Part 24 (2/2)

Gren squirmed, desperate to breathe.

Across the chamber, Brock's stare drilled into Duncan. His fists flexed, poised to fight, a burning question in his gaze.

Duncan shook his head no, willing Brock to stand down. They had to wait, or they'd all die for nothing.

Grack kicked Gren, a vicious blow to the ribs, but the small man just moaned, curling into a ball. Grack soon lost interest, his voice a snarl. ”Get him on his feet!”

Seth and Clovis rushed to help. Gren tottered on shaking legs, bruises blooming on his face.

A sour smell hung in the chamber...the rancid reek of fear.

Grack scowled, ”Into the hole, maggots. The Mordant needs his iron ore.”

They lined up and shuffled towards the door. Duncan's stare circled the chamber, willing the others to remain calm. A handful met his gaze, Brock, Clovis, Thomas and Seth, but too many of the others looked skittish. Pale and shaken, fear etched their face, yet none of them talked. Perhaps Grack's cruelty had pushed them to silence. Either way, Duncan was relieved when he finally reached the ladder. He swung out and followed the others down, careful to avoid the missing rungs.

Strung out in a line, they descended into the mine.

And then the screaming started.

A piteous wail came from above.

Twisted by distance, the wail held no words...only fear.

Duncan clung to the ladder, trying to protect his head, expecting a body to come tumbling from above...but the corpse never fell. Silence followed the screams, leaving a mystery hanging in the stale air.

From below, Brock bellowed, ”What's happening?” but no one answered.

Duncan yelled, ”Keep moving!”

Someone whimpered, but they started moving again, shuffling down the ladder. No one spoke, but the pace increased, as if they all yearned to stand on solid ground. Duncan finally reached the bottom and found the others milling in the central shaft, a mixture of confusion and fear on their faces. Duncan took a risk and singled out Gren. ”Do you still want to fight?”

The others stilled, their stares spearing the dwarf.

Bruised and battered, Gren met Duncan's stare, a glint of anger riding his eyes. ”I want to kill the b.l.o.o.d.y Taal.”

Duncan nodded. ”And so you shall.” He looked at the others. ”It's easy to die in the mines. That's why we need to fight, but not until the appointed hour. First we work to meet the quota, then we eat...then we fight.”

A few flashed wolfish grins.

Duncan said, ”Now get to work. We need to make the quota so Grack doesn't suspect.”

Stragglers descended the ladder.

Duncan longed to question them, but instead he turned for the gallery, needing to set an example. Pa.s.sing close to Clovis, he whispered, ”Find out what happened.” Without pause, he strode down the gallery to an empty tunnel. Kneeling, he crawled to the ore face, taking up the hammer and spike.

Iron pounded against stone in a relentless heartbeat. Duncan drove the wedge deep, wondering if they'd been betrayed. Shackles on his wrists clanged with each stroke, echoing his rage. Swing and strike, he attacked the ore-face, releasing a shower of blood-red rock. Coughing on the dust, he studied the rock-face, desperate for a trickle of water, for a chance to slake his thrust, but the rock did not oblige. Unwilling to weep, the dark-cursed rock proved as cruel as the G.o.ds.

Behind him, wood sc.r.a.ped against rock. Clovis pulled the empty sledge toward the ore-face. Duncan leaned on the hammer, taking the weight off his knees. ”Who was it?”

Despite the dim darkness, Duncan saw a flicker of fear in the older man's eyes. ”Bruce.”

Bruce, the name ambushed Duncan with a spike of fear.

”Seth was the last man down. He claimed Bruce balked at the ladder, refusing the climb.”

”Did Seth see what happened?”

Clovis shook his head. ”Seth scrambled down the ladder, keen to get beyond Grack's reach.” A racking cough shook the older man. When it finally subsided, he wiped his sleeve across his mouth. ”Bruce was unmanned by the cave-in. I've seen it before. A cave-in preys on a man's mind till he can't take another day in the depths. Choked on madness, such men seek other deaths.”

”But did he seek death or something darker?”

Clovis stared, ”You saved his life. Bruce wouldn't...”

A cold anger burned in Duncan. ”And now he seeks to save his own skin.” He tossed lumps of ore into the sledge. ”If Bruce sought death he could have waited another day.”

Clovis had no answer.

”If he turned traitor, then death lies in wait for us all.” His hands balled into fists. ”I'd rather die fighting than go meekly to the executioner's axe.”

Clovis gave him a wistful smile. ”I'd like to see the sky again.”

”And what about your gift of prophesy, your second sight? Will we succeed?”

The older man's face clouded. ”Dreams are often fickle, full of fears and wishes instead of prophecy.”

Clovis turned away but Duncan sensed something troubled him. ”What did you see?”

Sighing, Clovis tugged on his beard. ”Since you've come, I've seen many things in my dreams, fighting, blood, and pain. But last night I saw something different. Light streamed from a boulder, reflected in the faces of the people.”

Duncan barked a laugh. ”Light from a boulder?” He should have known not to ask. Prophecies never made sense. ”Did you see the sky in this vision?”

”The sky?” A slow smile spread across the older man's face. ”I stood beneath a blue sky and it was beautiful.”

”A blue sky, I'll take it as an omen of victory.” He gripped his friend's arm. ”We rise tonight and d.a.m.n the traitor.” He dropped the hammer, keeping the iron wedge, a crude weapon but better than nothing. ”Come, we have plans to discuss.” They crawled back to the gallery and then entered the fifth tunnel. Brock worked the ore-face, sweat glistening on his broad back. Stilling the hammer in mid-swing, he turned to stare at Duncan. ”Cat-man.”

Duncan nodded. ”You've heard about Bruce?”

The big man hawked and spat. ”Either a b.l.o.o.d.y corpse or a filthy traitor.”

”Aye, that's the question. But either way, I say we fight.”

”You said we needed surprise to win.”

”Just so.”

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