Screams, the thud of quarrels striking bodies, hissing pain from the creatures. Paran's horse reared, forelegs kicking at a beast scrambling beneath it. Sword out, Paran slashed the blade into the back of the creature clinging and biting fierce chunks of meat from the nearest shareholder's left thigh. He saw the flesh and muscle part, revealing ribs. Then blood sluiced out. Squealing, the beast fell away.
More had reached the carriage, and Paran saw one shareholder torn from her perch, swearing as she was dragged down onto the stones, then vanishing beneath seething, smooth-skinned bodies.
The captain swung his horse round and closed on the writhing mass.
No skill involved – it was simply lean down and hack and slash, until the last bleeding body fell away.
The woman lying on the bloody stones looked as though she had been chewed by a shark, then spat out. Yet she lived. Paran sheathed his sword, dismounted and threw the dazed, bleeding woman over a shoulder.
Heavier than she'd looked. He managed to settle her down over the back of his horse, then vaulted once more into the saddle.
The carriage already vanishing into the mists, ochre bodies tumbling from it. The back wheels both rose and thumped as they rolled over flopping corpses.
And between Paran and the carriage, half a hundred or more of the creatures, now wheeling towards him, claws raised and clicking. He drew out his sword again, and drove his heels into the horse's flanks.
The animal voiced an indignant grunt, then charged forward. Legs and chest battering bodies aside, Paran slashing right and left, seeing limbs lopped off, skulls opened wide. Hands closed on the shareholder and sought to pull her off. Twisting round, Paran cut at them until they fell away.
A beast landed in his lap.
Hot breath, smelling distinctly of over-ripe peaches. Hinged fangs spreading wide – the damned thing was moments from biting off Paran's face.
He head-butted it, the rim of his helm smashing nose and teeth, blood gushing into Paran's eyes, nose and mouth.
The creature reeled back.
Paran swung his weapon from above, hammering the sword's pommel into the top of the creature's skull. Punching through with twin sprays of blood from its tiny ears. Tugging his weapon free, he shoved the dead beast to the side.
His horse was still pushing forward, squealing as talons and fangs slashed its neck and chest. Paran leant over his mount's neck, flailing with his sword in its defence.
Then they were through, the horse lunging into a canter, then a gallop. All at once, the carriage's battered, swaying and pitching back reared up before them. Free of attackers. Paran dragged on his reins until the horse slowed, and came up alongside. He gestured at the nearest shareholder. 'She's still alive – take her-'
'Is she now?' the man replied, then turned his head and spat out a gleaming red stream.
Paran now saw that blood was spurting from the ragged holes in the man's left leg, and those spurts were slowing down. 'You need a healer and fast-'
'Too late,' the man replied, leaning out to drag the unconscious woman from the back of Paran's horse. More hands reached down from above and took her weight, then pulled her upwards. The dying shareholder sagged back against the carriage, then gave Paran a red-stained smile. 'The spike,' he said. 'Doubles my worth – hope the damned wife's grateful.'
As he spoke he fumbled with the harness buckle, then finally pulled it loose. With a final nod at Paran, he let go, and fell.
A tumble and a roll, then… nothing.
Paran looked back, stared at the motionless body on the bridge. Beasts were swarming towards it. Gods, these people have all lost their minds.
'Stebar's earned the spike!' someone said from the carriage roof. '
Who's got one of his chips?'
Another voice said, 'Here, down the slot – how bad is Thyrss?'
'She'll make it, poor girl, ain't gonna be pretty no more.'
'Knowing her, she'd have been happier with the spike-'
'Not a chance, got no kin, Ephras. What's the point of a spike with no kin?'
'Funny man, Yorad, and I bet you don't even know it.'
'What did I say now?'
The carriage's wild careening had slowed as more and more detritus appeared on the bridge's road. Pieces of corroding armour, broken weapons, bundles of nondescript clothing.
Looking down, Paran saw a slab of wood that looked to have once been a Troughs game-board, now splintered and gnawed down one side as if some creature had tried to eat it. So, here in this deathly underworld, there are things that still need food. Meaning, they're alive.
Meaning, I suppose, they don't belong. Intruders, like us. He wondered at all those other visitors to this realm, those who'd fallen to the horde of ochre-hued beast-men. How had they come to be here? An accident, or, like Paran, seeking to cross this damned bridge for a reason? 'Hedge!'
The ghost, perched beside the driver, leaned forward. 'Captain?'
'This realm – how did you know of it?'
'Well, you came to us, didn't you? Figured you was the one who knew about it.'
'That makes no sense. You led, I followed, remember?'
'You wanted to go where the ancient things went, so here we are.'
'But where is here?'
Shrugging, the sapper leaned back.
It was the one bad thing about following gut-feelings, Paran reflected. Where they came from and what fed them was anybody's guess.
After perhaps a third of a league, the slope still perceptibly climbing, the road's surface cleared, and although the mists remained thick, they seemed to have lightened around them, as if some hidden sun of white fire had lifted clear of the horizon. Assuming there was such a horizon.
Not every warren played by the same rules, Paran knew.
The driver cursed suddenly and sawed back on the traces, one foot pushing the brake lever. Paran reined in alongside as the train lurched to a halt.
Wreckage ahead, a single, large heap surrounded by scattered pieces.
A carriage.
Everyone was silent for a moment, then Karpolan Demesand's voice emerged from a speak-tube near the roof. 'Nisstar, Artara, if you will, examine yon barricade.'
Paran dismounted, his sword still out, and joined the two Pardu women as they crept cautiously towards the destroyed carriage.
'That's Trygalle Trade Guild,' Paran said in low tones, 'isn't it?'
'Shhh.'
They reached the scene. Paran held back as the shareholders, exchanging gestures, each went to one side, crossbows held at the ready. In moments, they moved out of his line of sight.
The carriage was lying on its side, the roof facing Paran. One back wheel was missing. The copper sheets of the roof looked battered, peeled away in places, cut and gouged in others. On two of the visible iron attachment loops, strips of leather remained.
One of the Pardu women appeared on top, perching on the frame of the side door, then crouching to look straight down, inside the carriage.
A moment later, she disappeared inside. The other shareholder came from around the wreck. Paran studied her. Her nose had been shattered, not long ago, he judged, as the remnant of bruises marred the area beneath her eyes with faint crescents. The eyes above those bruises were now filled with fear.
Behind them, Karpolan Demesand emerged and, the Jaghut at his side and Hedge trailing, they slowly approached.
Paran turned, studied the pale, expressionless visage of the High Mage. 'Do you recognize this particular carriage, Karpolan?'
A nod. 'Trade Mistress Darpareth Vayd. Missing, with all her shareholders, for two years. Ganoes Paran, I must
