Part 28 (2/2)

The swords fell silent...corpses strewn across the floor.

From across the corridor, a ragged band of prisoners stared back at them, an odd jumble of weapons gripped in their fists.

For a moment, both sides stared in disbelief...but then one man cheered, and the cheer became a roar. The two sides rushed together, pounding each other on the back, talking at once, brothers-in-arms.

Duncan looked for his friends. Familiar faces crowded the corridor, Seth, and six-fingered Nef, and Simeon the hunchback, but there were two he wanted to see more than the others. He finally found Brock and Clovis together. The big man grinned, brandis.h.i.+ng a spiked mace like a rare trophy.

Duncan answered his grin. ”So Grack gave up his mace.”

”We took the one-armed b.a.s.t.a.r.d on the ladder, just as you said.” Brock twirled the blood-soaked weapon, beaming like a man in love. ”This spiked beauty cracked the Taal's skull like an eggsh.e.l.l. You should have seen the look on the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's face when we charged the ladder.” Grinning, he thumped Duncan's back hard enough to rattle his teeth. ”Your plan worked, cat-man! But I never thought to see your mismatched stare again.”

Duncan gave the big man a wry smile. ”Cats have nine lives.”

”Ha! I hope you saved some for the fight ahead. The tunnels teem with guards.”

”All the more reason why we can't tarry.” He felt the press of time, like a hand strangling his throat. ”Get the men ready. Bind their wounds and strip the dead of weapons. We have a mine to take.” Brock grinned and began issuing orders. Duncan turned to Clovis, relieved to find the older man unharmed.

”The G.o.ds watch over you, Duncan Treloch.” Clovis smiled, rock dust coating his straggly beard.

Duncan clasped his friend's arm. ”I'd rather they lent a hand.”

Torchlight glinted in the older man's eyes. ”Perhaps they do.”

Duncan shook his head, but there was laughter in his voice. ”You and your G.o.ds. Better to put your trust in steel, or a good bow.”

Clovis lifted his sword, an odd smile on his face. ”Seems I haven't forgotten the way of the sword...but I long for the color of the sky.”

”We'll see it again, my friend, but first we must take the mine.” He turned away and lifted his crossbow, raising his voice above the clamor. ”We've clawed our way out of h.e.l.l...but I've a yearning for the sky. Are you with me?”

The men cheered a roar that shook the corridor.

”Then let's show the guards how freed men fight.” Setting off at a run, Duncan led them through rock-carved pa.s.sageways, but this time they traveled up. Left and then right, he threaded a path through the rabbit warren of stone, always heading toward the surface. Wary of ambush, he strained his senses, trying to detect the first clank of steel.

Ambus.h.i.+ng guards from behind, they fought a running battle. With scavenged weapons and bare hands, they clawed their way toward the surface.

Needing more men, Duncan breathed deep, always searching for the rotting stench of prison holds. Twice they stopped to release men from bitter h.e.l.lholes. Shackled and chained, the prisoners climbed out of the depths, astonished by the sudden chance for freedom. Some cowered and slunk away, too broken to fight, but most joined the struggle, their courage bolstered by the sight of so many freed men wielding swords. Their numbers swelled to over two hundred, half of them armed, all of them desperate, a mob running at his back.

Guards blocked their way, setting a thin picket of swords and spears, but the mob would not be denied. Howling like the d.a.m.ned, his men overwhelmed the guards, carving a swath of death through their ranks like justice on a rampage.

One battle at a time, they fought their way up through the twisting pa.s.sageways, leaving a trail of carnage in their wake. The narrow corridors proved a boon, the perfect funnel for their ferocity. Swarming the enemy, they never lost a battle, but the fighting took its toll, leaching their stamina and culling their numbers to half. Caught in a labyrinth of stone, it seemed they waged an endless struggle...till the air began to freshen, and the men caught the first hint of the surface It smelled like victory.

A sense of triumph pulsed through the men, lifting their spirits and renewing their strength. Gripping their weapons, they pounded through the rocky corridors like a force of nature that could not be denied.

They rounded a bend and found a clog of guards blocking the corridor. Duncan loosed a quarrel as Krell led the charge. Screaming like banshees, they fell on the guards. Slash and hack, they smashed the blockade, ferocity overwhelming discipline. The guards broke and ran.

Baying like hounds, the men gave chase, their blood hot for battle.

The corridor widened into an enormous cavern. Howling for vengeance, the men spread out, chasing their prey across the broad expanse, hungry for blood.

Duncan ran with the pack, wielding his crossbow like a club. Halfway across, a warning thundered through his mind. He slowed to a stop and stared at the cavern...and then he knew. ”Stop! Fall back! It's a trap!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, grabbing the men around him, knowing that discipline would defeat ferocity in such a large s.p.a.ce. ”Krell, stop them!” But the big man was lost to the battle-fury. Leading the wild charge across the cavern floor, Krell laughed like a berserker, his flaming-red hair waving like a banner. Caught in the rush of war, the men streamed pa.s.sed Duncan, brandis.h.i.+ng their weapons, their eyes glazed with the heat of battle, giving full throat to their blood l.u.s.t. Sensing disaster, Duncan tried to stop the rush, but he was one lone man straining against a blood fury.

And then the drumming started. Like a heartbeat of war, the sound thundered through the mine with the force of doom. Ranks of soldiers appeared blocking the far end of the cavern. Not guards, but disciplined soldiers. A solid line of rectangular black s.h.i.+elds embossed with golden pentacles, they formed a wall across both ends of the cavern, deadly barriers bristling with spears.

Trapped! Duncan struggled to reform his men. ”To me! To me!”

Krell slowed to a stop...and the wild dash veered to a sudden halt. Turning away from the barrier, the men milled in confusion, caught between two s.h.i.+eld walls.

A centurion stepped from the ranks, his voice echoing through the cavern. ”Put down your weapons! Serve to live!”

Krell gave the answer. Plucking a fallen spear from the ground, he hurled it at the centurion. ”Live free or die!” The spear took the centurion in the throat. Roaring, Krell chased after the spear, charging the wall of s.h.i.+elds like a magnificent lion...and the men followed.

Heartened by Krell's audacity, Duncan laughed, embracing to the madness of battle. Bellowing a challenge, he charged with the rest. He loosed a quarrel and then swung his crossbow like a club. A hundred strong, they raced toward the s.h.i.+eld wall, a ragtag army wielding a motley of stolen weapons, courage and purpose their only armor. As if sanctioned by the G.o.ds, a wild hope surged through Duncan, a feeling of desperate invincibility.

Their roar shook the cavern, a righteous wave bearing down on the s.h.i.+eld wall.

But the Mordant's soldiers did not fight fair.

Handlers stepped from the s.h.i.+eld wall. Like spurts of black venom, they launched nets into the air. Falling like spider webs, they trapped the rabble army, pinning them to the ground. A net caught Duncan in the face, binding him with sticky strands. Thras.h.i.+ng against the tangle, he tripped and fell. Weighted with leads, the sticky nets tangled arms and weapons in a stranglehold, pulling men to their knees. Across the cavern, men thrashed and hacked but the struggle only deepened the web's embrace. Swathed in sticky coc.o.o.ns, they writhed on the floor like flies awaiting the bite of a spider.

One man broke free.

Somehow Krell broke the sticky bonds, rising like a G.o.d of vengeance, a sword in each fist. Roaring in defiance, he charged the s.h.i.+eld wall like a maddened lion. ”Fight me, d.a.m.n you, fight me!”

A deadly hum of crossbows filled the air.

Krell stumbled, quarrels piercing his arms and legs...but he did not fall. Bleeding from a half-dozen wounds, he lurched toward the s.h.i.+eld wall. Roaring like a fiery-maned lion, he beat his sword against the line of spears. ”Fight me in single combat! Come out from behind your s.h.i.+elds and fight!”

Trapped in a coc.o.o.n of nets, Duncan thrashed against his bonds, desperate to fight by the big man's side.

Krell staggered along the s.h.i.+eld wall, bellowing his challenge...but no champion ever emerged. Instead, the soldiers trust their spears at the big man, aiming to wound not to kill. Like a pack of jackals, they hara.s.sed the last lion.

”No!” Duncan struggled to his knees, clawing at the nets.

As if Krell wearied of the game, he beat the spears away and rushed the s.h.i.+elds. A single spear took him in the chest. Even then, Krell did not stop. Impaled on the shaft, he lunged forward, reaching for the soldier who'd killed him. Halfway up the shaft, the big man staggered to a stop. The swords fell from his hands, clattering to the stone floor. Groaning, Krell slowly toppled sideways, felled like a mighty oak.

”No!” Duncan's scream split the cavern. He struggled to stand, his arms bound by sticky webs.

The s.h.i.+eld wall opened, disgorging a score of leather-clad handlers. Wielding heavy clubs, the burly handlers moved among the coc.o.o.ned men, beating them into submission, forcing shackles onto their hands and legs, making them prisoners once more.

Wild with anger, Duncan bucked against his bonds. His arms remained pinned to his sides, but his right hand reached his dagger. Pulling it free, he struggled to a crouch.

Mocking laughter beat against him. ”Where do you think your going?” A big brute of a handler sneered at Duncan, thumping a club in his left hand.

Gripping the dagger, Duncan struggled to stand. ”Fight me!”

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