The Pilgrims

Eric wondered if he should say it. ‘I could hear the devils talk, you know. They must have their own language too. Did you know that?’

Kiown looked at him, startled. ‘What were they saying?’

‘Nothing that made much sense. Only what you might expect animals to say.’

‘You are a most intriguing little trinket,’ said Kiown. ‘Believe him yet, Sharfy? Or is he still a liar?’

Sharfy muttered to himself and walked off ahead. They followed him. Eric said, ‘Is he as good a swordsman as he says he is?’

Kiown laughed. ‘Nooo! Not a soul who ever wielded blade possibly could be. Still, you’d have him with you in a fight. Knows some tricks, throws a good knife.’ Kiown considered. ‘And it is true you can trust him. He just doesn’t look like it. Me, on the other hand? Who knows. And it’s time we plunged onwards.’

The draught suddenly picked up. They became aware of a distant rumbling sound, becoming more defined as they neared it. Then light poured through their tunnel, which opened out to the side of a vast paved road, with a huge cavernous roof overhead and sheer walls. Big slabs of lightstone in the walls and roof made it better lit than the ways they’d come through, helped by brands and braziers of orange fire along the roadside.

At walking pace down below passed truck-sized metal containers on wheels, stretching in both directions as far as sight, filled to the brim with grain, livestock and mined ore. Men in grey robes rode small platforms jutting from the vehicles’ sides. A cart passed, full of shaggy cattle-sized animals, some of which stood on two legs. The sight of the alien beasts made Eric forget, momentarily, his tiredness. Another world, he marvelled. And yet there passed other carts with familiar sights: horses, cows, and poultry in cages.

‘These are going to the castle,’ said Kiown for Eric’s benefit. ‘See? That’s the ramp up, where the road starts to rise. All this came from farms down south. The castle takes it, counts it, then sends it back to Aligned cities. Or not, if they deem people need to be starved. A citizen in Aligned cities is advised to behave himself, and not do silly things like organise resistance, because dinner is nice. In any case food often rots before it gets to places further away.’

Stationed by the roadside were soldiers in metal breastplates with swords at their sides. The two directly beneath them sat playing a game with round pieces on a striped board. Sharfy’s eyes gleamed. ‘We used to raid these carts. Can’t, now. Those guards, down there? Because of us.’ He sounded like a proud father. ‘Kiown, look! Dirt cart from the mines! Ah, those were the days. Used to make a fortune, raiding dirt carts.’

‘We can still raid them,’ said Kiown. ‘You just need a little help.’ With that, he dashed back up the tunnel, leaving Sharfy confused behind him. A minute or two later, Kiown’s squealing voice reached them: ‘Yoooo hoooooo! Pit devils! I have a surprise for youuuuuuuu! HEY! HEYYYYY!’

Sharfy looked stricken. ‘Get down, now! Down to the roadside. If we stay here he’ll get us killed.’

It was a steep drop down the embankment and they had to slide most of the way. The guards below had their board game sprayed with rubble. They stood and drew their blades as Kiown made it back through the tunnel at a mad sprint, whooping. He plunged right down the drop towards Eric and Sharfy. ‘Here they come!’ he screamed. ‘I threw rocks! They’re coming! Raid! Plunder! Go go!’

The guards jogged over, yelling orders lost in the rumbling of the goods train. ‘Forget us,’ Kiown told them, pointing overhead. ‘Look up there. I suggest you panic.’

Five of the red-skinned pit devils loped out, jaws open wide as they went heedlessly down the drop, two overbalancing and sprawling to the roadside with a thud. The surprised guards screamed for help. The men in grey robes shrieked and leaped from the carts’ platforms. More guards rushed over, no longer interested in the bandits. ‘Go! Loot!’ Kiown yelled, hopping up on the side of a passing cart.

Behind them, the guards tried to stand in formation while the devils frenzied. They had loped along slowly, but their long thin limbs now thrashed like striking snakes, claws slicing through armour. The guards fell screaming, with breastplates cracked open, arms sliced off still clutching swords. Their frenzy mounting, the pit devils swarmed over grain carts, chewing and swiping at the carts themselves.

Up on the side of the ‘dirt cart’, Sharfy and Kiown stuffed their pockets with what appeared to be hard lumps of black soil. Urgent to make room, Sharfy took the gun’s clips from his pocket and tossed them clattering to the ground. Eric rushed to pick them up, unnoticed by the others.

‘Take some!’ Sharfy called to him and tossed a few pieces down, one of which broke apart. Gleaming gems scattered left and right. Only they weren’t gems — they were flat as coins.

Kiown dropped down beside him, still panting from his sprint. Eric hesitated, not yet quite knowing his place among these bandits. Would a hero just go along with this? he thought, and said, ‘Whatever these things are, these scales, are they worth killing people for?’

Kiown blinked at him, baffled. ‘Killing people, you say?’ he laughed. ‘Poor little innocents? Those guards, they work for the castle.’ Kiown suddenly loomed over him, a hint of anger behind his mocking face and voice. ‘Did you think the war mages were little innocents, too? I hear they killed your people dead without a thought. Know who the war mages work for?’

‘The castle,’ said Sharfy, hopping down with his pockets bulging.

‘How does one treat enemies in Otherworld?’ Kiown went on, spittle flying from his lips. ‘Does one politely discuss?’

‘Enough!’ Sharfy said, standing between them. He pointed at the clumps of black dirt at Eric’s feet. ‘Grab some, quick. Then run.’

Eric did as told, and they ducked through the gap between two grain carts, up the far embankment, along a ledge where more small passageways opened up. No guards chased, not when they saw the entire horde of pit devils belatedly pouring through the hole on the other side like a red nightmare, swarming down the embankment. ‘Anfen says hello!’ Kiown yelled, waving to one guard who paused, looking up at them. The guard stared, but made no move to pursue them as they fled.

15

Through the wide hallways Case went. Bright and busy the place seemed, well ordered as a hospital. The human traffic was heavy enough that his footsteps need not be silent, but he was careful to sidestep the men and women in their bland robes, with their bland faces showing not much, saying nothing. When they did speak, it was seldom loud enough to be overheard, seldom more than a word or two. Some had paper scrolls in hand, or little notebooks slung about their shoulders. Many ducked in or out of the doorways on either side, all steadily going about some incomprehensible business like ants in a stump. There seemed something very wrong with them which Case couldn’t quite pinpoint: something was missing. Maybe it was the way their mouths hung open a little, the dullness of their eyes. Maybe it was the place’s quiet despite so many going back and forth, with only the tap shuffle tap of footsteps on the stone floor.

Sometimes the doors on either side of the wide hallways were open. Case paused to look in, once finding a store room full of plain-looking objects: cups, plates, tools, simple jewellery like the silver beads around his neck. It was all valuable, since there were serious-looking men with swords sitting inside, silently watching over it all.

In other rooms, seated around tables, were people who by their manner discussed matters of grave importance. Something separated these people from the rest of these castle dwellers. They were dressed differently, but that wasn’t it … there was clearly some ‘on’ switch that had been flicked in them, or maybe the others had been switched off. Case passed several such meetings before he stopped in a doorway to listen, thinking that in here might be the man he was supposed to find:

‘… if I may, to me, this is … I won’t say paranoid, but I have not ever detected a scrap of further ambition in that general than the next course of dinner.’

The others at the table exchanged looks of grave alarm. Said one very slowly, ‘Perhaps others have better foresight than we.’

The first speaker, stricken: ‘Yes, of course. I did not mean to say I was questioning-’

‘You already have questioned. Already questioned.’ He grinned like someone who was very much looking forward to a drink of the other’s blood.

Case listened a while longer then left the worried-looking bunch to their troubles and secrets. Further along,