CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Erlan peered into the shadows.

Before, he could see nothing but pitch darkness. Now everything seemed to have a dull luminescence. A line of braziers with pallid flames trailed into the gloom.

His heart was galloping, the blood in his veins surging like a storm-swell. He didn’t understand what was happening. Yet his senses were sharper than ever.

He stopped and listened. Behind, silence. Ahead, a jumble of far-off murmurings, the pulse of drums, the ring of iron. Lilla must be that way.

He limped towards the noises. The light was growing. At least he could see more and more. The rock walls rose about him. Looking higher, he saw nooks and hollows; a few at first, then more and more until the cavern was riddled like a honeycomb.

He came to a crack between two shoulders of rock, followed the path round a bend and halted in surprise. Steps descended into another chasm, this one filled with light and noise. A fresh stench filled his nostrils. He recoiled, disgusted.

Suddenly a figure appeared with lank white hair and a hunched body. A Nefelung thrall? Whatever it was looked up, eyes straining, hesitated a moment, then turned to run.

Erlan leaped after it. The Nefelung had no time to escape. Erlan was on him at once, kicking away his legs. The Nefelung fell headlong down the steps, crashed against a rock, then turned, cowering away from him.

For the first time, he saw its face clearly. Like a man’s with all the colour leached out of it. Eyes darting, with ugly sores, blackened teeth, a nose crossed with scars. But there was no time to inspect any closer.

He put his point to the Nefelung’s chest.

‘Where is she?’ The response only a craven babbling.

‘The woman?’ But the creature shrank back, a jabbering heap. Erlan shook the tail in his face.

‘The woman!’ he cried.

When the Nefelung saw the tail, he screamed, his face twisting in sudden terror, desperate to get away.

Struck by the tail’s effect, Erlan hesitated, long enough for the Nefelung to throw himself over the edge into the darkness. There was a scraping noise as he slid into the abyss.

Erlan beheld the tail, wondering what power he had in his hands.

But there was no time to waste. He limped on, able to see quite well now, the pain of his wounds somehow dulled. At the bottom, he turned a bend and emerged from a cut.

A vast cavern opened about him.

The path continued straight. Either side of it, the ground fell away into deep pits. He saw steps down into some, and further on other paths and stairways leading into higher caverns and cracks.

The noise grew all the time – a din of murmurs and shrieks and scrapings – drums – metal hammering. He stumbled along the pathway, a new dread seeping into his heart.

And looking down into the pits, he saw things of such horror as he never would forget.

In one, a writhing sea of bodies, and from them moans and gasps rose up in an unbroken sibilant breath. He heard women’s wails and saw many muscular backs at work, something twisted and brutish in their shape.

In another, drums echoed off the walls around a horde of Nefelung leaping about in a mad frenzy, pale arms whirring overhead.

He shuffled on, gagging at the stench rising from the next pit. There, he saw figures stirring a boiling stew of blood and body parts in huge vats, and seated around them other figures clutching bowls, slopping the grisly contents into their mouths. But these ones were somehow different. Bigger, with rounded shoulders and crooked hands. He remembered the Watcher’s words – of the Vandrung, the deformed sirelings of the overlords. He shook his head, bewildered at this demon’s nest of horrors.

He moved to the next pit. There, the smell was worse, of open viscera and human filth. There too, the cries of infants – newborn sons and daughters of this strange race, lying wretched and helpless. One by one they were put before a Nefelung with a knife, whose long hair was soaked red. He slashed the tiny throats and pushed them, still wriggling, to another who slit them loin to chin and began disembowelling them. Erlan tore his eyes away, his stomach heaving with disgust.

Forcing himself on, he saw more pits on the other side: one in which bodies were strung up, stretched out and skinned. In another, rows of the Nefelung lay prostrate before a great stone likeness of a serpent; in yet another sounded the ring of metal, with molten iron glowing in smiths’ faces, and stacks of all kinds of weapons and outlandish objects, embellished with spikes and hooks. But none of them looked up and saw him. All seemed too intent on their grisly business.

This is all some mad nightmare. It must be. He felt his mind slipping under, drowning in revulsion.

Suddenly a scream pierced the deathly air. Far closer this time, and from above.

Lilla.

Just ahead, a staircase led up to the right, disappearing into a dark hole. He took it and began climbing. At the top the steps narrowed into a passageway. He stopped to listen, eyes probing the gloom. Ahead, he heard a whimper, just for a second, then a low snicker.

He steadied his sword and edged around a curve in the passage until at last he saw two figures standing guard at the entrance to another chamber. They were peering inside, each clutching a long-spear.

He took a deep breath and ran at them.

He was onto the nearest guard at once. The spear-point lowered to meet him, but it was too late. Wrathling scythed into the guard’s side so deep Erlan felt its edge scrape his spine. The guard gave an agonized shriek. Erlan ripped his blade clear and turned to face the other.

The Nefelung braced himself. Erlan flicked out the tail. The effect was that same craven look. The guard flung down his spear and turned to flee, but Erlan was quicker. He whipped the tail. With a crack, it coiled round the pale neck. He jerked his hand, pulling the creature onto its back. In an eye-blink, Wrathling was wet with fresh blood and the Nefelung sighing his last breath.

Erlan stepped over the body and went inside.

A brazier, flaming yellow, stood on one side. Along the wall were apertures in the rock through which came the sounds of the hideous scenes below, and in the middle was an enormous bed.

On it lay a naked woman. Her limbs were bound to the corners, her skin slick with oil. In another place, another time, he might have reckoned the contours of her body beautiful. But here, there was something horrible about the way she was splayed out. She lay quite still.

‘Lilla!’

The princess stirred, moaned, tried to lift her head. ‘You!’ Her voice was a broken whisper.

He moved around the corners of the bed, cutting her free.

‘Don’t look at me,’ she said, writhing in shame. ‘Look away!’

‘Believe it or not, Princess, I didn’t come here to gawp at you!’ he snarled, severing the last bond.

Once her hands were released, she covered herself.

‘Put this on.’ He unfastened his cloak and threw it over her.

She sat up, hugging the cloak to her chest. ‘Is he dead?’

‘Yes.’ Her eyes looked half-dead with fear and fatigue.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I cut off his head. Good enough for you?’

Her face curdled. ‘What’s that?’ She nodded at the dark coil he had tossed on the bed.

‘He had a tail. I took it from him.’

‘Why would you do that?’ she asked, shrinking away from it.

‘Listen to me – we need to get away from here – now!’

But she didn’t hear him. Her shoulders started shaking and her mouth curled into laughter. Cackling laughter that grew and grew, until her whole body shook and her eyes became wild. And then she was sobbing, gasping for air, tears staining her face.

Erlan took her in his arms, squeezing her, feeling her shudder against him. Suddenly she pushed him away.

‘Why are you here?’

‘Your father sent me.’

‘You? Of all his men, he sent you? I don’t understand. You’re a. . . a. . .’

‘A fucking cripple, I know! You’re hardly in a position to be picky, Princess.’

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and then seemed to regain some control. ‘I’m sorry. I should thank you. . . For coming for me.’

‘Coming is one thing. Getting out is another. Can you walk?’

‘I think so. But how can we get away? There are so many of them!’

‘We’re going to try.’ Though just then the surface seemed about as far off as the moon, and no easier to reach. ‘At least I’ll get you away from this place. But to find our way back to the surface—’

‘I know the way!’

‘You do? How?’

‘Even in darkness, a quick mind can see.’

‘What? You think you could find the way back through that warren of caverns? You must be out of your mind!’

‘That’s the whole point. It was to stop myself going out of my mind that I forced myself to memorize it.’ She tapped her head, eyes ablaze. ‘When they brought me here, I carved every step, every turn, every echo right here. It was my only hope.’

It was a thin shred to go on, but what choice did they have?

She must have seen the doubt in his face. ‘Trust me. I’ve retraced those steps a hundred times in my head already.’

‘All right. Do you have any things?’

‘My dress,’ she gestured at a heap of rags in the corner. ‘What’s left of it.’

‘It’ll do for now. Up there, we’ve plenty of things for you.’

‘We? You mean my father is up there with his men?’

‘Not your father. My servant, Kai.’

‘What! That little clown of yours?’

‘That’s right,’ he scowled, running out of patience. ‘The clown and the cripple got this far, so I suggest you shift your noble backside if we want to get any further.’

At last she did as he bid her, climbed off the bed and snatched up the remains of her dress. ‘Do you mind?’ she said, over a naked shoulder.

‘Just get on with it.’ He turned away, glowering, and gathered up his sword and the tail from the bed. When he looked back, she had the dress over her head.

‘Ready?’

She nodded. ‘What about light? We’ll go much faster with a torch.’

‘Don’t worry about that. I can see in the shadows.’

‘You can?’ It was her turn to be surprised. ‘How?’

‘I don’t know.’ He thought about telling her what happened. But how could he explain what he didn’t understand himself? ‘I just can. You’ll have to trust me.’

For the first time, she smiled at him. A forlorn smile, true, but it showed there was still some fight left in her. ‘Your eyes and my mind, huh?’ she said.

‘Let’s go.’

Outside, Lilla immediately stalled, horrified at the two bodies.

‘Leave them!’ he shouted.

But, half-dazed, she bent down and picked a spear out of the lake of blood that had leaked across the floor.

‘Come on!’ Erlan urged and led her to the staircase and the cavern of gruesome pits. ‘That way,’ Lilla murmured. ‘Past the demon’s other chamber.’

They hurried along the pathway. ‘They’re monsters,’ he heard her moan.

‘Don’t look!’ They were passing the pit where the Nefelung were carving up their newborn. He kept his eyes fixed ahead. They were about to reach the cut that would lead them away from that hall of horrors when footsteps echoed down the stairway towards them.

Suddenly another figure appeared. In his hand was the severed head of the Watcher. Erlan stopped in surprise. The figure was like none he’d yet seen in this kingdom of nightmares.

He was taller than the slavish Nefelung, with the appearance almost of an ordinary man by features and proportion. But his extreme paleness and the sinewy strength in his limbs were unnatural, and in his eyes shone a cruelty born of pure darkness.

An overlord. A son of Azazel.

His eyes gleamed with bloodlust. He lifted a long streak of blackened steel. Erlan felt Lilla’s hand on his shoulder, her breath in his ear, whispering words he didn’t understand.

The overlord raised the Watcher’s head and shook it, then spoke in a voice hard as granite. Whatever he said, his meaning was clear – he wanted revenge.

Erlan brandished the tail, half-expecting, half-hoping the overlord to cower from it. But he stood his ground, spittle flecking his pale lips as foul words poured forth.

‘Take this,’ he said, proffering the tail to Lilla.

‘I’ll not touch it.’

‘Take it!’ he snarled.

Bridling her disgust, she did as bid.

He stepped forward. The overlord came to meet him, uttering a last vengeful cry; then dropping the massive head, he took his black blade in both hands.

‘You talk like your father. I took his head. Yours will fare no better.’ Erlan laughed – a cracked, crazy laugh – feeling something dark welling inside him. The overlord bellowed in reply and hurled himself forward, hacking at Erlan’s open flank.

He shoved his sword to meet the blow, but with no shield and little space, his position was weak.

‘Back! Back!’ he shouted.

He heard Lilla retreat, still speaking her prayers or spells or curses or whatever the Hel she was saying. He cut upwards, knocked away the overlord’s blade, his opponent’s mouth curling into a sneer, hissing something in his demon tongue, shaking his head in contempt.

But Erlan didn’t wait to listen. He lunged – once, twice. The overlord fell back, slashing down on his arms, but Erlan blocked and lunged again. Still no blow landed. And suddenly he’d over-reached and saw too late the cut from his left. He felt steel hit his side, waited for the blaze of pain.

But it never came.

Both froze, stunned that Erlan was still standing. Lilla’s stream of words was louder than ever. Erlan recovered first and struck at the other’s arm. This time the blade bit. The overlord screamed in rage.

The cut was deep but he was far from finished. He flew at Erlan with fresh fury. A gap flashed ahead and Erlan lurched through it, switching places.

There was no way to win this fight on the narrow pathway, but now he had his back to the steps. He inched back – step by step, readying himself – planning to leap wide for a killing stroke. The overlord pressed harder. Erlan gave another two yards.

Suddenly his weak ankle jarred against something heavy. It rolled. He tripped. Saw he was going over, cried out. His back smashed against the ground, and he glimpsed the Watcher’s deathly face past his feet. The overlord’s eyes blazed in triumph as he leaped forward to skewer his foe.

But Erlan was still moving, gaining speed, slipping down the lip of rock and over the edge.

In horror, Erlan felt himself plunging headlong towards one of the pits. The drumming below was deafening. The last thing he saw as he went over was the overlord’s victorious sneer.

He snatched at the dizzying air – for a heartbeat, nothing – then he smashed into something hard. There were shrieks all around, the stench of sweat and rancid flesh. The drumming ceased suddenly. Under him, someone was groaning. And then weird pale faces were crowding over him.

Their eyes were dead, their jaws working; sweat dripped from their scarred faces. He hauled himself to his feet, Wrathling still welded to his hand.

The Nefelung he’d landed on was moaning, his body broken. Erlan looked up. The overlord was leaning over, shouting down into the pit. One by one, the Nefelung around him began to look up, began to heed what he was saying.

His face was a mask of urgency, but then a long blood-slicked spear erupted from his chest – just for a second – and was gone. It was so brief, Erlan thought maybe he’d imagined it. But the overlord’s sneer melted, his sword fell and then he tumbled forward into the pit.

Erlan threw himself aside as the body thumped onto the miserable Nefelung, the sword following hard after it. The others went wild, leaping about like the ground was burning. He got up quickly and looked about. The overlord lay on one side, limbs wrenched like a broken doll, his chest a gaping hole.

‘Erlan! Erlan! Are you down there?’ Lilla’s voice. Of course, Lilla!

He bellowed her name. Then there she was, peering into the pit. The Nefelung were closing in on him, jaws gurning. They looked like they’d tear him limb from limb.

‘Lilla! The tail – throw down the tail!’

He saw her look behind her, and then a shadow was flying like a flailing serpent through the air. It splattered to the ground beside the broken bodies.

Erlan snatched it up, brandishing it in front of him. The nearest Nefelung recoiled with a whimper. He pushed forward, driving them away in confusion, but with no idea which way to go.

‘Can you see a way out?’ he yelled.

‘I can’t see!’

‘Look again!’

‘I’m trying!’ She leaned forward, straining her eyes into the shadows. Suddenly she pointed. ‘There, on the far side. There are steps back up.’

He turned to where she was pointing. The hideous faces surged around him. He cracked the tail and the Nefelung nearest to him trembled, pushing back.

The shrieks and yells faded into wails and whimpers, each Nefelung cowering from him as he moved through the throng. At last, he saw steps out of the pit.

He hurried to them and, ignoring the pain in his ankle, took them two at a time. Below, the Nefelung were herding around the foot of the steps as if, at a distance from the dreaded tail, they dared come after him.

At the top, he saw a pathway disappearing into darkness one way. The other, it skirted the pit-wall back to Lilla, waiting with the bloodied spear in her hands.

He hurried along it, hundreds of pairs of eyes on him from below. At last he reached her. He wanted to hug her from pure relief, but she’d already turned away.

‘Hey!’ he said, taking her elbow. ‘You saved my life.’

‘Not yet I haven’t.’ She pointed down at the crowd of Nefelung, who were halfway up the staircase and seemed to be growing bolder every moment. He glanced down and saw one of the larger Nefelung had picked up the overlord’s sword, was turning it in his hand. ‘Come on!’ Her cheeks were ash-grey. ‘Now!’ she screamed.

‘My eyes, your mind, right?’ he said, looping the tail over his sheath.

She nodded.

‘You’d better be as smart as you think you are, Princess.’

‘We’re about to find out.’ She put her hand in his and they set off up the stairs.