"We cannot accept more delay," Su-mil warned. "Already this discussion has devoured precious time."
"Three of us can go with you right now," Twister offered. "If the commander decides to send in more forces, they can catch up." He gestured to Cloud. "Get back and report the situation, and strongly urge that he send in backup. Su-mil, can they come here to get directions to this secret back door?"
"I will leave two of my soldiers behind to guide them," Su-mil said.
My soldiers. Twister felt a new shiver run up his back. This wasn't just some group of vigilantes or gang of would-be plunderers, then. That could be good, or it could be very dangerous.
But at the moment, he had more important things to worry about. "Go," he told Cloud, giving the proper hand signal to confirm the order. Cloud nodded acceptance; crossing the room, he stepped through the circle of Eickaries and headed out again into the rain.
Twister looked back at Su-mil. "I have made the best bargain that I can," he said. "The decision to accept or reject it is now yours."
Again, Su-mil seemed to study him, as if there were anything he could learn by staring at stormtrooper armor. "I accept," he declared, lifting his right hand and tracing out a complicated pattern in the air. "I, Su-mil of the Family Meen-tris, Clan Sav-ro, Tribe Hu-shi-crive, do make this bargain with you."
"And I, Jorm Whistler Mackenni of Unit Aurek-Seven of the Five-oh-First Legion of the Imperial Stormtroopers of the Empire of the Hand, make this bargain with you," Twister replied in turn. It felt strange to speak his real name while in full armor, but the situation clearly demanded it. "Where exactly is this back door?"
Su-mil's highlights went pink in another Eickarie smile. "It is directly behind you," he said. "Unknown to the Warlord, this particular fortress had three watchtowers."
"Four centuries ago, the Cro-sal-trei tribal chief commanding the fortress found himself attacked by two other tribes," Su-mil explained as the three stormtroopers and twenty of the Eickaries made their way down the dark tunnel. "When it was clear that the battle was lost, he and his family and supporters attempted to flee. Unfortunately for them, the attacking tribes knew about the third watchtower and were able to trap them inside the tunnel."
Twister winced as his foot crunched something underfoot. Another bone, probably. The floor was littered with the things, along with rusted twists of metal and occasional scraps of brightly colored clothing. "It would seem they lost that battle, too."
"There was no battle," Su-mil said. "The attackers merely sealed both ends of the tunnel and left them here to die."
Behind Twister, Watchman muttered something. "Would you have preferred many have died in unneeded combat?" Su-mil demanded, half turning to glare at the other.
"Please keep your voice down," Twister said, throwing Watchman a warning hand signal. Confined inside a narrow tunnel, outnumbered seven to one by a group of Eickarie paramilitaries with the Warlord's mercenaries not all that far away, was not the time to have a discussion on military ethics. "There might be listening devices at the other end."
"They will hear nothing," Su-mil said, still glowering. "The tunnel is heavily protected against detection and attack. We may seem primitive to you of the Empire of the Hand, but we are not savages."
"I never believed that you were," Twister assured him. That explained why they hadn't picked up Su-mil's soldiers until they'd emerged onto the stairways. The entire watchtower building probably incorporated the same sensor-blocking materials as the tunnel itself. "Why didn't the next owner unseal it and put it back in operation?"
"It was not known what survival equipment the trapped enemies might have taken inside with them," Su-mil said. "It was therefore thought prudent to leave the tunnel sealed for at least a year. Unfortunately, before that year ended the victors were overthrown in a sudden attack by yet another tribe."
Twister nodded his understanding. "Who didn't know anything about the third watchtower."
"Correct," Su-mil said. "And they could not learn otherwise because their victims had already altered the floor plans. This newest group of occupants unwittingly repeated the omission with their own diagrams, and the truth has been hidden ever since."
"How come you know about it?" Shadow asked.
"The family who had the honor of the first tribal leader's final defeat was mine," Su-mil said, an unmistakable note of pride in his voice. "It is a history that has been passed down among us."
With an eye toward holding it as a trump card against some future enemy, no doubt, Twister decided. Little could they have anticipated what sort of enemy that would turn out to be.
"Air vent coming up on the right," Watchman murmured.
"We need to be extra quiet now, Su-mil," Twister warned. "Vents are good at piping sound places where you don't want it to go."
"I see no vent," Su-mil said, craning his neck forward.
"It's recessed," Watchman told him. "But I can see the eddy pattern in the dust."
"You see remarkably well," Su-mil said, lifting a hand over his head and tracing out a pattern with his fingers. Abruptly, the muffled noises of Eickarie footsteps and the softer sounds of weapons rubbing against clothing ceased completely. The aliens became shadows moving in the darkness, quieter even than the stormtroopers.
The vent was there, all right, its grille recessed just as Watchman had predicted. Twister gave it a quick check as the group filed past, but didn't spot any evidence of the warning sensors any reasonable tyrant ought to have installed there. Apparently, the Warlord really didn't know about this tunnel.
They were twenty meters past the vent before Su-mil spoke again. "Your companion has remarkable eyesight," he murmured. "I could not see the vent myself until we were within three arms' reach of it."
"Our helmets incorporate various types of sensors," Twister explained. "Watchman is the unit's tech specialist, which among other things means he has a more advanced set."
"Tech specialist," Su-mil repeated as he looked more closely at Watchman. "I have heard the term, but always assumed it merely meant one who dealt with weapon and vehicle maintenance."
"Not at all," Twister assured him. "You'd be amazed at some of the things they can do."
"We're getting close," Watchman warned.
Twister took the hint and stopped talking. A hundred meters of silence later, they reached the end of the tunnel, blocked by a heavy-looking metal door, gritty with the corrosion of age. For a few minutes the others stood by as Watchman and Shadow examined it, consulting between themselves in clipped technical phrases. Their consultation complete, Shadow pulled out his tube of flash paste and began stuffing it carefully into the cracks around the door. Twister touched Su-mil's arm and motioned him and his soldiers back to a safe distance.
The paste worked with its usual gratifying speed and efficiency, burning the door's edges far enough back for the two stormtroopers to pry the panel free and drag it out of the way. Beyond the door was a second barrier, this one composed of stone blocks cemented together by slabs of grayish mortar a good centimeter thick. "I don't suppose you and your friends had a plan for getting through this one, did you?" Twister murmured to Su-mil as Watchman ran his fingers experimentally over the mortar.
"Of course," Su-mil said, reaching beneath his serape jacket and pulling out a tube of his own. "Catalytic mortar solvent. Of no use against modern structures, but it should be effective against materials of this era."
"We'll find out in a minute," Twister said, passing the tube to Watchman. The other unsealed it and began laying out a thin bead along the grayish lines, and a soft sizzling sound wafted its way into the silence. A minute later the blocks began to sink slowly downward as the mortar separating them softened and trickled down the sides of the stone like melted candle wax. Two minutes after that, the process was complete, with the wall reduced to nothing more than a simple stack of discolored blocks.