Blood of the Red

Chapter 30 - Dain

The stone walls rapidly gave way to the natural granite of the Rock. The steps were cut into it, their edges worn away by endless feet. Dain ran his fingers over the rough crystalline texture of the bedrock. The contact with the wall was reassuring. His fingers became sore before they ran out of steps. He lost count in the four hundreds. A little while later sandstone abruptly replaced granite. They were through the Rock, descending into the ground it rested upon. A feeling of dread rose within Dain as they spiralled deeper. The Rock weighed upon him. He felt trapped. In another moment of clarity it occurred to Dain that he would never climb the stairs he now descended. He knew it as fact, solid as the stone about him.

The descent ended. A single archway led from the bottom of the shaft, opening onto a natural tunnel. A hundred yards on, the escort diverted them into a chamber hewn from the bedrock. In this barracks-room a score or more guardsmen sat at their leisure, cleaning weapons, playing dice.

"The Gate Keeper will send for you," the leader of their escort offered by way of farewell.

Dain made for a nearby sleeping bunk. His legs almost buckled under him before he sat. Raymell stood close at hand, waiting. He seemed to be waiting for more than a summons. There was an air of expectancy about him. For his part Dain felt glad of the chance to rest.

Some of the guardsmen looked up from their tasks to study Dain. He guessed few small boys ever saw this place. In turn Dain studied the men. Their armour was unadorned, save for a diagonal red stripe across the breastplate, and they lacked the ostentatious crimson capes of the guards from the upper Cloister. Some of the men sported two stripes; one man three. This man afforded Dain more than a casual scrutiny. He sat polishing his broadsword. The crest on the helm at his side marked him as an officer. The skin around his neck looked sunburned and strangely ridged...

Running feet sounded in the tunnel. A man appeared at the doorway and addressed the officer, "Captain Kenc! Unit Three is required on the surface!" the messenger hauled in a deep breath, "Now!"

Quickly and without fuss the guardsmen collected their weapons and started to file out of the chamber, making for the shaft. One paused by the messenger, bending his head so close their helms nearly clashed. Words passed between them, Dain caught only scraps:

"... body ... burned! ... Stannith they think ... search everywhere!"

The Captain halted before Raymell, sheathing his broadsword. He flagged two of the remaining guards, each with a double stripe.

"Garven, Chal! You will remain to escort our visitor when he is summoned." He eyed Raymell for a moment. "These men are veterans, Blood Guard; you will be in good hands, Sir."

It took less than a minute to clear the chamber. The tramp of feet faded away, and Dain's eyes wandered to the walls. Crossed spears and swords behind shields decorated the far wall. If he were alone Dain would have been sorely tempted to take them down and play at knights. He'd style himself a great hero like Arthur, King of the Bloods.

In a corner to the left of the displays, behind a mound of thick chains, sat a collection of peculiar iron devices. Propped against the wall they looked like the opened jaws of monstrous sharks, hinged to a central bar. Sliding from the bunk he approached the man called Garven.

"What are those?" He pointed.

"Man-traps," Garven muttered into his beard.

"Troll-traps," corrected Chal, a taller warrior, his mischievous grin distorted by a fearsome scar.

"Trolls!"

Chal came to stand beside Dain. He winked and leaned over conspiratorially. "We lay them in the outer tunnels. There are things down there you don't ever want to meet, young master," he replied, ignoring Garven's snort.