Leda

Chapter Fifty-Three: Behind the Walls

"So this is it?" Hal peered down into the cluster of boulders which broke up the monotony of the moors some two miles west of Dal Reniac. The clamour of battle was fainter out here; cries and screams eaten by the wind, the ring of steel dulled by the distance. But when she thought of Roc, of Magda, Cesary and all who now hurled themselves at the city walls, her stomach lurched.

"Aye." Benec Jordi nodded in his odd, ferretish way.

"No one ever noticed you slipping out of here?" Kris asked, also sceptical. "The Colvé tunnels stretch further than this."

"We tried not to make a habit of it," said Jordi.

"Well let's get going." Hal shifted from leg to leg, her hands buried in the deep pockets of her greatcoat for warmth. "The longer we're out here, the more of them we lose." She gestured with her head in the direction of the city.

"Tunnels no longer hold any fear for you, I see," Jools jibed.

"Jools," Hal curled her lip in resentment. "Right now I'd get down on my knees and dig a tunnel with my bare hands if I had to."

"Only jesting."

"Well don't."

It was the tightest of squeezes between rough blocks of granite. Surely, Hal thought, the good merchants of Dal Reniac could have been smuggling no more than jewellery out of the city. Dal Reniac was, after all, famed for its artisans. But having dropped down through the near vertical crevice between the boulders, she saw that the tunnel opened out. Dank and wet, this must have been a natural cave system with pinnacles of ancient rock hanging precariously from the roof, while mounds of the stuff grew up from the floor like calcified molehills. She waved her brand around, nerves threatening to overwhelm her as their shadows ballooned and then shrank against the cave's walls. But every moment that she hesitated cost lives, and so she swallowed down her fear and walked ahead with Benec; the thieves and Salvesté close on their heels, an odd assortment of mercenaries, highlanders and guards behind them, and Hovey bringing up the rear. Ven Lund had recommended that they take his old friend with them. Hovey, he claimed, had a knack of turning tight spaces to his advantage. Hal had her doubts, but she'd taken the captain's advice.

"You didn't think to bring your pet?" Kris whispered in the darkness.

"My what?"

"You know...hairy. Muscles. Grunts a lot."

"Ah, Fælc! I wouldn't let him hear you say that. He's quite the sensitive type deep down. But I thought he might get wedged in the tunnel."

Kris snorted and Jools' laughter was an edgy, high-pitched cackle.

"Hush!" Hal snapped. "Who knows if we can't be heard."

They were at their limits, she realised; their nerves frayed to the point of breaking. How else to explain the rising panic in Jools' laughter? She detected it in her own voice, too. What if Leda had been mistaken? What if Jordi intended to betray them after all, forced to it by Castor? She swung the brand around so as to study the little man, but he seemed as anxious as the rest; his face taut, his eyes wide as he led them from the caves and into what appeared to be a series of manmade tunnels, with roofs supported by wooden joists. That reminded her of the passage below Hannac, and her unease intensified until she recognised cellars with arched ceilings of brick and stone, rats scurrying away at their approach.

The streets and stones and earth above their heads muffled the chaos of battle. And Roc lacked the trebuchets which had caused so much destruction during the siege of Hannac. His makeshift battering rams ˗ a few pine logs they'd hauled up from the woodland below the moors ˗ would have little impact on the city gates, she feared. No, there was only one way of getting into the city. And it depended on their own mission's success.