Cord suddenly smiled. ‘You want to take command of this company? Fine, you can have it. Though we want to deal with Irriz ourselves.’ He reached up to collect the first of the sputtering torches on the wall behind him.
The sudden alteration of attitude from Cord startled Kalam, then filled him with suspicion.
‘What about the captain and the lieutenant?’
‘What about them? They were swept away and they either drowned or were sprung loose in some watering hole. Either way, they’re not with us now, and I doubt they’re coming back-’
‘You don’t know that-’
‘They’ve been gone too long, Cord. If they didn’t drown they would have had to reach the surface somewhere close. You can hold your breath only so long. Now, enough with this discussion-get going.’
‘Aye… sir.’
A torch in each hand, Cord headed up the stairs. Darkness swiftly engulfed the chamber.
Kalam waited for his eyes to adjust, listening to the sergeant’s boot-steps growing ever fainter.
And there, finally, far below, the glowing figure, indistinct, rippling beneath the rushing water.
The assassin retrieved the rope and coiled it to one side. About twenty arm-lengths had been played out, but the bundle of spears held a lot more. Then he pried a large chunk of stone from the ragged edge and tied the sodden, icy-cold end of the rope to it.
With Oponn’s luck, the rock was sufficiently heavy to sink more or less straight down. He checked the knots once more, then pushed it from the ledge.
It plummeted, dragging the coiled rope down with it. The spears clacked tight, and Kalam peered down. The stone was suspended the full length of the rope-a distance that Kalam, and, no doubt, the captain and the lieutenant, had judged sufficient to make contact with the figure. But it hadn’t, though it looked close.
A pause to study the stone’s progress, then more playing out of rope.
It finally reached the figure-given the sudden bowing of the line as the current took the slack. Kalam looked down once more. ‘Hood’s breath!’ The rock lay on the figure’s chest… and the distance made that stone look small.
The armoured figure was enormous, three times a man’s height at least. The captain and the lieutenant had been deceived by the scale. Probably fatally so.
He squinted down at it, wondering at the strange glow, then grasped the rope to retrieve the stone-
And, far below, a massive hand flashed up and closed on it-and pulled.
Kalam shouted as he was pulled down into the torrent. As he plunged into the icy water, he reached up in an attempt to grasp the bundle of spears.
There was a fierce tug, and the spears snapped with an explosive splintering sound directly overhead.
The assassin still held on to the rope, even as the current swept him along. He felt himself being pulled down.
The cold was numbing. His ears popped.
Then he was drawn close by a pair of massive chain-clad fists-close, and face to face with the broad grille of the creature’s helm. In the swirling darkness beneath that grille, the glimmer of a rotted, bestial visage, most of the flesh in current-fluttering strips. Teeth devoid of lips-
And the creature spoke in Kalam’s mind. ‘
He drove both long-knives into the creature’s chest.
A thundering bellow, and the fists shot upward, pushing Kalam away-harder and faster than he had thought possible. Both weapons yanked-almost breaking the grip of his hands, but he held on. The current had no time to grasp him as he was thrown upward, shooting back through the hole in an exploding geyser of water. The ledge caught one of his feet and tore the boot off. He struck the chamber’s low stone ceiling, driving the last of his breath from his lungs, then dropped.
He landed half on the pit’s ledge, and was nearly swept back into the river, but he managed to splay himself, clawing to regain the floor, moving clear of the hole. Then he lay motionless, numbed, his boot lying beside him, until he was able to draw in a ragged lungful of bitter cold air.
He heard feet on the stairs, then Cord burst into the chamber and skidded to a halt directly above Kalam. The sergeant’s sword was in one hand, a torch flaring in the other. He stared down at the assassin. ‘What was that noise? What happened? Where are the damned spears-’
Kalam rolled onto his side, looked down over the ledge.
The frothing torrent was impenetrable-opaqued red with blood. ‘Stop,’ the assassin gasped.
‘Stop what? Look at that water!
‘Stop… drawing… from this well…’
It was a long time before the shivers left his body, to be replaced with countless aches from his collision with the chamber’s ceiling. Cord had left then returned with others from his company, as well as Sinn, carrying blankets and more torches.
There was some difficulty in prying the long-knives from Kalam’s hands. The separation revealed that the grips had somehow scorched the assassin’s palms and fingerpads.
‘Cold,’ Ebron muttered, ‘that’s what did that. Burned by cold. What did you say that thing looked like?’
Kalam, huddled in blankets, looked up. ‘Like something that should nave been dead a long time ago, Mage. Tell me, how much do you know of B’ridys-this fortress?’
‘Probably less than you,’ Ebron replied. ‘I was born in Karakarang. It was a monastery, wasn’t it?’
‘Aye. One of the oldest cults, long extinct.’ A squad healer crouched beside him and began applying a numbing salve to the assassin’s hands. Kalam leaned his head against the wall and sighed. ‘Have you heard of the Nameless Ones?’
Ebron snorted. ‘I said Karakarang, didn’t I? The Tanno cult claims a direct descent from the cult of the Nameless Ones. The Spiritwalkers say their powers, of song and the like, arose from the original patterns that the Nameless Ones fashioned in their rituals-those patterns supposedly crisscross this entire subcontinent, and their power remains to this day. Are you saying this monastery belonged to the Nameless Ones? Yes, of course you are. But they weren’t demons, were they-’
‘No, but they were in the habit of chaining them. The one in the pool is probably displeased with its last encounter, but not as displeased as you might think.’
Ebron frowned, then paled. ‘The blood-if anyone drinks water tainted with that…’
Kalam nodded. ‘The demon takes that person’s soul… and makes the exchange. Freedom.’
‘Not just people, either!’ Ebron hissed. ‘Animals, birds-insects! Anything!’
‘No, I think it will have to be big-bigger than a bird or insect. And when it does escape-’
‘It’ll come looking for you,’ the mage whispered. He suddenly wheeled to Cord. ‘We have to get out of here. Now! Better still-’
‘Aye,’ Kalam growled, ‘get as far away from me as you can. Listen-the Empress has sent her new Adjunct, with an army-there will be a battle, in Raraku. The Adjunct has little more than recruits. She could do with your company, even as beaten up as it is-’
‘They march from Aren?’
Kalam nodded. ‘And have likely already started. That gives you maybe a month… of staying alive and out of trouble-’
‘We can manage,’ Cord grated.
Kalam glanced over at Sinn. ‘Be careful, lass.’
‘I will. I think I’ll miss you, Kalam.’
The assassin spoke to Cord. ‘Leave me my supplies. I will rest here a while longer. So we don’t cross paths, I will be heading due west from here, skirting the north edge of the Whirlwind… for a time. Eventually, I will try to breach it, and make my way into Raraku itself.’
