Forge of Ashes Read online

  "I gather. I crush. I paint." Izthuri waved a petal over Akina's face, filling her nose with an aroma of rot."You look duergar. You no be killed or slave."

  Akina crinkled her nose at the thought of looking like one of that fallen race, but realized there was no way around it. Aside from the ill fit of Ondorum's robe, wearing it to hood her features would just draw more suspicion from other travelers and any duergar patrols which, Izthuri assured her, were common. With painted skin, and her armor covering most of the rest of her, she'd blend in well enough to avoid raising an alarm. Still, it reminded her uncomfortably of Selvia's own dwarven disguise. Akina reassured herself that her motives were just while Selvia had been all about sabotage and murder.

  So she waited while Izthuri used a rock to pound the petals to paste, and then kept still, eyes shut, as the caligni dabbed the slick mess over her face and neck. Izthuri had her remove her helm and worked a handful of rock dust into the remaining paste. This she used to conceal Akina's hair with its platinum streak, stroking it over with a sheen of gray that dried within moments. When it was finished, Akina turned to Ondorum.

  "Well?"

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Ondorum considered Akina's transformation. The simple act of turning Akina's skin and hair a grayish-purple had altered her appearance significantly, though no paint could mask her aggressive stance or the ever-kindling blaze in her eyes. Strangely, the disguise made her appear more earthy in nature, more akin to the rocks themselves. Add a few bits of stone or crystal and it might even look like she possessed some oread blood. It had an undeniable... appeal. However, he hardly needed Irori's wisdom to know he should never say such a thing to her.

  He frowned and nodded, for once actually thankful he could hide behind his vow of silence.

  Akina replaced her helm and gestured at Izthuri."Ready now?"

  The women took the lead. This tunnel reconnected with the larger one they'd left earlier. It broadened further as they went, and the ceiling rose, while the turns started to become sharper angles rather than the random meanderings many previous routes held. As Ondorum ducked through one lower opening, he glanced behind and paused.

  On one side, the curve of the rock had appeared as a normal tunnel. On this side, it had been carved into an arched threshold, with strange glyphs, jagged runes, and images of serpentine creatures.

  Ondorum studied the stone and wondered what names or events had been engraved on it, and if anyone cared to remember them. Then, accepting his ignorance for the time being, he followed the others around a corner and got his first glimpse of the Long Walk.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Long Walk

  Ondorum didn't know what to expect of the Long Walk. A slightly larger tunnel, maybe, or a series of huge caverns connected by shorter tunnels, similar to the dwarven city districts?

  Instead, they emerged from under another archway and went up a flight of steps onto a broad stone platform, the sides of which dropped away into nothingness. Ondorum raised his eyes, and wondered at the scale of the place.

  It could only be called a tunnel if all other tunnels, and even the caverns they'd marched through on their way down, were renamed as mere cracks or chips in the earth. While the ceiling remained visible, it hung broader and higher than that of Taggoret and seemed ready to pour down on their heads, dripping with enormous stalactites. Ondorum detected motion among those tremendous teeth of stone, flocks and swarms of winged creatures that darted here and there, nesting in the heights.

  He at last dragged his gaze back down to the wide bridge thrusting from the platform they stood on, where it joined a perpendicular road that swept away in either direction like a river of gray stone until it flowed out of sight. At random intervals, other bridges and platforms connected with it on either side, with much of the space between a sheer drop into unknown depths. The road stood wide enough for a hundred humans to stand shoulder-to-shoulder across it—but Ondorum knew few humans ever had beheld this, and only then as slaves, most likely.

  "Is it all like this?" Akina asked.

  Izthuri looked at the Long Walk as if she saw a common mountain meadow."Some. Not all. Nothing is all." She strode across the bridge and waved for them to follow.

  As they crossed, distant motion resolved down the tunnel stretching off to their left; a group of creatures headed toward them from that direction. Ondorum wondered if they should hide and let those who approached pass. Then he realized the oncoming band would likely have spotted them as well, and any attempts to duck out of sight would be more suspicious than marching forward as if they belonged.

  Instead, they reached the path proper and headed in the same direction the creatures were already going. He adjusted his pace to be slightly behind Akina, hoping to divert whatever attention might be thrown her way as the others neared. Izthuri remained ahead of them, though her gait had changed. Rather than the skulking and dashing about of the tunnels, she now stood erect and strode in a flowing manner, long limbs shimmying back and forth like ropes.

  Noises reached his ears as the others gained on them: that of slapping feet, rattling chains, and a constant undercurrent of whimpering and murmuring peppered with harsher voices and the occasional mewl of pain. At last, the trio paused to watch them pass.

  The newcomers resolved into a line of ten creatures all shackled together by chains around their necks and wrists. At the front of the line, a pair of reptilian humanoids held chains that connected with all the rest, and used these to guide the line along. Far different than the little lizard Ondorum had seen in Nullick's lair, these two walked erect, tails swinging thick and lined with spines. Crests rose from their heads and snouts, patterned with stripes of softly glowing paints. They wore ragged leather wraps around their waists and went bare-chested, showing off thick scarring. Each held a hefty club, though their claws and talons looked like weapons enough.

  Behind them came the line of what Ondorum took to be prisoners, though whether by law or by coin, he could only guess. Try as he might, though, he couldn't find a single physical similarity between any of them. Ranging in size from rodents on hind legs to a furry behemoth that lumbered along on three stumpy limbs, each captive displayed an odd conglomeration of features and deformities. One had chains clamped to four multi-jointed arms, while another had hands on both arms and legs. Tails, scales, fur, horns—even fins were present, sometimes all on the same creature.

  This strange menagerie lumbered past without so much as glancing at the trio. In their shuffling, many of them hooted or snuffled, a mourning sound that raked at Ondorum's soul. Did any of these creatures deserve to be in chains? What crimes had they committed? Were they captives from battle, or did they go to be sold to the highest bidder? He bristled at the last consideration.

  Akina must've sensed the course of his thoughts, for she edged closer and whispered."Can't save everyone."

  He scowled, but tried to temper his unthinking fervency. True, things might work differently down here, but some things were either right or wrong, no matter whether they occurred in the darkness or under the sun.

  When Izthuri checked to see if anything was the matter, Akina shrugged off her concern."Just wondering what these creatures are."

  "We call them tattered ones." Izthuri pointed an elbow backward."Those who lead is called xulgaths. Their masters follow."

  At the end of the line, two figures rode along on a set of giant furred spiders. The arachnids stood as high as Ondorum himself, their eight legs bound by leather and metal straps leading up to the hands of the duergar on their backs. The pair of ashen-skinned dwarves slumped in their saddles. Both bald, with flowing silver beards, they glared over their prisoners, occasionally adjusting the axes strapped to their backs. When a prisoner stumbled or slowed, they shouted at it in a hacking, choking language. It made Ondorum think of dwarven speech, but only in the roughest sense. Where dwarven words might be compared to the crack of stone against stone or the thrum of a furnace bellows, the duergar spoke like grav
el being stirred or the squeal of rusted metal.

  When the duergar spotted the other travelers, one veered off and planted his arachnid mount before them. He pointed at Akina and rattled off incomprehensible words.

  Ondorum strode in front of her and waved the duergar on. The duergar raised bushy brows and barked further babble. Ondorum just shook his head. The duergar's hand went to his axe, and the oread tensed. Izthuri came up, speaking rapidly in the duergar language. The duergar squinted as Izthuri bowed. He asked a few more questions and then sat back in his saddle, hand leaving his axe. With another verbal barrage, he steered to rejoin the slave caravan.

  Once they were far enough away, Akina spat on the ground."What'd he say? What'd you tell him?"

  Izthuri snuffled."He asked who you were. Then asked how much to buy your oread. Then wanted to kill your oread. Thought slave tried to make him leave. I say you refuse to sell and your oread is... one who guards. Attack him, attack you. His choice."

  "Bodyguard, you mean?" Subtle mirth entered Akina's voice."My oread, hm?"

  Ondorum looked back at her in time to catch a wink. He tried to smile, but the image of the tattered ones in chains filled his mind. He fell into a solemn mood as they traveled on.

  One of his monastery instructors had once used the illustration of an onion in a meditation session. Both the mind and the world could be seen as onions. They appeared as one whole and complete thing on the outside, easy to hold and understand. However, peeling back the layers revealed the complexity. Nothing was ever as simple as it appeared, especially not the pursuit of truth and perfection.

  When the wounded orc had shown up on the monastery doorstep, Ondorum had thought it a simple thing to show mercy and tend to the creature, despite the other monks' misgivings. He'd even thought the orc receptive to the teachings he shared during its convalescence. While disappointed that the orc left rather than join their order, he'd felt quiet satisfaction in giving another soul the chance to follow a better path.

  And then the orc warband had arrived a month later, ready to pillage the treasures they believed the monastery held. Many monks had been slaughtered, the monastery half-destroyed. In the aftermath, once the monks had recovered enough, Ondorum bid his home farewell and set to wandering, seeking clarity for his clouded mind. How did acts of kindness beget evil? How could offering hope to one life end so many others?

  In the years that followed, he'd met Akina and the mercenary band and found himself surprisingly refreshed. He reveled in the varied perspectives they offered, the new experiences. He found a measure of solace in his and Akina's deepening relationship. She held both simplicity and complexity within her—the struggle with her growing rage and yet her single-mindedness when striking down ill-doers to save many more lives. She always claimed she just did it for the gold, but he knew better and had tried to help her see the same.

  And then there was their parting from the band... the journey to Taggoret... the village along the way... his ill-spoken words and their ruinous results...

  "Awake up there?" Akina asked."You've been sleepwalking all day. More company's coming."

  Ondorum snapped back to present awareness. In such dangerous territory, how could he let himself be so distracted by personal musings? He took a cleansing breath, sweeping it all aside to be dealt with later.

  Company? He looked around and saw the newcomers as a gray mass behind them, filling the Walk from side to side and quickly catching up. The group didn't look to have any regimental order to it, and he prayed this meant it wasn't a military force. As they closed in, it consolidated into a caravan. At least a hundred people and creatures shambled along, forced to a quicker pace by their masters or just an urgency to get their destination as quickly as possible. Speed made profit.

  Akina called a quick, quiet conference, and Ondorum grimaced in agreement with her assessment. While the crowded conditions might make for slower going, it could also help them blend in. No one would pay particular attention to one more group among the rabble.

  The first to reach them was a duergar astride a giant beetle, its blue-green carapace gleaming like water under a night sky. He called something their way, which Izthuri answered in turn. With a guttural laugh, he rode on, and soon the rest of the caravan descended upon them.

  After their time in the isolated wilds of Nar-Voth, being in the presence of so many others made for a jarring transition. Not a jostling experience, but more of a temporary sensory overload as he took in all the new sights and smells, and the many, many new sounds. The crack of whips and babble of voices struck him first, with the groans and lowings of underground beasts trained for labor. The rattle of wheels and creak of axles. A whiff of rotten produce lingered, and he wondered what manner of vegetation they grew down there, and what fruit or vegetables grown far from fresh sunlight or water might taste like.

  Grim-faced duergar hauled loads of weaponry and drove carts laden with tarp-wrapped goods. One cage-on-wheels rattled along, filled with three cadaverous creatures with skull-like faces and monstrous claws on both their hands and feet. They snarled at everyone they passed and stuck out prehensile tongues at least two feet long. Three armed duergar marched on the cage's heels and kept a wary eye on anyone who got too close. The occasional xulgath scampered by, some on two legs, some on four. Several elven figures moved with lithe steps through the bustle, their skin a dark purple and their hair hanging to their waists like white drapes. Another group of deformed tattered ones tracked by, unchained this time. While they exhibited the same random assembly of limbs and features, Ondorum felt certain they shared a kinship with the prisoners who'd gone on before them not long before. In fact, looking up ahead, he could see that exact slaver chain had slowed enough to be absorbed into the caravan proper, keeping to the further edge of the mass.

  Ondorum had traveled with a few surface caravans, but this one lacked the camaraderie of those. Conversations remain muted except for arguments that broke out when groups got too close, even with the crowded conditions. Everyone watched everyone else, as if suspecting all to be potential thieves. Weapons hung at almost every waist, or stood clutched in fists. While they might be used to protect the caravan against the dangers spawned from the tunnels they passed, Ondorum guessed they might as easily be turned on one another. The lack of wind or any sort of weather and the ghostly palette the darkness enforced made it feel like a march of the damned more than anything else.

  He noticed four tall, slim figures, all wrapped in black cloth. When he pointed them out to Izthuri, though, she hissed,"Not my tribe."

  The three of them clustered together, Ondorum and Izthuri taking a slight point to look like Akina's bodyguards and dissuade anyone's approach.

  "Do not follow," Izthuri said, a moment before she stepped aside and disappeared in the dismal bustle.

  Ondorum exchanged a worried look with Akina, but they plodded on. Their fears were allayed when Izthuri reappeared and resumed her stroll as if she'd never left.

  "Duergar squads. Soldiers come behind. Soldiers come ahead. Stop everyone."

  "Why?" asked Akina, voice low.

  "Pay to use Long Walk. All pay many times before end. We pay here and at gate."

  "Gate?"

  "Duergar gate," said Izthuri."Blocks Long Walk. Tunnel we need on other side."

  "Well, hell. Got nothing to pay with. What about that sword of yours? Seems valuable. I can get you a new one when we—"

  Izthuri whirled and had the black blade to Akina's throat before Ondorum realized she'd moved. All three froze. Izthuri's eyes had gone wild. Akina stared up at the caligni, caught in mid-step.

  Ondorum reached out and laid an open hand on Izthuri's wrist. He pushed down, slowly, and she let him move the blade away. At last, the tension went out of her arm and she spun around again, striding ahead. Ondorum nudged Akina into motion while checking to make sure they hadn't been exposed. Some of the nearer merchants and travelers glanced their way, but without further disruption, their attention with
drew.

  Izthuri slid the blade into the looped rag she used as a sheath."My blade."

  Akina rubbed at her throat."Fair enough." She glanced behind."So what if we don't pay?"

  "Be made slave. Or killed."

  "What if we hop into an offshoot tunnel and wait for them to go by?"

  Izthuri waggled fingers."No tunnels here."

  She spoke true. As far down as Ondorum could see, the Long Walk walls now looked solid, with no bridges, platforms, or otherwise offering a way off the main path. The duergar must've planned their sweep for this stretch, knowing travelers couldn't escape inspection.

  "Figure bashing someone over the head and snagging their coin isn't the brightest, hm?"

  Ondorum blew a low breath, fearing that'd be her next suggestion and thankful she saw the many flaws in it. She must've heard, because she glared up at him.

  "What? I don't solve everything with bashing." When he looked back blankly, she jutted her chin out."Shut it."

  Ondorum tapped both their shoulders and indicated they should follow. Then he quickened his stride and guided them around numerous wagons and past a small group of duergar muttering among themselves. When they broke past a line of tattered ones, closer to the front of the caravan, he gestured ahead. The two women gave him curious looks.

  "You just want to walk faster?" Akina asked."She said they're up ahead too."

  Ondorum took the horns of her ram's helm and forced her to look at a specific group. A moment later, her stillness told him she got the point. When he released her, she fixed him with a wondering look.

  "You're cracked in the head."

  He gave her helmet a reprimanding tap, which she shook off.

  "Right." Akina directed Izthuri's attention to the set of duergar slavers."How much do you think you can haggle for my oread?"

  Chapter Fifteen