The soldiers, seeing what they were up to, were scrambling to adapt. The first group reversed direction and began heading back. Instead of trying to cross the bridge, as their companions intended, they were going to skirt the edge of the cavern and come round to the far side of the bridge. But Frey and his crew, who were taking a more direct route, would get there long before them.
The soldiers took pot-shots at the crew as they crossed over. Frey flinched as a bullet puffed off the rope handrail just next to his head, tearing a small chunk from the fibres. The bridge rocked this way and that as they hurried across it. Frey looked down at the dirty roofs of the shacks, the lethal, bone-breaking drop to the hard stone ground fifteen metres below.
Pinn slipped drunkenly and almost fell to his knees, but he was borne up by Malvery, who shoved him onwards. More gunshots. More bullets.
Just a little more luck. Just a little more.
And then he was at the end, running on to solid ground, a rush of relief flooding through him. ‘Get into cover!’ he called, waving at the shabby collection of huts around them. ‘Jez, watch for those bastards coming round the back.’
‘On it, Cap’n,’ said Jez, hurrying past him.
The cliffside huts were encircled by crude fences made of slabs of metal and wood. A few chickens and scrawny goats scattered as Frey’s crew took positions overlooking a rocky slope, pocked with shacks and lean-tos. The first group of soldiers were making their way up it. If they got to the top, they would be able to get around the back of the cluster of huts, and the crew would be trapped between them and the cliff.
They opened fire, shooting down on the soldiers. The Dakkadians ran for the shacks, and shelter. Even their Samarlan captain got a bit of a spring in his step when Malvery nearly took his head off with a shotgun.
Frey turned his attention back to the rope bridge. Dakkadian soldiers had reached it now, and were stepping on with some reluctance, urged by their masters. Frey shoved one of his pistols into his belt and drew his cutlass. He held it up high to show them. They turned and scrambled back towards land. He gave them a few seconds to get clear and then hacked away the ropes. His daemonically thralled cutlass was sharp enough to chop through them in a single blow. The rope bridge slumped and then fell onto the roofs of the huts below.
Frey hurried back and hunkered down next to Jez, who was hiding behind a metal piece of fence, aiming down the length of her rifle at the soldiers below.
‘That was surprisingly human of you, Cap’n,’ she said. ‘Letting them get off the bridge before you cut it.’
‘What can I say? Every life is a precious twinkling butterfly.’
‘Isn’t it just?’ said Jez, as she squeezed the trigger and blasted a Dakkadian’s brains out of the back his head. ‘We need to make a move, Cap’n. If that lot flank us, we’re dead.’ She looked down at herself, then gave him a rueful smile. ‘ More dead, in my case.’
Well, at least she’s got a sense of humour about being a terrifying half-daemon monstrosity, he thought. He patted her on the shoulder and ran in a crouch over to Ashua.
Ashua was in frantic conversation with Slinkhound as Frey arrived. ‘Is there another way out of here?’ he demanded.
‘That way, ere? amp;rsrsquo said Ashua, pointing.
Frey couldn’t see an exit in that direction, but he had to trust Ashua and her guide. He raised his voice. ‘Everyone, we’re moving out! On the count of three, hoof it!’ Then he made a shooing motion at Slinkhound. ‘You lead.’
Slinkhound just looked at him, eyes dark in the sockets of his skull face. He took it as agreement.
‘Ready?’ he called to his crew. ‘One! T-’
Pinn fled past him, yelling.
‘Alright, just go!’ Frey cried in exasperation. He pulled Slinkhound up, and pushed him off ahead. The Samarlan broke into a sprint, easily outpacing Pinn, who’d just realised that he wasn’t at all sure where he was going. The rest of the crew broke cover and followed.
The soldiers saw them fleeing and gave chase, but the crew had a head start, and they ran for their lives. Somehow Pinn and Malvery kept their feet under them, and Ashua appeared almost completely sober by now. Slinkhound led them along a rough trail, with untouchables scattering out of their way, and then suddenly veered off towards the cavern wall. There was a narrow fissure hidden by a fold in the rock. Slinkhound squeezed inside and disappeared. The others followed. Malvery required a hefty boot in the arse to help him through, but Pinn was on hand and he delivered with gusto.
Beyond was a rough stone tunnel, sloping upwards. As they followed it, it split into more tunnels, with oil lamps burning at the junctions. Wooden joists and support frames propped up the ceiling. Frey guessed that these had once been mine tunnels.
He’d never thought he’d be so glad to be surrounded by dark, confining, lamplit passageways of rock. After being out in the open, with all those bullets flying about, this place felt positively safe. But he knew that the Dakkadians weren’t far behind, and Slinkhound was already racing off ahead.
‘What do you reckon they’re after?’ Jez asked as they hurried after Slinkhound. ‘Us, or the relic?’
‘Who cares?’ Frey replied. ‘How’d they find us, anyway?’
‘Descriptions,’ said Jez. ‘We don’t blend in too well, ’specially since you got all famous. I bet they had scouts out looking for us. One of them picked up the trail.’
‘Never should’ve left any bloody survivors on that train,’ Frey muttered to himself.
They pressed on at speed, hurrying as fast as the tunnels would allow. Slinkhound led them through the gloom. They came across more and more untouchables as they ascended, but no one tried to stop them. The heat grew as they climbed, and they knew they must be nearing the surface.
They heard shouted voices from behind them, and protests from the untouchables as they were flung out of the way. Frey’s group were slowed by Pinn and Malvery, and despite their best efforts, the soldiers were catching them up.
Finally, they reached a narrow set of stairs carved into the rock, which led to a ladder, which led to a trapdoor, which led to a short stone corridor, which led to a heavy door, which opened without warning to the outside.
Frey was taken aback by the sudden sense of space, the electric light that soaked the air, the background clamour of the city and the warm push of night heat. He’d only been underground for an hour or so, but it still felt like he’d stepped into a different world. They emerged onto a quiet, dirty and run-down street. Close by, a rushu was watching them with docile disinterest, tethered to a holding-post.
The door that they’d come from was unmarked and anonymous, hidden beneath a shabby, pillared gallery that overhung it. The whole building looked frankly precarious, with the front portion of the upper floor resting on two wooden pillars. The gallery roof sagged alarmingly.
‘They’re right behind us, Cap’n!’ Malvery panted, as he pulled himself through the trapdoor. He was red-faced and wheezing, and really wasn’t going to be able to run much further. Frey’s own legs were getting weak, and his chest hurt. Not for the first time, he wished they all got a bit more exercise. But that would cut into their drinking time, so he supposed it was never likely to happen.
Jez saw what he was thinking. ‘We could take ’em here, Cap’n,’ she said. ‘They’d be sitting ducks coming through that trapdoor.’
Frey looked around, and then a sly smile crossed his face. ‘I’ve got a better idea.’
He ran over to the rushu that stood nearby. A tiny eye studied him from a thicket of horns and tusks. Frey moved warily along its leathery flank, careful not to startle it. Its handler was nowhere to be seen. He untied the thick tethers that bound the beast to the holding-post, then hurried over to the doorway where his crew were gathered.
Jez was hunkered down by the doorway, covering the stragglers with her rifle. Malvery was the last to stagger through. He stumbled woozily to one side and threw up. Frey ignored him. He was busy tying the tethers around one of the wooden pillars that barely held up the gallery overhead.