Chapter 10: 10

Barrin regretted little in his life. Every decision he made, he made in the furtherance of his needs. Each decision a necessity, for good or ill. Yet he began to question the events that had brought him to this point. He had reacted, rather than acted, thinking he had a plan but, as warriors should all know, as he should know, plans never enacted exactly as expected. The guard escaping, he had planned for. The ruin falling into even greater disrepair, revealing an even more labyrinthine structure beneath, he had not expected.

Now, because he had not made a diligent examination of his surroundings, up above, he found himself lost and hunted in the hollows of the world. He had chosen the ruins for the source of water and its seclusion. That sustenance lay far above, now, out of reach, and he and Maeal had only one waterskin between them, half-empty, and scraps of food the priestess of Aa had liberated from the caravan. Neither could last.

The tunnels and passageways appeared to run on forever, a lost and sprawling system below the skin of the world that few, if any, knew about. Barrin had only known of that one entrance and now he and Maeal continued a desperate search for another exit. One that teased them with a promise of revealing itself, sending fresh breezes flickering the flames of their torches, but never coming to pass. Even those torches could not last forever.

And, in the darkness beyond the dwindling torchlight, the creatures, the stunted humans that called this place of musty blackness home, skittered and hissed and followed, waiting for the two of them to succumb to hunger or becoming so parched that they could not live for long. Barrin had shown them the error of attacking and now these denizens of the dusty halls of a forgotten civilisation showed a patience even Barrin did not have.

“To the left?” Maeal swept her torch, the flames shortening, to one side, watching it flicker with a ragged noise. “The breeze seems stronger that way.”

“Aye.” Barrin did not look to her, though, or to the next passage to take. “Do you hear?”

He knew that, in such places, as desperation began to take hold, senses could deceive. It had happened before, near here. After leaving the place up above, heading out back to the opposing lines in the continuing battle, he had suffered such deception. The desert presented visions. Of vast stretches of water that ever remained out of reach. Of settlements. Of billowing palms that no doubt bordered an oasis of water. All cruel lies.

That time, he had found other travellers that saved his life, a tribe of nomadic farmers, leading hardy goats and sheep from one, almost infertile, stretch of land to another. They had told him of the ghosts of the desert, the mirages, as they nursed him back to health and carried him closer to his allies. Barrin had never forgotten that, nor how real those illusions had seemed. He hoped his ears did not deceive him as his eyes had that day.

“Water?” Maeal moved past him, casting the light from her torch that way. “It is! Aa be praised! We should ...”

Barrin placed a large hand upon her chest, pressing her back. This was not the time to rush, nor to stumble, frantic, into the waiting jaws of a trap. He could hear the water, the mere sound of it setting his tongue flickering against lips, but he also heard the denizens of this place. Their hushed noises, perhaps even whispers in some strange, guttural tongue, also came from that direction.

They had a choice. The flickering of the torches had become more certain, indicating that the breeze that offered escape had an end very near. The sound of water could stave off their deaths, if they did not die by the hands of the stunted humans. Barrin furrowed his brow. They needed both. Yet, something held him back. An instinct that urged him not to make the rash choice. He could feel it, in his bones. Escape beckoned.

He had no way of proving it, no way to explain it, but he felt certain that they had travelled in a steady, shallow slope upward. Hours of walking, feeling the possibility of attack at any moment, had made him consider other things, keeping his keen mind occupied. But, here, at this moment of choice, he sensed a difference in the weight of the atmosphere. It felt less oppressive, as though they did not have the body of the entire world pressing down upon him.

“No.” It came too easy. They needed water and here it presented itself. “The surface is near. We make for that.”

“It’s water!” Maeal held up the waterskin hanging against her chest and shook it. “We have mouthfuls left. If we do not refresh the skin, if you are wrong and the surface is not near, we will surely die and ... and they will feast upon us.”

Those last words trailed away to a whisper. A vulnerability from the woman she had not shown before. Barrin could not grasp her nature. At once confident, thoughtful, the next cold and calculating, the very next moment emotional and fretful. She changed her demeanour more often than the weather changed in the mountains of Yaavik. To any other, her counsel, and fears, would seem justified. Barrin, however, trusted only his own counsel. And his blade.

“You go. I have no hold upon you.” He swept his hand out in the direction of the sounds of water. “I am leaving. If I die, I die, but I die knowing I made my choice.”

“Tt! You are a stubborn fool!” Maeal paused, considering the choice, before barging past him, toward the breeze. “The remaining water is mine! Perhaps your god will show mercy upon you.”

“My god does not care either way.” Barrin hid the smile upon his face as he followed her, Maeal almost stomping her feet as she strode onward. “I have fed him his fill of war and the blood of my enemies. More than that, he expects nothing and gives nothing.”

“Then why follow such a god?” Her pace had slowed as she entered another long, tight passageway. “Aa expects love in return for love. Aa expects us to seek knowledge and to offer knowledge. Aa expects ...”

“And that is why.” He drew in a long breath through his nose as he sensed a change. “Shtuur expects nothing of us. That I can accept. Your god, every god, they demand too much.”

“But they are gods! They deserve our love and worship, for they created the world and it is our duty to show our gratitude for what they have given us.” Maeal shook her head as she walked. “You will see, when your day comes and the gods stand in judgement of you. And all you will have for your defence is that Shtuur did not care, so why should you? You shall be found wanting and the rivers of blood that you bathe in shall follow you to the Underworld.”

She talked too much, her fervency becoming more than an annoyance and now Barrin scowled as he stopped, turning back and tilting his head as something caught his attention. Still she talked, wittering away about her god and judgement, but Barrin heard it now, closer. The stunted humans had overcome their fear of him, if they had ever held it, and Barrin and Maeal had not fallen into their trap.

Horns. Sounding in the distance, echoing and reverberating against the tight walls of the passageway. Drums, beating a pattern for a hunt. And the rumbling of feet, the screeching of wasted voices and throats as the stunted humans now barrelled their way after the two of them. Perhaps they had angered the creatures by not falling for their deception. Perhaps they sensed that Barrin and Maeal neared escape and sought to stop them. Either way, they came and they moved with a speed that, even through the darkness, Barrin could sense.

“Stop talking!” Barrin grabbed Maeal’s arm and began to drag her forward. “Run! They come once more!”

She needed no more urging than that and Barrin appreciated that, at least, about the woman. She did not protest when it mattered where too many, man or woman, would waste time asking for explanations, or making foolish charges that Barrin’s fears were all unfounded, or showing bravado enough to stand, and then fall, before an onslaught. She ran, her short, thin legs carrying her onward even as Barrin drew his black, crescent-moon blade. He squinted past the flames of his torch and saw a wave of shadows approaching.

With a flick, he tossed the rapidly dying torch back toward the swarm of stunted humans, the diminishing light showing what approached. They ran along the floor, on all-fours. They clambered atop each other. Some even crawled upon the roof of the passage, heads twisting in awkward ways to watch their way forward. Many. Too many. Even in these confines, where it worked in his favour to thin the immediate threat to one or two in front, he could not withstand them all.

There was never dishonour in retreating, Father had taught him that. To die in battle was glorious. To die when you had chance to escape a superior enemy and return to fight another day, was the death of a fool. Barrin ran. His feet, the boots of the guard too small, pinching his toes, pounded upon the floor, his great, powerful arms pumping him forward.

Up ahead, he saw the swaying of Maeal’s torch and then watched as it flickered and faded to nothing. Even had they stopped for the water, the torches would have sputtered out. At least this way, Barrin could feel the breeze, he could smell the freshness so different from the musty, fetid air they had breathed for so long. He soon caught up to Maeal and grabbed her waist, continuing to run in one movement. They had no time for her to run under her own power.

Still the stunted humans followed, their growls of hunger resonating about them, seeming to come from every direction, made all the worse by the oppressive darkness that had now enclosed and clutched at them. Barrin could see nothing ahead of him, holding the crescent-moon sword in front, hoping it would inform him of any obstacle he could avoid.

A scrape of the blade and Barrin brought up his booted foot, stopping them from crashing into a wall, his leg bending and then pushing, springing them both to the side where the breeze felt strongest. Sure enough, the passage had switched directions and then again, and again, as though created to slow enemies from attacking in a rolling wave. Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps these stunted humans, or their ancestors, had made it so. Now it aided Barrin and Maeal as they navigated the zig-zagging passage.

It didn’t stop the pack of slathering people that were now little more than beasts. Slowed them, somewhat, but this was, after all, their domain. They knew these tunnels and passages. They knew the crevices and the canyons, the haunted, empty ruins that had once housed a civilisation. Barrin did not, and his great bulk and strength could prove less than advantageous here. He could only run, but even he could tire. Especially bearing the woman in his arm. She had looped her own arms about his neck, but that helped only a slight, her eyes held by the things that were once people, behind them.

“Aa protect us! Aa protect us!” Her words, muffled as she pressed her face into his shoulder, told Barrin their pursuers had almost reached them. “Forgive me!”

Maeal released her hold of his neck and began to struggle against his grip. At first, Barrin wasn’t certain what she intended and then it dawned upon him. She sought to sacrifice herself. He would not allow that. Could not allow that. Not while he still held a weapon in his hand. Around the next twist. There, he would make his stand, and there he would die. His final act, his last chance of humanity would be to ensure Maeal did not suffer.

The crescent-moon sword touched the surface of the wall, telling Barrin to turn and, as he moved around that corner, he spun around, sending Maeal behind him, where she began to scream. A scream that lowered and softened even as Barrin lost his footing. Where he had intended planting his rear foot, he found nothing to stand upon, falling backward.

Into the light.