Taker Of Skulls(31)

More howls rang out. They seemed closer. He gestured for them to stop.

“We can’t go on like this,” Kormak said. “If we don’t rest we’ll be in no shape to fight if they overtake us.”

Boreas gave him a grim smile. Was he feeling superior because of Kormak’s weariness? Karnea held up her hand. “Wait,” she said. “I have something.”

She pulled off her backpack with a grateful sigh and began to rummage among its contents. It seemed she was well-organised for she quickly produced a small leather package, marked with runic script. She flipped it open and a familiar scent hit Kormak’s nostrils.

“Quickleaf,” she said. She pulled out four large desiccated leaves. “Chew it and let the juice dribble down your throat.”

She proceeded to follow her own instructions then wearily lifted her pack onto her shoulders again and started to walk. Kormak pushed the leaf into his mouth and began to chew. The bitter taste in his mouth brought back memories of other times when he had used the drug; nights when he had sought monsters in the dark places of the world, days of siege that he had thought he would never survive, rides across the wilderness on errands that required desperate speed.

At first he felt nothing. He was just as weary and it was just as hard to get himself moving again as he had expected it to be. By silent agreement, they had not started running again. It was a good thing. A mixture of marching and jogging was the best way to keep up this killing pace over the long term.

He began to take notice of his surroundings. The walls around them had been defaced, smeared with goblin excrement in places. The stonework was chipped and there were random lines scratched in the walls as if small creatures had been at work with pickaxes and blades.

“Where did the goblins come from?” Boreas asked suddenly. “How did they get into this place?”

Karnea shrugged. “No one knows. They are first mentioned in the records from the time of plagues, the Long Dying. They appeared before the city was sealed and its location lost.”

“Another Old One slave race?” Kormak asked. “The Old Ones bred orcs as warriors. Maybe they did the same for the goblins.”

“They don’t seem nearly as tough as orcs,” said Boreas.

“Maybe they breed quicker. Maybe they were intended to be tougher and something went wrong.”

“It’s possible,” said Karnea. “Such powerful magic must be hard and the potential consequences would be unpredictable.”

She fell silent as if contemplating the possibilities.

Sasha led them first one way and then another, following a twisting and winding path. It occurred to Kormak that she was simply following a safe route she had memorised, quite possibly the only one she knew through this underground maze. That was all right as long as it took them to where they wanted to go. But what if she lost her way, moved off the beaten path, took a wrong turning, part of his mind whispered.

He recognised the flash of paranoia that accompanied the use of quickleaf for what it was. It was one of the reasons he did not like using the stuff; his life was spent in a perpetual state of wariness anyway. The drug had a tendency to exacerbate his natural suspicion and raise it to the level of a sickness.

His mouth felt dry now as if the leaf was absorbing all the moisture in it, and his tongue was starting to feel thick. His heart beat faster and faster. He realised that he had not felt the weariness in his limbs for some time. He looked at the others. Their eyes were bright, and they surveyed their surroundings with quick nervous glances. Without saying a word, Kormak lengthened his stride and broke into a run. The others followed, moving effortlessly, as if they had just had a full night’s sleep and were in perfect condition. Even the pain in his knees seemed to have been numbed, along with his lips and tongue and fingertips.

“Useful stuff, quickleaf,” said Sasha.

“This is the finest,” said Karnea. “It grows on the slopes of the Forlorn Mountain. I picked it and dried it myself.”

“Save your breath for running,” said Kormak.

The howling of wolves erupted behind them, closer still. Images of giant beasts racing after them, loping along with untiring stride, fangs glittering in their drool-filled mouths leapt into his mind. He could picture their light-reflecting eyes burning with the lust to rend human flesh, his flesh. He felt certain that if he looked back over his shoulder he would see them now, springing towards his back. The sensation was so intense that he turned his head but there was nothing there, yet.

He cursed the necessity of ever having to use quickleaf and loped on. The howls were getting closer.





Chapter Thirteen