Darius Chapter 45

If Heldrus had the opportunity or the foolishness to explore the underkind cavern much further, he may have noticed a large tunnel bored into the wall where no underkind arrived from – they only exited. The tunnel was wet and freezing and near endless, but the underkind that were not needed in the birthing cavern all flowed through here, vanquished into the darkness. Further exploration would uncover some troublesome discoveries, such as the destination of the tunnel. For kilometers and kilometers, it ran north-east, boring under the Tralmont Mountains, the rocky plateaus east of Erinstone, all the way under the kingdom itself, eventually breaking through to daylight and the noise of the Premarantic Sea.

When the swell was high, and waves crashed up against the cliffside like children battering on the candy shop door, swathes of water flowed into the tunnel, flooding the few hundred meters nearest the exit with ankle-high water. At these times, those in the castle with the keenest, most refined hearing would hear splashing feet in the dead of the night and think ‘What rascal is bathing at this hour?’ then they would go back to sleep.

But the underkind beneath them did not.

The underkind scratched and scraped their way around the cliffside, turning the tight, circular exit into a bank that stretched the four hundred meters lining the rear of the Erinstone Castle. The bank was set four meters deep into the wall, allowing the monsters to pack together by the hundreds, ready to scale the cliff and raid the kingdom from its one vulnerable angle. Some of the more eager ones had already attempted the climb, finding the routes where their thin, lithe bodies could stick tight to the cliff, and their sharp fangs could drag them up, meter by meter. They communicated these routes back to the others in a series of clicks and gnashes.

When the human had escaped their clutches, the purple orb had momentarily turned black, and a screeching sound filled the cavern, bursting the remaining egg sacs. Some were close to hatching, and the underkind that fell out of these were stunted, but very much alive. Those that were still a way off from birth were yanked out of the slime and eaten, one of the rare meals offered to the underkind.

This noise signaled something very primal in their brains. A compelling desire to attack.

To kill.

Now, eight hundred underkind crowded together below Erinstone, ready to scale the cliff at the command of one of the larger beasts. Hundreds, if not thousands more packed into the tunnel, the group extending at least half a day's journey from the coast to the birthing cavern. When the dam burst, the Continent would flood with the scaled creatures.

The creatures closest to the sea jumped from side to side, eager to reach their long-awaited goal, burnt into them by their creator. A giant, ugly beast roared an order, and the ascent began.

High above them, King Draythar sat in his war room with three of his closest advisors. They were discussing the movements of the army, and the potential for expansion after Barringvale was wiped from the land. In a quiet moment of thought, there was a scraping at the door, like a branch tapping against a window in a storm. The four occupants looked up, curious at the intrusion. The door eased open a crack, and a figure appeared in the shadow.

It was the Castle Priest.

“Priest Colland! Lovely to see you – was the guard not there to admit you?”

The old, greying man bowed to the King and his advisors, then hobbled to a chair, snaffling away a cream puff from the table near the door.

“It is good to see you too, Your Grace. And to answer your question – no. There was not.”

Draythar dipped his quill in the inkwell and signed an order prepared by Lady Silfor, requesting two fletchers to be sent along the Great Road to accompany the last of the troops setting off for Barringvale. He opened his mouth to ask the priest what he could do for him on this fine evening, when the door creaked again. His temper ran short.

“For goodness' sake, come in! It’s not like we’re doing anything important in here.”

No one entered, nor made a sound. Priest Colland shuffled back out of his seat and wandered to the door, using the opportunity to grab another cream puff. He eased open the door a little further, looking around.

An awful, gnashing sound came from the hallway, and a beast fell onto him from above, ripping and tearing at the screaming man. The corridor erupted into screeches, and underkind piled into the room, leaping from the table to the walls and back, biting into the vulnerable necks of the advisors. The King sat at the rear of the room, but his crown did not grant him any special protection. He was a King, but he was also just a man.

The underkind did not spare him.

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Bart lay on his sandbags, drifting in and out of sleep when the light over his eyes flickered.

It didn’t usually do that.

At first, he decided it must’ve just been the wind flapping the feeble shutter back and forth, but it continued, and it annoyed him. Silfor had finally given him a break and some food that might do more than just stick his ribs together, and he planned to use this time to rest and recuperate. He huffed, and rose from the bags, reaching out for the window.

When something red zipped past the slit, he pulled his arm back, flinching at the unexpected movement. He tiptoed to the shutter that remained open and poked his head out. What he saw confirmed the strange face and body he’d seen in the days prior, but now there were hundreds of the creatures. He craned his neck to look up, and a crimson face stared down at him, then it screeched.

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“Holy shit holy shit!”

He pushed away from the windowsill and stumbled through the Forge, swiping all manner of tools and equipment off the benches. He grasped around for the fire poker that he’d wanted to swing at Mitrev, and he eventually felt its cold handle. He turned just in time to see two of the creatures scurry through the window, letting out their piercing cries and leering at him with their black pits of eyes.

He sprinted straight for the door and crashed through, splintering the door where it had connected to the lock. He fell in a heap onto the stone bricks but was up in a moment, darting down the corridor towards the heart of the castle. Behind him, more of the monsters were bursting from rooms and the access door down the far end, teeming through the corridor. It felt like the castle was heating up with their presence.

When he reached the room that Darius used to be locked in, he chanced a look over his shoulder. The pack was growing with every moment that passed, and the only thing keeping him ahead of them was the way that they fought one other while they ran, desperate to reach their prey first.

He looked back where he was going and promptly crashed into Lady Silfor, also fleeing down the steps from her quarters. They both crashed to the stones, rolling into a crouch. They stared at each other, unsure what to do. Their prisoner-slavemaster dynamic was all but gone among the panic of the monsters. Bart reacted first.

“Truce?”

Silfor nodded, too dry to speak. They got to their feet and ran into the central entranceway. Monsters flowed from the kitchen after tearing apart the servants inside, eyeing off their next targets. Silfor pushed Bart to the anteroom, and they bounded out of the castle.

The scene outside the castle wasn’t a pleasant sight. The grey stone bricks of the castle were now a bright red due to the sheer number of monsters that covered it. They jumped around the ramparts and scurried down the high walls like ants, spreading out across the Royal District. Bart grabbed Silfor by the arm and pulled her west, remembering the hole in the wall that Falsith created. It had been a while since he’d blasted it open, but with the creatures flooding the main gate, it was their only chance.

Silfor kicked off the dainty shoes she’d had on and followed Bart across the lawn, kicking up mud and staining her dress. She couldn’t see any other surviving nobles. They pushed through a group of long ferns planted up against the rampart, and the gap was before them, untouched. It was difficult to find and transport large enough stones to fill the void Falsith had created.

Thanking the gods, the two unlikely allies crouched and bolted through. Silfor finally regained her voice.

“The stables! We can’t escape on foot; we need to get to the stables!”

Bart nodded his approval, still holding onto the fire poker. He would’ve killed to have a few explosive arrowheads in his pocket – that would give them something to think about.

The stables were on the verge of being overrun. A swarm of monsters had broken down the main gate, and they flowed out into the Trader’s District like bees leaving a shaken hive. Bart and Silfor had to climb through a stall window to avoid the monsters.

“They’re underkind, you know that? Fucking underkind.”

Bart creased his eyebrows at Silfor – whatever they were, complaining about it wasn’t getting them out of here.

They sprinted down the length of the stables until Bart found a grey mare. He threw on a saddle and hastened to tie on the bridle, but he could barely keep a grip on all the straps and tabs. Silfor was wandering, aimless.

“Silfor! What are you doing? Pick a damn nag and let's get out of here!”

“I’m looking for Velgar! I can’t leave without him, he’s mine.”

Bart was losing his patience. Now that they were out, he had no reason to wait for her. But he had a heart – a good one – and he couldn’t leave her behind, despite her shortcomings. He couldn’t leave her to them.

“He’s the big white one, right? He’ll be down the end; the stable hands keep the royals back there, so they don’t get stolen.”

Silfor was almost in tears, but she ran down to the last stall where her horse, Velgar, was prancing in his stall. The underkind had reached the markets, and the shrieks of frightened citizens filled the air, scaring the horse.

“Shhh, it’s alright boy, c’mere. Good boy.”

The horse calmed down enough for Silfor to loop the bridle around his head and strap the saddle around his midsection. She was ready to ride by the time Bart had mounted his horse and gotten comfortable.

“We’ll need to burst out of here and just head left. Sounds like they’re almost everywhere, but if we go down past the temples and shrines, we might avoid them.”

Silfor led, building up speed until they both raced out into the moonlit streets. She turned left, as Bart advised, sending them through the bushes and shrubs until they were fighting through the thick undergrowth near the Temple of Darius. From here, the entrance to Mouse’s Melee was close – if the underkind hadn’t already flooded through.

Taking the chance, they followed the brick path that lined the southern wall. It was strange to see the garden in its usual, peaceful state. Lit candles flickered gently, and the flowers planted at the shrines were bright and fluttered in the breeze, completely contrary to the devastation going on around them.

When Mouse’s Melee came into view, and with it came the flood of red sweeping through the District, they started to gallop. Fires had broken out in areas, courtesy of the panicked people using whatever they could to fend off the underkind, even for a moment. Their attempts were always in vain.

The gate was packed with panicked citizens, all trying to drag their worldly belongings along with them or herd their children through. Bart saw one lady lifting a child and tossing them over the heads of those in front of her, trying to get him through the blockage. When Silfor rode up on her brilliant pearl warhorse, the people weren’t sure whether they should bow before her or beg for help, but what they did do was shove to the side to let their Princess through. Old habits die hard.

Bart stuck close behind, kicking his horse until it stuck so close to Silfor that its nose was almost hitting her on her back. The people couldn’t separate the two, and Bart squeezed through into Mouse’s Melee.

Here, the underkind were still yet to obliterate the streets and buildings. People crowded the main street, but Silfor led them down a series of narrow alleys until they were riding through a tight residential area, probably filled with people who had heard the cacophony, but hadn’t yet worked out the severity of the issue.

Bart wanted to do something for them – if they started running now, they might make it – but he was too busy keeping up with Silfor. Despite her noble status, she seemed to know the streets of Mouse’s Melee like the back of her hand, and she weaved in and out of the place, riding with confidence. When they skidded out into the main street once again, they were far ahead of the crowd, approaching the last gate.

No guard was foolish enough to remain here, and they galloped out of Erinstone without any further hitches, leaving behind the burning kingdom. Silfor slowed down once they reached the beginnings of the Great Road, turning to assess what had become of her home.

What was left now belonged to the underkind.