The Howling Delve - Jaleigh Johnson [112]
"Very well." Aazen removed his hand and pressed his knuckles into one of Bardie's open wounds. The apprentice howled and thrashed, but Aazen pressed him back with his other forearm. "What is his plan?"
"Another party," Bardie choked out. "I overheard my… master speaking of it. He was communicating with Daen magically. If you betrayed us, he was to send word to the other party."
"Thank you." Aazen removed his hand, wiping his bloody fingers on Bardie's robes. The apprentice collapsed against the tunnel wall, sliding down to the floor.
Aazen's thoughts raced, but his eyes stayed on the men surrounding him. They kept theit faces averted, their expressions schooled to reveal nothing of their thoughts. And why should they? They were well trained and knew that Aazen, traitot of not, was the best hope they had of getting out of the caverns alive. But how many of them had known? How many of his "family" plotted against him?
"We go on," he said at last. When one of the men moved to lift Bardie from the floor, Aazen shook his head. "Leave him. He'll slow us down. Scout ahead, but do not be seen. We follow Kail's party." he paused, looking at each of them, making them meet his eyes. "Unless anyone else has objections they'd like to voice?"
They had none. The scout started to move away down the tunnel. He turned a corner, and Aazen saw him stop and take a jerky step to the side, as if he'd lost his footing. The man behind him moved forward to steady him. "Wait!" shouted Aazen.
The scout fell sideways. A triple line of gashes ran vertically from his chest to his bowels. The ribs and organs in between were mauled. The scout had died before he knew what killed him. The man behind him cried out as he was yanked forward, around the corner into the darkness. This time Aazen heard the swish of claws passing through air and smelled the unnatural fire reek.
Grabbing the man nearest him, Aazen dived into one of the narrower tunnels off the main route, one they'd decided not to take for fear it would dead-end or become impassable. He heard the screams of his men, of Bardie trying to remember the words to a spell as the horror overcame him.
"Keep moving," Aazen snapped to the man he'd saved. He did not look back.
Cesira lay on the floor, her vision encompassing all of an inch-tall gap between the storeroom door and the ground. Her forked tongue passed over her fangs, touching wood and tasting dust. At last, she saw the shadows of feet approaching. The lock rattled, and' the footsteps retreated. Scant breaths later, a loud crack echoed in the dark space as a foot connected with the door, busting the old lock and splintering the doorframe.
A man poked his blade in among the stacks of linens, searching for a place a human woman might hide. He failed to notice the snake lying parallel to the threshold.
Cesira struck once, and then again, sinking her fangs into the flesh behind his knee. The man cried out, falling forward into the closet.
The black snake slithered away as the man's legs, sticking out into the dimly lit hall, began to twitch from the poison.
"Meisha once told me Varan believed the Delve to be an outpost of Deep Shanatar," said Kail. He looked out over the vast expanse of cavern. "I suppose this confirms it."
But the dwarf shook his head. "This is Deep Shanatar, lad." '
Kali lifted an eyebrow. "I don't believe yout memory for maps has failed you," he said. "So I don't have to remind you that we are not where Deep Shanatat should be."
"Who says so?" atgued Garavin. "I'm telling ye-and having studied far longer than ye've been alive, I should know-we're in Shanatar, and I'm guessing a part of it that's never been known. An outpost, maybe, but a grander one I've never seen."
"Kept a secret, even from Iltkazar?" Kail asked, naming heretofore the only known surviving kingdom of Deep Shanatar. Garavin had told him stories of the place long ago. "Why does one build a secret outpost?" he asked. "Unless they're doing something other folk might not approve of?"
Garavin looked at him.