Seer of Souls (The Spirit Shield Saga Book 1) Page 15

  “I may have a map I can spare, but it was done for a mining survey, so it does not show the roads so much as the areas where caves are located. Would that suffice?”

  “Yes, that would be fine, good sir.” The mayor fetched the map and spread it out on a table before them. Ziona inspected it and then rolled it up tightly, slipping it into its protective sleeve. She handed over several coins in payment and thanked the mayor.

  “Be careful in your travels, ladies. There are strange men and creatures afoot,” he called to their retreating backs, closing the doors behind them.

  Chapter 28

  NELSON SET TWO STEAMING PLATES OF FOOD on the table, one in front of Denzik and the other in front of Fabian. Fabian rubbed his hands together, smacking his lips in anticipation. Thick cuts of pork adorned his plate, dripping in rich gravy. Roasted potatoes and freshly snapped peas were piled high in accompaniment. Nelson carried three beer steins over to the table, set them before the men, and then slid in beside Denzik at the booth.

  Forks and knives scraped and glasses clinked while they cleaned their plates. Nelson sipped his beer, watching the room. No one seemed to be paying any attention to them. His serving staff drifted between tables and a happy hum hung in the air as the patrons ate and conversed.

  Nelson took another sip and then set down his mug. “We discovered a promising cave this morning. It had too narrow of an opening to get through, so I set the men to enlarging it. It is now ready. Supplies have been brought down into the cavern and a crew of eight men are waiting for us,” he murmured in a voice low enough to not carry past their table.

  “As we get closer to our target, we will have to be careful about when we are excavating. Sound travels far in tunnels and we do not want to alert anyone on the inside to our presence,” Denzik said. “The patrols are at their thinnest in the early morning hours and we should tackle the heavy excavation work then.”

  “It’s also time we attempted to sneak someone into the castle grounds to spy out the guards’ schedules. For the final wall breach, we may need an external distraction to take the guards away from the breach point,” said Nelson.

  “I agree,” said Fabian. “And I think I know of just the person. The queen has a soft spot for my sticky buns. I believe we should send along my apprentice, Anthony, on the next delivery. He will be able to get right inside the castle and into the kitchens themselves.”

  Fabian dunked one of his rolls into the leftover gravy on his plate, smeared it around, and then popped the bite into his mouth. He chewed in satisfaction. “Excellent meal, as usual,” he said in a louder voice to Nelson. “Please pass on my compliments to your splendid cook.” He picked up his mug and drank deeply.

  Nelson spoke up too. “Why don’t you come back and compliment her yourself? She’d rather hear it from you than from me, I expect.”

  “Certainly, lead the way, good man!” They rose and followed Nelson through the back hallway to the kitchen. Warm fragrant air assailed them as the door opened, revealing a bustling room full of servers. Tabitha stood, waving her spoon toward a young girl, who was lifting a tray loaded with plates. “There’s a good girl. Balance it on your shoulder and use the front hand to guide it. That’s it. Now off with you!” They stepped back out of the way to give the girl a clear passage out the door. It swung shut behind her as she left.

  Tabitha frowned at the intrusion and marched over to them. “You had better be bringing more supplies! I have been waiting for them for over a day now.” She lowered her voice and nodded toward the small door at the back of the kitchen. “They are waiting for you out back.”

  “Thank you, kind mistress, for the delicious dinner. I would be honoured to unload the supplies for you. Carry on, my good woman!” Fabian smacked his middle in appreciation and headed off toward the rear door. Denzik followed with Nelson bringing up the rear. As they exited the kitchen, they found Erik standing in the back corridor.

  “All is arranged, sir. The men are waiting for you below.” He stood to the side to allow them to pass. They quickly entered the supply room and crawled down the ladder into the hidden cellar below. Erik pulled the trapdoor closed behind him.

  Grabbing a lantern each, they trekked into the limestone cavern. The walk took about thirty minutes, during which Denzik admired their handiwork of the intervening seventeen years.

  A great amount of time and effort and secrecy had gone into this project; but perhaps this evening would be the night they saw the fruit of their efforts. The tunnel was tall enough for them to walk fully upright and three abreast. Every hundred yards or so a side shaft had been cut, rising back to the surface for ventilation. Occasionally, during their excavations, they stumbled on another naturally formed cave and these were back-filled with the debris and stones chipped away during their tunnelling efforts.

  Of course, the truly remarkable discoveries had come when they had uncovered the black rock in one of the side shafts. The men swore the stuff would burn better and longer than wood. It seemed strange to Denzik that a rock would burn, but the men assured him it was so. They gathered the flammable rock and separated it to be stored in an empty building in town. Perhaps they could sell some of it.

  The end of the tunnel lightened and sloped slightly under Denzik’s feet. Lanterns had been hung from pegs driven into the walls every twenty feet along the passage. The light resolved into a widened passage, where two men stood guard at the entrance they had widened.

  Denzik stepped past the men and into the cavern. He stopped dead in amazement. The cavern, now lit by the twenty lanterns Nelson had prepared earlier, shone with an eerie beauty. The strangeness of the cave made Nelson feel as though he had stepped into another world. Perhaps he had.

  He moved forward toward the men gathered in the center of the cavern. They all carried packs with shovels, picks, and gear to camp if necessary. Each carried a lantern and a walking stick to prod ahead and check their footing as they walked. No one wanted to step into a crevice or onto a fragile ledge that gave way underfoot.

  They picked up the three spare packs waiting for them and slung them onto their backs.

  “Lead the way, gentlemen,” Denzik called to the men. One by one, they filed off down the cave, following the water source into the darkness. The cave narrowed and they followed the stream, the rocks slick and coated with an oily film. Nelson’s booted foot slipped and splashed into the streambed. The footing was treacherous as they traversed the slimy, stony floor.

  Half an hour later, the stream disappeared into a thin crevice in the wall and the tunnel they were following abruptly ended.

  “Raise your lanterns and see if you can find any other openings in the rock face,” Denzik called out.

  They raised their lanterns, scanning the walls on either side of them.

  Nelson raised his arm and pointed. Above the rocky face in front of them, about ten feet in the air, was a door-sized opening, obscured by deep shadows. Everyone raised their lamps, adding more light to flood the surface of the rock face.

  There was an actual door in the opening. A thick iron-bound wooden door…a door that appeared very much like the doors found throughout the castle dungeons. They murmured to each other and searched to see if there were any other such openings. There was no ladder to the door and the face of the rock was smooth and unbroken. There was no door handle. It appeared it was meant to be opened on one side only.

  Denzik scratched his day-old grey beard, eyes narrowed in thought.

  “Have the men spread out. I want them to search this area. The door must have a purpose and I would prefer knowing what it is before we attempt to open it.”

  They scattered through the cave, searching for a clue to explain the door’s presence.

  One of the men wandered back into a shadowed corner and suddenly called out in alarm. They rushed over and found him staring down at a skeleton of a man in a Kingsmen uniform. The flesh had shrunk and shrivelled, covering the skull like a papier mâché mask. He lay on his back, head lea
ning against the rock, and clutched in his curled hand was a rotting leather bag.

  Denzik reached down and picked up the bag, which crumbled to dust as he took it. Inside were twenty pieces of silver.

  Denzik studied the door again. This must be the Traitor’s Gate, he thought. At least he knew where they were now.

  Denzik searched the body, but no clues were found as to his identity.

  The others spread out and found five more bodies scattered in the area. They all appeared to have died around the same time. On the last one, Denzik found an insignia made of bronze, a captain of the King’s Guard. He knelt down and examined the skeleton.

  “There you are, Captain O’Reilly. I always wondered why you never came back to visit after your retirement. You never had a chance, did you?” he said softly. Denzik gazed around at the other men. He knew who they were now. The rest of O’Reilly’s squad, the one he had taken over for all those years ago.

  “I kept your secret safe all these years. Rest in peace, my friend.”

  He stood up. He had missed Nelson and Fabian’s approach. He gestured to the bones at his feet. “Captain O’Reilly.” Nelson and Fabian nodded in understanding.

  He raised his voice to encompass all the men. “This is the Traitor’s Gate. I do not believe it has been used in decades. It may be unguarded. If so, it’s good news for us. If not, we must be prepared for battle.

  “We have found a path to the one door no one wants to be put out of.” He ran his hand over the rough stubble on his chin, considering the wall. “We need to build a staircase to access that door and outfit it with a handle on this side.”

  Denzik reached down pulled out a silver coin from Captain O’Reilly’s bag. Heads, they pushed on tonight; tails, they went back to prepare. He flipped the coin and it sparkled in the wavering light of the lanterns. He caught it and slapped against the back of his left hand. Tails.

  “We are going back to our staging area. Be sure to leave no clues to our presence here. We will not even post a guard, until such time as we begin construction.”

  One of the crew began to take measurements of the area, preparing a checklist of materials needed at the staging site.

  Denzik’s gaze lingered on Captain O’Reilly’s bones. “You will have a proper burial, my friend. We will be back for you.”

  He headed back up the passage, the men trailing in his wake.

  Chapter 29

  THE DENSE FORESTS GAVE WAY to rolling hills dotted with trees. The River Erinn broadened and slowed, its banks flattening. Fishing along its banks had been excellent and most of Cayden’s evenings had been spent catching, cleaning, and roasting speckled trout over open cook fires. Fresh game and fish would help extend their supplies and so Cayden led the hunting party that morning. In truth, Cayden was leery about hunting animals for meat. His experiences with his flutes left him confused about the animals. He knew his men needed to eat meat to survive, yet the idea of killing an animal sickened him.

  Peering around a large tree, he spied a group of five deer grazing at the edge of the bush line across the meadow. He waved his men forward and into bow range. They knelt and drew on their bows. Four arrows zipped away and two of the deer dropped. The other three bounded away into the forest cover.

  Cayden’s men whooped and ran forward to check on their kill. Cayden followed. The two deer had died instantly. His men pulled out hunting knives to skin them, keeping the deerskin, quartering the meat and leaving the bones and viscera behind for the scavengers to clean up. They hauled the heavy load back to camp on a makeshift sled they had brought along for that purpose.

  A round-bellied man named Tucker from the village of Maiden’s Head had been appointed the head cook of the camp. He met them and he took control of the deer when it arrived back at camp. He had been an apprentice to the butcher there and would see to its preservation and storage.

  Cayden strode over to where Ryder was watching Darius run the balance of the men through training drills. Cayden joined Ryder and leaned against the broad tree trunk, eyes following the men’s practice.

  “Ryder, what are we doing out here? I don’t understand why we are here.”

  Ryder watched the men training and did not reply.

  “Surely this was all chance? We’ve had a run of bad luck, right? We are simple farmers. We are not soldiers. Why are we out here?”

  Ryder shrugged his broad shoulders. “Do you think the fates leave everything to chance? Even fate has design. A tree toppled by the wind may think why me? Why now? But in the end, it still feeds the forest floor.”

  Cayden grinned. “When did you become a philosopher?”

  Ryder shrugged again. “Probably about the time I let my best friend be dragged off by the enemy to save me from my fate. There is more to this than we realize, Cayden. Can’t you see it? The world is changing and somehow you are central to it.” He clapped Cayden on his shoulder. “We will face it together. I promise you that.”

  At that moment, Ziona entered the camp, accompanied by another woman, whom Cayden recognized instantly. He ran over to where they sat their horses.

  “Laurista, you are safe!” Cayden reached up a hand to help Laurista dismount and then gently hugged her. She hugged him back.

  “I am happy to see you are safe too, young Cayden!” She looked him up and down. Ziona raised her eyebrow in question at this greeting.

  “Where ever did you find her, Ziona? Laurista is one of the best healers I have ever seen.” Noting Ziona’s expression, he added, “Next to you, of course.” Cayden turned to hug Ziona next, but she held up her hand to stop him. Cayden blushed.

  “We must keep moving, Cayden. This camp is too exposed. It attracts attention. How long have you been camped in this area?”

  “We have kept moving.” He frowned at her. “We haven’t stayed long at any one spot.”

  “Your trail was as clear as if you had left me bread crumbs. If I can find you this easily, the enemies’ spies certainly know where you are. We must move on quickly.”

  Ryder whistled for Darius, who came running over saluting.

  “Advise the men we are breaking camp. We leave within the hour.”

  “Yes, sir!” Darius trotted back to the men he had been training. After an exchange of words, they dispersed through the tents, to break down the camp.

  “I am sticking to you so closely you will think I am a tick on your back, Cayden,” said Ziona. “I will not have you out of my sight again.” Ziona raised her pointed eyebrows in challenge.

  Cayden glanced at her in surprise. “What has happened, Ziona? You are wound up tighter than those sewing spools of yours.”

  She sighed, rubbing her arms. “I don’t know, Cayden. Something isn’t right. I feel like we are standing in quicksand and sinking, yet we can’t see the bog.”

  She slapped at her neck as a bug bit her. She pulled away her hand, observing the squashed insect. “Spies can take many forms…” Her voice trailed off as she gazed at her hand, frowning.

  Ziona’s gaze took in the camp, watching the men. They worked with concentration, packing up tents and belongings and storing them on their horses, which stood saddled at the ready. Occasionally, one of the men would slap at their arms or neck as Ziona had done.

  “I want you to put your cloak on and draw up your hood tight. Pass the same instructions to all the men. Despite it being a warm day, we need to not be instantly recognizable,” Ziona said as she climbed back into her saddle, pulling up her hood and drawing it tight around her face.

  Cayden pulled his cloak from his satchel and did as instructed. He quickly collapsed his tent and bound it to his saddle at the rear. Mounting his white mare, he rode over to Ziona.

  They led the way out of the camp, taking a path that led away from the river and into some stands of scrub brush to the south. The river continued on to the west and soon was lost from view.

  Over Cayden’s shoulder the band strung out behind him, following his meandering path to the south. The land
flattened into grasslands with an occasional tree or outcropping of rock to break up the flatness. Cayden shaded his eyes and squinted. The horizon stretched for miles in every direction. There was no way an enemy could sneak up on them. Yet, his nerves itched, along with his neck where a black fly had bitten him too. The sun was directly overhead when they stopped for a quick bite to eat and to rest the horses. Everyone sat on the ground by their mounts, eating some dried meat and washing it down with tepid water from their flasks.

  As Cayden ate, he stared around at the unbroken flat expanse of sky in front of him. His gut pulled him south. It was getting stronger. He had absolutely no idea what it was, but still it called to him, tickling his mind. He pondered what was out there that could attract him so, eyes slightly out of focus as he searched inside himself. He was so self-absorbed that he didn’t realize at first that the hazy black specks on the horizon were becoming larger.

  Suddenly, Darius jumped up and yelled, “Riders!” Cayden jumped to his feet along with the rest of the men and quickly mounted. The specks grew and separated into what appeared to be a group of riders on the ground and some type of bird in the air following the riders.

  Ziona hissed and heeled her mount. “By the gods! Mount up! Now!” she screamed at the men. “We must flee! It’s the Charun! Go now! Scatter. Do not stay together!” The men, including Cayden, leapt into their saddles. Ziona reared her horse in urgency, causing the other horses to snort and begin to run in all directions.

  Ziona grabbed Cayden’s bridle and pulled his mount after hers, heading in a direction leading away from the main body of men. She bent over her horse’s neck, urging it to greater and greater speed, murmuring to it in Primordial. The horse’s ears were laid back as it ran, eyes wild. Cayden’s mare kept her nose in the stallion’s flank as if an invisible cord bound them together.

  They ran into a gulley with a small stream trickling through its base. The lower terrain partially hid their silhouettes and allowed them to disappear in the grasses. They followed the gulley to an outcropping of rock jutting up from the flatlands. Ziona pulled her mount to a halt and dropped down to the ground. She handed the reins to Cayden and then climbed carefully to the top of the stone pile to check for pursuit. Cayden slithered up beside her to gaze down at the plain.