Last to Rise(19)

We all looked up, but there was nothing to see except more rock. That didn’t make me feel any better about those little lumps of stone.



“Let’s just see where this goes, shall we?” I said. “And not touch anything on the way.”



We crept on in, quiet as we could be, listening always for other footsteps ahead, for the sound of furtive breathing or the clank and jingle of the armour all the Storad wore. Every now and again Pasha would twist a finger and we’d stop while he listened, but each time he’d say they seemed far away – far enough to be at their camp probably, though not knowing how much this tunnel twisted it was hard to tell.



The tunnel seemed to go on for an age, mostly straight but with sudden twists and turns that appeared out of the gloom as we went forward, all with guns out, just in case. Every turn brought my heart into my mouth. What if there were Storad just around the corner, what if Pasha couldn’t hear them, what if Dench had found a way to block him, what if, what if till my eyes went screwy.



The air got colder, the breeze brisker. The boom-shudder of the guns was felt more than heard in the castle, but the shudders got fainter and the booms got clearer as we went on. We had to be getting close to Outside. I could smell meat crisping already, though I brushed that off as wishful thinking. But the end of the tunnel meant Storad, though we’d heard nothing so far. Pasha handed me the lamp so he could twist his knuckles again and try to hear how far away the camp was.



Sadly, he should have tried about a hundred steps earlier. Then maybe we’d have had more notice and we could have retreated in style. Instead, the first we knew about anything was when Pasha’s eyes flew wide open about half a heartbeat before something – a bullet as it turned out – pinged off the rock right by my head and zipped off down the tunnel behind us. I didn’t even have time to say, “Shit,” before a whole bunch of Storad appeared round the next bend, looking menacing in some weird sort of armour I’d never seen before and dark, twisted helmets. We were near the end, it seemed, and they’d snuck in since Pasha had last listened, or he’d been fooled by the twisting nature of the tunnels. Or maybe Dench really had discovered how to block him at close range.



Whatever, there was a brief, frozen moment in time as we all stared at each other before reality kicked in. We were seven. They were about twenty, with more coming round the corner, no longer caring about being quiet or sneaking. Big, nasty-looking men with guns in their hands.



We ran.



I’ll say this about Halina, that girl could really shift, fast enough that I began to wonder if she’d bypassed those cardinals’ flunkies and decided to leave me to the Storad herself. Probably helped that she wasn’t actually on the ground but propelled herself through the air. I’d have given my left bollock to be able to do the same. I very nearly did give it too, when a bullet grazed the top of my thigh, leaving a burn, a rush of juice and a quick thanks that it hadn’t been just that bit higher, thereby putting an end to my favourite hobby. I could have rearranged myself out of there, of course, but that took time and I had to sit down while I did it or I’d fall down. There was no way in the world I was sitting down while a bunch of Storad came for me with guns, so I ran with everyone else.



Unfortunately, it’s quite hard to outrun a bullet. Pasha did his best to plant the idea in the shooters’ minds that they might want to aim somewhere else, but I reckon it wasn’t too easy while running away, plus the Storad language wasn’t ours. Bullets zipped about all over the place. One of the guards fell just as we came to the next twist, and had no hope of getting out of the field of fire. Pasha and I picked him up by the shoulders and half dragged, half carried him around the bend, but he was already dead.



“Where in hell did they come from?” Pasha was wheezing like an old man and something, a bit of bullet or a scrap of shattered rock, had sliced a cut across one eyebrow. “One minute they weren’t there, the next they were.”



“I was hoping you’d tell me. Best answer, Dench is a tricky bastard. Now what?”



His eyes took on the dreamy look that meant he was listening in to people’s thoughts. “They’re slowing down. I can’t hear them properly for some reason – they sound far away even though they aren’t, and I don’t know much Storad, but I think they don’t want to come round that corner and find a bunch of guns in their faces.”



“Can’t say I blame them. How about we use the time to get the fuck out and see if we can block the tunnel? At least jam the door.”