A Circle of Iron

Chapter 6

The next day, on their first real patrol in the ruins, a wight escaped the net. They were patrolling near the edge of the city where a hundred or more scavs were working strung out along a wide boulevard lined with crumbling statues. The street ran from a plaza with a ruined fountain in its center half a mile to a shattered arch that must once have served as a minor portal into the city.

The mastiff was trotting twenty feet out in front of the group when he suddenly froze, every muscle in his huge body tensing, and his black nose lifting into the wind.

“I’ll check the scrying tablet,” said Quinix, shrugging out of his pack.

“Don’t think there’s time for that, just now,” said Thorn. He saw a blur of movement, a flash of white skin and brightly colored body paint, and one of the scavs screamed. The wight was about fifty feet ahead of the crew, one hand gripping the scav woman’s throat, lifting her off her feet. The mastiff let out a low growl, and the wight turned towards them. It dropped the woman in the dust, crouched, and bared its fangs. Before they could act, it grabbed the woman by the hair and dragged her kicking and screaming into a darkened doorway.

“Heel the dog,” Thorn said, and then he broke into a trot, moving quickly and quietly to the building. The rest of the crew came up behind him. He put his back against the door and ducked his head inside. A long hallway stretched away from him, with doorways to either side. The dust was thick on the floor and their footfalls cast it up in billowing, choking clouds.

Thorn cursed under his breath. “Torches.”

“The wight ain’t got a torch,” said Mara. “It’ll know we’re coming.”

“I guess we lost the element of surprise,” Thorn said, “but I can’t see in the dark. Unless you can, I suggest you light a damn torch.” He turned to Blind Tom. “You and the dog stay here. I don’t want anything coming in behind us.” Blind Tom nodded.

They entered in single file, Thorn, Quinix, Mara, and then Big Odd. Thorn paused just inside the doorway and studied the floor, but he didn’t need to study for long. There was a clear trail where the wight dragged the woman through the dust. The trail led down the hallway and disappeared beyond the edge of his torchlight.

They drew their weapons and followed the trail down the hallway and around a corner into a small, windowless room with stone stairs descending into the darkness. Thorn extended his torch and saw a bloody handprint on the wall, then a long, wet, red smear trailing down. The breath hissed out of his lungs. The scav was fighting; Thorn had to give her that.

Quinix drew up close to him and peered over his shoulder. “They say there are basements and subbasements and great halls and galleries down there,” he whispered. “A whole city under the city.”

“Then I guess we better move before the wight gets too far.” Thorn descended slowly and as quietly as he could down the stairs to a landing, where the stairs turned to the left before continuing. He paused on the landing and listened. What he heard sounded a lot like the mastiff working on a rabbit he’d caught in the wood. He turned and whispered to Mara. “Ready the net. It’s feeding.”

Thorn waited a few moments while Mara freed the net from her pack. He could hear Quinix breathing, quick and fast, just behind him. When Mara was ready, Thorn tested his grip on the hilt of his sword and continued down the last few steps, his torch extended in front of him.

The underground chamber had a low ceiling and Thorn had to hunch down to keep from banging his head against the stone. The wight was in the far corner, holding the scav woman’s body in its arms, its face buried in her throat. Thorn moved away from the stairs, keeping his back against the wall. Give Mara room to work with the net.