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Into the Tunnels

Through the door at the far end of the barracks was another tunnel, similar to the one leading from the Cavern to the barracks. But this one, rather than being level, led downwards.

After about fifty yards, they passed another tunnel branching off to the left.

"That leads to the old kitchens," said the Sergeant. "It's blocked now - there was a rockfall last winter. Not many folks come these ways ... "

After the fork, the tunnel started to go more steeply down - so steeply that there were occasional steps in the floor ... and now there was a clamminess in the air.

"I can smell water!" said Jacko in a high, nervous voice, and several of the others laughed, a little weakly.

The steps were coming more frequently now, and their pace was a little slowed. Then ...

There was a long howl behind them in the darkness.

It was easier, somehow, to move a little faster then.

There was a sense, to those in front, that there was an open space in front of them ... vast ... and the clamminess was greater.

"Careful!" said the Sergeant - the guards needed no telling.

And suddenly all of them saw why ...

The tunnel ended in a narrow ledge on the side of a vast cavern - one that made the cavern that had held the cage look a mere molehill beside a mountain.

They were about two hundred feet above ground level - only there was not so very much ground, for most of the centre of the cavern was a vast pool of water - very nearly meriting the name of an underground lake. In shape, the cavern was like a bowl, turned upside down - and they had emerged near the very top. To one side, there was what appeared to be a dark depression in the ground.

"That's where the overflow channel starts. The Lake once supplied water for the whole of the Castle and the city," the Sergeant said. "The springs that feed it run pure and strong. At least - they did until the Auburni poisoned them - curse them!"

There was a way down from the ledge. A long narrow staircase - some two foot wide ... snaked arund the perimeter of the cavern, hugging the wall. Indeed, it appeared the steps had heen hewn out fron the rock itself.

There was no railing - and the steps themselves, clearly neglected, were covered with a thin sheen of what appeared to be a mossy algae.

"That's our way," said the Sergeant grimly. Behind him, Oliver gave a short bark of cynical laughter - it was not a pleasant sound.

"Luck," Seth said. "Let's do it." Carefully, he placed a foot on the first step, testing his weight before the next. And the next. He leaned backward a little, ready to spread-eagle out and slow his fall, if there was one. As he stepped, he said behind him, "Don't give up hope about the plantaxy, not yet. Opal pointed out a place outside the walls, guarded or not. Maybe we'll have enough time to swing by and take a look. I don't know what's going on there, but for the moment luck is still with us."

Dot ended the line quietly, but she clearly wasn't happy. She thought about the tunnel passage and mentally measured off the length, including curves.

Lazarus fell in line behind Seth, taking each step with as much care as he could manage. "Opal," he said, "I'd sure like to know what she's up to. Virtue's not going to be happy if we show up without her."

He leaned to the side to look at the steps below them, "Us having to go so slow on these stairs isn't helping much, when we get to the bottom we need to get moving as fast as we can..."

"If I can help it, the wind is going to pick up a bit when they get to these stairs," Seth said. "It would be terrible if the guy in the back had an accident and slipped."

Morgan followed Dot, carefully placing his feet on each step before continuing, his bulk kept to the the side, away from the edge.

"Wonderful," murmered Tobias miserably, noting that he happened to be theone in the back. "I thought I was through playing dominoes when I hit puberty..."

Jenever looked at the stairway without any evidence of apprehension, but moved closer to Oliver and said, very softly, "Why did you come with us, really?"

Oliver turned and looked at her, his face dark and shuttered.

"I have my reasons," he said quietly. Then he sighed. "There's only one hope for not just us now - but also for all those families. And that's getting away. I owe my life to these men - several times over. Now - I am returning the favour - if I can."

Then he continued down the stairs - with cat-like grace and sure- footedness.

Jenever followed, her expression showing her dissatisfaction with the answer.

Progress down was difficult. When they had reached about the halfway point, one of the guards slipped and fell, falling down a step and striking the guard in front of him who lost his footing and slid to the edge, yelling, his arms windmilling desperately. The one who had slipped moved forward to grab his fellow, but the Sergeant shoved him back against the wall with sufficient force that he yelped.

The other guard, without anything to grab, tried to twist round - and slid again, backwards over the edge, with a final howl of despair.

"Sarge - I didn't mean to! I didn't mean ... "

"I know. I know, Tegel," said the Sergeant quietly.

They carried on down ... aware of the broken corpse at the base of the stairs.

They were about a third of the way from the bottom when there was a sudden howl that made them look up to the entrance to the tunnel where the steps had begun ...

Standing there was a group of five or six black clad warriors, all armed with crossbows, and with half a dozen of the largest hounds that any of the former prisoners had ever seen ...

In the centre was a black clad figure - one that Morgan remembered as his old adversary. He was staring down at them with a cold smile. Then he signalled ... and the hounds started to pad down the steps - followed by two of the warriors, while the others sighted their bows on the fleeing prisoners, and prepared to fire ...

Morgan snarled softly, and gestured forward. "Time to move. If you can get that wind going, now is the time. For myself, I will see what I might do to slow them up as well."

He turned part of his mind inward, while following still.

Dot couldn't manage cold precision under the circumstances, and stood still for a moment, as the dogs moved downward. Reality struck her, she shut her mouth and she moved diligently, trying not to get in the way of anyone trying to engage in combat (distance or otherwise).

Jenever swore, eyeing their pursuers with a certain cold rage. "I hate this," she snapped. "I hate running away."

Something was stirring in her mind, something that had changed and was whispering to her, try this... try this... Get a wind going, Morgan had said. What if the wind came from behind the archers. They had nowhere forward to go. She concentrated on the air, to make it a wall, to push the wall forward. She knew there were those in her party who could do this, but she wasn't at all convinced of her own abilities along that line.

For his part, Seth brought his loaded crossbow to his shoulder. But he didn't fire; instead, he cleared his mind and concentrated, trying to bring up a wall of wind to stop any bolts coming their way.

The crossbow was for quite another purpose; he was waiting to see if the black-clad figure could fly...

Then several things happened.

The archers, preparing to fire, seemed to be swaying suddenly, unexpectedly. Their bolts were mis-aimed and seemed to waver in the air. At all events, none of them hit one of the prisoners - although Jacko, the young guard, yelped as a stray bolt grazed his left buttock.

The hounds were the strangest though. Initially sure footed, first one slithered and skidded suddenly on a step and slid, howling dolefully, over the edge. Then a second and third suddenly halted and seemed to have difficulty lifting their legs from the moss. Their whining filled the air.

The senior figure at the top of the stairs was motionless, staring down at the prisoners, as those around him frantically reloaded their bows, and the hounds beside them slavered and snarled in their impatience to be released.

"We've been lucky," said the Sergeant, casting a slightly doubtful look at the prisoners. "But I'd rather not rely on that. Let''s hurry. It won't be long before it's reported that we're with you and then - our families are lost."

He started forward again, down the last third.

Morgan nodded tiredly, though he smiled somewhat. As he looked back, his eyes met those of the senior figure, and something in them promised a reckoning to him. "Agreed. Let us move as quickly as is safe from this place."

Dot had continued down the stairs as others concentrated on the attackers, and she was nearing the lead. Her physical prowess did not enable her to go faster than others, but her determination to get down to the bottom aided her.

"Well done," Seth said. He gave a last look up the stairs, lowered his crossbow a bit, and turned to move with the rest.

They were reaching the bottom of the stairs now. The dark depression in the ground was a quarter circle away ... they would need to travel, one at a time, along the narrow perimeter of the vast underground lake - where none could pass more than one or two abreast. Where the stairs ended was almost directly under the tunnel they had entered by - which made the angle for shooting at them quite difficult, and was nonetheless at a sufficient angle to make dropping things on them fruitless.

However, once they started along the perimeter path in a last dash for the outflow pipe, they would be more exposed and vulnerable. Their current position made it impossible for any of them to provide covering fire either.

To make matters worse, as they had given their concentration to their problem of manoeuvring down the steps, the strange enchantments that had held the guards and the dogs appeared to be wearing off - and the hounds were once more padding down the stairs - rather more rapidly, as they gained in confidence, than the humans had done.

The Sergeant and his troop were engaged in a rather strange task - they were arranging their uniforms and ripping up their cloaks to cover as much of their skin as possible. Oliver saw the prisoners' surprise and grinned, white teeth flashing in the darkness.

"The Auburni poisoning of the water," he explained, "It won't kill you - unless you drink it or go for a swim in it. But it's a violent irritant in contact with the skin. You'll come out in a bright red rash - and itch abominably.

"On the walls, you've just been in contact with moisture that had condensed off the lake. That's purer - although I wouldn't advise licking the moss.

"But what's gone down the overflow pipe has been the lake water - the residue in the pipes will carry the full force of the poison. I'd cover as much exposed skin as you can ... "

He grinned again - seeing that the prisoners were covered only in their scanty tunics and trousers. If the soldiers had omitted this information - well, perhaps it was because although the prisoners offered their only hope now - it was also the prisoners who had killed their friends and, in effect, taken them hostage. They might be going along with the prisoners - but it was not an enthusiastic conversion, and the guards could not care less if the prisoners ended up swollen, red and itching ...

Morgan shrugged. "Have you actually been down here before, Sergeant? Have you seen, first hand, the effects of the water? If so, thank you for the oh-so-timely warning. If not - well, I should think by now you would know well enough not to believe everything They told you."

"I've seen it," said the Sergeant shortly. "Some raiders - a few years back. Whether they were sent by the Auburni or not ... " He spat. "One of them - their leader - had a plantaxy like yours. He was killed by the Hunter himself. The rest ... well, they were begging for death by the time we caught up with them. The Lord of Shadows took them."

Dot was horrified at this treatment, and couldn't help but notice that some had a little more clothing than necessary to the task, and none were volunteering an extra scrap to others. For some reason, she had begun to trust the sergeant and guards. She blinked and looked up at the dogs. Must get moving.

"Will the dogs be stopped by the water?" She said, moving toward the body of the fallen guard, who had clothes to spare.

"Not immediately," said the Sergeant. "But as soon as it starts to eat into their pads ... Then they'll lick them and ... " He shrugged. "It won't be pretty."

"Fantastic," Seth said, looking back the way they came. He looked down at his clothes, his newly- acquired shoes, and grimaced. There was little he could do about it, at the moment...

"No going back," sighed Lazarus, "and I'll be happy to just get out of this place." With a look up the stairs, he added: "Come on, let's get a move on, those dogs are moving quicker than we are."

Dot, by now, had removed the clothes of the fallen guard and was ripping what she could into long strips. Lazarus joined her, displaying a rare handiness in ripping the material neatly and efficiently. Between them, they made sufficient strips to wrap everyone's hands and faces - although wrists and ankles were still exposed. Somewhat abashed by this, one of the guards also added his own cloak - which was sufficient to protect several necks as well ... Oliver, the only other guard with a cloak, made no attempt to surrender it, and merely watched, smiling grimly.

The dogs were now almost two thirds of the way down. One of them, bolder than its fellows, took a precipitate leap and launched itself into the lake as a quick means of getting to the escapees. It disappeared beneath the dark still waters - and came up writhing and howling, twisting and biting at its own flesh as if in an effort to tear it off.

"Come on," said the Sergeant. "Let's get going ... "

The tunnels went downwards to begin with - at an angle of about sixty degrees. There was no way that it could be walked or crawled - the only thing that could be done was to slide ...

One by one they disappeared into the depths - travelling downwards into darkness.

The tunnel was slick with moisture - sliding was not a problem. What was a problem was defending the last few inches of unprotected flesh - and none of them were wholly successful. By the time the tunnel levelled out slightly, all of them were conscious of hideous itchings around the wrists and ankles and - in their tunics had been torn - in other places as well.

To add to their discomfort, even though the tunnel had levelled out, it was now more that four foot six in diameter - which meant that no-one - even Dot - could stand straight.

"We could crawl," said the Sergeant doubtfully, "But that way I reckon more of the water would get through to our skin."

Morgan shook his head and wrapped his palms and knees as much as possible. For one of his height, even crouching over was not an option. "Anyone who can crouch, should. I cannot. I will have to crawl."

Jenever grimaced. Her expression had been of cold rage since the incident with the torn rags and the late notice about the well poisoning. She seemed to consider the lack of advisement some kind of treachery, and the comradery that had been in her eyes when she regarded the Sergeant and some of his men was now gone completely.

Despite her impressive height, she refused to crawl in the tunnel, bent almost double, she toiled along on her feet.

This tunnel was longer than the first ... still running downwards, but at a shallower angle -and for about half mile. At the end of it they found themselves in a small round chamber, with vile smelling mud of the ground. Unlike the tunnel, this was faintly lit - from some of the tunnels that opened out into it, for there were five, in addition to their own. Three seemed to come from the same direction - two pointed in to opposite direction - and gave the smell of cool night air and rain - while the last one was encrusted with a dark knobbly surface, quite dry, and appeared to have a rich scent of cinnamon and cloves.

"Which way now, Sarge?" asked young Jacko.

The Sergeant shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "I'd say it was up to them."

He nodded at the prisoners.

Jenever snorted. "If I did not know better I might suspect this whole underground excursion to be some sort of sick practical joke."

Morgan looked around at the others. While it was obvious that he was uncomfortable, he seemed unwilling to scratch or give in to the discomfort in any way. "Ideas anyone? I have none, aside from this. The ones leading outside directly are probably going to be watched. Whether we can get out before the watchers arrive is a good question. Suggestions?"

Lazarus' brow was furrowed. Slowly he extended a hand, trying to indicate for everyone to hold quietly for a moment. "I'm trying to communicate with our contacts on the outside..." he said, softly. "... give me just a moment, I'm going to see if they can signal us in some manner."

Seth moved over to Dot, and spoke quietly in her ear. "Where are we, relative to where we were before?"

Dot, who had bent her legs slightly in response to the low ceiling, was quiet for a moment, studying Seth. Her reply was carefully soft, "I don't think we're going to cross underneath the cage, but we've doubled back a little. We're just past the guard room."

There was silence for a moment at Lazrus' request. The sort of silence that went on and on ... as though it would last for ever.

Oliver finally sighed. "Is there really any point in ... "

And then the Sergeant hushed him fiercely ...

There was a barking - faint but clear - and it was coming from the central of the three tunnels. Then ... almost immediately (as though the sound had travelled further) for the one on the left. And finally, fainter yet, from the spice-scented tunnel.

For some ten seconds the barking continued - and then it ended ... with a strangled yelp.

"Fardles!" cursed Lazarus. With a burst of energy he side-stepped past Seth and hurried in the direction of the first barking, towards the central tunnel. "Come on!"

Tobias's eyes widened, and he stumbled, hand on his blade, and he followed as quickly as he could.

Jenever reached out to steady him, then hurried after. She looked angry, but in a helpless sort of way, as if she had no idea how to direct that anger and was close to the blow up point.

Morgan followed as best he could, bent over where he could be, crawling otherwise. "Care to explain why this direction, Lazarus?"

"First bark came from this way, the last one sounded like something happened to the little guy..." Lazarus called back over his shoulder. "I'm hoping whatever, or whoever, that happened to the dog isn't waiting at this exit."

Morgan nodded, but cocked his head at Lazarus. "Of course, It could also be that the one that was cut off was cut off by our allies, could it not?"

"Lazarus - think, damn you!" Haakon shouted, not moving to follow. "If we can hear the dog, so can whoever is outside those tunnels, and they'll be on us like lice if we go charging in blindly. Use your head, man!"

But by now, Lazarus, Tobias, Jenever and Morgan were too far down the tunnel to hear more than a vague shout ...

Down the tunnel - and rapidly approaching the cool fresh smell of rain-soaked air ... There was a grating ahead - and through it they could see -

A small square, with crazily dilapidated buildings on all three sides - none higher than three storeys. Opposite, there seemed to be some sort of inn, with a balcony running round the upper storey level on three sides. Here and there a courting couple (to use a polite euphemism) were standing on the balcony, largely hidden by the darkness of the heavy rafters that extended from the rickety roof. On either side of the square were low ramshackle buildings, seeming to tilt crazily against one another. By day, perhaps, they were shops of some kind - but now at night all but one were shuttered and dark - but the one that was still open gave off an aroma of strong spices - and perhaps a scent that was a little more intoxicating too ..

In the centre of the square was an ancient fountain - the graceful naiad that had once held a shell that had gushed plenty now chipped and disfigured into little better than an anonymous block. At its foot were sitting several old and scummy beggars, the rags of society, huddled under the meagre shelter of its scarred walls for shelter from the thin driving night rain. Several seemed half asleep - one old blind beggar seemed to have slipped into a trance, for he seemed unaware of the small dirty dog that was worrying urgently at the cuffs of his trousers.

Immediately in front of the grating was a long low culvert - acually little more than two feet below the level of the square, and three foot wide. It was clear that if ever this drain was needed to be used, it would soon over-fill the ditch and flood the square. Perhaps no-one much cared.

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