants.’

They remained kneeling, ears straining for any clue. Auum could still hear the others moving away. He marked the direction which had not changed though their movement had slowed. He turned his head. Behind and to their left, the enemy were travelling. It appeared to be on a parallel path though it was difficult to be certain.

‘Do you hear them?’ he asked.

Duele and Evunn nodded.

‘Ready your bows. Mine was broken while we fought the wind.’ He stood up, motioning his Tai to follow him. ‘I am tired of running. We will hunt now. Tai, we move.’

Chapter 24

Myx slowed, The Raven and TaiGethen closing up behind him. Ahead, Hirad could see that the nature of the passageway was changing, or at least its decoration. He looked behind him to check everyone once again.

‘Where’s Auum?’ he asked, stopping.

‘Helping,’ said Rebraal. ‘He’ll find us again.’

‘Helping in what way?’

‘Hunting the hunters,’ said Rebraal. ‘It’s better for him this way. And for us.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

The change in décor was abrupt. The pastel shades ended and in their place wooden panelling, dark stained, lined the walls. It affected the quality of the light, darkening the surroundings.

‘What’s this?’

‘The next hub,’ said Myx. ‘Or rather, its borders. Not all of them are the same.’ He smiled for the first time. ‘Some former Masters had more style.’

He led them to the end of the passageway. Despite the magical augmentation, there was moss and mould in places on the wood. Hirad trailed a finger along it, feeling the slight dampness before replacing his glove. At a deep-blue painted door, Myx turned.

‘We could face trouble in here,’ he said.

‘Whose is it?’ asked The Unknown.

‘Laryon’s,’ said Myx. ‘Or it was. It is now an extension of Dystran’s empire.’

‘Well, it’ll be a delight to clear it of all the detritus,’ said The Unknown.

He drew his blade. Laryon. There was a name that would live with The Raven forever. Laryon had been the master mage who sacrificed his life to free The Unknown from his mask. He had long championed the release of the Protectors and among Xeteskian mages had been rare in being truly respected by them. Dead these six years, his spirit lived on.

Myx reached out his hand to the handle.

‘Whoa!’ hissed Denser suddenly. ‘Are you sure about that?’

‘This door contains wards for explosion and lock. I am tuned out of them both. Once opened, the wards are disabled.’ He turned to The Unknown. ‘Be ready, brother.’

‘Raven, let’s concentrate,’ said The Unknown. ‘Nothing good in here, all right? Thraun, you stay outside ’til it’s clear.’

Myx opened the door. Lantern light flooded the corridor. He cursed and slammed it quickly shut again. The roar of a spell shivered the timbers and the air outside chilled dramatically.

‘Three targets,’ he said. ‘Go.’

This time he put a foot to the door and kicked it back. He ran in, plucking his weapons from his back, The Unknown and Hirad directly after him.

‘Myx, no!’ shouted The Unknown, seeing the former Protector falter on raising his axe to strike. ‘Clear the path!’

In front of them were two mages and another man, neither mage nor soldier. Half skidding on the ice of the spell they’d cast, The Unknown closed in on the mages, who abandoned their attempts to cast again and turned to flee. He didn’t have time for the niceties of combat and clattered his blade through the midriff of one mage before he’d taken a pace. On his shoulder, Hirad swiped at the trailing leg of the second, his blade carving into bone and sending the mage down screaming in pain. Before they could turn to attend to the non-mage, an elven arrow had punched him from his feet.

The Unknown finished off the crippled mage and looked about him.

‘It’s clear, Thraun, in you come. Last in, close the door.’ He raised his eyebrows at what he saw. ‘Where the hell did all this come from?’

To all intents and purposes, they were standing in the hallway of a house. It was wood-panelled like the passage outside, hung with tapestries. Tables along the walls were littered with ornaments, some now broken by the fall of the unfortunate mages. Three doors led off the hallway and at the end of the hall, a stairway led to an upper landing.

‘Laryon always was a man apart,’ commented Denser.

‘Sol, I am sorry,’ said Myx.

‘Don’t be. Your training is ingrained. You direct, we’ll fight when we have to.’

‘Through here, the whole way,’ said Myx. ‘Dystran keeps a big research team in here and a standing guard. Something important is going on.’

To emphasise his point, there was the sound of movement from up the stairs.

‘Any other ways out of here?’ asked The Unknown.

‘Three,’ said Myx. ‘All up the stairs.’

‘Up?’ asked Hirad.

‘Don’t forget, we are underground. It may look like a house but there are no windows, no gardens.’ He turned back to The Unknown. ‘We should clear the rooms on this level.’

‘Darrick, any thoughts?’

‘House clearance was never in my training, Unknown,’ said Darrick. ‘But I’d be guarding door and stairs while we did it.’

‘Agreed. Rebraal, can you do the honours. Thraun, Denser, stay with them. We need one mage with us to operate a shield. Let’s move. They aren’t hanging around upstairs.’

Myx indicated the single door left. ‘Research room.’

The Unknown nodded and led Hirad and Darrick forward. Behind them came Sian’erei, already casting.

‘Shield up.’

‘Keep it that way,’ said Hirad. ‘And stay behind us. We can’t risk you.’

‘You need a bowman,’ said Rebraal. ‘No arguments.’

‘None offered.’

The Unknown kicked the door at its handle, the timbers cracking, the catch bursting and the door shuddering inwards. He and Hirad crouched, Rebraal covering the area within. It was empty of life but dominated by a long table covered with papers and a complex wooden model.

‘Turn,’ ordered The Unknown. They backed and turned. ‘Thraun, in there. Denser, cover them. Myx?’

‘Drawing room, both doors.’

‘Rebraal, left hand, take the angle, we’ll draw any fire.’

The Unknown led them across the corridor, past the waiting TaiGethen. Not a flicker crossed their expressions, their bows tensed and ready up the silent stairs. Defending mages had shields cast.

‘Ready?’

Hirad nodded, choosing to unlatch the door and push it wide. A crossbow bolt buried itself in the wall opposite.

‘Left edge, single target, red chair!’ shouted Hirad, running into the room in front of his comrades.

The Raven warriors were presented with rugs, chairs, sofas, low tables and even a fire place. The crossbowman was crouched behind a chair, reloading. Mages stood by him, three of them. They cast but to no discernible effect, their arms quivering with effort, their faces betraying their anxiety.

‘Oh dear,’ said Hirad, hurdling a sofa, Darrick matching his move while The Unknown curved right.

Rebraal’s bow sounded, taking the crossbowman in the hand, pinning it to the stock of his weapon. The elf followed into the room, reloading. Hirad landed, bringing his sword through from above his head and carving through the neck of the nearest mage. He went down in a welter of blood. Darrick, ever less dramatic, simply speared his target through the heart. The Unknown chose a similarly efficient path.

Three more dead, one soldier incapacitated. The Unknown hauled him up by his leather jerkin.

‘Talk. How many in this complex?’

‘I don’t know. Ten?’ Blood was pouring from his wound and he tried to support it, clutching the crossbow close and whimpering in pain. ‘We were told to stay. You won’t get out. They knew you’d come this way.’

‘Who?’ The Unknown shook him hard, drawing a gasp from him.

‘All of them.’ He managed a smile.

The Unknown dropped him, Hirad crashing his sword hilt into the side of his head, knocking him unconscious.

‘Think he was telling the truth?’

‘Every likelihood,’ said Myx, looking into the room from a doorway.

‘We’d better get out of here. We can’t wait for—’

From the hallway, there was a shout of alarm. They heard the twang of bows and saw the glow of an Al-Arynaar FlameOrb. The volley was answered by shouts from above, the snap of crossbows and, lastly, a blinding bright blue light. Myx had taken half a pace into the room and turned just as the spell impacted. The detonation cracked the walls. The Protector was hurled across the room, thumping into the far wall and slumping down it. A gout of blue flame scorched the door frame.

Out in the corridor, they could hear the screams of the TaiGethen trapped outside. A burning elf staggered past and collapsed.

‘What was that?’ Hirad started towards the door but Sian’erei stopped him.

‘We’ve lost the flow again,’ she said, her eyes full of tears. ‘They had no shield.’

Footsteps, a lot of footsteps, were clattering down the stairs.

Auum led his Tai deeper and deeper into the catacombs. Denser had been right. The place was a chaotic structure but although it was below ground, their prayers had given them strength and he was treating the confusion of passages and directions like the rainforest paths. No outward logic but animals left their marks on their best routes and humans were no different.

They had established the direction The Raven were taking and had chosen a path that ran above them and to their right. While there was no direct route, the Xeteskians had left plenty of signs. Less dust on the ground, grease marks from fingers on walls, shinier surfaces where clothes had brushed past. Easy to miss unless you knew what you were looking for.

Auum was five paces ahead of Duele, Evunn a further five behind him. His Tai had bows ready while he had unclasped his jaqrui pouch and had a short sword in his right hand. He was concerned that his Tai were running short of shafts and, even with those he had given them, a prolonged hunt would exhaust their supply.

There were men ahead of them, there were men behind. The Tai moved without sound and without speech, their signals and gestures all the communication they needed. Auum upped his pace. He wanted to pick off those ahead. They were moving with some urgency, twenty or more, making no attempt to hide their advance, assuming they were the hunters not the hunted.

He reached a junction of passageways. Left, he sensed the catacombs opening up. The air was a little fresher, circulating more freely. It was probably another hub but the corridor floor had a thin film of undisturbed dust on its surface. Interesting that no one turned left to get there. He checked right. The enemy were clearly audible still. He padded around the corner and set off, gesturing his Tai to maintain distance.

Auum was running now. The corridor, like every other, was blue-lit, palely decorated. It inclined slightly and gently curved away right. He breathed it in. It was short. He powered around the curve, feeling an opening on his left before he saw it. The prey were close. Breasting the rise of the curve, he saw the last boot disappearing around a left turn not ten yards ahead of him.

He took the earlier left, pacing parallel to the hunted, feeling his senses focus to every sound. Nothing came from behind him, it was all to his right. He felt for what he needed and in the currents of the air, he found it, a crossway right, curving back towards the enemy. The Tai closed swiftly.

From their ultimate destination, Auum heard an explosion. Dulled by rock but fed through the tunnels on a wave of air it was not far off. The enemy responded, breaking into a run. To Auum, it was an advantage. He pushed on, seeing them cross his path right to left. They wouldn’t see him, his angle left him in the periphery of their vision and they were intent on their way ahead. Not people who would last long in the rainforest.