A voice growled, ‘Remember me!’
Tanalvah squealed and grabbed Disgleirio’s arm.
‘Steady, Tan.’ He took her hand. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of; they’re only living memorials. Look.’
Several nearby headstones had activated, projecting spectral likenesses of the graves’ occupants. The one that had spoken was an ancient man, bald of pate and with skin like yellowed parchment.
‘Passing sets them off,’ Disgleirio continued. ‘Sorry, I should have warned you.’
She disentangled herself from him, feeling foolish. ‘Silly of me,’ she said.
They carried on.
Every few paces they triggered a glamoured memorial, conjuring animated images of the dead. Men, women, old, young; ailing in appearance or hearty; smiling or scowling. Tanalvah noticed that not all the graves were set off though.
‘They only work if relatives keep recharging the magic, of course,’ Disgleirio offered, almost conversationally. ‘It’ll all run down eventually.’
Many of the deceased’s glamours were vocal. They presented greetings, pearls of wisdom and dire warnings. Some recounted their life stories or recited poetry. Others mumbled prayers or mouthed prophecies. The voices were beseeching, cheerful, hectoring, doleful, jaunty. A few sang or played musical instruments.
Tanalvah loathed the place. She couldn’t help thinking what kind of messages would have been left by the people she’d consigned to their graves. When they rounded another corner and entered a quieter spot her relief was intense.
They trudged on, encountering only the occasional garrulous crypt. An area of dense trees lay ahead and they made for it.
‘There’s something coming up I need to warn you about,’ Disgleirio told her. ‘We have sentinels.’
‘Are they dangerous?’
‘They look dangerous. But they’re not top-grade magic. Essentially they’re for deterrence. If our enemies knew how feeble our defences really were-’
A long, drawn-out howl sounded. It raised the hairs on the nape of Tanalvah’s neck.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘here they come.’
A creature loped from the treeline, looking grey from this distance. It was joined by three more, sleek and fast. As they got nearer their features became distinct. They had powerful jaws and razor-keen talons. Their silky fur was pure white, and their eyes were pink.
Tanalvah wondered why albino wolves were thought appropriate, before deciding they were probably all the Resistance could get.
The wolves slinked closer, fanning out into a semi-circle, apparently positioning themselves to strike. They growled and snuffled convincingly.
Disgleirio snapped his fingers at each beast in turn, one-two-three-four. The wolves turned into clouds of faintly phosphorescent green mist, then nothing. Tanalvah caught a distinctive whiff of sulphur.
‘The next line of defence is human,’ he promised, ‘and it’s just about the last one. Come on, it’s not far now.’
He strode towards the trees. She had to hurry to keep up with him.
They entered what proved to be a small wood. It was thick, with trees growing close together, and there was no path. In places, dead leaves had drifted into sizeable mounds, but Disgleirio knew exactly where he was going.
‘This copse runs to the foothills,’ he said.
‘That’s where we’re going?’
‘Yes. We’re nearly there. Are you all right with this? No problem with the walk?’
‘I’ll let you know if I need help.’
Two armed men, black clad and sober faced, slipped from the foliage ahead of them, barring the way. When Disgleirio was recognised they lowered their weapons, but they continued to eye Tanalvah. She didn’t know either of them. Disgleirio told them about the abandoned gig and ordered it taken care of. The guards returned wordless nods and stood aside for them. It all happened so quickly and smoothly that it felt like a dream to Tanalvah, but her mind was on other things, and her trepidation was growing ever stronger.
Shortly they reached a wall of rock, smothered in creepers and vines. Another pair of guards appeared, identified Disgleirio and hailed him. A moment later they were at the rock face, dragging aside a mass of netting cunningly woven with scrub. They revealed a cave entrance.
Disgleirio took out another orb and handed it to her. It snapped into life. As they entered, he said, ‘This is actually the oldest part of the cemetery, the catacombs. No one comes here any more. Nature formed it, but there was a lot of tunnelling in the past, too. This is where our primitive ancestors first started depositing their dead, Tan.’ He stopped and looked at her. ‘I should have asked. You’re not jumpy about going underground, are you?’
‘I’ll cope with it, Quinn.’ She was much more worried about facing the people she’d wronged. But it was too late now.
‘Good. But I think Serrah might have had a problem with it.’
‘What?’ She focused on him.
‘Serrah. She didn’t like-’
‘Oh, yes. Of course. I don’t suppose she would.’
They resumed their journey.
‘There are several other entrances.’ Disglierio jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Makes getting out in an emergency much easier. The tunnels themselves are a good defence, too. Easy to get lost if you don’t know them; and there are chambers that flood.’
They twisted and turned more times than she could count. The sloping tunnel they followed was above head height and unlit. Its floor and walls were smooth from the eternity of flowing water that had carved them. There was a musky, earthy smell she found faintly unpleasant.
Eventually the going got lighter. The tunnels now had glamour orbs and flaming brands fastened to their walls, and as Tanalvah and Disgleirio moved deeper into the tunnel system the nature of their surroundings changed. The drabness began to give way to unexpected colour. Veins of yellow, red, purple and green patterned the rock.
They passed through passages wide and narrow, and in and out of caverns, some vast, housing eerie rock formations. They negotiated forests of stalagmites and stalactites. Tanalvah saw no evidence of the bodies supposedly deposited in ancient times, although Disgleirio assured her that there were plenty.
Soon they heard the distant clatter of habitation and the echoing sound of voices.
Where tunnels crossed they glimpsed people at the end of passageways; men and women engaged in chores, running messages, carrying barrels and crates. There was a distinct sense of buzzing activity.
At last they came to the entrance of a massive underground chamber, its roof so high it was hidden in shadows. A number of passages ran off from the cavern, and scores of people bustled in and out. They scaled mountains of provisions or polished the blades in well-stocked racks. At dozens of benches they fashioned weapons and stitched clothing, while children circulated with water pails, and there were dogs and pigs running loose. Braziers and torches were scattered everywhere. In the centre of the chamber, in a large natural pit, a generous fire was burning, making the atmosphere smoky and pungent with the smell of sweet woods. The aroma of roasting meat mingled with it.
‘You look anything but happy, Tan,’ Disgleirio told her as they entered. ‘What’s up?’
‘Do I? I suppose it’s all been a bit of a shock. Meeting you like that, being brought here.’
‘You’re safe now. You’ll be taken care of. And if it’s Teg and Lirrin you’re worried about, don’t be. We’ll look after them, too. You’re among friends again, Tan.’
‘Friends,’ she repeated quietly.
‘Yes. Friends who’ll be very happy to see you.’
She made no reply.