Through the Forms, Ancel discerned where Kendin became one with the ground. The same occurrence repeated itself among all the Sven. Tracing the ripple left in their wake, he stared in shock as they, now a part of the earth, traveled to the cliff wall. As each one gained the icy surface, they reformed into what he could only describe as a set of stairs, joining where the other stopped. The steps continued up until they were level with the sewer.
A disturbance three times as large as the others flowed up the cliff face. It stopped, and then grew from the ice-covered surface. Edges curved out into a cylindrical shape large enough to hold a man. In moments, it joined with the drain.
Ancel cocked his head to one side. The thing was a tunnel made of stone and fit into the sewer exit, tilting slightly upward. Water gushed around the outside, some spilling from the new formation. In slow increments, the new runoff dwindled until a mere trickle escaped. However, sewage still rushed around and down the new tunnel’s exterior while inside remained dry.
“I’ve seen lots of strange things in the past few months,” Mirza said as he strode over, “and still I see something new often enough to shake my head. Never a dull moment.”
“Indeed.”
“Well the men are as ready as they’ll ever be. Before the water starts making those stairs as slick as a dancer’s oiled backside I say we do what we came here for.”
“This won’t be easy,” Ancel said in response to Mirza’s dry humor. “I fear what we’ll find inside the city.”
“Nothing is ever easy.” Mirza’s expression became grim. “Whatever awaits inside we deal with as needed.”
Ancel wanted to tell his friend what he suspected, but instead he nodded. If he was right, there would be time enough for Mirza to see how bad things were and the type of treachery they would have to deal with in the future. “If it goes bad in there, get as many out as you can.”
“How will I know when that is?”
“Trust me, you’ll know.” With his Pathfinder escort, Charra at his side, and Mirza following, Ancel headed to the front of his men.
The first step onto the platform-like stairs felt strange. He knew he was walking on living stone, on the bodies of the Sven. The sela essences that made up their life swirled from one to the next. They vibrated within him as if from his own heartbeat.
When he reached the new tunnel molded onto the cliff wall and the old algae-encrusted exit with icicles around its edges, he stopped. The opening yawned before him. He knew the new tunnel growing from its insides was Kendin’s body. The hole in front of him had to be a part of the Svenzar’s mouth. Well, you wondered if they would eat you, and now they will. The humor eased his uncertainty. After a deep breath to clear his thoughts and the hint of fear fluttering in his belly, he strode inside.
His footsteps echoed along with those of the others following him. Similar to a Travelshaft, a soft glow lit the interior. Ancel strode forward amid the muted breaths of man and beast and the scuff of leather on stone. The tunnel angled upward. Soon, they were walking on level ground. They exited within the sewer system and into putrid air and squeaking rats. Darkness stretched ahead of them with a pinpoint to show where the passage ended.
Ancel Forged, twisting air and light to match their surroundings. “Uncover the lightstones.”
“You sure? They will be a beacon if anyone looks down here,” Mirza said.
“No one will see. Trust me.”
After a brief pause and a sigh, Mirza said, “Well, you heard the man.”
Moments later came the rustle of cloth. A soft, white glow bloomed. It lit the tunnel. The drains were much the same as he remembered, clogged with shit and other wastes. His imagination conjured ghastly images of what could be wriggling within the sewage. Disturbed by the sudden luminance, rats as big as a man’s leg scurried away, squeaking their displeasure.
Convinced of the Sven’s earlier claim, Ancel led his men forward. Power resonated above him in such torrents he felt he could extend his hand and touch it. The dream he experienced in the Travelshaft rose fresh in his mind. After a deep breath that he almost regretted when he swallowed the area’s stench, he recalled the drainage system and its series of open spaces joined by tunnels. He set off, weaving his way by memory. The castle, main plaza, and its temples dedicated to the gods pulled at him. His captured people were there.
A brief trek filled with the stifled breathing and muffled coughs of a few brought him and his men to a passage much like the others.
“Kendin,” Ancel kept his voice low, “I need you to confirm that the castle’s cellars are on the opposite side of this wall. If so, make us a door.”
Ancel sensed more than he saw the ripple that passed through the stone. He waited. A restless pressure almost overcame him when the wall slid apart. It was as if the stone simply peeled back.
One of his soldiers holding a torch stepped forward. Beyond was a dusty, expansive storage room, one half of it filled with barrels and crates. Across the room was a wide set of stairs.
After he stepped through, Ancel waited for as many soldiers as could fit to crowd inside and settle down. When they noticed he watched, silence spread across the room and outside.
“I have a deep respect for all you who have come here to fight this battle even knowing you will face shadelings and worse,” he said. “Make no mistake; many of you will die today. If you’re wounded, there is a good chance no one will be able to save you. Your one solace is in fire, in the Streams. The same Streams that can corrupt you will also prevent what awaits you should you succumb to a darkwraith’s blade or a daemon’s tentacles. Remember that. Set it in your heart and mind now. If someone falls, behead them or burn them. It’s the only way to ensure they don’t rise again.”
“What of your own people?” Leukisa’s eyes were sunlit orbs that reminded Ancel of Charra’s.
This was the hard part, but he hoped Mirza would understand. “If they have been turned, they too will face the same fate.” Ancel met Mirza’s eyes. His friend gave him a nod. Tension eased from his shoulders. “You all know your roles in this. Our jobs are to assassinate whoever leads here and to rescue those captured. In that order. If all else fails, those in command must die. Understood?” He waited from the murmurs of acknowledgment, and then turned to Leukisa. “Send word to Ordelia to commence the attack.”
Even with the meager light cast by the flames, he noted the Exalted’s eyebrows as they rose in surprise. The man didn’t expect him to know they could communicate mentally. And he didn’t. It had been a guess.
Leukisa bowed then closed his eyes. When he opened them he said, “It has begun.”
As he said the words, the bells throughout Randane tolled a slow lament. The ceiling shook. Dust cascaded down.
“Give the soldiers a moment to empty from the castle,” Mirza said under his breath. “Kendin, let us know when the halls are reasonably clear.”
Time dragged while they waited. A roar from outside interrupted the breaths of man and beast. Deep in his Matersense with the voices flitting outside, Ancel felt power jolt and ebb. With it came dull thumps from the city’s walls. The earlier resonance grew, pulling at him harder.
Part of the stones that made up the ceiling flowed downward. More than one soldier started or grasped for a weapon.
The stones grew into a Sven hanging upside down. “Master Kendin says the way is as clear as it will be.” The Sven retreated. The ceiling smoothed.
Ancel drew his sword. “It is time.” Heart thumping, he headed for the stairs with Charra.
They spilled from the cellar into a wide hall. The few guards never stood a chance. Arrows and crossbow bolts struck them down before they sounded a warning.
“The six strongest Pathfinders, with me. Kendin, you also,” Ancel commanded. “Everyone else follow Mirza and the others.” He sprinted farther into the castle toward the main tower.