Grendel

A roar, coming from far beneath me, shook the floor I lay on. "…Ohh." I peeled my sticky head from the floor and lifted a numb arm out from beneath my chest. My head. I rested a palm against the rising lump where the woman had struck. God, she's strong. Where is she? The mess remained, but the woman had vanished. The floor lurched underneath me. Black spots ran riot in my vision. Got to get out. I crawled forwards, rising to my knees. Grey light filtered in from outside. Dawn? Throne, I can't see straight. I pressed my thumb and forefinger against my tear ducts. What did she do to me? I glimpsed the grip of Art's stub pistol lying on the floor. C'mon, pull yourself together! I slapped myself in the face and worked my jaw up and down. On my hands and knees, I walked over to the pistol and picked it up. The two-pounds-worth of polymer and steel swayed in my hand. Not a chance. She'd just hunt me down and drag me back here. I put the weapon down and sat back. That's mine. I reached out for my other boot, sitting on its side in the middle of the mess. I gave up trying to retie my laces after the third attempt, leaving the laces loose. I can't do it, Art. I can't do it. I sniffed. Why'd you leave? All I've got now is her, a woman who hates me. What would you do now?

I'd sort this mess out, James. Can't xenos clear up after themselves? Pull yourself together now, me oppo.

I wiped my nose on my sleeve, touched the bruise on my forehead, and made for the overturned table, lifting it upright. Little by little, I worked through the mess, until all was returned to where it had been, even the bone-coloured xenos rifle in the corner on its blanket. Wouldn't have made it far anyway. I flopped down on the spot where I had lain and rested my back against a ferrocrete pillar. Is that my blood? I touched a dark stain, covering it entirely with my palm. Oh, God. An invisible hand squeezed my head. Bells rang in my ears. Where am I?

A red smudge grew in the corner of my eye. The woman's hand pushed my neck away from the pillar and dove down my back, underneath my armpits, inside my legs, beneath my buttocks, and within my boots. "D'you find it?"

"Find what?" The knife flashed. "Perhaps I may only take your tongue, whelp."

"Can't help you then, can I." I pressed my hand against the lump. "Got any ice?"

"What did you take?" Her mouth a thin line, the woman wrenched my hand away and jabbed the tender spot with a finger.

"Cold – aargh!"

"Cold?"

"Warm…" I winced. "Warmer. Mind yourself, our stickie, nothing's hidden down there."

"Hold tongue or lose it," the woman spat, returning to her gem-encrusted rifle. "Think about your future. Those lives you spent in pursuit of tainted flesh. Harai!"

"Told ya, it weren't for me," I growled. "Don't talk about…" A silver canister, trailing grey smoke, whizzed through the opening in the outwards-facing wall, clattering against the floor and rolling towards me.

"Baharr!" The woman dragged the sling of an autogun over one shoulder, slung a satchel over the other and drew her hood over her head.

"What…?" I scrambled away from the rolling canister. The woman dived through the opening without a second glance. "Oi!" I punched at the dangling flap the woman had left behind her and crawled through. A hot itch began spreading across my skin. "Shit!" I kicked at the post behind me, rolling over on to my back once my legs were clear of the hole. Dry smoke filtered through after me. One pair of laces flapping loose, I ran over to an iron rail and looked down the centre of a stairwell. The woman was three floors below me. One hand on the guard, I hopped down the stairs. Fingers of smoke, spiralling from adjacent rooms, pursued my downwards flight, filling my eyes with tears. Choked of air, I gathered my shirt and bunched it beneath my nose. Each short leap brought me three or four steps closer to ground level. Each subsequent slam of my heels in to the stone set off gongs inside my head. Dizziness flung me in to walls and yanked my feet out from under me. My cheeks were sore and sticky by the time I made ground level and stumbled out of a doorway, very nearly toppling forwards and slamming chin-first onto a road outside the stadium. Shirt-tails flapping behind me, I dove in to an ivy-coated alley, stopping only once the stadium was out of sight. I leant panting against a wall, moss burrowing underneath my fingernails. Somewhere a dog barked. What was all that then? I pressed my thumb against my tear ducts. Where are you, stickie? I plodded along the alley. The ringing returned, this time louder in my right ear. Ain't half easy to spot her in a crowd… I made out the conspicuous red garb further along the alley. The woman had her back to me, an open map in her hands. "The Stone—" I tripped – a bootlace caught underneath my heel – and barrelled at the woman, arms flailing. She sidestepped and placed her back against the wall, lifting the map up, letting me fly underneath it. I caught myself on the wall a few paces on and reached down for my laces. "The Stonehill."

"Fly east, whelp, I have no use for you," the woman muttered without looking up from the map.

"If they're gonna lynch me, what d'you think they're gonna do to you?"

"I wonder… How fast can you run, whelp? For the day is young."

"The – the Stonehill." I hooked a finger around the corner of the map. "There's a—"

The woman slapped my hand away. "I urge you flee before—"

"I've got a friend, he lives at the Stonehill."

"I have no business at the Stonehill."

"Can I just see where I am?"

"Bend your knees and beg."

"What? No, number ten. I've got a mate at the Stonehill, he'll put me up. That's my plan. Least till I can find a way back to me barracks. If I was you, I'd ditty-bop from the block on the double 'fore Graw gets wind you're on the loose."

The woman lowered the map and stared at me. "…I do not comprehend your words, whelp. Begone."

"Look, I'm lost without a map."

"You were always lost." The woman folded her map and tucked it away, bringing her autogun around to her chest. "You have seven seconds to run." I shrunk back from the woman, hearing a gentle click of a safety switch. Seven? Running feet echoed down the alley. That way. The woman snapped her weapon's telescoping stock back and pointed to her right with her off hand. "Furtafar."

Hornets shrieked past my ear, tearing fragments from the wall. Dust and dirt roared around me, pursuing my flight along the passage. Single shots from the woman's rifle barked, pummelling my ears. Colliding with a wall at the end of the alley, I cowered. A hand hauled me up by the scruff of my neck and pushed me on, guiding me by the shoulder until it returned to my collar, dragging me to a halt. "Climb." The woman cupped her hands at knee-level. "With haste, whelp, or I leave you behind."

"…Shit." I planted a boot within her hands and was flung up the uneven surface. I stifled a cry when my stomach rolled across the rough parapet.

"Whelp!" The woman whispered.

Straddling the wall, I glared down at her. "Come on then!"

The woman hefted her satchel in her hands and threw it up to me. "Shit, that's heavy!" The satchel banged against my knee. "Ow."

"Whelp!" I lifted my leg over and dropped down in to a tiny yard. What's in here then, marble? I unzipped the bag and peered inside. Filling the satchel were steel magazines thick with copper-jacketed rounds, grenades, pouches for the gear, unmarked tubes of paste, and two sidearms, one of them Art's stub pistol. "Keep your hands in view." A flash-hider appeared in the corner of my eye.

"Not planning on starting a war, are we?" I removed my hands from the satchel and nudged it over to the woman with my knee. "Nah, you already did that when you served those guns to Graw on a platter."

The woman slid the satchel back to me with her foot. "Bear the weight upon your shoulders." She crossed the yard, ducking underneath a washing line thick with clothing and placed her back against a wall next to a wooden door. "With haste, whelp. The dawn brings fresh hatred for the machine-slaves."

"Hey." I yanked a quilted jacket with a hood from the washing line. "C'mon, our stickie, this one's yours." The woman tilted her rifle to one side and checked the chamber. "They're gonna be looking for a clanker. Put this on." Adjusting her rifle's sling, the woman shook her head. "Put it on." I threw the jacket at her. "Daft," I muttered, tearing down a faded, colourless sweater hanging closeby. "See you coming a mile off, so they will." Still damp from being washed, the jumper sagged in the armpits and hung over my hands. "Call me coward, yeah. I'm trying to stay alive." The woman pressed her ear to the door and listened for a moment before propping her rifle against the wall and reaching for the jacket. Aiming a finger at me, she twirled it. I turned around, noticing an outhouse. Just the spot. "We heading to the Stonehill then?"

"Can you guarantee safe haven there?"

"So, we are goin' that way then."

"As the avian travels, pathing to the river takes us through the most heavily populated areas in this part of the city. South, to the Stonehill, offers a seedier route east."

"How did you get 'ere anyway?"

"At night, by wheeled transport."

"You stole some MT?"

"Minds like yours are easily bent to our will."

"So why don't you do it to me now…?" I turned my head a little.

"Straight eyes, whelp. Those trousers hanging, throw them behind you."

I unpegged a pair of dark trousers, damp with patches over the knees, and threw them behind me.

"Don't like doin' it, do you? We're slaves to you if you wanted it—"

"The ease of it is intoxicating. Total dominance over another's being heralds the start of a dark and terrible path. Think of it as slavery to an addictive substance; caffeine, nicotine, lho, gladstones."

"You ever had it done to you?" The creased, unfolded clanker robes hit my shoulder, landing by my foot. I gathered the robes up and, leaning in to the outhouse, dumped them beside a dirty toilet. The woman now wore the jacket and trousers and had drawn the fur-lined hood tight. "Well, our stickie?"

"Place your hand upon my shoulder," she said when I gathered the ammunition bag over one shoulder. "If you make attempt to run, I will put a round in your knee and leave you for the humans."

"What, like this?" I touched the back of the woman's left shoulder.

"Right shoulder. Why must you favour the left?"

I switched hands. "Left-handed, aren't I."

"Why you out of one-hundred other humans? Why must it be you?" The woman lifted the latch and nudged the door open, pushing her muzzle through the widening gap. Scanning left, the woman swung her muzzle down to her feet and trained it to the right. "Move," she whispered.

Better shut up. She'll start slicing fingers and other parts off if I make a peep. My eyes strayed down her back. It suits her. At a joint where the alley ended and split in to two branches, the woman halted and placed her rifle flat against her chest, positioning the muzzle near-vertical. She tilted her head and mouthed something. "What?" I mouthed back. Her hood placed everything above her cheeks in shadow.

"Go. Look."

Trading places with the woman, my cheek touched the damp stone. I stole a glance down a west-facing alley. All clear. The passage east was likewise bare of Graw. "Nothing." I drew back behind the woman. She took her firing hand from her rifle and beckoned to me with a finger. Once again, her lips had grown thin.

"Perhaps lesson may be learnt. Your eyes dart about, settling where they are not welcome. Observe instead this Ranger."

"Ranger?"

The woman held a finger to her lips. "Sound travels far in close confines."

"I'm quiet."

Several winding alleyways further on, the ground shifted underneath my foot. "Oi. Drain cover. Give Graw the slip down 'ere, so we will." The woman shook her head. "Number ten is it?"

"…Incomprehensible." She sneered, turning away. "Return to your kind then, rat."

"So, I'm a rat now then… Well, rats are survivors, y'know." My spine tingled when our eyes met.

"Then lift… Rat." The woman said softly.

I knelt, my fingertips feeling for the rim of the cover, and lifted. "Mmph… no, I can't. That's not gonna happen." I let the cover go, wincing at the clack it gave. "Aaah…" I pressed my hand against the scar on my back. The woman manoeuvred her rifle around to her side, got down on her knees and found the crack, slipping the fingers of her left hand under the rim. Throne, that's her weaker hand too… I massaged my aching arms, and planted a hand over my mouth to prevent a quiver overtaking my jaw. "Bloody hell," I murmured, my feet rooted. The woman flexed the fingers on her left hand and unslung her rifle, sliding the stock inwards before taking it down the ladder with her. Once her head was out of sight, I cast around, a driving thump in my chest. Me and my big mouth. I tugged the sling over my shoulder and backed down on to the rungs. How much bleeding ammo is she carrying in here? I hauled the cover towards me once my shoulders were just below the surface, biting down at the horrible grating it gave. "Oh, shit." I blinked in the pitch dark. Rung by rung, I descended until a hand coming up underneath my rump stopped me. "Fuck!" I lashed out, catching something soft with my heel.

"Kaela!" The woman latched an arm around my neck and pried me away from the ladder, dragging me in to a sitting position. Her arm pressed further in to my neck. "Let the aggression flow from you. When I let go, relax your hold on the ammunition. Nod if you understand." I twitched my head. Releasing me, the woman lifted the strap over my head and took the ammunition on her shoulder. "Further defiance will be punished, grievously so."

On my backside, I touched my throat. "Could've got inside my 'ead and made me. Why didn't ya?"

"Words fly around your head in circles, or are you so simple-minded?" The woman flashed a small torch in my face. "Ignoramus."

"Alright, alright." I held my hand over my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'll – I'll take the bag."

"No talk now." The woman flipped the torch over in her hand and passed it to me. "Take it."

"Them weapons…"

"This is all you will receive." The woman's rifle hung loose at her hip. Her hand went inside her jacket and unclipped the tab holding her knife in the sheathe. From the bag, the woman produced a second torch. Her free hand tapped her ear. "Walk." I swallowed and took the torch.

Explains why she's got such a swing. That strength. She'd break my back over her knee. I gnawed at the skin on my lower lip, the patient pad of the stickie woman behind me. Rough, uneven brick walls scratched at my baggy jumper. Moss sprouted from patches of damp. Rats burrowed in to alcoves and crevices to escape the twin torch-beams, beady little black eyes shining.

"Where there are humans, there will always be accompanying vermin. You are alike," the woman muttered. I imagined her wearing a little smile. My fingers tightened around the stippled grip of my torch. A face I'd like to punch.

"Aren't we too? You'd make a good spy. All cunning and seductive-like." I chanced a look back at her. The hand rushing at me found my shoulder, fingers digging in sharply.

"Deprived of his senses…" The woman pushed me against the wall, killing her torch. Rats scattered past my feet. Her thumb and forefinger squeezed my wrist, loosening my hold on the torch. "…how can one little human ever hope to see the light of day again." Twin glowing orbs glided backwards, leaving me in the dark.

"Stickie?" I waved my hands in front of me. "Ranger?" I paused and listened. Nothing. She's gone. Okay, think, think. Night exercise. Can't see. Drill instructors' dicking torch blinding me. Sarn't Ferres' live rounds. My gut tightened. One hand brushing the wall, I groped my way along. Rats skittered in and out of cracks, nattering to themselves. Bloody rats. The surface my hand followed fell away. Alcoves, where a deeper darkness lay, paid host to dozens of the vermin. Are those bones?

"…Ohhh." I swallowed. Similar recesses all along the passageway held piles of bones; human bones. Now I know how the rats got so fat. I shuddered. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling. Thin veils shrouded the burial alcoves in grey, wispy silk.

Where is she? I began dreading the woman ghosting at me from the darkness, with the knife. God, that axe… I shivered, trapping my hands underneath my armpits and placing my chin on my chest. "Art…"

The long-dead surrounded me, the vermin their sole companion, at least until I came along. Urgh. I shouldered aside a thin curtain of web. It's sticky. I batted at the silk clinging to my jumper, not seeing the floor ending in front of me. My boot broke the surface of a pool of water. The sudden falling sensation launched my stomach in to my throat. My head sunk beneath the surface, my legs flailing in the murk. Slimy balls of wet fur surrounded me, little claws clambering over my shoulders and digging in to my face. My soles touched the bottom of the passage. Pushing off, I kicked at loose bricks, clawing at ruts and protrusions in the wall beside me. Bits of mortar came away in clouds. Bricks fell around me. Torrents of fat rats spilled from the holes, the vermin piling around my feet. NO! I scythed through the cascade, my heels treading on a carpet of squishy fur. I found a solid foothold and dragged myself up to the surface to hordes of rats tumbling over one another. A twitching tail dropped inside my collar. "Aargh, fuck!" I swiped the rat from my shoulder. Another dug claws in to my ear and climbed on top of my head, only losing its grip when I dove back in to the water, pulling my body along the wall. A tickle in my lungs swelled to a stifling, burning sensation. Reaching for the surface above my head, I found only water. A moan left me. Balling my fists, my arms windmilled. Glued to the floor, my legs thrashed. Claws rammed against my neck, lifting me from the passage floor entirely. My head burst through the water's surface. Droplets gushed down my face. A hand dealt a stinging blow across my cheeks, then again. I blinked through streaming eyes. "Zaineth sin-kel!"

"Kill me," I mumbled between gasps. "I'm alone. Kill me. Kill me, please."

"You do not warrant such mercy. If your death is called, t'will be for a cause, rat."

"I'm… I'm…" My shoulders rose and fell in ragged spurts. "Rats can swim… I can't."

"Up." The woman stepped back against the wall and drew her rifle across her chest. "A brisk pace now would benefit you."

"Why you doin' this?" I pressed my arms against my chest and clutched my elbows. "You don't need me anymore…"

"You will provide me with sanctuary in the Stonehill, whelp. Where my path leads then… That is not for you to know. Be grateful that I may only take your life, and not the lives of those you call friend."

"Don't you dare."

"Speak louder, whelp."

"Don't you dare. Risto's got a family, he has. If you touch em…!" I spun and launched myself at the woman, never mind I was soaked and shivering. The woman pitched her muzzle upwards, swinging her stock at me.

Wool rustled along the rough ground, scraping at my back. Both of my legs were held fast in the air underneath the woman's arm. "Uhh…" I raised a limp hand, brushing the swelling in my cheek. "Oi…" In between moments of blackness, I pawed at passing outcrops and tried reaching for my bound legs, to no avail.

"Enemy." The woman's hand touched my mouth.

"Mmm." Candles glowed in tiny holes, letting faint light out in to the passage. Enemy, where? I turned my head and peered through a crack in the what seemed to be a partition between the dimmer passage where I lay, and a larger, brighter, area. The woman bent over me and whispered, a finger touching her lips. "Make not a sound. Friends of the axe-wielder."

Seven cloaked figures shambled in to view, dragging an animal carcass between them. Blood leaked from the corpse, leaving a wide trail behind it. "Mmm." The muzzle of the woman's rifle dug in to my side. I touched the cold steel and gently nudged it away. What's this? My fingertips found dry gauze wrapped around my head. Bandage?

"Stay your hand." The woman flashed her knife blade at me. Her hand lifted from my mouth. "Wait."

What are they doing with that? I squinted at heavy boots shuffling around in an almost inhuman manner, bearing the skinned corpse to a table and dumping it there. Knives slid from sheathes. I held my breath.

Cult rising feared. The newspaper headline reared up in my mind. "Cultists," I mouthed at the woman. She dipped her head and turned her ear to me. "They're cultists." Nodding, the woman turned her palms upwards. What can I do about it? I pointed at the ribbed handguard on her rifle. She gave a solid shake of her head. The sound of organs puncturing turned my attention back to the cultists. The woman clamped down upon the sharp gasp I gave when tiny, buzzing insects dropped from the table, forming a brown tide as they spread across the floor. The woman pulled me off the floor by the collar of my jumper, stretching the threads inside to breaking point. Not even the littlest noise came from her, too preoccupied with stifling my whimpers as she was. A storm of profanities circulated my head. Shivers overtook my body.

Take off your boots.

What? I risked a glance underneath the woman's hood. Her gold eyes, ever-piercing, remained level with mine.

Untie your laces. Remove your boots. Tie the laces to one another then wear the boots around your neck. I cannot simplify my instructions further. My wrinkled fingers set about loosening the soggy mass. Focus on it. Nothing else matters, human.

Alright, okay, I've got it. I hung my boots around my neck. I see what she means now. Leather squelches.

Place your hand upon my shoulder and do not look back. Their sacrifice preoccupies their thoughts. The woman swung the ammunition bag on to her shoulder and, positioning her rifle against her hip, led me along the partition, her knife held outwards in her right hand, the other hand supporting her forearm. "We must crawl." She shrugged off the bag and lowered it to the floor, setting her rifle beside it. Knife clamped between her teeth, the woman wriggled in to a narrow crawlspace. A moment after her feet disappeared, I heard a hiss. "Human!"

"'Ere." I passed the rifle through to her, muzzle-first. I winced as the body dragged along the floor. The woman's hands found the barrel and pulled it out of my hands. I followed on with the ammunition, pushing the bulk ahead of me. What's she planning on doing with all this brass? I set my head against the piles of magazines and forced the weight through the tunnel, emerging around the corner from the chamber where the bizarre ritual was taking place. "…Shit." The woman laid a cultist, this one without hood, on the floor, before wiping her bloody knife on the cultist's robes. An open book sat on a table surrounded by candles made of red wax. An upturned chair lay some feet away. "With haste." The woman scooped the ammunition on to her shoulder. I planted my hand on the other and trailed her out of the chamber, down a dim flight of stairs. Shouldn't we be going up, not down?

My socks became wet with animal blood, each step a little stickier than the last. The woman's footfalls were silent, the sole noise being the gentle clink of cartridges loaded in her rifle's magazine. Empty-handed, I tugged at the taught laces garrotting my neck. Greta? I peered through a gap in a tumbled-down section of tunnel, my hand leaving the woman's shoulder. Through it, across a pair of disused tracks, a sign was mounted on a wall above a platform. What is this, a metro station?

"Whelp!" The woman darted back to me from the tunnel ahead.

"Hey." I threw her a glance. "It's a station."

"Not our destination," she muttered, not even bothering to look.

"It's Greta station. See if we can find it on the map, yeah."

"The map charts ground level only." The woman seized my arm, placing my hand against her shoulder. "Onwards. Admire nothing."

What's this hand-on-shoulder thing all about anyway? I made a face behind the woman's back. Can't you tell where I am? I feel like a naughty wean.

"Hush." The woman's knife was out. Passing the ammunition off, she motioned me to stay back in the shadows, whilst she ventured out in to a branch, where single set of tracks lay. A pair of cultists sat on stools warming their hands around a fire flickering inside an oil drum.

"No, go past him." I clutched the bulging bag tightly, wringing the stiff fabric. "Don't." A door, set in the far wall, opened, and two more cultists emerged, laughing at something. The woman, still concealed by the darkness, retreated back to the hole I crouched in.

"Hold."

"'Ere, I've got an idea." I let go of the ammunition. "I'm gonna go and talk to 'em."

"No, I forbid you." The woman snatched the ammunition.

"You're not me oppo, me wife, or me mother, woman. So, stop bossin' me about!" I untied my laces and peeled my bloody socks from my feet, going barefoot inside my boots. "'Ere, have these." I tossed my socks at the woman's feet. "Bit pongy I'm 'fraid. Mind the blood too."

"No, you are my prisoner. You do as you are told." The woman hissed, lunging for my arm.

"Too late." I scooted away from the woman's hands. "You've had your chance." Feet flapping inside the stompers, I kicked dirt out in front of me, heading for the four cultists.

"Hey, who's that stumblin' around out there?" A cultist sprang to his feet, slapping a wooden stake in his palm.

"Hang on, it's only a lad."

"I'm hurt." I affected a stumble. With a hung head, I folded my arms. "I'm hurt."

The cudgel-armed cultist smacked his palm with the head. "You're lookin' to be hurt more now…"

"Hans, look at him! My son's older than him." The single cultist still sitting aimed a battered tin mug at me. "Harmless."

"Oh, right, right. When's the last time the missus let your tattooed fizog near your boy then, Rowl?" Hans twirled his weapon.

Rowl burped. "S'cuse me. Come closer, my lad. We don't bite."

"Ooh, dunno 'bout that…"

"Oh, yippidy-yap, claptrap. Go slaughter something." Rowl flicked the few dregs in his mug at Hans. "I'm sure our brothers are busy butchering. Why don't you swing that bat somewhere else?"

Hans sniggered and brought his bat over to me. "Whoooh!" The edge ruffled the top of my hair. "Nah, this one's trouble. His ears are too big. Maybe I have a nibble…?" I hunched my shoulders, lowering my gaze.

"Come on in, wee lad." Rowl beckoned.

"Been throwing fives?" A younger cultist, bare-chested underneath his robes, said. "Been in a riot, I mean?"

"More riots?" Rowl took a small bowl of soup from another cultist, his hand quivering. The cultist clasped his hands together and held them against his belly. "There more riots up there last night?" I nodded, my eyes on the lumpy chunks of meat floating in the grey liquid. Rowl's hand trembled, spilling some of the soup. "It's not what it looks like, lad. We don't starve down here." Rowl tucked his other hand underneath his leg. "Up on the surface we're wild dogs tearin' at boot leather."

"Ta." I sniffed at the soup Rowl offered.

"Really did a number on you, didn't they? Graw stirring up trouble again? Tin Men? LVF?"

My shoulders sagged. "Just people…"

"Doesn't matter. They're all bastards." Rowl set the bowl before me. "Ain't that right, Mase?"

"You know it more than anyone," the younger cultist, his arms resting on his knees, replied. "Then there's us. The rats in the mud."

"I sure hope you took 'em from Malky's thugs…" Rowl gazed at my boots. "Could use a good pair myself but… They're gonna be too small."

Malky, who's Malky? I picked up the rolled metal edges and raised the bowl to my lips, sucking down some of the liquid. Rowl jiggled his knee, exchanging a glance with Mase. "Thank you." I set the bowl down beside the oil drum.

"Where d'you come from?"

"East bank. I was over with some friends. I lost 'em last night. Been hiding down 'ere since."

"Your family?"

I shook my head. "No."

"What's your name, son?"

"Arv. Arv Leden."

"Poor fella…" Rowl looked down at his crossed legs. "Mase, would you mind helping young Arv up to the surface? Show him the way home."

"Rowl…" The third cultist, up until then still and silent, rose, a short blood-encrusted blade in his hand.

"The tenets call us to offer aid to any who seek it, Evgar. Our hospitality is granted without condition. Raise your sword. Mase, if you would?"

"Come on, Arv." Mase inclined his head. "Let's get you home."

The rubber heels of my boots clacked upon the iron rails of the main branch. Mase's sandals made softer notes. "Up here." Mase clambered up a slope where the edge of a ferrocrete platform had collapsed. "Not safe to walk on the rails. Here." Mase offered me a hand up.

"Ta." I reached for an iron railing separating the platform from the short drop to the rails and used it as a handhold.

"Can't be all alone out here…" Mase pointed at my bandage. "Looks fresh."

"Err…"

"So, where's your barracks?" I stopped dead, a warm flush running through my cheeks.

"Long story?" Mase folded his arms.

"Yeah." Should I tell him?

"Hmm." Mase shrugged and smiled. "You haven't got the look."

"Uh?"

"S'posed to acquire this look when you've seen too much. Your blues are still warm, Arv."

"Me what?"

"Your eyes." Mase picked up a loose bar and used it as a walking stick, tapping it on the ferrocrete floor. "Least Graw doesn't come down here. Did you hear about the Belladonna?"

"Yeah."

"Poor girls. I knew some of 'em, y'know."

"I... I weren't there." I closed my eyes, a fist choking my throat. That poor girl. She was educated. Too good for whoring. "Don't seem right to me. Paying for a girl to… you know."

"Wrong side of the playing field for me." Mase tapped his pole on a door with a faded yellow sign screwed in to the surface. "The Stonehill, you say? This way's quickest. Don't bother heading off down the tunnel there. There's hundreds of tunnels underwater."

"Yeah, I've got a mate livin' there."

"Oh?" Mase gripped a wheel and turned it clockwise. "Mmph, bit stiff, this. Don't usually go that way. That's… erm…" Mase performed a rotating motion, his eyes on the ceiling. "This is south."

Cobwebs stretched from floor to ceiling. In corners, floor and ceiling, tiny nests of fungus glowed.

"Hey, shut the door behind you. So, who's your friend then?"

"Erm…" I took the inside wheel in both hands and heaved the door to. A gold eye appeared at the crack I left. "Better you don't know, uh? He's got a family, he has. If Graw finds out he helped a soldier…"

"They'll take everything from him." Mase sighed. "Graw, the Tin men, the LVF, Malkara's bully-boys, the Imperial Guard, all black-hearted bastards – nothing against you personally. You're just…"

"Playing the victim." I swiped a bit of cobweb from my neck. "S'alright, I know my place. Who's this Malkara?"

"Nobody higher than him on Grendel, and he's the one eating out of the imperium's hand."

"Lifer." I settled down in to the rhythm of the thumping of my boots and the flap of Mase's sandals. There was only one way forwards, no tributaries or doorways, ladders or hatches, just the pair of us, the cobwebs, and the woman. Where is she? I asked myself over and over again. God, she frightens me.

"Mase… I'm – I'm not alone 'ere."

"Hunh. Doesn't surprise me. Somebody had to have bandaged you." Mase grinned. "So is he showing up at all soon?"

"Oh, God, she's right there!" I gasped. Hands flew from the pitch-darkness behind Mase. "No, don't hurt him!"

The woman kicked the back of Mase's knee and covered his face with her palm, slamming him on to his back. Mase lay still until the woman lifted his head up by the hair and manoeuvred him in to a sitting position against the tunnel wall. "Watch the lies unravel!" she shot at me.

"No, no please, I'm begging you. Don't hurt him." I clasped my hands together and shook them.

The woman picked up the bar and levered Mase's legs apart before moving close enough that her knee was pressing against his chest. "Let the negotiations for your survival begin," she whispered.

"He's not a bad person. He's not a bad person." I reached out for the woman's shoulder. "Please, Ranger, I promise I'll help you get away from Grendel. Just don't do what I know you're gonna do." I screwed up my face and turned away when the woman slammed the end of the bar down on Mase's bare foot. Mase howled, his fingers scrabbled at his foot.

"Take me on a journey to the Stonehill from here, cannibal." The woman shoved her shoulder against Mase's head.

"No, please, you've gotta stop. It's not right. It's not right!"

"Is there a trap ahead for us? How many humans? How many are armed?" The woman extended her little finger and buried it inside Mase's ear.

His face contorting, Mase screamed through clenched teeth. "…There's nothing. No-one!"

"He's tellin' the truth, for God's sake!" I backpedalled at the sight of the knife pointing at me. "And you call us savages!" The woman's elbow pressed against Mase's temple. She reached for his right eye and, with thumb and forefinger, squeezed it until blood ran.

"NO! NO MORE!" I fell to my knees. "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry?" The woman released Mase, swivelling, and came to stare down at me. "Sorry for what?"

"For not being a good Guardsman and knowing when to die." I choked. Folding my arms, I bowed my head and sobbed. "Should never have gone down that tunnel. I'm sorry for all this."

"Then let these final moments pass painlessly." The woman drew a laspistol, pointing it at my forehead. "Let us not prolong this." A dull smack, and the woman lurched sideways.

"Run, Arv!" Mase, pole raised, shouted.

"Shit!" I belted away along the passage, outflung hands ripping through cobwebs, strands of the stuff coating my sleeves and shoulders. A high-pitched shriek ripped through the tunnel. My shoulder cracked against a sharp corner. Mase? I flinched at the echo rolling towards me. "No…" Again, the shriek hit me, curling my naked toes inside my boots. I rocked on the balls of my feet, biting my lip. No, James, she, going to kill you! I pushed away from the wall, rubbing my shoulder, and fled further down the tunnel. Shafts of green light poured through holes in the thin cobweb veils. Quickly coated from head to toe, I toppled towards a slim gap underneath a pile of ferrocrete chunks fallen from the ceiling. Crumbling edges ground against my shoulder-blades. A rat scuttled across my arm. No way she's getting through that gap. I nursed my scraped elbows and knees, ducking underneath a burst pipe. Is that a train? I worked a finger inside my right ear. "Ohhh…" I ran my fingers over the bandage. Why did she bother? Dizziness overcame me. I struck the wall with my palm and leant against the cold surface. Chin up, me oppo. Art spoke in my head.

I can't. I'm through, Art.

Just a little further. I pushed myself on, crashing in to a sealed door. Coarse rust coated the wheel, grinding red welts in to my palms. Little by little, the wheel turned. I pushed at the door, then pulled it towards me, booting at the wall beside it. Light poured inwards, increasing as the gap widened. Squeezing through, my boot collided with an iron rail, tripping me up and giving me a face-full of ballast. "Huh?" I touched the rail. A hum rang through it. Train! I clapped a hand over my eyes. Two bright white eyes surged around a bend and roared at me. Ears firmly plugged, I stood flat against the door, wedging my body in next to the wheel. With a deep bellow, the monstrosity clattered past, very quickly giving way to square freight cars and flatbeds packed with tarpaulin-covered goods. Concentrating on the howl, I squeezed my eyes shut, dust blowing through my hair. What? The wheel pinched at my sleeve, spinning around and around, faster than I could turn it. How did she…? I ducked away from the door, my head following the steel fingers keeping the goods on the cars. Each post flashed past. Bits of gravel shot out from underneath the train. Left and right, left and right, left and right. My head sat on a swivel. Each turn black spots swam in to my vision. Flecks of ballast nicked my skin. Come on. Come on! I stretched out my arms, opening my hands, reaching out for the flashing posts. Footplate! I staggered along the ballast, my eyes following the iron steps slicing the air at knee level. I'd lose a leg if caught by the edges. The stagger became a lope, then a jog. I tensed, my forehead pulsing, and leapt. My right knee rapped against the plate. My hand tightened around a stout pole. The sole of my left boot bounced off a screeching bogey. I pressed my cheek against the buzzing flank of a freight car. A red light flew at me. With both arms I hauled myself up on to the flatcar and collapsed inside a narrow pipe, panting, my arms crossed over my face, my boots level with my chin. Inside the rattling pipe, I wept.

The Rhazus, Grendel Orbit

"Our shroud descends from the darkness, your eminence. We are undetected." Vliss slid back from the psionic bubble and reclined in his seat. Saarania and himself had the bridge. The once respected princess, barefoot, sat on a reclining seat hovering a foot from the deck watching the brilliant glint of light peak the curvature of the planet. "My heart lends itself to your pain. The hurt your prince dealt you was unjust, cowardly…"

"Speak not of the past, my white warrior," Saarania whispered. "Always remain with me in the now."

"Always." Vliss brushed Saarania's consciousness, nothing more than a tickle. "You will no treachery among our ranks. My mind is always open to you, your eminence."

"And body?"

"At his princess's command."

"Your words ease the soul." Saarania drew the hem of her robe away from her ankles. "Does unity with the ship put your heart ill at ease, Vliss?"

"I let it do my work for me."

"You seek stimulation elsewhere? I prefer manual control. These hands of mine in firm contact with the apparatus—"

Vliss tossed his mane and laughed. "Your pardon, your eminence."

"Perhaps those hands of yours could be put to use upon these feet of mine." Saarania flexed her toes.

"I welcome it, your eminence."

"You would…" Saarania smirked. "Tell me, what filth-ridden backwater have we happened upon?"

"One without much to its name…" Vliss routed a three-dimensional image of Grendel to Saarania. Information on the planet Saarania briefly scrolled through.

"Nought but a blossoming narcotics trade. What the humans would refer to as the black market, Vliss?"

"Blossoming. Not a word these ears of mine have heard uttered in a great many cycles." Vliss tilted his head as if daydreaming.

"If I might interrupt your reverie, my pilot. A discreet landing zone away from the centre of the planet's capital would be preferable."

"Should I call ahead and request a princess's welcome?" Vliss turned his back on Saarania and slipped through the bubble.

"A respectful tongue would do better."

"Tongue is at your command, your high eminence." Vliss's cheeks widened.

Saarania rested her chin in the fingertips of her left hand, a smile hovering on her lips. "See us down, Vliss."

Unheard, unseen, the Zephyr slipped through the planet's atmosphere, burrowing through the heavy cloud bank blanketing the continent. "What do we give the humans, Pilot?"

"Nothing."

The dragon has landed. Saarania twirled her hair around a finger. The smooth curves of her fighter deflected all incoming radar signals. The engines emitted nothing but a blurred infrared signature; quiet and silent. "Will the hills north-west of the capital suffice, your eminence?"

"Why?"

"A disused aqueduct, a bearer of water to the low-lying lands around the capital, built in to the hillside, your eminence. Each archway is forty feet high and fifty feet across, with an inner sanctum of two hundred feet in length—"

"Very good, Vliss. Tell me, do we have the Wasp in the hold? Was it loaded prior to our departure?"

Vliss glanced up at Saarania's reflection. "I should imagine so, your eminence. It would not have been unloaded without your say-so."

"Very good." Saarania tapped her fingertips upon the side of her chair. "Very good. Take us in."

Rain poured across the viewport, blacking out all visual scanning. Under Vliss's guidance, the Rhazus nosed through the storm. Vliss performed a 180-degree manoeuvre, backing the Rhazus through the arch.

"What now, your eminence?"

"We procrastinate." Saarania's feet touched the deck. "Thank you, Vliss."

Booted, Saarania stepped down from the lowered ramp, directly behind Dragut and another Corsair. The bodyguards swept rail-mounted illumination around the landing site, performing a close-range sweep before widening their perimeter. "Two more out here. I want this area swept and secured." Saarania caught Vliss by the shoulder. "Will you be my second-in-command?" she said in his ear.

Vliss returned his long lasblaster to the magnetic attachment on his backplate. "Honoured."

"Then let the others do this. I want your criticism." Saarania drew Vliss away from the ramp as two more Corsairs disembarked.

Vliss snorted. "How does one criticise a princess and retain one's genitals?"

"Well, one must know that one's genitals are the least of one's worries when dealing with a princess." Saarania cocked her head to one side, biting her lower lip. "Don't ever betray me, Vliss."

Vliss bowed. "Treachery runs not amidst your company, your eminence. Here we are all your sons."

Saarania's eyes fell to the ground. Sons. The little ones. "Do they sleep?"

"As if cradled in their mother's bosom. I… I would ask after the Ranger."

"Do not. The matter will be raised at a later date. For now, we remain here. On the morrow, we extend feelers, gather knowledge and a feel for the climate in Norn." Saarania reached out for Vliss's arm and rubbed up and down.

"Nought but echoes here, your eminence," a Corsair called.

"Begin the unloading please, Vliss."

"At once, your eminence." Vliss trooped inside the Rhazus. There is never not a time for Tai, Saarania said to herself. How I shall miss Ulthyr's concoctions.

The storm had abated by the time the pods were offloaded and inflated, giving way to dark skies, the colour of slate. "I lament…" Saarania swirled a cup of steaming Tai and passed it to Vliss, sitting down beside him. "…The prince's loss for one reason only."

"Oh?" Vliss sniffed his cup.

"His Tai-brewing is unparalleled." Saarania sipped. "Mmm. Quite the artisan, he was."

"Well, I fear a great Tai-maker has been lost to the ages." Vliss drank. "Aah. One cannot claim to have ever sampled the prince's Tai." Vliss clinked his cup against Saarania's. "Only yours. Here's to a Tai-filled future."

"Port Maw was a dream, Vliss."

"Oh?"

Saarania smiled, a trace of sadness in her eyes. "I regret thinking on that scale. We must set our sights on lesser goals." She touched Vliss's cup with her own and drained it. "Here's to lesser goals."

"Fit for a princess."

"One without a fleet or warriors to her name."

"We have the Rhazus, and we have the Wasp. How do you plan to use them?"

"What is the current worth of slaves with the Druchii cabals? How many for ships and mercenaries?"

"Ah, you ask of knowledge on sentient trafficking, your eminence. I cannot answer. I am sorry."

"Beings plucked from the streets of Norn may fetch a favourable price with the cabals, if a constant flow can be maintained."

"Slaves are not the real reason why we came here, are they, your eminence?" Vliss met Saarania's eyes. "This is about the Ranger. About the two younglings in your care."

Saarania's mouth became thin. Her knuckles whitened. "Oh, Vliss…"

"What is our action plan?"

"I… I must consult myself." Saarania rested her head in her hand.

"Shall I arrange an early breakfast?"

"Do what you wish, Vliss. I will remain here awhile and think." And think she did, her thoughts taking her outside the pods and along the arches. Disused? Saarania brushed a waterfall with her fingertips. Maybe it was the rain. How far does it fall? Saarania leant out of the next archway along. Very far. A river meandered away through the hills. All the way to the city.

Later, the children were brought before Saarania, and together they ate. "How did you sleep?" Saarania smiled, offering the twins a jug of juice. "Will you drink? You haven't touched your food." Neither accepted.

"May we walk in the open air, your eminence?" Ilic, like his brother, remained looking down at his platter.

"You may." Saarania waved away the two bodyguards that made to accompany them, shaking her head. There is no danger here. The twins held each other's hand on the walk along the archways, neither uttering a word. "Pay the edge of the precipice heed, children, it is a long way down." Saarania walked behind them. "Are you cold? The sun has yet to rise." Ilic muttered something. Korsarro's shoulders shook. A joke? I hope their spirits begin to rise. At the end of the archways, where the stone met the rockface, the twins turned around and walked back in the direction of the ship. Of course, they have been denied physical exertion and fresh air for too long. A detriment to one's mental health. Let them wander to their heart's content.

"Your eminence, may we ask you a question?"

Always we, never I. They truly are one entity. "Of course. Ask." Saarania nodded at Dragut when she passed the ship. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, as if holding back on an urgent matter. It can wait.

"Why can you not have children of your own?"

Saarania's heart sank. "Well, our breeding cycle can last from anywhere between three and twelve full cycles. Such a procedure can hurt the mother very dearly, and in many instances, she is unable to conceive. Bearing a child is regarded as the greatest act of affection between partners, an act I am unable to put my body through, though our love was strong…"

"Is that why your prince sent you away? Because you could not give him what he wanted."

A barbed tendril tightened around Saarania's gut. Her brows knitted together. No, Ulthyr never wanted children. He never wanted a son to carry on the line. Saarania touched her belly. I am unfulfilled. The twins now walked, hand in hand, back along the arches, leaving Saarania behind. I am unfulfilled? The princess of the Void Dragons? Saarania hastened after the twins.

"Why do you want us to be your sons, your eminence?"

"Please, you are tired from the journey. Let us return to your quarters. Shall I have food brought to you?"

Ilic and Korsarro would not budge, and would only stand in the archway with the waterfall at their backs. In unison, they spoke. "You bring war to our mother."

"I bring you to your mother, children."

"You bring shuriken and scatter laser in reckless regard. That which you cannot possess, you would obliterate."

"Please. I would see you by my side." Saarania knelt and opened her arms. "Come away, children. Return with me, your mother."

"Plead mercy when our mother finds you. It is all you have," the twins droned. The scream caught in Saarania's throat. Still holding on to one another, the twins backed in to the waterfall and fell. It was then Saarania knew, the thought crushing her heart in its pitiless hold. They would die before they are mine.