Orb ,Sceptre ,Throne

Antsy took a long breath, thinking. ‘You can see fine?’

‘Yes. Never better. My vision seems even stronger than before.’

He nodded, then remembered Corien might not see. ‘Okay. We’ll pack up, then.’

They shared out the waterskins, the panniers of food, and the equipment. Antsy wondered where in the Abyss Malakai had gotten to but there was nothing he could do about the man’s absence. And anyway, there was nothing the man could do about his blindness either.

Leaning close, Corien murmured, ‘Very strong-willed, our lass.’

Antsy merely grunted his assent. Tongue like a whip dipped in tar and sand. The girl’s jibe had gotten under his skin. Were they malingering here on the doorstep because they were afraid to venture in? He’d always pulled his weight; he was proud of that. He might not be crazy brave, but neither did he ever shirk. Was he losing his edge?

They felt their way up the hall. Antsy had Corien leading, sword drawn, himself next, and Orchid bringing up the rear. As they walked, awkward and slow over the tilted floors, he assembled his crossbow. That at least he could do blind.

At an intersection of four halls he whispered for a halt. ‘All right,’ he said to Orchid. ‘Which way? What do you think?’

‘Let’s ask Malakai,’ she said.

‘Okay … just where in the Abyss is he?’

‘Right over there.’ She must’ve pointed but he couldn’t catch the motion. ‘I see you skulking in that doorway, Malakai. Enjoying yourself?’

Silence. Not a brush of sleeve or scuff of booted heel. Then Antsy flinched as directly in front of him he heard the man say, ‘Well done, Orchid. I’d thought you the least of the party. But perhaps you and I could manage things on our own. These two don’t seem to be of much use.’

‘What of Red’s munitions?’

‘There’s much less structural damage than I’d feared. Perhaps they won’t be needed.’

Antsy had had enough of them talking as if he wasn’t standing right there and he cleared his throat. ‘Listen, if there’s no light then I will turn round and leave. There’s no point in me going on.’

Silence. Malakai murmured, ‘Leave? It seems plain there’s no going back.’ He sounded as if he was enjoying giving this news far too much.

‘What do you mean? I’ll just wait for another boat.’

‘I overheard they drop people off at different places each time.’

Antsy wanted to punch the bastard. He squinted so hard stars burst before his light-starved eyes. ‘But a pick-up? There must be a pick-up!’

‘Yes. A place called the Gap of Gold, apparently. Just where that is I have no idea.’ From the man’s tone Antsy could imagine him arching a brow there in the darkness. ‘We’ll just have to poke around …’

Antsy managed to bite back his yelled opinion of that. He almost exploded, so great was the wash of rage and frustration that coursed through him. No wonder no one had returned in so long! This island was a death trap — and he’d walked right in like a lamb! You damned fool. You should’ve known better than this.

He realized that the others were talking and that he had no idea what they’d been discussing. ‘What’s that?’

‘Some way ahead,’ Malakai said. ‘People. I spotted them earlier. They have a few lights burning.’

That was all Antsy needed to hear. ‘Why didn’t you say so? Let’s go!’

‘I’ll go first,’ Malakai cautioned. ‘Give the crossbow to Orchid.’

‘She can’t use it. She’d put one in your back.’

‘At least she’d have a better view of her target than you would. What do you say, Orchid? Will you take it?’

‘Yes,’ she agreed, reluctantly, her voice sour with distaste. ‘I suppose so.’

Antsy held out the weapon, felt her take it.

‘Okay. Red, Corien, you two are in the middle. Orchid will follow, guiding you.’

Antsy growled.

They advanced in that order for some time. Orchid would whisper what was ahead, giving directions. Antsy trailed his left hand along a wall, his shortsword out. Malakai led them on through hallway after hallway, round corners, past open portals that gaped as blind emptiness to Antsy’s questing fingers. It seemed to him that the air was steadily getting warmer. And he was completely lost. Then a familiar stink offended his nose. To Antsy it was like a veteran’s homecoming: the pungent miasma of an old encampment. Smoke, the stale stink of long unwashed bodies, vile latrines. He heard snatches of exchanged words, echoes of footsteps, wood being broken and chopped.

Ahead, his light-deprived eyes beheld what seemed like a golden sunset far overhead. He stopped, squinted his disbelief. The apparition resolved itself into light reflecting off a high domed ceiling. Silver paint or perhaps actual gems dotted stars and wisps across the dome in constellations completely unfamiliar to him. The night sky of true Night? Something for philosophers to get into fistfights over.

Orchid whispered, ‘Malakai’s at some kind of low wall or balcony ahead. He’s signalling for you … wants you to crawl over.’

‘Straight ahead?’

‘Yes.’

Grunting, Antsy sheathed his shortsword and got down to crawl along the cool polished stone floor until his hand hit a wall.

‘To your right,’ Malakai hissed. Antsy shuffled along until he touched the man.

‘Okay. Take a look.’

He felt up to the lip of the wall and peered over. At first he saw nothing; the glare from what was only feeble lamplight blinded him. Then, slowly, he began to make out details. He was looking down about three or four storeys on to a city, or village, cut from solid rock. Light shone from a small huddle of buildings near its centre. People walked about, in and out of the light’s glare. Muted conversations sounded. A woman’s harsh laugh broke the relative quiet. He’d seen eight people so far.

‘What do you think?’ Malakai asked.

‘There’s a lot of them.’

‘At least twenty.’

‘Damn. Too many.’

‘I agree.’

‘There might be a watch up here somewhere.’

‘On the other side right now.’

‘Hunh. Time’s running out then. What do you have in mind?’

‘Parley for information.’

‘I agree. Who?’

‘You and Corien. I’ll shadow. Orchid stays out of sight.’

Antsy ran a thumbnail over his lips. ‘Okay. Rally to here?’

‘Might as well.’

Antsy waved for Corien and Orchid to come up.

It was a village sculpted from stone in every detail. Antsy and Corien descended a street of shallow stairs that ran between high walls cut with windows, doors, and even planters. All now was wreckage, tilted and uneven. Litter covered the street; fallen sheets of stone choked some alleys. Jagged cracks ran up the walls. And everywhere lay the remnants of water damage; they breathed in the stink of mouldering and mud. The stairs opened on to the main concourse of the houses the people occupied; they’d obviously just found the place and moved in.

Antsy felt naked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been without his munitions. He’d hated leaving them behind, but Malakai had been right: no sense in risking these people getting their hands on any. He carried only a dirk; Corien his parrying gauche. They advanced side by side down the middle of the street, careful to step over rubbish, broken possessions and scatterings of excrement. The population seemed to just squat wherever they