The darkness gathered as the six Storm Knights tumbled out of the boat into the cold surf to beach the boat. Brenden panted, "Nicely done, Anna. Turner couldn't have done better -- before he went Jakett."
"Thanks," Anna huffed back. "Keep pushing. We've got to beach this thing." After a minute or two of minimal progress, Anna tried reorganizing the effort. "Conn and Black astern. Alain port. Brenden starboard. Shiro on bow with me. Move." Brenden wasn't the only one panting, and they all shivered from more than the cold water and evening breeze; the voyage had extracted a hefty toll. Even Conn was moving slowly. Brains filled the gap left by flagging brawn; under Anna's gentle guidance, the next wave grounded the longboat. They stood in the surf while Alain pulled out her grimoire, and found a spell for enchanted strength. With that magical boost, they managed to drag the boat above the high water mark.
"We must go inland and set up camp," declared Conn. "It will be safer there."
"Who does he think he is, Talos?" muttered Brenden, though he gave a minimum-energy nod of agreement: head down, easy; head up, hard.
"Think fire, think heat," encouraged Black, although the delivery was less than enthusiastic.
The weary group trudged off, dragging some of their less vital equipment behind them. About two kilometers into the scrub, Anna finally called a halt. Dropping a pack, Brenden whispered to himself, "Half a league . . . half a league onward . . . Into the Valley of Death . . . stumbled the six hunted."
"I beg to differ," wheezed Shiro. "We are the hunters." Brenden didn't have the energy to shoot him a proper dirty look.
Anna looked around, trying to take in details in the poor light of a cloud-shrouded gibbous moon. "This looks like as good a spot as any. You know the drill." Her voice was a hoarse whisper, barely louder than Brenden's sotto voce poetry. Wearily, they set about their tasks. Conn gathered together their baggage, Alain brought logs over to Black, who had begun kindling a fire while Anna and Brenden set up tents. Shiro busied himself with explosives.
Not looking up from his work, Shiro explained once more, "No, Alain, they're not wards; I have to trigger them myself." Well, most of them anyway.
Alain went to gather more firewood, tracing a spiral out from the camp. She stooped to add another branch to her bundle and sensed, more than saw, glowing eyes out of the corner of her vision. To her surprise, she found herself unable to stand to get a better look. Her arms froze, one crooked about her bundle of kindling, the other in the act of sliding another branch into place. What is this? Her feet would not move. Panic welled within her. A voice caressed her mind. "Look at me, looook at me," reverberated in her head. That she knew she could do, but the inarticulate scream of some inner sense of self-preservation momentarily drowned out the whisper. I will not look. I must not look. She could not close her eyes, she could not call for help. She could only endure, marshaling all her will to defy the siren song in her mind while her legs and back cramped painfully and the cold sweat of fear traced static rivulets down her face and arms.
Alain's stomach knotted and her vision dimmed, except, always, for the eyes. Again, the elf fought down panic, bringing to mind mental discipline drills from her apprentice days. Anything to hold the voice at bay for a little longer.
A shockingly loud noise caused Alain to flinch and fall backwards. She was already scrambling to her feet before it sunk in that she could get to her feet. Whirling around in confusion, Alain saw Shiro holding a smoking pistol in a two-handed grip. "I got it, whatever it was." Anna came crashing into the scene from the other side.
Alain suppressed a shudder and looked to where the eyes had been. There was no sign of them. "I am fine. Thank you." Anna came over anyway, her face framing an unasked question.
Shiro trod over to a bush and held up a decapitated bird-like thing. "What was this?"
Now Alain shivered, with the awful realization of what might have been. "It is a cockatrice. Do not look for the head; their gaze can turn you to stone, or so the tales say. It paralyzed me, but it could not get me to fully meet its gaze. It is a very good thing you two came along when you did."
Colour Sergeant Black had coaxed the campfire to roaring heights with alacrity, a vital survival skill in the Gaean bush. Two of the largest of the few remaining brands lay on a horse blanket which had been torn into strips. When he saw that all was well, he banked the fire, ploughing dirt around the edge of the blaze with his boot. Still, the sound of sputtering and popping wood remained loud in the camp for several minutes more. Brenden and Conn reappeared out of the gloom, putting away unneeded weapons.
Alain quickly told of her misadventure. Conn's unusually laconic but well-taken comment was, "Well, at least we won't have to worry about predators tonight."
Soon clothes were rigged to dry in the heat of the fire and most of the Storm Knights turned in, too tired for the usual evening chatter. Shiro sipped his tea for once without distraction; only the Colour Sergeant and Brenden, who had first watch, were still awake and for a change they were not arguing over their ersatz coffee. They could make it strong, strong enough to keep them alert for their watch, but there was an art to making it palatable. Unfortunately, neither had mastered this art despite varied and intense experimentation.
Dawn came all too soon. The party had become accustomed to rising before the sun, but not today. Exhaustion overrode habit. Only Shiro and Conn were awake, both having stood the third watch. Shiro availed himself of the opportunity to practice his katas undisturbed; Conn had spoken barely a half dozen words in three hours and now squatted next to last night's fire, making random swirls in the ashes with a partially burnt stick and radiating sulky aloofness. Probably unhappy he wasn't the one to rescue the elf. Shiro concentrated on regulating his breathing. This was normally second nature to him, but he had been getting sloppy of late and was determined to do it right today. The outside world faded as his focus moved inward and his body flowed in the kata's intricate movements with scarce conscious involvement.
Some minutes later, Colour Sergeant Black awoke and absently began his morning kit. Most of his attention was focused on Shiro's performance. How can anyone move so quietly? Must be some heathen trickery.
Soon Anna and Alain were up and, exhibiting that phenomenon which transcended realities, left to do morning things away from the men as a pair, even though the available facilities were limited to a small stream, a large boulder, and many trees.
Conn fidgeted awhile, then stood and paced over to Brenden's tent. Shame at his failure to protect Alain burned within him, and the burden of his quest sat like lead in his stomach. At other times, he would have made light of Brenden's late start this morning, but today his personal furies goaded him. The sooner they got started, the sooner this terrible responsibility would finally end.
Then, too, if Conn had been in his usual buoyant spirits, he might have noticed that Brenden's repose was anything but peaceful; the former CIA man twitched and whimpered softly amidst his twisted blankets. Conn toed Brenden and bellowed, "Wake up!"
Brenden was all over Conn in an instant. Before Conn could do more than flinch, Brenden had practically climbed up his chest and laced fingers around his throat in an iron grip. Brenden raved, "My country, my good name, my world! I won't let you murdering bastards get away with it!" His eyes held no awareness.
Surprised, Conn pushed Brenden away with all his considerable might. Brenden staggered backwards and crashed into his tent. Slowly, understanding crept across his face. Then came embarrassment and anger. Brenden popped up again, almost as quickly as before. "You bloody, damned-fool, muscle-bound oaf! What the Hell were you thinking, pulling a no-brainer like that?"
"I thought--" began Conn defiantly.
It was exactly the wrong tack to cool off Brenden, who suddenly passed from towering rage to icy venom. Dropping into Ayslish, he lashed out with the pent up vitriol of four years of war and pain and fear, trying to exorcize the demons of his recent nightmare. "Think? I doubt any of your people, who for five hundred years failed to notice their Great Lady was possessed and leading them down the road of corruption, murdering worlds, can be accused of thinking." He sneered the last word to terrible effect.
Brenden's taunt sliced deep. Conn's faced reddened ominously and he moved to within inches of Brenden, drawing himself to his full height and throwing back his shoulders. "You overstep yourself, little man," he rumbled down at Brenden. Though he spotted the Ayslish warrior better than eight inches and a hundred pounds, Brenden did not give ground. The two stood chest to chest, eyes locked, Conn stiff with anger, Brenden dangerously loose.
Colour Sergeant Black had not digested all of the exchange, but years of ingrained habit made his decision for him. "Mind your place, you great, hulking fool! You knocked over the hornets' nest, now own up to it."
Alain showed up then, and immediately laid blame where she was predisposed to see it. She railed against Shiro for not keeping a lid on things. Shiro's rejoinder, crossing three languages, involved foolish idealists who would be better off as statuary.
A new round of unpleasantness began, the volume ratcheting higher.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, ALL OF YOU!"
Anna's profanity shocked them into silence and left their ears ringing. Stepping into the center of the camp, she scolded her fractious comrades. "Look people, we've got a job to do. This is the dark zone talking. We've worked together for years, and there are lots of people counting on us. So, get your acts together and stop acting like undergrads! Conn, set Brenden down. Alain, you and Shiro kiss and make up. Black, put the coffee pot down. Brenden, release Conn's codpiece. It'll look great in Camelot when Arthur asks me where my entourage is, and I tell him in they're in the fucking nursery with all the rest of the spoiled brats. Look, it's been rough, but we can make it. We will make it. Even if I have to drag each of your sorry asses the rest of the way, we will make it. Now let's clean up this mess."
There was a very long, embarrassed silence. "Are you sure you still need a face man, Anna?" Brenden asked sheepishly.
"Dreadfully sorry ma'am," said Black, standing at stiff attention, eyes fixed on a point above Anna's shoulder.
"Anna, you are correct. Akira Shiro, I apologize."
"Accepted. And I beg both of your forgiveness."
"What's an undergrad?" asked Conn. The honest if nervous laughter that followed lasted significantly longer than the shouting and did much to patch things up.
After an earnestly well-mannered breakfast, the group began the trek to Port Erin. During the midmorning break, Brenden broke out several maps. "Well, the town should be over that hill." Roads and highway signs were long destroyed or transformed, the very memory of their existence fading. However, topography didn't change -- much -- under axiom washes, and the Royal Ordnance Survey maps to which Brenden referred were among the best in the world. "Any ideas what we're looking for once we get there?"
"We're talking about something like a cairn, right? Let's get there and see what we see. If nothing stands out, well, there are ways . . . ." Anna tailed off mysteriously.
"Not the bouncing blue ball of doom!" cried Brenden in mock horror.
Conn followed up with a theatrical groan. "The terrible harbinger of fear, fire, and foes! To arms, comrades! Doom hangs over our heads!"
Even Alain got in on it, sketching an old wives' gesture to ward off evil. "Not that fell ensorcelment!"
Several years ago, Anna began picking up the rudiments of magic. Her first useful cantrip was a pathfinding spell, a blue ball of light which moved towards the object the caster desired. Anna had been very proud the first time she assayed the it in the field. The spell had worked quite well, and that group of Storm Knights, including Brenden, Conn, and Alain, had run off after the spot of light as it zipped its way to an artifact buried somewhere under the chalk giant of Cerne Abbas. They found the light pulsing over the spot all right. Unfortunately, however, a group of CyberPapists had reached the location first. The CyberPapal cardinal and his alerted minions were not amused by this manifestation of unholy witchery. Anna had never been allowed to live it down.
Anna took the ribbing well. It was worth it to her to see the others again working as a team and at ease with each other. I guess that's leadership. And besides, I've got a trump. "Would any of you care to recall who found the Nile stela, and with what fell ensorcelment?"
"Details, details," dismissed Brenden, eliciting another round of chuckles.
The town, viewed from the hills, was a depressing site. Whatever Port Erin had once been, it now consisted of little more than one cobblestone road leading from the docks north into the hills. One or two cramped ranks of wooden and thatch buildings lined the modest thoroughfare. The few columns of smoke which rose to disappear in the rain-laden sky showed that the town was not completely abandoned, but there was no one to be seen outdoors.
"Well, what do you see?" asked Anna of Brenden and Montgomery, whose trained eyes scanned the town and its surroundings with binoculars.
Brenden lowered the binoculars and rubbed his eyes. "Nothing jumps out at me, I'm afraid."
"The road leads beyond the town into the hills to our north. Perhaps there?" asked the Colour Sergeant.
Brenden nodded. "Yeah, that seems like our best bet."
"Okay then, do we go into town and talk to the locals?" Anna pondered aloud.
"I would do that only as a last resort. While the indigenous population might be able to tell us something worthwhile, can you doubt that there will be agents of our enemies waiting for a group such as ours?"
Anna sighed. "Good point, Shiro. Well, let's circle around that way. We should be there a little after noon. Once there, I'll try the pathfinder spell. We'll see if there's anything within range."
They intersected the road about three miles north of Port Erin. At this distance, it was little more than a pair of ruts in the fields. Anna attempted her spell. To her mild surprise, the blue spot of light began moving down the road, away from town. The Storm Knights followed at a comfortable walk.
After fifteen minutes or so, they came upon a pair of freestanding buttressed arches flanking a small stone building squatting amidst ruins just off the path. The spot of blue light shone steadily from the base of the left arch. "The arches have the same patterns as inside the mounds back in York, if that means anything," said Brenden after a moment's examination.
The group shed their excess baggage and moved to investigate. The two arches looked as though they should have fallen long ago. "I do not know how they did that," said Shiro. "Look at how they are twisted. The mortar should have failed under the shear stresses long ago." Perhaps because it fell within his pre-war experience, Shiro was more deeply offended by this incongruity than by most of his more outr experiences.
The building was a different matter. No vines found purchase on it and the heavy door set in its center belied no sign of weathering. Runes similar to those on the arches stood out sharply. "Door number one looks promising," muttered Anna. Surprisingly, the door opened easily, revealing a descending staircase. "I think it's time to try the pathfinder spell again. Let's see if it tells us anything.". The blue light began moving agin and descended the stairs. "Thought so," said Anna. "Is there any reason for us all to go spelunking?"
"Probably not. It might be a good idea to keep watch on our gear and to make sure no one disturbs you," answered Brenden.
"I, for one, would not wish to descend into a crypt without knowing it will not be sealed behind me." They gave the Colour Sergeant very strange looks. Only someone from Orrorsh, thought Brenden and Anna as one. It was agreed that Brenden and Colour Sergeant Black would remain above ground. The others lit prepared torches and set off after the magical blue ball.
Anna and company trod carefully down the stairs to avoid slipping on the damp stones. At the bottom a cramped passageway loomed before them and a faint blue glow illuminated a nearby bend. After the light of day fell behind them, lost in the meandering of the tunnel, the blue glow was plain to see. They made the best speed they could, crabbing along stoop shouldered with torch smoke stinging their eyes. Occasional droplets from the ceiling sizzled in torches or splattered on faces to round out the unpleasantness of the foray. They caught up with the blue ball just as it hung a left into a wall.
"Unfortunate."
"Nonsense, Shiro, it just means we've got to do some digging. Do you have anything for this?"
Sliding past Anna proved awkward and undignified, but manageable. "Let's see." He studied the wall and ceiling for several meters around where the blue ball had disappeared. "Yes, the stonework here is newer than the surrounding wall. It would probably be safest if I just weakened it a little, and we pulled out the rest. I dislike burying myself alive." Shiro extracted a wire and a clay-like substance from his backpack. "Normally I'd clear the tunnel and use a radio detonator, but that carries unpredictable and potentially unfortunate side effects." Shiro had not forgotten his experience with the LAW rocket. He dabbed small pieces of plastic explosive into cracks in the rocks and joints, then ushered the others back around a bend. "I cannot spare more wire, so I must remain here. You might wish to back up even further. Cover your ears and open your mouths." Even with their ears stopped up, the concussion and sound were unpleasantly strong in the confined space. The torches flickered as the compression wave passed, then failed as significant quantities of water were shaken loose from the ceiling. Sputtering and cursing, Anna and Shiro produced flashlights.
"I wasn't expecting a drenching," complained Anna.
Conn took it stoically. "I'd rather water fall on my head than the ceiling."
"There is that," agreed Shiro sourly. He led them to the result of his handiwork. After a satisfied nod, he began removing stones. Anna and Conn squeezed in and help.
Very quickly they discovered an empty space behind the wall. Anna shone her Maglite in through the hole. "It's a small room, maybe six by six by ten. There's some sort of design on the opposite wall." The small hole was quickly widened until a person could fit through.
After some rearranging, Alain ducked into the room and examined the symbol. "It is assuredly some manner of ward." She examined it for some time. "This ward," she began pedantically, "has the feel of the message-ward that sprang after we tampered with Merlin's magic at Stonehenge. The purpose is different, but the caster's style, his or her signature, feels the same."
"So, then, the caster is no friend of ours?" asked Conn.
Alain consulted various arcane tools and continued her investigation. "I would say not. Aha! I think I glean its purpose. This is a barrier, like Merlin's ward, though much less subtle. Unfortunately, what it lacks in subtlety, it makes up in power."
"Stand aside, Alain. It is time to put it to the test. Which then, is mightier? The magic or this brand?" Conn crawled through the hole, his shoulders knocking away small mortar chips. Alain withdrew and all held their breaths as Conn swung Excalibur at the sigil. The sword passed through the sign and rock, like a stick through oil on water. The rock immediately flowed back into shape, leaving no trace of Excalibur's passing. The symbol, however, clung to the blade, stretching and deforming as it passed through. Conn swung again and again until the ward was unrecognizable. It flared brightly, blinding eyes accustomed to torch and flashlight, then vanished. Almost immediately, there came a shout echoing down the tunnel. The words were lost, but the tone seemed upbeat.
Shiro and Anna raced back to the entrance, heedless of scraped elbows and protesting backs. Alain wriggled out into the passageway and took off in hot pursuit. Conn gave thanks to Dunad, sheathed Excalibur, carefully stepped through the hole into the passageway, and sprinted to the surface. When he emerged, Conn saw the others gathered around the left arch. Through the archway wispy clouds watched over the day lilies in their green beds. After a moment he realized Anna was saying something. "Conn. Conn. Hello in there."
"Your pardon. What?"
"As you opened it, it is only fair you go through first."
He didn't have to be told twice.