Chapter 7 - Sword and Flame

The Cloven Ones had found the village first.

Like a spinner in a child's game, the totem swayed in the breeze. The heads were long rotted, but they turned anyway - Tongueless, toothless, their empty sockets staring out at us. A wretched reek of decay hung in the air, choking, cloyingly ripe; flies buzzed overhead, a damnation swarm, a miasma, that made everything it touched unclean.

Roulle retched again, but he'd already emptied his stomach earlier. All that came out were gastric juices, though he heaved again, as if doing his best to vomit his guts out.

The others were moving among the houses, too. I heard exclamations of dismay, the faint crunch of bones underfoot. Somewhere, there was a howl of rage and grief.

"Keep moving, lads," Caius said, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Sergeant, we've got to...We've got to bury-"

"I said keep moving." There was steel in his voice, as he fixed Tomas was a glare. "You know the score. We all do. Let's focus on those we can save."

I didn't dare speak. I didn't dare look.

The fishing village was a small place, home to no more than a few dozen souls. The beastmen had taken no time at all to go through it - the things we'd see, the things they'd done, made me glad that we'd only stumbled across the aftermath.

What had happened here had been far worse.

We'd seen the burnt-out ruins of the huts, from a distance. Seen the remnants of the ghastly cage that had held the village's population, until the beastmen were done with them. But it was the grisly totems that had been the worst of all, because they told of deliberate craftsmanship - a kind of pride taken in the deeds that had been accomplished here.

The Cloven Ones must have stumbled upon this place, on the march southward. Before or after the occupation of Lyost, no-one could know. Only that they'd taken their time with this place, and gorged their fill.

Nothing lived in the village. Only bloated crows and blood-swollen flies, feasting on the dead. At one point, I'd seen a dog impaled on a stake, and - dimly - wondered what it'd done.

Nausea churned in my gut. I could taste bile in the back of my throat, one hand clamped grimly to my mouth as I followed in Caius's footsteps. Somewhere close by, Brother Jozan was praying, low and mournful.

"Four Gods, gather the souls of the Faithful into Your Eternal Embrace. Gods of Earth, Fire, Water and Air, take from them the memories of torment, and usher them into the next life that awaits-"

There were loose heaps of dusty white bone in the firepits, a hanging odor like cooked meat. I made the mistake of looking too closely, and saw the teeth-marks; Sickened, I'd turned away, and fought down the gorge rising in my throat.

It wasn't just the totality of the slaughter that had distressed me. It was the utility of it. The beastmen hadn't squandered their time here, or committed violence merely for the sake of hatred. 

Like the animals they resembled, they had feasted, not knowing when or where their next meal would come from.

Skander, emerging from one of the huts, had - with a delicacy that seemed out of place on such a big man - shut the door behind him, and simply shaken his head.

"The children were in there," he said, and nothing else.

Up ahead, Throne Gazer’s spear flashed. Once, then again.

The boats. He'd found the boats, at last.

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An army - any army - on the march is a momentous thing. Ponderous, unstoppable, like a glacier or a bulk-lifter leviathan, the Dawnward Legion's column wound its way through the hidden paths of the forests, trailing a rising plume of dust. 

This close to winter, the air was crisp and cold, offering some relief from the heat of nearly a thousand knights, armsmen and priests in close proximity, then almost half that number again in support.

Nothing would be spared, for this attack. Lyost would be taken, no matter what - It was merely a question of casualties. If the impossible happened, if worse came to worse, the Holy King and his retinue faced either the slow death of being besieged in the Hollow Mountain, or the swifter death of an attempted run to the Southern Holy Kingdom. Neither prospect was a viable one, and so all our strength had been concentrated for a single, terrible blow.

When I say 'our', I don't just refer to the paladins and the soldiers of the Holy Kingdom. I mean humanity, for this was very much a war against the inhuman and unknowable. We'd seen what the demihumans and their Shrouded Prophet intended for us, and word had spread quickly.

All knew what was at stake. What it would mean, if the Legion failed.

Sabrine had been right. With the demi-human forces concentrated around the Holy Kingdom's three great fortress-cities, there would never be a better time to strike. The fear was that the resistance would run into a force of equal or greater magnitude before it could be brought to bear, or - if the siege of Lyost was a prolonged one - that it would be caught and overwhelmed once the Prophet received word.

Once the Legion began traveling overland - once it left the (relative) safety of the Hollow Mountain's shadow - the ticking clock began. The liberation of Lyost had to be done swiftly, or not at all. That meant speed, sustainable speed, was a priority.

An army only moves as fast as the slowest element involved. While most of the knights and paladins were mounted, the bulk of the Liberation Army's forces consisted of men-at-arms and Holy Kingdom militia. The priests knew spells to speed them along, but were reserving their powers for the clash that would soon come; Given that I'd spent nearly two days recovering after healing Lady Arisa, I could see the wisdom in that.

In truth, it wasn't far to Lyost. But in a world with no trucks, no personnel carriers, no aircraft, it would take three days to get there. Fortunately, for Caius's score, a shorter journey awaited - Eventually, we'd split off from the main group, heading for the fishing village instead.

That, at least, was the plan. The rest was just effort.

And so, we marched.

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The journey was a slog. The column set a steady pace, but it could only trudge forward so fast - the only thing to see was the head of the man in front of you, bobbing up and down.

Even in mythril armor, it got tedious fast. My body was young, strong, hard to fatigue - but the tedium ate away at me. You focused solely on putting one foot ahead of the other, aware of the weight of your pack on your back, always wondering how much further there was left to go…

-Knowing, all the while, you were still days from your destination.

I'd been offered a horse, but - possibly unwisely - I declined. I wasn't sure if I knew how to ride one, and the thought of riding a living creature intimidated me. The horse hadn't looked particularly keen, either, and so I supposed it was for the best.

Another reason for the relative speed of the Dawnward Legion’s mobilization: The mounts hadn't thrived, in the Hollow Mountain. Their confined quarters had made them sickly, restive, under incredible stress - Crowded together, with little food and little room to move. In a matter of weeks, maybe less, they'd have been no good to anyone.

I sensed Lady Arisa's hand in this. She struck me as someone with an infinite capacity for taking pains; She must have known this, too, before she put her plan forward.

At some point in the night, I must have dozed off. When I woke, it'd been somewhere around dawn, and the Hollow Mountain had echoed with renowned activity. In all that had followed - Getting to Caius's score, ensuring that I had all my meager possessions with me, a hurried breakfast of corn pottage with yesterday's bread to prepare for the march ahead - I hadn't seen her since.

I wondered what she was thinking, at the middle of the column with the rest of the priests.

I wondered if anyone would survive what was coming.

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"Copper for your thoughts, lad?"

I looked up. The creak of the wagon wheels had lulled me into a drowse - I'd been sitting, half-slouched against the canvas interior of the stays, thinking of nothing at all.

During one of the brief rest periods, Caius had exchanged words with one of the drivers, who'd been suitably awed. He'd gestured for us to climb up, and we had; Now, we were in a cramped space that smelled mostly of dried fish, sharing space with stacked crates of preserved rations.

I wasn't complaining. It beat walking.

Heiter was sleeping, his head resting against a crate. Hands never far from the wire-wrapped hilts of his swords, even at rest. Of all the others, I knew the least about him; Still, there was something reassuringly deadly about him, a quiet competence with no room for fear.

Caius grinned at me, from his perch on the opposite seat. He'd relinquished his demi-human bow for another, a truly lethal-looking article seemingly made entirely from a single curving spine of springy black steel. Two oversized quivers rested by his feet, each one filled with black-fletched arrows.

I blinked. "I don't-" I began, haltingly.

"Come off it, Sir Gabriel. I can see something's eating at you - You look like a man with something on his mind." He gestured, taking in the wagon's cramped interior with a sweep of his hand. "Close to privacy as we're going to get. The priests say confession is good for the soul, so…"

His face sobered. "Should get it off your chest while you can, lad. Best to go into things with a clean conscience, I always say."

Because there might not be time for it later, Caius didn't say. Still, I got his point. Except...I wasn't sure where to begin. 

There was so much I wanted to tell him, but - even then - I knew I couldn't reveal the truth.

The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was insane.

Instead, I said - "It's about Lady Arisa," and he winced.

"Ah," Caius said. "Ah. She's caught your eye, has she? You certainly aim high, lad."

From the way his gaze slid away from mine, there was a lot he wasn't saying. Caius, I think, was one of those few men who were naturally honest; there was no falsehood, no misdirection as to what he was. That was why others gravitated to his orbit - they knew, instinctively, he was someone to be trusted. That he would never steer them wrong, even as he steered them right into the thick of things.

"No, it's…" I said, and caught myself. Considered my words. "All right. Maybe it's a little like that."

It was interesting to watch Caius's expression change. He looked like a fond father struggling to tell a well-loved but slightly dim child that a long-cherished ambition was in fact a very, very bad idea.

He muttered something under his breath, something I didn't quite catch - Something like "...thought raising a daughter was hard enough…", but that couldn't have been right.

"Aye, well...Good luck with that. Four Gods know you'll need it."

I wondered. I remembered how Arisa had looked, when she'd yielded to slumber at last. How the calculation, the cunning, had relaxed into the serene mask of sleep. How, in spite of everything, she'd trusted me, instinctively.

"I mean...I don't really know anything about her. Only that Commander Sabrine is her sister. That...they were the Queen's advisors?"

I was reaching, now. "If there's anything you can tell me about her…"

Caius looked increasingly uncomfortable, now. As if he was beginning to regret asking in the first place.

"Truth is, I doubt anyone knows much about her. Commander Sabrine...She's the brawn, you know? First Sword of the Paladin Order, the mailed fist with which the Order fights evil and injustice. Lady Arisa - Well, she's different. You know the lords and ladies are terrified of her? And I mean, terrified. Like a knife cutting them to the quick, she is."

He sighed. "If not for her, there might not have been a Holy Queen at all. The South backed other candidates, you realize? Things were touch-and-go for a moment there, let me tell you. They're probably happier with Prince Valerius, but as long as the sisters are around, they'll never rest easy, that's for sure."

A brief silence descended. I heard the jingle of traces, the background murmur of voices, of orders - All the sounds of an army on the march.

"...Is she really that bad?" I asked, quietly. Caius grimaced, but I noticed that he looked left and right, as if wondering whether anyone was listening.

"That's a complex question, lad," he said, at last. "I'm not sure I'm the one to answer that. Oh, I'm sure she wants what's best for the Holy Kingdom, but if you get in her way?" he shuddered. "That's no comfort."

He lowered his voice. "Then...There were the rumors. Scurrilous ones, no doubt, but you've got to wonder."

"-What kind of rumors?"

"That…" I felt like we were on thin ice here, and he knew it. "-that they don't like men. Not that I believe it, of course," Caius added, hurriedly. "Courting Lady Arisa...That's like trusting a snake to nurse a kitten, if you get my meaning."

"I don't think she's so bad," I said, almost to myself. "Just...isolated. Lonely, I suppose."

He gave me a sidelong look, as if wondering whether I'd taken a blow to the head. "Aye, well...I'll say no more about it, then." Caius leaned to the side, peering at the unchanging canopy of green on either side.

"Should be about half a day more. Then we'll strike out on our own." he said. His hand went to a strange little ornament - like a carved fetish, or a doll - hanging from his belt. It struck me as exceptionally ugly manikin, but he clasped it like a talisman.

A good-luck charm, most likely.

"Make ready, Sir Gabriel - Things are about to get interesting."

Like an idiot, I nodded. As if I knew what he meant.

I don't think I could have been any more wrong.

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I watched the flames reflected in the tranquil surface of the water, smoke rising from the pyre. Motes of color - blue, yellow, white - sparkled, as Brother Jozan pulled at the oars, his face set in a tight mask. Behind him, Roulle sat hunched and shivering, staring back at the blaze as he wrapped himself in his cloak.

At the prow, Caius was little more than a dark silhouette, with Heiter laboring at the other set of oars. They made nearly no sound, as they dipped beneath the surface, feathering the water - I wasn't even sure that the boat was moving, until the dark outline of the village slipped slowly away from us, into the darkness.

As it turned out, there had been no shortage of boats, after all. Most were up on blocks, to be scraped clean of barnacles and patched; The attack had come so suddenly, so abruptly, the villagers must have been overcome before they could even flee - Overcome, then dragged off to their unspeakable fate.

Given what had been done to them, to consign the villagers to the flames had felt somehow obscene. But there was nothing else we could do; There had been enough splintered and broken wood for a makeshift pyre, and I'd ignited it with the Interfector. The blue fire burned like nothing else on earth, consuming the few battered, mutilated forms we'd been able to find.

There was no way of telling how many had died. Whether they'd all come from the village, or whether they'd been herded here like cattle and put to the knife. I knew only that there were far more unaccounted for, and that our gesture had been symbolic at best.

Caius had been against the pyre, at first. But he'd seen how distressed the others were, and - at last - he'd relented. Skander had merely grunted, looking more savage than I'd ever seen him; Throne Gazer had merely said "Then I shall see to the boats, Sergeant," and busied himself with making sure they were seaworthy.

None of us had eaten or slept, before we'd pushed the boats into the water. The truth was, I don't think anyone could bear to remain in that place a moment longer. It didn't help that we were downwind of the flames, as the sky darkened from afternoon to evening, from evening to night - the stench of burning hanging in the air, as we set off into the night tides.

There had been a brief argument about whether to take three boats or four. More meant a higher chance of discovery, but was also insurance against one's sinking. In the end, four had been chosen - Our small flotilla setting off with the chill breeze at our backs, with little more than alien stars to light our way.

I could just see the darker outline of the cliff-face against the dark night sky, the craggy form of the mountains looming to our right. The lap of calm waves against the boat's sides were oddly calming, rowlocks creaking as the oars slapped the water; It was pitch-black, a darkness like nothing else I'd ever seen.

All of us were swaddled in the blankets and furs we'd found tucked in a small chest under the boat's rail. It didn't stop our breath from steaming, smoking in the cold air - "Breathe through your nose, not your mouth, lads," Caius had said. "Freezing's a terrible way to die."

He had a coffer that contained heated stones, for which we were immeasurably grateful; I rolled one between my palms, and tried to keep my fingers from cramping. It'd been a long, terrible day, but I was wide awake - I don't think I could have slept if I'd wanted to. Somehow, the butchery at the village kept becoming what I'd seen at the beastman camp, the images running together in my mind.

All it took was a slip of concentration, and then I'd be thinking about it again.

I was almost grateful when Heiter slapped my shoulder - "Your turn," he said, clambering past me, careful not to rock the boat. I nodded; As I eased myself into his body-warm seat, I took up the oars, and began to row. The night tides were carrying us where we needed to go, but Alabaster Cove was still a long way ahead.

Our boat swung north, along the ridge, under the shadows of the great cliffs. The rhythm was almost soothing, except for the ache in my arms - Up, down. Forward, back.

And I thought: Soon.

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It was a long, dark curse of a night. The only way to mark the passage of time was by the change of shifts, the relief when the rowing stopped and the sail was raised, the canvas bellying out full. Things became markedly easier, after that - At some point, I'd curled up to try and get some sleep, only to lie there hearing every creak of the planks.

I had little experience with boats. All I could think about was the vast amounts of water on all sides except above. How fragile this contraption seemed, in all that emptiness.

How quickly we would sink, once we started taking on water.

When I was nudged awake, I looked up to see that the sky was lightening. It was going from black to grey, as dawn - slowly, tentatively - crept across the horizon.

"Up ahead," Brother Jozan said. "Alabaster Cove."

---------------------

The prow of the boat crunched into the rocky beach, damp sand rasping against the scarred hull. As we splashed through the washing surf, dragging it up and onto the ground, I got a good look at our temporary refuge; A shallow spit of land, the cold waves washing relentlessly against the narrow beach.

To our backs rose a vast, achingly steep wall, the barren cliff-face showing the scars of erosion. The mound of rising rock was why Caius had chosen this place; It shielded us from the view of Lyost, providing us with the cover and shelter we so desperately needed for the last effort.

By some miracle, all four boats had made it ashore. Men splashed through the lapping waves and up onto the beach, moving with weary effort. Most looked like they wanted nothing more than to collapse into an exhausted slumber - Others looked faintly dismayed at the bleakness of the promised refuge.

But it was land. Solid land, even at high tide. Not much, but just enough.

Gazer was the last to arrive, and not by boat. He emerged from the waves naked and dripping except for a breech-cloth, his wicked spear gripped in one hand. The cold troubled him not at all, his green-tinted skin seemingly impervious to the chill; the other men gave him a wide berth, and I honestly couldn't blame them. He'd been polite enough, but there was no denying his distinct inhumanity, as he made surefooted progress across the rocks.

Kashan, to my surprise, looked more centered than before. He was as bedraggled as any of the others, but this was familiar ground to the smuggler as he struggled to relatively-dry land.

"Think we can risk a fire?" Caius asked, and Kashan nodded. "There's a cave further in. We used it for...storage." He didn't even bother to deny it; After what he'd seen at the village, he knew the score better than anyone.

As he'd promised, the cave was at the base of the cliffs. It was surprisingly spacious, wax-sealed chests stacked at the far end like a wall of lacquered wood - Murmurs had gone up at the sight of them, but Caius had silenced them with a look.

With the wind moaning mournfully outside, there was more than enough driftwood to make an effort at a flame; One of the men tried to get it going with matches, but his fingers were numb with cold. After some cursing and fumbling, I drew the Interfector, thrusting the burning point into the small heap, and it burst into flame as if soaked in oil.

"Handy, that," Skander had muttered, and - without thinking - I said "It was my brother's," before catching myself. He gave me an odd look, but made no comment as I sank down cross-legged in front of the flickering fire.

"Now what?" someone asked.

"Now?" Caius said. "Now, we wait."

---------------------

It was strange to think that the Resistance was making progress parallel to ours; We'd come much further than them in a significantly shorter time, but the column was likely continuing its relentless progress forward.

In less than a day's time, both forces would converge at Lyost, and everything would be decided.

The majority of men did what they could to sleep. Some checked and re-checked weapons, with a small huddle gathering around Brother Jozen as he read a sermon from the Codex of the Four Gods. His firm, strident voice echoed oddly from the walls, with the cadence of a call-and-response.

"What is the blessing of Water?"

"Kindness of heart."

"What is the blessing of Earth?"

"Wholeness of form."

"What is the blessing of Air?"

"Keenness of mind."

"What is the blessing of Fire?"

"Strength of spirit!"

"By the Four Blessings shall you know Their touch. Strive to emulate the Graces of the Four, and know that - wherever you walk - the Four walk with you!"

I think he was hoping that I would join them at prayer, but I knew little about the Gods.

That would change, in the days to come.

But not yet.

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A little while later, Throne Gazer returned, stalking lightly on his feet. He'd impaled a flopping fish on the end of his spear, had another grasped by the tail in his hand, and tossed it to the stones. Given that our rations were mostly biscuit and dried meat - cured pork, from the taste of it - we couldn't have been more grateful.

I slept, while I could. Not long - the thought of what lay ahead made it hard to rest. I struggled through fitful dreams, awakening to see Heiter pacing idly along the wall of chests.

"I didn't think there'd be so much of it," he was saying, seemingly lost in thought. "Under the Order's nose, the entire time...Who'd thought of it?"

"Up until a few months ago?" Kashan said, poking at the fire with a dagger. "It wasn't." Idly, he scratched at his scar. "Grinstone powder - Dust - only comes from Illurean. Suddenly, we've got four times as much coming out of the Kingdom, and it's twice as pure as the usual stuff…"

"Interesting," Heiter said, hooking his thumbs in his belt. "-Why?"

Kashan hesitated. His brow furrowed, and he scowled. "Sells itself, doesn't it?" he said, at last. "Call it an investment. The Nine Families know they'll make it all back - and then some - when the time comes."

"Nine Families? Last I heard, it was Eight. It's always been Eight."

The smuggler grunted. "Things change."

He glanced at me when he said that, as if expecting me to say something. I demurred, looking away - The Interfector's blade laid across my lap, as I worked the edge of the sword with a whetstone, metal softly ringing.

It was the stone that was being shaved away by the matchless edge, not the blade, but I saw no reason to stop; This was a ritual, and we all had our own.

Better to get into the habit now. Sooner rather than later.

I sheathed the blade, and leaned the scabbard against my shoulder. I tried to think of what tonight would entail, and all I could come up with was a blank. It would be, I knew, so utterly outside my lived experience - Except in the past, frantic few days - that the only thing that mattered would be survival.

"I won't forget what you've done for us," I said, picking each word with care. "After we're through the gate, stay close. I give you my word - I'll do all I can to keep you whole and unharmed."

Kashan relaxed, fractionally. "That's mighty generous of you, Sir-"

"Gabriel," I said. "'Gabriel' will do."

Privately, I wondered if I would be able to keep that promise.

Sometimes, however, lies - not truth - are what we need to keep going.

---------------------

The sun was slipping below the horizon, when we pushed off once more.

Before we'd set off, Caius had thrust a black, squishy ball into my hands. "Every little bit helps," he'd said. At his urging, I'd smashed it against my armor - It left an oily black splotch, the dark stain spreading rapidly from my cuirass to the tips of my gauntlets. I'd stared at the spreading stain in mingled incomprehension and awe, and he'd clapped me on the back.

"Magic dye," he said, grinning. "Can't have you giving us all away, can we?"

No one was smiling, now. The sails were down, and we were each taking a turn at the oars. Our boat led, with Kashan seated below the waterline, as we rowed our way towards the city. As we passed along the endless curve of the ridge, I could hear gulls sweeping, circling, calling above, as if they had all the time in the world.

I'd taken the first shift, which meant that Roulle was at the oars now, working them carefully. All around me, I could see the tension reflected in every face, teeth gritted with the effort of keeping quiet. Still, every clank of wood and metal made my nerves sing with tension, as I tried to keep my breathing slow and steady.

Not much longer now.

We'd waited as long as we dared for low tide. The slap of cold waves seemed dreadfully ominous now, as we turned the cliffs-

And, at last, I saw the walls of Lyost for the first time.

---------------------

It began with smoke. A great, dark column of it, rolling up and smudging the night sky.

Even from here, I could smell the fires. For a moment, I thought I was back in the beastman camp, back at the village, but the magnitude of this horror was all-different. As the city's grey walls loomed up before us like a cliff, I saw the orange glow of great fires - So huge, they could only have been buildings set alight, casting up huge flames into the desolate sky.

And then there were the crows. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands, all the crows in the world, a damnation swarm of them. Circling overhead, like flecks of ash from the flames.

Drums, in the distance. Bestial chanting, like the pulse of some savage heart. The suggestion of dark figures, milling around the huge, distant blazes like worshipers or revelers.

"Gods," Brother Jozan said, as close to a curse as I'd ever heard from him. Roulle's eyes were wide, round; I remembered how he'd mentioned that he had family in the city, and couldn't imagine what was going through his mind.

The wharves lay ahead, but our destination was nowhere close. Instead, we stayed as close to the walls as possible, Kashan hunched at the prow. Like Caius, he'd donned leather armor, a wickedly serrated shortsword thrust into his belt - He had a crossbow, one he'd laboriously oiled and wound, but I had to wonder how much use a single shot would be against an entire city of beastmen.

"There," he said, low. He jabbed a finger forward, towards a stretch of wall no different from any other. "Right there. Take us in."

Caius squinted. He looked dubious.

"You sure? I can't see anything-"

"It's there," Kashan said, insistent. "It wouldn't be much of a secret if anyone could see it, would it? Straight ahead."

I waited, with bated breath, for something to go wrong. For some horn to sound, for something to erupt from the depths. But there was nothing, no sound but the boat gliding in on a final approach.

And at last, I saw it. A nearly invisible outcropping, less a pier and more a simple platform of stone. It was the same color as the walls, so cunningly crafted you wouldn't see it unless you knew what you were looking for.

I could feel my skin goosepimple with the cold, as I stripped off the blankets and furs I'd draped over myself - With careful effort, we hung them over the gunnels, stopping the scrape of wood on stone. Nearly flush with the waters, disembarking was a tense experience - I winced at every splash, as my boots encountered solid (if slick) ground once again, my heart pounding against the cage of my ribs.

We'd made it. Somehow.

I looked up, along the stretch of the wall - I couldn't see anything, at the top. No sentries, no guards, just something hanging over the side on long chains...

I saw what was inside the gibbet-cages, and made myself look away.

A hand reached out from the water, and I flinched back. Somehow, somehow, I fought down a yell - As Throne Gazer surfaced, I saw the gill-slits in the side of his neck close, the filmy membranes over his oversized eyes retracting as he dragged an oilcloth sack after him. His armor, I knew; Once we were inside, he'd need all the protection he could get.

"They await the signal," he said, his voice gurgling, water pressed from his lungs. In the dark, his eyes seemed as large as dinner plates.

"Get that gate open," Caius said, and Kashan nodded. He gritted his teeth as the cold wind gusted against us, and the smuggler staggered to the seemingly-solid wall. He pressed his hand to the surface, and - like a veil dropping away - I saw the shadow of a barred gate, the rusted steel held in place by a great seal. It glowed, faintly, as he muttered something...Then, with a creak of hinges, swung inwards.

"Come on," he hissed. "If the tide comes in…"

Gazer was the first one inside. Roulle next, then Jozan, then Heiter. Caius reached down to his belt, and unhooked a small metal tube - He twisted, and it opened up, revealing a glowing rod. It was a simple spell, a length of stone enchanted to shed light but no heat, but he made sure to back into the shadows of the archway before he held it up, facing the sea.

Still no alarm. Tomas's boat glided in, to be hauled up like the one before. His men ducked through the gate, moving swiftly; Kashan had told them to head straight to the right and up, into the sewers, and no-one felt like hanging around to wait for the inevitable.

Then the next boat. Five more men, moving swiftly and with purpose into the awaiting gloom.

Then Skander's-

What happened, exactly, I wasn't sure. The boat rocked when Skander's bulk disembarked, and Caius was already turning towards the gate when the next man simply missed a step.

There was a splash. A sharp exhalation of breath, like a whuffffff-

"Shit-!" I saw Skander's burly arm flicker out, a desperate grab. He almost caught him, almost stopped him from falling-

And the man vanished, instantly, into the freezing waters.

I had never seen that happen to anyone, before. It may have been shock, or simply the weight of his gear and weapons. That, or the deathly cold that stole the very breath from your lungs, the strength from your limbs. Caius's head wrenched back, and in that moment of blank, malfunctioning shock-

I took two steps forward. Brought my arms up. Had all of a moment to register that I was wearing armor…

And then I dove in anyway.

---------------------

I've never liked swimming. Even before the Domes had been breached, before the dust-winds, water was at a premium - But there had been a runoff reservoir at the base of the treatment plant, and the local boys had turned it into a pool. Never mind that the chemicals made your skin crawl and itch, for days after; the sheer novelty had been irresistible.

Gabriel had insisted that I learn. He was the one who'd coaxed me into making the dive.

I remember him grinning broadly, his shoulders lifting in a shrug.

"Hey, you never know," he'd said. It'd lasted for all of two months, and then some reaction had turned his hair bright orange, until Mom - alternately scolding and crying - had shaved his head down to stubble.

I ploughed through the water with frantic windmill strokes. There was a booming roar in my ears, the cold enveloping me; Salt stung my eyes, but I forced them open, straining to see, to make sense of-

I could feel my lungs burning. My limbs, stinging with effort.

A flailing hand, at the very corner of my vision...

I made a desperate grab. Caught something, locked my gauntlet tight, bubbles streaming around me. For one blank moment, I was utterly disorientated, but flailed with my legs anyway - Kicking, over and over again, as hard I could. I didn't even feel the added weight, as I clawed my way upwards, cleaving the water-

Don't let go.

Don't let-

Don't-

I wasn't going to make it. I could feel my strength flagging, even as the world seemed to lighten above me - I made one last desperate effort…

And then there were hands on me, hauling me up and out of the water, the rush of fresh air as urgent as a punch to the face. Everything was a blur - I was still clinging onto something as I was pulled from the water, utterly freezing, snatches of words reaching me-

"-both inside, now!"

"-close the gate-"

"-must've heard that, hurry-"

Pounding feet. Someone was dragging me along, hauling me up.

I felt something prying at my grip, which only tightened. Someone swore, and - abruptly - I heard Caius's voice.

"Gabriel? We've got him, lad, but you've got to let go-"

My hand wrenched on, at last. I retched saltwater, as the world seemed to accelerate around me; Everything went dark, stone rumbling on stone, and for a moment I thought I'd passed out...But no, the gloom was banished by a weird, twitching illumination.

I coughed again, then again, retching my lungs empty. The terrible cold was sinking right into my bones, my teeth chattering uncontrollably-

I remembered Arisa. I remembered the surge of power, welling up from within, that had gone through me and into her like lightning. I focused, fumbling for that sensation, the trigger point in my mind…

Blue light welled up from within. That deathly chill shrank away, even as my vision cleared.

I was still shaking, as things snapped back into focus. Not as badly as before - We were in a tunnel of some kind, and I heard Brother Jozan praying under his breath, a faint flicker of ghostly radiance lighting the gloom. He turned to me, one hand on his holy symbol, the other outstretched-

"I'm-" I managed, my voice a rasp. "-I'm all right."

He paused, mid-motion. "He's awake!" Jozan said, relief in his voice. He helped me up, my gauntlet clutching at his shoulder plating, as I forced myself to my feet. My boots squelched, rivulets of water running over my mythril plate.

There was a saltwater taste in my mouth, something that might have been all right. I shook my head - the world reeled - to clear it, and coughed again into a balled fist.

"Is he-"

"Zaur? I've tended to him," the priest said. "-He's alive. Alive, but cold."

The confidence in his words unclenched that invisible knot in my chest, as - somehow, somehow - I began to breathe again. But then, just before I could succumb to relief, I looked around, trying to make some sense from the darkness.

"...Where are we?"

Then the stench hit me, and I nearly gagged all over again.

"What's that smell-?"

---------------------

As it turned out, we'd ended up exactly where we had hoped for, after all.

Working as one, Caius and Skander had hauled me - sputtering and half-drowned - from the water. Somehow, I'd been dragging Zaur with me, and they hadn't been able to break my death-grip. Then they'd bundled me - like luggage - down the passage, and up into the sewer tunnel beyond.

The air reeked. Of damp, and worse things. The only light was what we'd brought with us, lanterns and the rare enchanted stone that shone with perpetual radiance.

Unfortunately, it did nothing for the stench. Some of us had kerchiefs or masks soaked in scented oils, but that didn't solve the problem. It didn't help that Kashan had informed us that these tunnels were mostly unused - I didn't dare to imagine what the others smelled like.

I don't think anyone could have endured that.

"This way," he kept saying. "It's this way - It's not far."

It was clear that he wanted to get out of here, as much as anyone did. Never mind that the most dangerous part had yet to come - Kashan was surefooted, prowling ahead, motivated by the thought of getting out of these stinking tunnels more than anything else…

And then he stopped. I heard him swear.

"What?" Skander said. "What is it?"

A pause. The shadows on the walls shuffled uneasily, cast by a variety of swaying light-sources.

Then, faintly, up ahead - "It's a cave-in. The tunnel's collapsed."

There was an audible groan. "Gods," someone said, at the back.

Oh shit, I thought. My mind raced, as - all of a sudden - it felt like countless tonnes of rock were pressing down on me, from above.

Trapped. We were trapped. We couldn't go back, and we couldn't go forward-

"Now, lads - Hold on." Caius pushed his way to the front, his face grim behind his mask. I craned my neck for a better look, and saw the wall of rubble that choked the passage ahead; It looked like the entire upper level had collapsed. There would be no clearing that.

"-Can we go around it?" he asked, carefully keeping his voice level.

Kashan started. His forehead glistened with sweat, as he mopped at his brow.

"Around…?" he echoed, looking back at the score of heavily-armed men in the tunnel. "Yes. Yes, of course. Of course."

I heard the momentary hesitation, and felt my heart sink.

The smuggler looked left, then right. Peering through the reeking gloom. At last, he pointed down one of the darkened passages, one that looked no different from the others.

"That way. It's that way."

I was tempted to ask "Are you sure?", but that would have been fatal. I could see the same thought going through Caius's mind, his jaw working.

Instead, he nodded.

"-Lead on."

---------------------

It was like a maze. All fetid walkways and winding passages, the stench growing worse with each step. With Kashan and Caius at our head, we shuffled along in single file, footfalls echoing up and down the tunnel, swinging lights casting twitching shadows over the glistening stone.

Black water rushed and churned down the reeking channel besides us, gurgling in the gutters. Foul condensation clung to the curving walls, an unspeakable black slurry clinging to my boots.

How long we'd been walking, I couldn't tell. It was an immense relief when the walkway widened, enough for four men to walk abreast - Up to that point, the thought of falling from the edge and plunging into the black muck of the channel had been foremost on my mind.

"...Which way are we heading, now?" Brother Jozan asked, his voice low. "How much further?"

"East," Kazan said. "We're about halfway there, give or take." He gestured, his lamp swinging - "Just a little further. There's a four-way junction up ahead, and then we'll see…"

His voice trailed off, as a sound filtered through the stinking darkness. Caius held up a hand, and the column shuffled to a stop. No one spoke - there was the faint creak of leather, the rattle of weapons, then a terrible silence.

Nothing.

Caius glanced back. I could see the calculation in his eyes; Find another way? Pull back? Or-

He pointed ahead. "Spread out," he ordered, low, as he unslung the bow from his shoulder. My hand settled on the Interfector's hilt, itching to draw.

Forward. Carefully, now. Peering ahead, into the gloom, for some sign of whatever might lie in wait. Just as Kazan promised, the tunnel widened - the ceiling soaring upwards, in a high vault. I could see the path branch outwards, in three directions, murky water lapping underfoot.

"Now?"

The relief radiating from Kazan was almost palpable. "Right," he said. "It's a straight run, after that. We just need to keep going and-"

And then we heard it. The chattering, monotone moan. It was a ragged sound, as if it came from many throats at once, each one continuing from where the last left off. It went on far, far longer to have been made by a human - the atonal sound like a paean to despair, a summoning of nothing good.

"What was that?" The faces to either side of me had gone white.

Some stirred, in the dark. Something moved.

It was the stench that hit us first. Infinitely worse, infinitely more wretched than the reek of the sewers. I gagged, my knees threatening to buckle, my eyes watering-

And in a way, it was a mercy. I was spared the full horror of the thing's first appearance, even as my gut churned at the stench of the slaughterhouse, the abattoir. Steel hissed on leather, as Heiter drew his swords-

"It's not human," he said, grim.

That was enough for me. The Interfector ignited with pellucid blue flame, blue fire rippling along the edge as I raised it to guard.

And we saw-

We saw-

It was a pallid thing, some scuttling, lurching horror. A mass of grey, glistening flesh, careening forward on human arms, covered with coarse black hairs and open sores. It had mouths. It had blisters. It had horns, dead eyes stippling the surface, glaring out in every direction at once. Like a writhing forest of limbs, hungry mouths opening and closing in that mad, chattering moan.

Heiter had been wrong. The horror's one defining trait was that it was - unmistakably - human.

It was some anatomist's nightmare, a tangle of limbs and remains reanimated by some fell power. Some unholy amalgam given necrotic animation by the hatred and malice of the unquiet dead, driven to consume flesh, to devour life, to sate a hunger that could never be satisfied.

And, worse of all, it was fast.

It moved with the staggering, flickering speed of something from a nightmare. That huge, wretched form reared up, supported by straining appendages and the bones bracing its weeping flesh.

Mottled, lumpen tentacles reached out, flapping and snaking, from the gigantic mass. The fecal reek of disease, of spoiled meat, was immeasurably worse now; I felt my gorge rise, over Brother Jozan's gagging chant, over the rising howl of the wind.

"Four Gods protect us-"

Someone vomited, noisily. Another man screamed.

"This is it, lads!" I heard Caius shout. "Stand firm!"

With the cackling howl of the damned, it came for us.

Next: Harrowing