Oralia gazed down the open hatchway into the dark tunnel system below, torn between descending into the underground or turning back and finding a safer means to reach Briony’s cottage. Ultimately, either decision would cost her. While the tunnels were undeniably faster, the question now was whether or not they were still secure. Short of running into an enemy patrol, she and Briony had no way of knowing whether they would be traversing the tunnel system alone. The remaining option would be to ditch the tunnels and hoof it through the forest on foot. An option that, while safer, would prove considerably slower. By Briony’s estimation, an alternate route through the woods would tack on an extra hour.
Oralia knew deep in her gut that they didn’t have that kind of time.
Filling her lungs with one final breath of cool night air, she lowered herself into the open hatch and down the rickety ladder. Her boots struck the compacted dirt below with a soft thud. She waited, testing the air for unfamiliar smells as her ears strained to catch anything out of the ordinary. The seconds slowly ticked by as Oralia stood stock-still, gathering as much information from her senses as possible. Neither her ears nor nose detected anything amiss.
Oralia whistled for her companion to follow. The hatch eased shut, sealing the shaft in darkness as Briony clambered down the creaky ladder with less confidence than she’d gone up. With Briony shaken and unable to see in the dark, it was up to Oralia to lead. She took a coil of rope from Briony’s pack and pressed it into the faun’s trembling hand. Wrapping the other end around her palm, Oralia moved deeper into the tunnel, unpleasantly aware that her ability to lead was soon going to get increasingly more difficult as the winding passage narrowed.
The journey was slow and tedious without a lantern to light the way. Tediousness trumped recklessness, however. Lighting the candle lantern was not a risk they could afford. Any light whatsoever would immediately give their position away to whatever else was lurking underground. It was for this reason the hormones raging through Oralia’s bloodstream proved unexpectedly useful. Orcs possessed a keen sense of smell on their own, but the added sensitivity was making it possible for her to retrace their steps simply by smell.
She and Briony were making decent headway when a commotion stopped her in her tracks. Briony heard it as well. The little faun froze in place, eyes wide and ears fanned. “That came from behind,” Briony whispered as her eyes darted back and forth, panicked. “Near the hatch we came in through, I’d wager.”
Oralia crouched lower. Her voice uttered so softly, she barely heard it over the rapid heartbeat drumming in her ears. “Is it unheard of for animals to get trapped down here?”
“That wasn’t an animal.”
“Can you tell how many?” As much as she tried, the source of the commotion was still too far away for Oralia’s sense of smell to be of any help.
“Not yet. I’m not really that keen to find out either.”
Oralia bit back her agreement. As feared, the tunnels were compromised. Aside from numbers, the other pressing question was whether or not the approaching soldiers were of the magical variety. She and Briony would have better luck against regular military forces, but she suspected Tarathiel Cray, Geralt’s second in command, knew that as well. If Cray was half as crafty as his reputation led her to believe, then he would’ve sent witches to collect them. While sensible as far as strategies went, the fact that Oralia was playing host to a dark entity with an insatiable thirst for magic would not play out well for either side.
Oralia blinked hard, dismissing the growing vision of dancing flames and the stench of charred flesh before it had time to fully form. Magical or not, the enemy was not yet close enough to rouse her dark passenger and she intended to keep it that way. She drew the folded parchment and chalk stick from her pocket and set about etching a crude symbol into the compacted dirt.
“What are you doing?” Briony hissed. Even at such close proximity, her lack of night vision prohibited her from seeing what was taking place.
“Making a seer’s trap,” Oralia replied. “I suspect our pursuers are from the division. If so, their magic will activate the symbol.”
“That won’t hold them.”
“I am aware.” The seer’s trap served only as a temporary annoyance against anything higher than a mid-level witch, but the resulting flash was all Oralia needed. She did not intend to be anywhere near the symbol if and when it went off. She only needed it to be a beacon to tell her whether or not their pursuers were magical and how far behind they were.
Finished, Oralia stood and tucked the chalk stick back into the safety of her pocket. “Where is the nearest hatchway? The sooner we vacate the tunnels, the better.”
Briony’s amber eyes darted back and forth as she racked her brain for the answer. “Not far,” she said, drawing the information from memory. “Keep following this passage until the next fork, take a left, and there’ll be an exit just beyond that.”
Oralia nodded her agreement and then realized Briony had no way of knowing. Still, she dared not speak anymore than necessary. The faint sounds coming from behind were growing steadily clearer, indicating it was time for them to be on their way. She gave the rope a gentle tug before setting off, moving as quickly and quietly as the cramped passage would allow.
They’d reached the fork in the passage when the light from the seer’s trap flared to life behind them. A startled yelp rang out, followed by muttered cursing as the unsuspecting witch fought his way free. Several voices responded, each of them hailing from a different section of the tunnel system. Oralia darted down the left passageway as the muffled thump of thundering footsteps closed in around them.
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An icy chill rippled through her veins, awakened by the sudden concentration of magic. Drawing the food in, how thoughtful of you, orc. It has been too long since I’ve had a substantial feed. These offerings will do nicely.
She’d found the fork in the passage and gone left, as instructed. Where in the seven realms of chaos was the blasted ladder? Oralia snapped her tusks together softly as she scoured the narrowing passage for signs of the exit. Her heartbeat doubled as the enemy drew closer. With their cover blown, the soldiers abandoned their previous sense of stealth in favor of speed. Multiple sets of fast footsteps thundered down the tunnel in Oralia and Briony’s direction.
Ladder, ladder, where the fuck is the ladder?
Come now, don’t do that, the dark entity whispered. Turn back and let us face them together. I cannot afford to have you die, remember?
Oralia found it, at last. She reached the ladder and urged Briony to ascend ahead of her with an ungentle push. Oralia’s heart leapt into her throat as the leading set of footsteps reached the fork in the passage and hurtled towards her.
The cold beneath her skin writhed in anticipation. This one is strong, orc. Suitable, perhaps, as a replacement vessel.
Briony reached the top of the ladder and threw her shoulder against the sealed hatch. The lid’s rusted hinges squealed as it opened, allowing a shaft of dim light to filter down from above. The sudden illumination blurred Oralia’s vision as she tore her way up the rickety ladder with the speed and desperation of a rat escaping the cat’s jaws.
No! Go back. The dark entity raged within her. Do as I instruct, and I will allow you and your unborn child to walk away with your lives.
She could ensure that herself. Oralia reached the hatchway and fought her way through, grabbing on to whatever handholds she could find on the outside. Briony seized her by the arm and assisted her the rest of the way through. Once free, Oralia turned and slammed the hatch shut, eyes darting across the dark landscape in search of something heavy to weigh it down. Her answer came in the form of a giant, lichen covered boulder.
“Stand over the exit,” Oralia ordered as she stooped to retrieve it, gritting her teeth as she heaved with her legs bent. She walked it several steps before dropping the boulder over the wooden hatch. It wouldn’t hold long against witches, but enough, perhaps, to allow her and Briony to disappear into the woods with a decent head start.
“Do you know where we are?” Oralia panted, wiping the sheen of perspiration from her eyes.
Briony didn’t answer. She lifted her head instead, nostrils flaring as she tested the air. Her eyes went wide, completely rimmed in white. “I smell smoke.”
Oralia drew air in through her nostrils and ran it across her tongue. The breeze was heavy with ash and smoke. Oralia’s gaze met Briony’s. She saw a flash of panic dart across the faun’s stricken face.
“Briony,” Oralia started, but it was too late.
The faun took off at top speed, crashing through the thick underbrush.
Oralia sprinted after her, leaping over entire thickets when possible and plowing through when it wasn’t. She was running at full speed and, still, the space between her and Briony grew further by the second. Keeping pace was infinitely harder when pitted against a species born to run. Oralia set her jaw and continued on, wincing as the worsening stitch in her side reminded her that her aging body was no longer suited for such a task.
Oralia didn’t know how long she followed Briony’s haphazard trail. Her head insisted it had only been minutes, but her legs argued for hours. Her lungs didn’t care how much time had passed so long as she stopped before they collapsed in on themselves. The smell of smoke grew thicker, burning the inside of her nasal passages and down her throat, into her chest as she ran.
A steep hill rose above her. The trail of trampled ferns told her Briony had gone up this way. Grudgingly, with her lungs seizing and leaden legs threatening to buckle, Oralia staggered her way onward. She found Briony at the top, staring out over the dark woods. There was a fire in the distance. A dark plume of smoke billowed above it, spiraling skyward like a beacon.
“That’s my house,” Briony whimpered. The distant firelight flickered in her eyes as she watched the flames engulf her home, spellbound by the dancing blaze. “Every instinct in my body is telling me to go down there and rip them a new one. To fight back. To try and save the people they’re about to hurt. But we can’t do that, can we?”
A wave of grief crashed over Oralia, dispelling the last of her strength. He caught herself against a tree as her stiff legs finally gave out. The word felt like serrated glass against her swollen throat. “No.”
“Argh!” It had been a rhetorical question no doubt. But the answer infuriated Briony all the same. She paced back and forth through the tall grass, kicking at the ground. “We escaped their net and this is their way of drawing us back in, isn’t it? And the fucked up thing is that it’s working!”
Oralia watched the dancing flames, unable to blink away the hot tears welling up within her eyes. There was a chance they had gotten away. Sascha could be hunkered down, hiding somewhere, waiting for the heat to die down before he went looking for her. Just as she should have been doing.
Briony continued to pace. She clasped her hands behind her back as she swept back and forth, racking her brains for a solution. “They found my place and the tunnel systems. Someone talked. Which means the realm probably raided the other safehouses as well.”
“Briony, look.” With the cottage fire burning bright, Oralia hadn’t noticed the other, smaller lights glowing within the woods below. They were nothing more than pinpricks of light weaving through the dark trees. “Those are lanterns.”
The faun stopped pacing long enough to observe. She tilted her horns to the side, confused. “So?”
“The soldiers are sweeping the woods.” Oralia felt a small lift as her spirits picked themselves off the floor and dusted off. “They are looking for stragglers. Some must have gotten away.”
“That’s good news.” Briony appeared to be desperate for some form of silver lining, no matter how small. “We should go find the stragglers then, right? Before the soldiers do?”
Oralia pushed off from the tee and placed her hand on the faun’s shoulder. It was not a gesture of comfort, but a means to ensure Briony didn’t take off on foot a second time. “No,” she said. “We lie low. If anyone escapes their net, we will find them when the forest is no longer crawling with soldiers.”