They spent a total of five hours huddled up inside the abandoned home. Some slept, others played games to pass the time or argued lightheartedly with handsign and clickers, while a pair kept watch on possible entrances.
Talia cycled.
Silent, slumped against the back wall, pretending to sleep. The hard stone digging into her ass through her greaves nothing but an afterthought compared to the constant, grinding ache of circulating her mana through her channels. Her dedication to the exercise had borne fruit, however—her Core had nearly tripled in size since she’d first sensed it. A not insignificant increase in power.
I’m pretty sure my Capacity is higher than Osra’s now. Not that I can really check, but I seem to be able to do more, for longer, even if I’m not as precise.
It was unfair, but it wasn’t like Talia had any hand in it. She’d just done what anyone else would. A fluke of luck, birth or providence meant she’d simply progressed faster.
For the first time in a long while, she thought of her parents.
I wonder how powerful they were, in their time? Did they progress as fast as I am? Are they the reason it’s so easy? Evincrest did say the Gift is passed through the blood. Logically, that should mean they grew just as fast. For all the good it did them…
Talia’s cycling stuttered to a halt as she waited for her throat to close up. For her breath to hitch and the embers in her chest to stir.
But nothing came. No ache in her heart. No melancholy, childish need.
Just cool acceptance and mild apathy.
It was unsettling. The loss of her parents —the way they’d been stolen from her… That pain had ebbed and flowed over the years, mellowing and hardening, but it hadn’t ever faded. It always hurt. It was a part of her. A central kernel of who she was. The grain of dust at the core of a lake pearl.
She didn’t think about them often, but that was because remembering them hurt too much.
Now…
The tap of a hand on her arm tore Talia away from her inner turmoil. Calisto’s icy eyes stared down at her.
‘Time,’ she signed.
Talia nodded, levering herself up and going about strapping her sword back onto her back.
‘Arm ok?’ Calisto asked.
‘Better to keep weight off.’
‘Careful. Need you whole,’ Calisto warned.
It didn’t escape Talia that there was an earnestness in the other woman that went beyond the mission. For all that they’d butted heads in the past month, Calisto clearly cared. And right now, she was worried.
Lazarus told her about his suspicions. ‘Whole’ is too vague.
‘Understood,’ Talia signed back.
The delvemaster held her gaze for a long moment before she nodded and stood from her crouch, hand on the head of her mace.
‘Move; five minutes’ Calisto clicked, ‘Reach restpoint one; two hours. Then climb.’
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Rubble and loose rock continued to lazily clatter to the ground around them as they undertook their journey through the lower city once more. Whatever life remained in the dilapidated alleyways and streets was hunkered down in dens and dark crevices, chased away by primal fear. Talia felt the bestial minds quiver as thumps and cracks echoed down the street.
The sound was subtly different from the metallic chime of the rest of the city.
Inching forward so Calisto could see her hands, Talia signed.
‘Metal where?’
The delvemaster favoured her with what Talia imagined to be a disapproving glance, but answered, nonetheless.
‘Scavenged, years ago. Other delvers, big groups. Not profitable now.’
Talia frowned as she looked around. Below the metal plating that had been stripped away, Karzurkul looked just like home. Smooth dwarven stonework, the buildings squat and nondescript —the bones upon which something more elegant had been created, now revealed.
Falling back in line, Talia wondered what made Karzgorad different. Why had the other cities been worthy of being covered with dark alloy and old runes, while hers hadn’t? There was a mystery there, one whose answer, like so many others, was lost to the whims of the Deep.
One more hour, then we get to see this accessway Calisto spoke of.
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The shelter was little more than a hovel carved into the stone, likely with the aid of an earth shaper mage. No windows, a thick façade and a stubby door.
As the rest of the team filed into the tiny space, Talia stood just outside, appraising their path into the city’s mid-quarter. Their journey had abutted at the edge of the city, where the plateau Karzurkul sat on met with the river-dug ravine that surrounded it. The rush of water was loud and hollow here as it plunged into unknown depths through a chasm at the end of the natural moat.
Buildings stripped of their metal coating clung to the cavern walls like an outcrop of geometric fungi, with narrow stairs and streets running between them.
And there, in the corner where the city met the natural edge of the plateau, lay a path. Half precarious ledge, half cramped tunnel, the way forward reminded Talia of the unnatural smoothness of the Deep Ways, twisting sharply left and out of sight a few hundred metres in, with a gentle incline.
More earth shaper work. I wonder how old it really is. Calisto probably knows. Not that it matters, as long as it holds.
A series of clicks drew Talia’s attention back to the shelter, where Bruce stood hunched in the doorway, gargantuan mace clutched in one meaty palm.
‘Delvemaster; summons.’
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“My biggest worry,” Calisto muttered behind the safety of silence wards, “Is another quake. The accessway was built with magic, but it’s old. While unlikely, today might just be the day it collapses. There is never any guarantee, not with quakes and no maintenance.” She sighed, running a hand through her greying hair.
“If we had Osra—” Talia opined, only to be cut off in a hand-chopping motion.
“I know the two of you are friends, but the haven needs a mage to power its enchantments, and we need an arcanist if we are to navigate the upper city. We’re just lucky to even have a mage on the outing. Usually, with one dead..."
The haven needs magic so it can keep the lights on, incinerate waste and all that. The doors, I guess. And the silencing enchantments. So what? This is more important. Besides, a little discomfort and a little danger might just be what they need. A kick in the ass.
Talia said none of that, of course, grunting mildly.
“And the stalkers?” she said instead, “I haven’t sensed them, but your bait tactic only works if we have room to maneuver. If one follows us into the tunnels…”
Calisto grimaced.
“Can’t be helped. I’ll keep Bruce and Grif as the rearguard, but this is the only way up. With luck, the one you killed was a loner. Food gets scarce during a Migration, especially for ambush predators like depths stalkers. It’s possible the rest of its pack cannibalized itself.”
The way the delvemaster said it made it clear that she thought the prospect unlikely.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
“It’s not too late to do a piton climb up one of the lift shafts. We went past one on the way here,” Talia reminded her, “If I take the lead, I might—”
“No, Talia. The boobytraps are incredibly well hidden. You wouldn’t be the first arcanist to think you could spot them before they charred you to a crisp. Or worse. Those who left Karzurkul took no chances.”
Fat load of good that did them.
“Besides,” Calisto added with a dry chuckle, “Pitons or no, I’d like to see us make that climb while loaded up with gear. No, the accessway is our best bet.”
“Then our course is clear,” Talia said mildly, “We ascend through the accessway, and hope luck is on our side.”
“Indeed. Just remember, if we do get attacked by a stalker, wait for it to engage,” Calisto said, “Their abilities mean that any attack from outside of arm’s reach is pointless. They must be backed into a corner. The tunnel, at least, will restrict their mobility as much as it will ours. Once they’re in close combat, they’re at a disadvantage.”
Talia scowled as she remembered the agility the canny beast had displayed —the near-prescient ability to dodge anything she threw at it. Fighting one in a cramped space might go in their favour, as Calisto implied, but it could also go the other way around.
At least I’ll see them coming now that I know what to look for.
“A few hours,” Calisto muttered, “A bit of luck for a few hours, that’s all we need.”
----------------------------------------
Luck struck —as it does— when they least wanted it to.
They were about halfway through the passage, the path about wide enough for three people to stand abreast. That or one person and one Bruce. To their right was a sheer drop into the ravine and the whirlpool end of the river below. The only thing between them and one final fall was a finger-thick band of metal that ringed the ledge. The path continued that way for at least another half hour if Talia’s memory served.
It’s almost like the beast planned it.
The trio of blips in her mindsense was just as subtle as it had been the first time, but it was unmistakable.
Depths stalkers.
Dammit.
Tapping Calisto on the shoulder, Talia didn’t even need to say anything.
‘How far; how many?’ Calisto signed.
‘Three, two-hundred metres, more or less.’
The delvemaster’s hood swept from Talia’s face to the edge of the drop behind her, then to the rest of the group; her knuckles threatened to rip through her skin, clenched as her hand was around the head of her mace. The away team noticed the lull in the pace, slowing to a stop.
‘Certain?’ Calisto signed.
Talia got a half nod through before a spike of doubt interrupted her. She froze, following the thread to its conclusion. Focusing internally, she sent a trickle of mana into her mindsense, doubling, then tripling its range.
Hmm. That could’ve been bad. Sneaky fuckers.
Further back down the tunnel, the muffled minds of another four stalkers crept slowly forward, pausing intermittently, as if gauging whether or not they’d been noticed. Whether this was a normal part of the pack’s tactics, Talia didn’t know, but by design or by happenstance, they’d lingered just out of her detection range.
‘Correction; seven; three close, four further; six hundred metres, possible closer.’
Talia could taste the curses on the tip of Calisto’s tongue; the delvemaster’s demeanour screamed rage and indecision. Luckily, reason reasserted itself, and they were left with an obvious choice: push on faster, and hope for better terrain to fight on, or rush the closest cluster and force a more asymmetrical fight.
Calisto chose the latter, clicking and signing out orders. Unnecessary encumbrances were left behind, clipped to the railing for safety. Weapons were limbered and armour straps tightened. The team fell into formation, bruisers and melee fighters at the front, the slight incline allowing the archers to fire above their heads.
Tactics-wise, the plan was simple. Something about being too close interrupted depth stalkers’ prescient abilities. As such, one of them would range ahead, placing themselves in a position of ostensible vulnerability to draw the stalkers onto them. The idea was to allow the rest of the team to close when the beasts inevitably took the bait.
Talia volunteered —she had a score to settle. Calisto had wasted no time arguing, given how short they were on time.
The last one had me on the run. Let’s see how these fare now that I know their tricks.
----------------------------------------
Talia moved forward at a fast walk, attempting to feign desperation. A hunch of the shoulders, a slight jitter in her neck, a fumble here and there.
Just a lonely little human, no traps here.
The first pack had frozen when the group of delvers turned around, hunkering down and clinging to the overhang ceiling —borrowing a page out of the mirage-lynx’s playbook. Without her mindsense, Talia had to admit it might’ve worked. Even knowing exactly where they were, she had a hard time spotting them.
But spot them she did. Three irregular shadows clinging to the rock above and ahead of her, ready to drop down and cut her life short.
Checking with her mindsense that her fellow delvers weren’t too far to respond, Talia tensed ever so slightly.
‘Engaging’ she clicked.
The first stalker leapt at her before the responding clicks could even register.
It died just as fast, bouncing off her suddenly active shield and landing awkwardly at her feet.
Its skull crackled like a bundle of sticks between her metal fingers; blood and grey matter splattered across her cowled face —then the weight of the other two sent her to the ground, and the thunder of a dozen footsteps echoed in her ears over snarls and distant flowing water.
Arrows and bolts skittered off stone, only two finding homes in flesh. The stalkers twitched and writhed, their instincts screaming at them to move—too late.
In a matter of seconds, the weight on Talia’s chest became lighter as Bruce launched the arrow-riddled stalker careening over the edge of the path with a swing of his mace. The other bit at and was bitten by sets of axes from Silversweep and one of the humans.
The fight lasted less than a minute.
Talia let herself be hoisted to her feet by the hulking giant, his enormous, over-engineered cudgel held loosely in one hand. Her heartbeat thumped in her ears and her chest heaved with a cocktail of hormones.
So much easier when I’m not on my own. I don’t even know what they were afraid of.
Though, a glance at the pulverized mess that was left of her first assailant showed she’d easily be able to handle herself in a one-on-one.
I think it’s safe to say the prosthetic passed its first field test. Now to take care of the rest.
She could sense them creeping up the tunnel, clinging to the walls, one of them even looking like it was scaling the cliffside to their left.
Calisto clapped a hand on Talia’s shoulder.
‘Injured?’ the delvemaster signed.
‘Negative; more coming, two-hundred metres; ware the cliff edge.’
The older woman’s grip briefly tightened on Talia’s shoulder before she snapped out orders.
Time to do it again.
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The quake hit right as Talia was about to spring the trap. A shuddering, world-shaking tremor that made the previous ones look like the work of petulant children.
Groann—Rumble
Fuck!
Dust fell from above in great cloying sheets, obscuring her darkvision and sending her into a coughing fit. The ground beneath her rebelled against the concept of stability, bucking wildly.
The bestial mind that had been creeping up to flank her from the edge of the cliff dropped out of her mindsense. Something metallic and heavy pinged off the back of her greaves, sending her tumbling to the floor, trapping the unknown weapon against her back and the ground.
The stalkers didn’t miss a beat.
There was a scrabbling at her breastplate as vestigial arms pulled against her gorget, trying to slip sharp claws into the soft flesh of her neck. Her arms were pinned—
Talia channelled a violent burst of mana into the first spellform she’d ever cast, on that fateful day that had changed everything. A billowing cloak of sheer force. Her attackers were flung back. The ground jerked once more.
What might have been a lost axe dug painfully against her shoulder blades.
Fucking useless jackasses. Can’t even hold on to—
Rumblee—Crash
THUNK
She sensed and heard one of the beasts rebound off the side of the railing, but the other two were right back on her, forcing her to roll with the movement of the earth to avoid getting pinned again.
A quarrel wizzed harmlessly past her face. Hopefully an accidental discharge—that or someone thought they were a crack-shot.
Groaann
For a disorienting moment, Talia’s only useful sense was her mindsense. The dust and the quake deadened everything else. Blinding her. Getting in her mouth. Her hearing nothing but a constant rumble. Any ideas of up or down reduced to nothing but ash.
With a final squeal of earthen bone against earthen bone, the tremor died down.
But the dust remained.
Only the glow of living minds guided her.
Bright, living thoughts, stumbling closer. Her comrades —the ones she’d considered next to useless— just as blind as her. Nevertheless coming to her aid.
A blip of hazy, ravenous thought, her foes, regrouping for another assault.
Feeling her way up the wall, Talia stood. The arcanic articulation in her wrist twisted one-hundred eighty degrees to latch onto the hilt of her sword. One silent, whisper-silent motion drew it before her.
‘Three enemies ahead-close; caution’ she clicked, head turned to where she knew the stalkers prowled, waiting for an opening.
Have to wait for the dust to settle. They can fight blind, we can’t—idiot!
Mentally feeling her way across the connection to her arm, Talia flicked at one of its functions. The rune array was designed to provide clean air in the case of a cave-in, but it was flexible enough that she got it to do what she wanted.
An arcane wind centred around her whistled out in a sphere, blowing away the cloud. Suddenly, she could see.
Which, predictably, was the moment the stalkers leapt at her again.
Except now, they were outnumbered.
Grif and Calisto recovered first, sliding to a stop next to her, shields raised. The former stepped forward with a snarl, intercepting one of the beasts and taking it to the ground. A few stabs of his short sword and the blip of its thoughts winked out.
Of the two that remained, the limping one fell to Calisto’s mace, the other being surrounded and whittled down with cuts and jabs until it succumbed to blood loss.
Only one of Lored’s clansmen ended up injured, from a falling piece of the ceiling, rather than the beasts themselves.
After a moment to recuperate, they pressed on, spirits both buoyed and dampened all at once. They’d won decisively, after all, but the quake served as a poignant reminder that in the Deep, the stone itself was an enemy.
A scant hour of silent trekking later, nonsense began filtering through onto their clickers. The veterans tensed, unsheathing weapons.
‘What is that?’ Colum signed to Talia.
The arcanist frowned and shrugged.
‘Don’t know.’
Any clicker calls from Calisto or those around them were lost in the cacophony of random clicks.
Kaina tapped them both on the shoulder, arming sword held at the ready. She signed something Talia had to wrack her memory to find the meaning for. When she finally understood, the psion held in a disappointed sigh.
I suppose it couldn’t just be simple.
‘Weapons ready,’ the ganger had signed, ‘Urvai hive ahead.’