The air screamed a warning; I swore and twisted away from the blow. Instead of gutting me, one of its claws skimmed my left side, slicing through my uniform and down into flesh. Pain surged even as warmth began to flood down my side. I cursed, wrenched the sword free from the stone, and heaved it upwards. Again the Irkallan tried to twist away from the blow, but the spinal injury was obviously hampering its movements now, and it was nowhere near fast enough. The sword sliced into the Irkallan’s arm and pinned it to his torso, even as the blade continued cutting into his body, until it was fully sheathed in flesh. The Irkallan’s screeching stopped and life leaked swiftly from its eyes. I stepped back, pulled the blade free, and let the Irkallan slump to the ground.
For several minutes I didn’t move. I simply stood there as warmth continued to slide down my waist and the wind swirled around me, bringing fresh air but no further sound of life. Not that it meant anything, especially if others had heard what I presumed was the Irkallans’ warning cries.
I took a deep, shuddery breath and then looked down at the broken body near my feet. Wind, can you carry the two Irkallan into the smaller tunnel? There’s less likelihood of them being found so easily there.
As the air lifted the bodies of the Irkallan and carried them away into the darkness, I carefully stripped off my jacket and shirt, the left side of which was soaked in blood. The sword emitted just enough light to see the extent of the wound, and it wasn’t pretty. The Irkallan’s claws had opened me up from just under my breasts down to my hip; the upper portion of the wound was deep enough that I could see ribs, but it at least grew shallower as it skimmed down my side to my hip. I swung the pack off and fished around until I found the small medikit. I plucked one of the sealing sprays free, snapped off the cap, and then liberally applied it to the long wound. It stung like blazes, and I had to grit my teeth against the scream that tore up my throat. I waited a couple of seconds for the sealer to take hold then grabbed the sticky bandage strip and roughly wound it around my body. It might restrict some of my movements but it would also help support the sealant and stop the wound from breaking open again.
With that done, I redressed then sheathed the sword and slung the pack back over my shoulders. While I would have liked to keep hold of the sword, I’d rather not run the risk of its soft glow giving me away.
I retrieved my knife, shoved it back into its sheath, and then walked on. As the tunnel’s decline grew, the heat intensified, and moisture began to slick the walls and drift in tiny rivers across the floor, forcing me to go even slower lest I slip.
A soft pulsing soon began to invade the silence. I paused to listen, but there was no threat in the sound, and nothing underneath to indicate anything approached. In fact, that noise reminded me of a heartbeat, one that was oddly comforting.
Another curve soon appeared, this time to the left. I kept close to the wall, trailing my fingers along its surface to ensure I didn’t drift too far away from it. We Sifft might have excellent night sight but night usually had stars or the moon to give at least some light. There was absolutely nothing here. And while I wasn’t walking totally blind thanks to the assistance of the wind, keeping contact with the wall at least gave me some warning of change.
The pulsing grew stronger and light flickered somewhere ahead. I gripped the knife’s hilt in readiness and slowly edged around the tunnel’s curve.
The light came from two rough archways carved into the tunnel’s walls—one to the right, one to the left. Within the left, I could hear someone shuffling around, and from the right, there came a murmur of conversation, though it was no language I’d heard before. And it certainly didn’t sound as if it were coming from human throats.
But then, I guessed it was logical the children born of this place would try to imitate the sounds they heard the Irkallan making rather than anything human-sounding, especially given Saska had said the children were taken away from them at birth.
I closed my eyes for a minute, gathering my strength for the task ahead, and then reached the wind. Tell me what you see.
It’s not the children. At least, not human children.
Relief spun through me, even though it was little more than a brief reprieve. So they’re Irkallan offspring?
No, the wind murmured. Adlin.
Freedom, help me…. How many?
Sixteen.
Even young Adlin were dangerous, especially if there was a number of them. If they caught my scent, I was done for.
You can kill them. You can order the breath drawn from their lungs and their threat would no longer exist.
Yes, I could, but I still had no idea where the children born to the stolen witches were being kept, and until I did discover that, I needed to conserve my strength. And surely, despite the appearance of this area being unguarded, there would be Irkallan nearby. They’d not risk Adlin roaming about unchecked—not if Saska was right and there was only a limited supply of the controlling bracelets.
I eased toward the doorways and stopped again. Both archways were inset with heavily barred cell doors, the metal glinting silver in the pale light coming from either room. I drew in a breath to steady my nerves and listened to the movement within the nearest cell while I watched the other. When the noise suggested they’d moved away from the arch, I scampered silently across.
Thankfully, no angry roars followed me down the tunnel. But it was becoming increasingly evident I was nearing a main living area; not only was that odd thrumming getting louder, but the strong breeze sweeping through the tunnel from somewhere up ahead spoke of life and a vast city.
There is a small, disused mine shaft on your right, the wind said. Take it.
I did. Unlike the circular and very smooth walls of that main tunnel, these were rectangular and roughhewn, with thick, regularly spaced wooden posts to support both the walls and the ceiling. It was obviously a remnant from the time before the Irkallan, when miners had lived and worked in this place.
A dark, slime-like moss hung in ribbons from the ceiling and oozed along the floor, making every step treacherous and forcing me to go even slower. Despite the moisture running down the walls and dripping from the moss, the heat was becoming oppressive. Every breath felt like it was burning my lungs, and my shirt and pants were so damp with sweat that they clung uncomfortably to my skin.
The old shaft made a long, gentle curve to the left and then began to drop down again. The moisture dripping from the ceiling increased, and there was now a foot-wide river bubbling down the middle of the floor—a merry sound that was somehow audible against the deepening thrum. That thrum reminded me somewhat of the hum you could hear in and around beehives, and it made me think I was at least near, if not even in, the heart of the Irkallan settlement.
But was I anywhere near the children?
The queen keeps them near her, at the very lowest level of this place, where it is deemed the safest should there be an attack, the wind said. This shaft will take you close.
Close wasn’t what I wanted or needed. Not in this place.
No. The wind hesitated. There is nothing between this shaft and where the children rest. Nothing but space.
I edged around small rockslide, and then said, Why would there be only open space? Isn’t the whole mountainside little more than a maze of tunnels and shafts intersecting various chambers, be they small or large?
There is another fall up ahead, the wind said. One that has splintered the wall between this shaft and the main tunnel. Look through it, and you will see the true breadth of the Irkallan’s city.
It was a statement that revived the ashes of fear. I didn’t want to see the true impossibility of my quest—didn’t want to know for sure the flutters of hope that still beat within me had as little chance of survival as I did.
An odd mound began to loom in the darkness ahead. As I drew closer, it revealed itself to be heavily compacted slide of rock, dirt, and thick timbers, all of which was covered by the oozing moss. To the left of this, where a timber beam had once held back the earth, was a three-foot-long seam wide enough to put my fist through. I carefully climbed the rubble then grabbed the jagged edge of the seam to hold myself up and peered out.