Brodar Kayne flexed his neck. ‘I reckon the Wolf and me can handle a few of those red cloaks, if it comes to it,’ he said. ‘You’ll want to stay out of the way if there’s any trouble, lass,’ he added. ‘Keep an eye on that one.’ He nodded at Vicard, who shot him a dirty look. Sasha didn’t look too pleased either.
Isaac raised a hand to get their attention. ‘I’ll fight. You might need the help.’
‘Where’d you learn to handle a blade?’ Kayne asked. ‘I thought you might struggle to tell one end of a sword from the other, but you held your own back there and no mistake.’
The manservant shrugged. ‘I like to read. Swordplay isn’t so different to any other craft. You just need to pay attention to the instructions.’
Something about Isaac’s words struck him as being off, but once again Kayne struggled to pinpoint exactly what it was. ‘You’re a fast learner, I’ll give you that,’ he managed. ‘How did you end up at the depository anyway? The Halfmage don’t seem like the most grateful employer, if you don’t mind me saying.’
A bland smile appeared on the manservant’s face. ‘He’s not as grouchy as he appears. Sometimes his worries just get on top of him, you see. Especially his- Oh. Oh, no…’
‘What’s wrong?’ Kayne asked in sudden alarm. Isaac wore a look of such concern the old Highlander was certain he had just spied an army of Augmentors marching down the road towards them.
‘I forgot to leave his ointment behind,’ Isaac groaned. ‘He’s going to be furious! I knew I’d overlooked something.’
‘Ointment?’ Kayne asked, puzzled.
Sasha coughed unconvincingly. Everyone turned to look at her. ‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ she said, ‘but we have important business ahead of us. Let’s get that over with and then we can all return to Dorminia and whatever urgent matters await us there. The Halfmage can look after his own arse until then.’ Without another word she set off towards the Rift, dragging Vicard along behind her.
Jerek rubbed at his beard thoughtfully. ‘Bitch has a point,’ he said, and followed after her.
Kayne glanced at Isaac, who still looked crestfallen at having committed such a heinous error. With a sigh, the ageing barbarian set off after the rest of the group.
The Rift was much larger up close than it looked from a distance. The chasm spanned a good eighty feet across and ten times that in length, a vicious scar in the earth belching foul gases that made the eyes sting. Worse than the gases, though, was the stench. The odour was unmistakably that of death, as if something huge rotted at the bottom of that stygian pit. Brodar Kayne squinted down into the depths of the breach but saw nothing but darkness at the bottom. Just as well, he thought.
They were gathered around the edge of the gigantic fissure. A narrow path had been carved into the face of the rock, folding back on itself as it descended into the chasm. Rope bridges spanned the drop from one side to the other at various points along the length of the gap. The sound of metal clanging on rock echoed from far below. Through the miasma of smoke drifting around the mouth of the chasm, Kayne could just about see small figures hard at work.
Jerek grabbed his arm and pointed to the top of the wooden tower just below them. The path ran above it along the face of the gorge for a few hundred feet before switchbacking to cut back directly beneath. If they tried to follow the path, they would likely be seen by the men on the platform before they could stop them raising the alarm.
Kayne nodded at Jerek, who grunted, and then at the top of the tower. He turned to the others. ‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘We need to take out those guards before they see us.’
The two Highlanders lowered themselves onto the wooden structure as quietly as they could manage, crawling on their bellies until they were able to peer down over the edge. Two miners were standing on the platform directly beneath, talking heatedly and gesturing at the work going on below them. A Watchman lounged on a stool in the corner, taking swigs from a flask.
Jerek pointed down, put a finger to his lips and removed an axe from the harness on his back. With his other hand he lowered himself carefully over the edge and disappeared from sight. Kayne heard the thump of boots hitting wood and then a couple of strangled moans followed by the sounds of a short scuffle. All was silent for a time. He tensed, expecting the worst.
Right on cue, the Watchman soared from the platform. The unfortunate soldier twisted in the air like an unwieldy and vastly oversized robin, his limbs flailing around and becoming hopelessly entangled in his scarlet cloak. He unleashed a mighty shriek as he fell, which seemed to last for an eternity. Jerek emerged on the path below a second later, his face twisted in rage. He spat something inaudible after the plummeting figure.
Brodar Kayne uttered a silent curse. For a minute there he’d almost hoped they might do this the easy way. He watched Jerek sprint back up the path, and then he hurried back to the others.
‘Get ready,’ he said. ‘They know we’re here.’ He reached behind him and drew his greatsword, taking comfort in its familiar weight and the way the steel whispered against the scabbard. Isaac drew his own sword.
Jerek arrived just as the shouts from below reached their ears. ‘They’re coming,’ he panted. He was breathing hard.
Kayne gave him a withering stare. ‘Aye, I figured a screaming Watchman tumbling to his death might get their attention. You’ll be the death of me, Wolf.’
His old friend grinned in response. ‘Might be I saved your life earlier,’ Jerek said. ‘Take the rough with the smooth, I reckon.’
Vicard was rummaging around in his backpack. ‘Hold them off,’ he said. ‘I have enough explosive powder in here to bring the whole thing crashing down.’
‘Hang on-’ Kayne began, but a quarrel whistled past his ear and he threw himself to the ground. Another one sailed over his head. Two Watchmen were rushing towards them up the switchback trail, furiously reloading their crossbows. Three more of the bastards were scrambling to reach the bridges on the other side of the Rift, their swords already in hand.
‘We need to close them down,’ he yelled at Jerek, but the Wolf was already halfway to the two crossbowmen. Kayne pushed himself to his feet and sprinted after him, sharp pain stabbing in his creaking knees with every step. The fumes caused him to choke and squeezed the air from his lungs, but he barrelled on regardless, tears streaming down his face.
Suddenly Jerek stumbled, barely staying on his feet. Brodar Kayne heard his growled fuck, saw him stagger again as another quarrel hit him in his right arm. The Wolf slowed and then sank to one knee. Shit.
Willing his ageing body forwards, every muscle screaming, Kayne reached the two men just as they were preparing another salvo. His greatsword caught one of them under the arm, almost cleaved his torso in half in a spray of red gore. He kicked the other soldier dead in the chest. The Watchman flew backwards off the path and tumbled down out of sight, screaming all the way.
The soldiers crossing the bridges were almost upon him. One of them fell to his knees and clawed at his throat. Kayne glanced back to see Sasha reloading her own crossbow. There was a flash, a warning shout from Vicard, and then the bridge with the two remaining Watchmen exploded in a torrent of hemp, timber and sizzling blood. The searing heat from the blast drove Kayne back and knocked him to his knees. The sound of the explosion hit next, a deafening roar that sent agony screaming through his ears to pound at his brain with the force of a hammer blow.
He coughed, spat blood. He’d bitten through his tongue. More men were coming up the path from the depths of the Rift, though their progress was decidedly hesitant having just witnessed the carnage above them. Regaining his feet, Kayne turned and saw Jerek struggling to rise. Blood soaked his left arm and pooled on the ground at his feet. A bolt quivered in his right thigh.