Stormguard? Yes, dragging old men and women into the street is one thing, taking on the most ferocious warriors of the region is quite another.
A broad open plaza surrounded the cathedral. They found it a churning sea of citizenry and Reform soldiers. Ivanr’s guard cordon pushed its way towards the wide front stairs. Ivanr heard chants to burn the entire structure to the ground. The tall oaken doors gaped open, guarded by four Stormguard. Even as Ivanr approached, Ring citizens, including entire families, darted up the stairs under a hail of rocks and rotten food to run inside. Within, he glimpsed a solid mass of pale terrified faces staring out.
Silence spread like ripples through the crowd around his passage. People pointed, shouting their surprise, even reverence. Ivanr raised his arms, staff in one hand, even though the gesture sent slashes of agony through his chest. He motioned for his guards to part and he climbed the trash-littered stairs alone.
‘Citizens of Jourilan! Hear me! The time for killing has passed. There will be no more blood spilled!’
A momentary lull in the crowd’s noise followed that, only to be filled by fresh screams. Those nearby pointed behind him. Ivanr turned to see a Stormguard descending the wide stairs, his thick blue cloak wrapped around him, spear held up straight. Ivanr’s guard charged forward but he waved them back.
‘You lead this rabble?’ the Korelri called, his voice lazy with self-assurance.
‘They seem to think so,’ he answered, fighting down the pain, dizzy with it.
‘Well.’ The man stamped the butt of his spear down on a stair, regarded him through the vision slit of his rounded full helm. ‘We within remain true in our faith. We are not afraid to die.’
Ivanr was afraid that if he coughed he’d collapse, but he cradled his chest, said, ‘But you are afraid of something.’
The Korelri waved a hand. ‘We fear nothing.’
‘You are terrified of change. So scared you’d rather die than face it.’
The man took a step back. His eyes widened within the helm, then he waved again. ‘Faugh! Play your games of rhetoric and argument elsewhere, apostate. We here are pledged to the Lady — flesh and blood — we merely wait for her to collect us.’
Flesh and blood. Ivanr stared. Gods! Could this be… deliberate? How many crowded within? Perhaps a thousand souls? Such an enormous blood sacrifice! All in the name of the Lady! No! I mustn’t allow this.
The Korelri had turned his back on the crowds, deliberately and mockingly, and stalked back to the doors. Ivanr scanned the mass where brands now flamed as bonfires burned in the square. Wood and trash arced through air to strike the cathedral walls.
‘Come and die!’ the Stormguard bellowed from the doors.
Ivanr raised his arms wide, staff in hand. ‘No! I forbid it! The way of the Lady is to worship death. I ask you to worship life!’
Many heeded his call, but too many out of reach of his voice continued throwing tinder and shattered furniture. It would only take one spark to light a conflagration! Ivanr’s heart spasmed. He could not breathe; his vision darkened.
He gathered all his remaining strength and clasped the staff in both hands before him, bellowing, ‘No! The time for vengeance and vendetta has passed! No more retribution! I forbid it!’ And he slammed the staff down on the stone stairway.
The crowd hushed at the echo of that great crack of wood against stone. All was quiet for one brief instant. Then Ivanr collapsed.
It may have been his delirious dimming consciousness, but as he lay sprawled it seemed that a roaring overbore all noise. The earth moved beneath him. It heaved, rocking, accompanied by a great landside rumbling. Shrill panicked shrieks penetrated even his fading hearing. Hands lifted him up. He blacked out, seeming to float in their tender grip.
It was an ants’ nest of tunnels and caves that seemed to go on for ever — always deeper into the bowels of the mountains that bordered the inland lake, Fist Sea. They went side by side, the Adjunct and Rillish leading. The local Drenn elder, Gheven, who had brought them through Warren, walked in the middle of the column. All they had met so far were emaciated ascetics who gaped at them, or priests of the Lady who, unarmed, launched themselves upon them, gibbering and clawing with their naked hands. All these Rillish ordered bound and left behind.
His arm aching, Suth slung his shield on his back. He couldn’t tell if they were making any headway at all. Every cave and length of low-ceilinged tunnel looked like every other. It was dim, dusty, and so confined that many of them couldn’t straighten. His leg was almost numb. This was ridiculous; there was nothing here. Pyke was grumbling that very thing to Lard. Yet ahead, the bullet head of the bald priest, Ipshank, ran with sweat and his brow was deeply furrowed. Maybe there was something… but where was it?
Discipline held, however; the complaints were few, and sotto voce. Goss and Twofoot saw to that. They came to one length of tunnel boasting several cut openings. The column stopped — some obstruction ahead. ‘What’s the hold-up?’ Pyke snarled, hunched. ‘These guys don’t know anything!’
‘Stop it up,’ Lard growled, ‘or I’ll do it for you.’
‘You and who-’ Pyke was beginning when an armoured figure stepped out of the nearby opening and thrust a spear completely through Lard, the point bursting from his back. Blood splashed all over Pyke. ‘Hood’s balls!’ Pyke howled, falling backwards.
All up and down the line men in dark armour stepped out of openings to thrust into the column. Suth fumbled, trying to swing his shield forward. The enemy wore cuirasses and full helms enamelled a deep blue, with silver inlay.
‘Korelri Stormguard!’ Gheven yelled, amazed.
Suth abandoned the shield and parried for his life. The wide-bladed razor spear-tips thrust expertly; he couldn’t get past them to engage the wielders. Troopers fell up and down the line, run through like pigs.
‘Clear the deck!’ a woman yelled. Squeaky.
Suth threw himself flat, pulling Gheven with him.
The eruption — in this narrow confine — blasted away his hearing and his breath. He lay stunned in a darkness of swirling dust while earth fell on him. Had the ceiling collapsed? He was blinded and choking on the dirt. Terror threatened to strangle him. Then hands yanked him up. He fought at first but the hands weren’t at his throat so he clambered to his feet, staggering and running into things and people he could not see in the gloom. Roaring filled his hearing; he could just make out a trooper ahead and set a hand on the man’s shoulder. Someone clasped his belt from behind. In this manner, as a troop of blind men and women, they felt their way through a tunnel, seeking clean air.
They collapsed into a cave, coughing and gasping. Two troopers guarded the entrance, shields at the ready. He peered round, wiping at his eyes. He saw Squeaky, Pyke, Faro, the elder Gheven, a few of Twofoot’s troop, and the giant Manask, who was on his knees, the broken haft of a spear sticking from his wide stomach. He was struggling to wrench it free.
Suth went to Squeaky. ‘What happened?’
‘A partial collapse. We’re cut off.’
‘Shit! Now what?’
‘Let’s get outta here!’ Pyke yelled. ‘Those are Korelri!’
‘Shut the Hood up!’
Manask yanked the spear from his layered armour. He raised it up high. ‘I will lead us through this maze!’
‘You can find your way through?’ Suth asked him.
The man looked offended. ‘With my refined senses? Of course!’
Suth grunted his agreement then went to the 6th’s troopers. The clash of fighting from some other tunnel reached them and everyone stilled. Panicked yelling, then a muffled explosion shook everyone again. Dust and dirt sifted down from the rough uneven ceiling. Going to bring this entire complex down on them! He nodded to the three troopers, recognizing Fish. ‘Suth,’ he said.
‘Corbin,’ said the short stocky one.