Toll the Hounds

Another grunted. ‘We heard ‘bout something.’

‘A duel-the Big Man killed someone!’

‘So what?’

‘And then he called for Harllo! He wants Harllo! And I come to get him and you’re stopping me and when he hears-’

He got no further as the man who had struck him now grasped him by the throat and dragged him to his feet. ‘He won’t hear nothing, Venaz. You think we give a fuck about Vidikas having a fuckin’ duel? Killin’ some poor bastard for what? Our entertainment?’

‘He’s turnin’ blue, Haid. Better loosen yer grip some.’

Venaz gasped an agonizing lungful of air.

‘Get it right, lad,’ Haid went on, ‘Vidikas owns us. We’re pieces of meat to him, right? So he puts out a call for one of us and for what? Why, to chew it up, that poor piece of meat. And what, you think that’s a fuckin’ good idea? Get outa my sight, Venaz, but you can count on me rememberin’ this.’

The pack was huddled together now, white-faced, but among some of them there was something rather more calculating. Was this the moment to usurp Venaz?

The three men went back to working on the axle. Venaz, his colour returning to normal, dusted himself off and then set out in a stiff-legged march towards the tunnel mouth. His pack fell in behind him.

As they plunged into the cool gloom Venaz wheeled. ‘That was Haid and Favo and Dule, right? Remember them names. They’re on my list now, all three of them. They’re on my list.’

Faces nodded.

And those who had been weighing their chances each realized that the moment had passed. They’d been too slow. Venaz had a way of recovering, and fast, scary fast. He was, they reminded themselves yet again, going places, without a doubt.

Harllo slid along the vein, feeling with his bared stomach the purity of the black silver and, yes, it was silver and where had it come from when all they’d been working for so long was copper up on the skins and iron down deep? But it felt so beautiful, this silver. Better than gold, better than anything.

Wait till he told Bainisk and Bainisk told the foreman! They’d ho heroes, They might even get extra portions at supper, or a cup of watered wine!

The chute was narrow, so small they’d need moles for weeks before it got worked out big enough to take the pickers, so there was a good chance that Har-llo would be seeing-and feeling-a lot more of this silver, every day, maybe.

And all that trouble from before would go, away, just like that-he knew it would-,

‘Harllo!’

The voice whispered up from somewhere behind his feet, reminding him that he was still head down and that could be dangerous. He-might pass out and not even know it. ‘I’m all right, Bainisk! I found-’

‘Harllo! Get back here right now!’

A shiver ran through Harllo. Bainisk’s voice didn’t sound right. It sounded… scared.

But that wouldn’t last, would it? Not with the silver-

‘Hurry!’

Moving backwards was never easy. He pushed with his hands, squirmed and pressed his toes against the hard stone and then extended his heels. There were leather pads tied to his feet for this purpose, but it still hurt. Like a caterpillar, gathering up and then pushing, bit by bit, working his way back up the chute.

All at once hands grasped his ankles and he was being roughly dragged.

Harllo cried out as his chin struck an obstruction and when he lifted his head up the top crunched on rock, scraping away skin and hair. ‘Bainisk! What-’

He fell free of the chute, thumping down. The hands released his ankles and now grasped his upper arms, lifting him to his feet.

‘Bainisk-’

‘Shhh! Word’s come down-someone came to find you-from the city.’

‘What?’

‘Vidikas killed him-in a duel-and now he’s called for you to be brought to him. It’s bad, Harllo. I think he’s going to kill you!’

But this was too much to hear, too much all at once-someone had come-who? Gruntle! And Vidikas had… had killed him. No. He couldn’t have-he didn’t-‘Who was he?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. Listen, we’re going to escape, you and me, Harllo-do you un-derstand?’

‘But how can we-’

‘We’re going deeper in, to the Settle-’;

‘But that’s not safe-’

‘There are huge cracks on that side-some of them, they got to go right up and out, lakeside. We get there, and then along the shoreline, all the way back to the city!’

They had been hissing back and forth, and now they heard shouts echoing down from the main passage.

‘Venaz-that figures, doesn’t it? Come on, Harllo, we got to go now!

They set out, each with a lantern, Bainisk taking a coil of rope as well, down through the fresh workings-there was no one there yet, as first the air had been bad and then there’d been flooding and only the shift before the last of the hoses was snaked out to see how much more water was seeping back in. After fifty or so paces they were ankle-deep in icy water and flows slicked the side walls and drops rained down from the ceiling. The farther in they went, the more cracks they saw-everywhere, all sides, above and below-proof that they were reaching the Settle, where half a cliff was sinking towards the lake. The rumours were that it was only days from collapse.

The tunnel descended in irregular shelves, and now the water was at Harllo’s thighs, numbingly cold. Both were gasping.

‘Bainisk-will this go back up?’

‘It will, if the water’s not too deep, it will, I promise.’

‘Why-why are you doing this? You should’ve just handed me over.’

Bainisk was some time before answering. ‘I want to see it, Harllo.’

‘You want to see what?’

‘The city. I-I just want to see it, that’s all. When I heard, well, it was as if every-thing fell into place. This was the time-our best chance-this close to the Settle.’

‘You’d been thinking about this.’

‘Yes. Harllo, I never stop thinking about this.’

‘The city.’

‘The city.’

Something clanged somewhere behind them-still distant, but closer than ex-pected.

‘Venaz! They’re after us-shit-come on, Harllo, we got to hurry.’

The water reached Harllo’s hips. He was having trouble working his legs. He kept stumbling. Twice he almost let his lantern sink down too far. Their desperate gasping echoed on all sides, along with sloshing water.

‘Bainisk, I can’t-’

‘Drop your light-just take hold of my shirt-I’ll pull you. Don’t let go.’

Groaning, Harllo let the lantern sink into the water. A sudden hiss, something cracking. When he released the handle the lantern vanished into the blackness. He took hold of Bainisk’s ragged shirt.

They continued on, Harllo feeling his legs trailing behind him but only from the hips-below that there was nothing. A strange lassitude flowed into him, taking away the icy cold. Bainisk was chest-deep now, whimpering as he sought to keep the lantern held high.

They stopped.

‘The tunnel goes under,’ said Bainisk.

‘Issallright, Bainisk. We gan stop now.’

‘No, hold on to this ledge. I’m going under. I won’t be long. I promise.’

He set the lantern on a narrow ledge. And then he sank down and was gone.

Harllo was alone. It would be much easier to let go, to relax his aching hands. Venaz was coming, he’d be here