The common area was quiet but everyone was awake and the whispers made the cavern sound like it was filled with rushing water. It was disorientating for Brian who had had so little sleep lately. He shook his head and scanned the giant space for anything amiss. He found the swordsmen gathered together near the entrance to a tunnel and he jogged over, eager for a report.
“Just one got in, sir,” the first youth said. “But it was weird, sir.”
“Go on, Sam,” Brian encouraged, putting a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Let’s see it.”
Brian squatted down at the indicated pile. It was small and Brian figured it was likely to be about the right quantity of ash for an imp. It looked fairly standard to him so he looked up to Sam.
“What was weird about it?”
“Well, sir, it wasn’t flying, to begin with.” Sam wiped his brow and knelt near his commander. “It was like it was trying to be stealthy. Maybe avoid our notice if it could.” Brian reached down and rubbed his finger in the ash, stirring it around and feeling for anything left behind. Sometimes, things the demons were carrying or hand on their bodies didn’t burn up with them but could be found in the pile afterwards.
“Well, they aren’t smart enough to be very stealthy. What direction did it come from?” Sam gestured to the tunnel entrance immediately adjacent to the one they were in front of.
“I saw it crawl out of the tunnel and then it seemed to get excited or startled and it tried to go up this tunnel when it saw me coming.”
“And there was only this single imp?” Brian puzzled as his fingers found a thin object in the remains. He pulled it out and shook it gently. A single, very long silky black feather was between his fingers.
“I sent two swordsmen up the tunnel it came from but they came back right away after they found the small hole it must have snuck through. That’s one of the tunnels we barricaded.” Brian had been right to do so: there were no fewer than twelve tunnels leading from the enormous room. They were likely drains from the complex above and the ancient people that designed it weren’t expecting a group of starving homeless to take residence in the catacombs.
“And where does this tunnel lead?” Brian stood and looked up along the edge of the entrance. Some of them were marked, numbers etched into the brick by Brian’s men.
“It’s tunnel three, sir,” Sam said quietly. “Directly under the church.”
“Right,” Brian said to himself. He looked down at the feather in his hands and frowned. “Where are the newcomers?” Brian turned and headed to the small group’s assigned area nearby, tucking the feather in his jacket.
“What do you mean she’s not here?” Brian’s voice had a hard edge on it, threatening to raise in volume and tone.
“She bolted up the tunnel when she saw the monster coming in. I couldn’t stop her, sir,” Sylvie said through her tears. Her face was red and wet, her silvery grey hair a dishevelled mess on the back of her head.
“That tunnel is dangerous. It’s the most degraded of them all,” Brian said aloud. “If she’s fallen and hurt herself, she’s easy pickings for the demons.” He turned his back to Sylvie and motioned for Danny to follow him.
“I’ll go. You stay with that poor woman.” Danny shrugged his shoulders a couple times and then hefted his blade across them. He knocked on his helm. “I’ll be the safest.”
“No, Danny. I can’t hide behind you all the time. It doesn’t seem like there’s any more. I have a suspicion it was some kind of scouting party and you know how impulsive the imps can be. They’ll attack anything, even against their directives.” Brian took the feather out and stroked it between his fingers. “No, I’ll go. You stay here in case anything else shows up. I’ll take a radio.”
“Call me as soon as you need me. I’ll be there.” The worry on Danny’s face was touching.
“Thank you, my friend. Thank you.” Brian clapped him on his arm and nodded once. “Right, see you soon.”
The tunnel was colder than the large room but the echo was different and felt more claustrophobic. The floor was littered with broken bricks and human refuse of some kind. The tunnels had been used as a refuge before Brian’s group had arrived and others had left their own marks behind. Graffiti moved past Brian’s vision along the walls as he swept the flashlight from side to side.
A quarter of a mile up the tunnel Brian stopped to listen. He was making a lot of noise, the slight incline putting him out of breath, his feet occasionally knocking over something that carried an echo up and down the length of the passage. He didn’t hear anything except the usual tunnel noises of small animals skittering, dripping water and the sound of his own struggling lungs.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Ana?” Brian called quietly. “It’s Brian, if you’re here, please come out.” He panned the light across the tunnel again and screamed. An enormous black bird was perched on a pile of bricks ahead of him. It turned its head, its gilded eyes glinting and let out a deep caw. Suddenly, it started flapping then disappeared around a bend of the tunnel.
Brian didn’t move for a second, his mind racing, as he listened to his instincts. Demon? He did smell carrion, but weren’t ravens scavengers? How did it get down here? Did it get lost? Was it a gargoyle posing as a bird? Why?
The questions weren’t going to get answered as he stood there, so he carefully picked his way around the pile of bricks and followed the bird. As he passed where it had sat, he noticed three glossy black feathers on the ground. He pursed his lips in anxious anticipation and crept slowly up the tunnel.
Around the slight bend Brian found that the tunnel levelled out quite a bit and the progress was less troublesome. He continually scanned the floor for feathers or signs of Ana or imps. The graffiti on the walls was becoming more and more abstract, jumbled and overlapping words and images that blurred together and Brian remembered the markings as being fairly close to the exit of the tunnel.
Suddenly he heard a loud caw and a scrabble of wings, the flapping loud and wild, like several birds fighting for their lives. He stopped and panned his light around wildly, looking for the source. It was impossible to tell where the sound was coming from, but Brian suspected it was behind a large portion of caved in wall ahead. He slowly went closer and steadied his trembling hand holding the flashlight.
Rounding the rubble, Brian let out a breath and bent down.
“Thank God.” The relief Brian felt was like warm water pouring down his spine, the tension releasing in an instant. The girl was kneeling in the dirt, her eyes on the wall across the tunnel. She had a cut on her cheek that was slowly oozing blood and her pale hands were filthy. She must have climbed up the hilly tunnel on her hands and knees. She wouldn’t look at Brian, though, just stared ahead to the other side of the tunnel.
Afraid that she was seeing something, Brian stood and shone his light on the wall. There was nothing there, just some graffiti and more cracked bricks and a pile of dirt. He turned the light back to her, careful to not shine it directly in her eyes.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, bending down to her again. He tried to take her hand but noticed that she was clutching them both into fists. She still wouldn’t look at him.
“We have to get you back down to the common room. Can you stand?” He stood to show her what he meant. “Stand, like this.”
But the girl just slowly raised her hand and pointed to the wall.
“There’s nothing there. It’s just some old spray paint. Someone else was here before us, that’s all.” Brian shone his light on the wall again to humour the girl and frowned. The graffiti wasn’t just any graffiti. It was a set of bird wings carefully drawn in black paint. Feathers were cascading off each tip. In front of the painting, on the ground, was a single black feather in a pile of fine ash. Brian walked over and picked it up. As he leaned down he looked closer at the painted wings. They looked to be drawn in charcoal. He raised a hand to touch the lines of one of the feathers and Ana’s hand stopped him. He hadn’t heard her get up and he jumped at her touch. He looked back to her and she shook her head, her black curls catching the light in silky waves.
“Did you see a bird here?” He held the feather up to illustrate what he was asking. “I saw one come this way and I heard it flapping…” he trailed off as Ana dropped her hand and started down the tunnel, heading back to the group. Brian looked back to the wall, the painted wings on it spread wide, and then followed the girl.
“Can I call you Ana? Would that be ok?” he asked as he caught up to her. They walked side by side, him holding his arm out for her to grab to scrabble over the larger rubble. “You need a name and Danny suggested Ana. I like it.” He waited. She was silent, her eyes cast down. “Do you? Like Ana?” The girl lifted her face and met his eyes. She nodded and gave Brian a wan smile. He felt something like patronised condescension in her expression. Almost as if she was playing along with a tiresome child’s game.
“If you prefer something else, just tell me. You need a name.” She shook her head and took his hand briefly. She squeezed it once and let go, leaving his hand tingling.
“Right, Ana it is. So, Ana,” Brian said carefully. “What happened tonight? With the imp?” She glanced up at him once and cast her eyes down again, watching her footing.
“I’ll ask questions and you nod or shake your head, just like before.” He wasn’t suggesting, leaving her little room to disagree.
“Did you see the imp come down the other tunnel?” She nodded her head once, eyes still down.
“Was it being quiet? Trying to be stealthy?” She nodded again and took his arm as she tripped.
“Did you wake anyone to warn them?” She didn’t answer right away but slowly shook her head no.
“Hmm,” Brian thought. She was being very forthcoming with her replies, he reckoned, and he wanted to get everything he could out of her while she was amenable to answering.
“Did you go up this tunnel when you saw the imp?” She nodded. Brian felt something crawling down his back, the tingle of awareness, the hairs of his body rising.
“Were you drawing it away from the group?” She looked up once, meeting his eye and then nodded, quickly looking away.
“Why would you do that? Why…” Brian floundered, on the edge of a question he didn’t want to ask because he already knew the answer.
“Were they here for you?” Brain pulled up short, trying to get her to stop. They were near the entrance of the tunnel and could hear the sounds of people moving things, voices and generators and the smell of something cooking. She walked ahead of him as they exited and turned back to face him briefly. She didn’t nod. She only met his eyes but Brian knew. She turned away from him, a silent danger amongst his sheep.