For two more days, Qenn sat next to Kandish and talked about magic, feeling like he had no resolution. The questions were the same, no matter how many times he asked them, no matter how differently he worded them. Unfortunately, Kandish’s answers left him unsatisfied. Qenn would have to wait for the power of the staff to reveal itself, she said. Most magics were different from one another, she said. The staff might let him know when it was time to use it, she said again and again. There was nothing she could do to help him. All she could do, was to warn him to be careful when he did use it.
“I just want to make sure that I know what to do. I don’t want to fail. There is so much depending on us.” Qenn spoke loud enough for them all to hear. No one responded. They each drifted off to their own thoughts.
The Lyyn Forest had thinned out and all but disappeared now. Plains stretched away on both sides of the Spira, with short spans of scrub thickets and wooded patches growing along the banks. The Shard Peaks were far off in the distance, heavily covered with wispy clouds. Kamen told them that they would be at Tannindell by nightfall. They would have to find a guide in the city, someone who would be able to lead them safely through the Pikes and then on into Creatia.
And hopefully back again, Qenn thought.
It was nearly mid-afternoon when the black smoke was spotted. Prevost alerted Kamen, pointing straight ahead of them. It was only a few seconds before the rest of them were looking northeast, still far in the distance, where a series of black twisting lines snaked up into the clouds. No one said anything for a few moments. They kept their gaze directed for the distant smoke.
“The city is burning,” Prevost said.
“More-so than usual,” Kamen added.
Qenn turned to Kandish and saw worry mirrored in her eyes. She whispered that it was Takers. Qenn felt a cold chill settle over him then. His slender fingers gripped the staff even tighter.
Kamen screamed, venting his anger with swinging fists. “Those nightmares! They’re attacking the city!”
“Why would…?” Qenn began, but answered the question for himself. The war had already started. Tannindell had fallen.
“They’ll march south to the Elves now,” Kandish said softly.
Qenn turned to look at her and saw the fire in her eyes again. She looked like her old self, he thought. The way she looked when he first saw her.
“Do we turn back and warn the Elves?”
“We can’t,” Prevost answered. “We would lose valuable time. Days maybe.”
“Prevost is right. Turning back is not an option.” Kamen Ode turned to Qenn with a face so determined that Qenn thought the big man’s words were unnecessary.
Very little was said after that. Kamen’s men spoke briefly to each other, mostly about their concern for the city. Other than that, they kept their eyes and ears alert. Takers could be anywhere. And this time there would be enough of them to leave no survivors. The thought did not sit well with them. They became jumpy and nervous, scared to talk even. They hoped they could pass down the river unnoticed. Unchallenged. Alive.
The smoke from the burning city fogged up the sky as the day slowly drifted into evening. With the sun sinking below the horizon, Tannindell’s buildings were visible. As night fell and blanketed what was seen, red and yellow flames flickered brightly and the billowing smoke was lost in the darkness. In the distance ahead, the Spira emptied out into the Upper Krune with the burning city falling to rubble at its southwestern corner. The boat was shored just a few hundred yards of the city, pulled up into a patch of bushes and each of its passengers hid in the shadow of the foliage staring at the dreaded city.
Even hidden behind the smoke screen and darkness, Qenn could make out the size of the city, thinking that it dwarfed Skadar Port. Ahead of him, all of what he could see from his left to his right, were the shapes of buildings and flames, ruin and destruction. The sky above him was a wash of black smoke. The size of the invasion must have been massive, he thought. He wondered how many people had survived. He swallowed hard. He began wondering what happened to his hometown after they had fled the demons.
“Stay close,” Kamen whispered.
He began moving slowly away from their concealment without waiting for anyone to object. Prevost followed a step behind, beckoning for Qenn and Kandish to follow behind him leaving Kamen’s other two men bringing up the rear. All were watchful, moving slowly, quietly. They stayed close to the riverbank where a series of bushes grew, offering them the only protection towards the city. The land to their right was wide open and they would be spotted right away if anyone was looking. In the silence of the night, only the crackling of burning wood was audible.
They followed Kamen Ode as he snaked them from the shelter of the bushes and into the city streets. With their backs against the wall of a building, they slipped around the side, darting through an alley until they reached the storefront and a street corner. They paused to stare at the destruction, ash falling like rain, air choked by the stagnant decay of burnt flesh.
Yellow flames danced in the dark like nightmarish ghosts. Once-buildings were lit fiery red with either licking flames or searing embers. No one was seen. The streets were filled with burning debris and rubble as if the shops and homes were gutted out and the buildings torn down. Standing in the shadow of what remained of a porch’s roof, the six members stared without moving. They had never seen anything like it.
“No one could have survived this.” Prevost gasped softly, his face wrinkled in shock.
“They weren’t meant to,” Qenn said quietly.
“Annihilation.” Kamen shook his head. “Let’s get out of this hell.”
All heads nodded in unison. None of them wanted to linger in the devastation. None of them wanted to end up like the city.
They crisscrossed intersections, staying away from buildings that were smoking, creeping through the shadows. They moved a few blocks in towards the center of the city when they began to notice rubble piles in the streets. But as they moved closer to one, it seemed oddly formed, even in the dark. They were within twenty feet of it before the pile became visible for what it was. Faces without eyes, mouths opened with silent screams, some with bodies, some just heads, piled in the center of the street.
The group stopped, backing away slowly. Only Takers could do this. Only a storm of demons could tear through the city leaving this massacre. And no one would have survived. No one could have.
“They’re all dead. Everyone.” Qenn swallowed hard.
“We should get out of here,” Prevost whispered. Kamen nodded next to him.
And then a dark figure detached itself from a building down the street. It made its appearance obvious. It stood facing them for a moment, then moved forward. Its cry was wicked—soulless.
“Run!” Kamen yelled.
The group turned and raced back in the direction they had come. From other blocks around them, the Taker’s cry was matched by several others. The horrors bellowed out through the city like aftershocks. Hearts pounded faster than footfalls then. Eyes widened like screaming mouths.
They turned down an alley, heading towards the Spira, when they were met by three Takers. Instantly red fire exploded from their hands, but the group dove and scattered out of the way. One of Kamen’s men tripped over rubble chunks and twisted his ankle. More fire shot into the group, forcing them to flee quickly, leaving the injured man. As the group raced away, he was slow to get up, clutching his ankle. The Takers closed in on him.
Qenn looked back in time to see a red burst of light, then the Takers following in pursuit once again. “They’re coming!”
He ran next to Kandish, just a step behind Kamen and Prevost, with Kamen’s last man throwing daggers back towards the demons. Kamen led the group in a zigzag pattern, trying to lose the Takers in the smoke and burning debris. Several times their course had to be changed, altered by collapsed buildings that choked their escape. Kamen cursed himself out loud for bringing them to Tannindell, for allowing them to be so close to death onc
e again.
They weaved their way in and out of collapsed shops, over and around rubble piles, keeping away from anything still burning. They found themselves running past a series of towering buildings out into a large open park with small trees and bushes. Past that was the Upper Krune. Little could be seen in the darkness north or west. And none of them wanted to turn further into the city. Kamen told them that they needed to turn back, they needed to reach the bridge leading out of Tannindell and over the Spira.
“We could follow the shoreline around,” Qenn suggested.
“The bridge would be at the mouth of the Krune. West.” Prevost pointed in the direction they needed to go.
Then suddenly something moved in the street ahead of them. It was a man, crawling out of a hole in the street. Kamen raised a hand to his group to keep them quiet. Then the figure turned and saw them. No one moved for a few seconds. Then the figure raised one hand, then the other.
“I have no weapons,” the voice cried out to them.
“We do.” Kamen’s reply was nothing friendly. “Who are you?”
The man began walking slowly over to them. He was tall, his lean frame was draped in a long hunting cloak tied about his waste. His hair was long and unkempt with a scraggly beard. As he approached them, he lowered his hands. His head shifted around uneasily, as though he was expecting something to happen.
“You’ll be dead, caught out in the open like this,” the man said.
“What happened here?” Prevost asked the man.
The man came within a few feet and stopped. He took time to look each of them over, pausing considerably at Kandish, much longer than she would have wished, before answering. “The beginning of the end, of course.”
Qenn thought he caught the man smirking. “You mean, Takers?”
The man turned to Qenn to respond, but as he caught sight of the staff in the elf’s hands, he paused, eyes fixed on the staff. When he did speak, his voice was distant, eyes never leaving the staff. “Yes, the Taker horde. They destroyed everything, killed everyone.”
It was obvious to them all that the man was intrigued by Qenn’s staff. Even more-so when Qenn placed the staff behind him, snapping the trance between them. The man seemed to be annoyed. He tried to see around Qenn, trying to keep his eyes on the staff.
“That staff you carry, where did you get it? What does it do?”
Kamen interrupted at once. “How did you survive, if everyone else is dead?”
The man smiled. “They attacked at night. Red fire shot everywhere, burning wood and stone alike. People were pulled into the streets and killed. Hundreds of the demons flooded through on a rampage. A few of them stuck around. Not sure why. Maybe to feed, I guess. Maybe just to make sure no one was left alive.”
“You didn’t answer his question,” Prevost pressed. He moved closer to Qenn.
The man was bothered now, and it showed. He snapped at Prevost. “I am smart enough to know where to hide and when to do it.”
“Who are you?” Kamen shot back. He didn’t care for the tone the man was giving. Something about him troubled Kamen. There was a look of distrust in his eyes. Kamen thought about cutting his throat and being done with him, but he thought better of it.
“I am Wix. And you are?”
“We… are leaving this forsaken city.”
“Then I can help. I can take you wherever you’re going.” Wix said desperately.
Kamen glanced at Prevost, both unsure. Kamen looked back to Wix, his face a blank expression as the other stood with eyes flickering in mistrust. “We need to go over the Spira, then north. Far north. Creatia.”
Screams tore through the night then, loud and terrible. Takers. The group turned to see a line of black figures heading towards them.
Wix looked away from the Takers and back to Kamen Ode, speaking excitedly. “I can get you out of here alive. But I’ll need some compensation.”
Kamen drew his sword and placed the tip at Wix’s neck before he had a chance to blink. “I would reconsider, if I were you.”
“Just the staff. Then I’ll take you. Just the staff!” Wix’s voice was filled with desire and lust. “It’s a fair—”
Kamen pressed his blade into the other’s neck deep enough to draw blood. “You take us to the bridge, and I’ll let you live.”
Takers were screaming now, getting closer. Wix held his ground for a moment, then backed down. “Okay, okay. I don’t want the stupid staff anyhow. Come on, we must hurry.”
Qenn was uncomfortable. Kamen looked at him then nodded. He would watch Wix; the staff would never change hands. Still, he didn’t like the idea of the man being around them. He swallowed hard, then rushed to follow the others.
Wix ran towards the Takers, running to his manhole in the street, sliding the heavy steel cover aside and dropping down quickly. The others used the steel rungs as a ladder, disappearing beneath the street. Prevost wasted no time sliding the cover over head before climbing down to the others.
A spark was heard in the dark, then a flame was lighting a torch. Wix’s face was a mix of panic and excitement, all camouflaged with light and shadow as he held the burning torch just above their heads. They were about ten feet below the city, ankle deep in stagnant water. Wix moved them quickly down the stone-block tunnel until it opened up into a larger tunnel, with a larger body of water moving swiftly away. A series of smaller tunnels poured water into the sludge-filled river, which had a very unpleasant smell to it. Rats scattered along the river by the dozens. Bats hung from the ceiling.
“Sewer,” Wix smiled, “is the only place I know that most people won’t track you.”
“It’s not men that track us,” Prevost shot back.
“Just get us out of here,” Kamen growled, sending Wix a look that suggested he wish to harm him in a way that he would not recover from.
Qenn noticed Wix take a quick glance at the staff before turning them away. They followed him up along a brick walkway next to the waste-current. Qenn was having a hard time adjusting to the thick must in the air. He was forced to breathe out of his mouth. He could feel Kandish very close behind him and wondered how she was handling the new scenery. He wondered how often it was that Wix made his way through the sewer.
Then he wondered if they would notice if they were being followed or not. The rounded brick tunnel was very dark, and the current next to them was loud enough that they barely heard themselves walking. Someone following could easily be upon them before they realized it.
A long while had passed, and with that the group moved away from several more ladders and manholes, each time Wix climbed to the top and moved the grate to look around, only to come back down and lead them on again. He gave excuses of burning wreckage, or too many dead bodies, but none of it was convincing to anyone. Qenn began to think that maybe Wix had no idea where they were. The look on Kamen’s face at one point seemed that he shared Qenn’s thoughts. But after moving through countless corridors for what seemed like hours, Wix found the exit he was looking for. As he climbed out, he left the manhole open and urged the rest of them to join him, helping each of them out by hand.
Until Qenn.
As Qenn reached the top, he saw Wix smile, watched his beady eyes shift from his own down to the staff. Wix leaned down, keeping his gestures subtle, keeping his voice carefully low. “Give me the staff first, elf.”
Qenn lowered himself slightly, moving the staff further away. “Move out of the way, Wix.”
“The staff,” he whispered again. Wix looked around, making sure the others were not paying close attention. His desperate eyes turned hard, angry. He reached down towards Qenn. “Give it to me.”
Qenn shook his head. Wix’s face turned sour. But before anything could happen, Qenn saw Kamen’s sword tip finding Wix’s throat again. Wix backed up slowly, saying how he was merely trying to help. Kandish nudged Wix aside in an unfriendly manner as she moved to help Qenn.
“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t bleed you and toss you dow
n that hole,” Kamen grunted to Wix. Qenn stood next to Kandish, wishing Kamen would toss him down into the sewer.
“I’m trying to help you. No one else could have brought you here. You certainly could not have managed by yourselves. But I did it. I know the way of the city.”
Wix moved away from them. “Look. There’s your bridge.”
Everyone turned to look where Wix was pointing, except for Kandish. She glared at Wix and did not turn away, causing him to feel threatened enough so that he began walking towards the bridge. Kamen led the others, walking towards the bridge at the end of the street, almost two blocks away. A few times Wix turned to stare at the staff, only to find Kandish still glaring at him as she walked beside Qenn.
Once at the bridge, they paused to stare at it. It was huge, made of steel and iron, with huge cables running from the base to the top arching framework. The bottom was made up of steel grates, the water of the Spira seen flowing beneath.
“Wait. Look.” Kandish pointed further ahead. A large section of the bridge was missing. It had been destroyed beyond repair. Long cables and massive beams were strewn everywhere.
“It’s impassible.” Qenn sighed.
Kamen either didn’t hear him, or simply didn’t care. He kept walking, moving across the bridge, staring ahead to the missing section. The others followed, saying nothing. When they came to the gap, it was nearly fifty feet across, at the center of the bridge, the highest point. The river was a hundred yards below them, land a few hundred ahead. Kamen mumbled to himself for a few minutes. He was angry. He didn’t need to speak for them all to know it.
“I can find you a boat, if you’d like.” Wix offered. No one replied.
Kamen looked around, then ordered his men to grab a hold of one of the fallen support trusses. “Drag it over here.”
As they did so, Kamen walked to the very edge of the gap and began pulling up on one of the cables dangling down to the Spira. As the last of it came into his hands, he began untwining the frayed end. He told the others to remove some of the rings in the truss, the ones that the cables would have been attached to. It took them some time, but they did so, removing one, then another. By the time they had the second one off, Kamen and Prevost were pulling up another cable.
“Bend the ends,” Kamen ordered, showing them with his finger how the ring shaft should look like. They found this to be a very uneasy task. They had no tools to work with, nothing to pound the shaft with. Then Prevost gave the idea of placing the ring into the grate and slamming the iron truss against it. This worked. When they were finished, they had made a hook.
Kamen took the ring and tied it to one of the cables while Prevost worked on the other cable. Within a matter of minutes, Kamen was throwing the cable and hook across to the other section of the bridge, hearing it clank as the hook became stuck in the grate.
“Keep it close to the other one.” Kamen showed Prevost where to try and place his cable, then told the others to begin on dragging the giant truss closer to the edge.
“You’re going to bridge the bridge?” Wix was astounded.
With Kamen guiding them, the group pushed the truss across the cables, finding that it slid fairly easy. And that it reached the other side.
“Who’s going to risk their life first?” Wix laughed.
Kamen marched over to him and breathed on his face. “Do you know the land west of here?”
“What if I do?”
“Then you cross first.”
“What if I don’t?” Wix didn’t like the first answer.
“Then you go back to the city.”
Qenn was hoping that Wix would return back to the sewer. As he turned to see Kandish, he made eye contact with one of Kamen’s men just as his head glowed red and his body exploded.
“Takers!”
At the start of the bridge, a group of Takers began walking for them. Shrieks of terror squealed from within their cowls, red eyes glowing, hands spitting burning heat. The group wasted no time in testing out their would-be bridge. They moved on it in a line, walking as fast as they could safely, keeping balance above the cold water. Fire shot past them in waves. A scream was heard seconds before the sound of someone’s body exploding behind them. Wix, I hope, Qenn thought, but never looked back to find out.
Kamen and Prevost made it safely onto the other side, helping others off the truss as they reached them. As Qenn stepped onto the grates, he heard Kandish behind him, and turned to see Wix bringing up the rear alone. Instantly Kamen and Prevost began trying to lift the cables, but the weight of the truss made it impossible.
“Cut the cables!” Kamen handed a long sword to Kandish and they took turns with Prevost hacking away at the steel wires. It didn’t seem to be working.
“They’re coming!” Wix yelped.
The Takers entered the would-be bridge, moving slowly after one of them slipped and fell down into the Spira. The group hacked harder and faster, cutting through one strand at a time. The added weight on the truss only helped them. As the demons reached center point, one of the cables snapped and the truss tipped, tossing them aside seconds before the second cable broke loose and the entire truss collapsed down with them. The group stared for a second, then ran away into the darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO