They walked on, their pace quicker, now, the tunnel rising steeply. A good sign, thought Maquin, sweat trickling down his back. Up is far better than down. The tunnel was also getting narrower, the roof lower. Not such a good sign. Will it just end? What then? Soon after, Orgull called a halt. He raised a hand to the tunnel’s roof, fingers tracing a tree root poking through the stone, twisted and knotted.
‘Must be near the surface,’ Maquin said.
‘We must have walked more than a league by now,’ Tahir commented.
‘Aye. We’re out past Haldis, I’d guess, but not much further,’ Maquin said.
‘Is all well back there, Tahir?’ asked Orgull.
‘Nothing to see,’ the warrior replied.
‘Good. Onwards,’ their leader said and set off.
It was not long before Orgull stopped again. The tunnel came to an abrupt end, a dozen wide steps leading sharply up to the roof, where it met a round, flat-bottomed stone. Orgull climbed the steps and tapped the stone with his axe. He climbed higher, braced his shoulder against the stone and heaved. With a grating sound the stone shifted, minutely, earth falling from about its rim.
‘Help,’ grunted Orgull.
The steps were wide enough for two abreast so Maquin climbed up beside Orgull, adding his weight and strength. Together they strained and Maquin felt the stone shift, dirt falling into his face, then there was a wash of fresh air, a glimpse of moonlight.
‘Keep pushing,’ Orgull muttered. ‘Nearly there.’
Then Tahir screamed. Maquin and Orgull dropped the stone back in place and turned.
Something had hold of Tahir: a many-legged, chitinous creature, all bristle, eyes and fangs, as wide as an adult boar, but far longer, its segmented body swallowed by shadow. Tahir was screaming as he hammered futilely at the creature with his spear.
Maquin darted forwards, jabbing his own weapon. It slid off a hard, shiny carapace. He thrust his torch at the beast, but a sharp-spined leg smashed it out of his hand, the blue light sputtering out. He launched forwards with his spear again; the blade scraped along the creature’s hard shell, then sank into a gap between segments. It let out a high-pitched squeal, dropped Tahir and reared up, fangs and forelegs waving, almost filling the tunnel. Maquin grabbed Tahir’s wrist and dragged him back. The creature scuttled after them, a green, jelly-like substance oozing from the wound in its side. It sank a fang into Tahir’s leg, just below the knee. Tahir screamed and thrashed.
Then Orgull was there, bellowing for Maquin to get back, for Tahir to stay down. He swung his new war-axe, smashed it with all of his prodigious strength into the creature’s head. There was a sickening crack. The thing’s legs jerked, twitching furiously, its mandibles clacking. With a sigh it sank to the floor, spasmed once more and then was still.
‘Get it off me,’ Tahir hissed, a fang still buried in his leg. Maquin heaved and wrenched the fang out. Tahir gasped with pain, blood running down his leg.
Orgull ripped Tahir’s breeches up to the knee, poured water over the wound and tied a strip of the torn breeches above it.
‘How is it?’ Tahir asked, a touch of panic in his voice.
‘As good as it can be down here,’ Orgull muttered, ‘though I’d like something stronger than water to flush it with. Can you stand?’
‘I’ll stand to walk out of this place,’ Tahir breathed, steadying himself with his spear.
Orgull gripped his axe haft and with a wrench pulled the blade free of the creature. He threw one of their torches back down the tunnel, where it wavered but stayed alight. ‘Maquin, best get that stone shifted. Who knows what else we’re sharing these tunnels with.’
Maquin ran up the steps and put his shoulder to the stone. Nothing happened. He tried again, grunting and straining.
‘What’s keeping you?’ Orgull called.
‘It’s heavy,’ Maquin muttered. ‘Could do with you here, chief.’
‘Can’t be in two places at once,’ Orgull said. ‘And you’d best get a move on. Light’s fading.’
Even as he spoke, the torch he had thrown back down the tunnel guttered and then winked out. The darkness surged forwards, held in check by Tahir tightly clutching the last torch.
Maquin renewed his efforts, fear of being trapped in the dark giving him an extra strength; the stone shifted, grinding against rock and earth. Maquin dug his spear butt into the gap, levered and shoved as he strained, veins bulging with the effort, and finally the stone lifted clear. Pale moonlight greeted him.
He reached up through the hole, savouring the sensation of air on his face and grass under his fingertips; he grabbed a tree root and pulled himself up. He could hear the sighing of a breeze amongst branches, the distant murmur of voices, faint song, could see the pinpricks of many campfires.
Back in Forn, then. Must be the survivors of the battle. For a moment the thought of Jael filled his mind, sitting beside a campfire, eating, drinking, celebrating. Without realizing, he stood and took a step forwards, hand reaching for his sword hilt.
‘Could do with some help down here,’ a voice whispered to him. He froze, remembering Orgull’s words to him, their pact in the burial chamber. Soon, Jael.