Chương 15: 14. The Traitor's Map

"You can't just blindly trust Jarden," Braun said, utterly bewildered.

"I'm not trusting him," Tavian said.

"I'm using him. We need to get to the gatehouse, and we don't have any other way to get there now. We can either use Jarden's knowledge, or try it on our own. We're going to need to explore those tunnels at some point." Braun glanced over to where Calli was working. He folded his arms and scowled as they turned back to Jarden. The man was still babbling.

"Yes, my lord, please, I'll do anything. Just tell me what it is you need done. I just want to see my daughter again."

"I'm going to give you an opportunity to prove yourself," Tavian said.

"I want your maps, the ones you've made of the underground. Give them to me." Jarden shook his head.

"I have not drawn any maps," he said, tapping his head.

"I did not want someone to stumble unwittingly into the dangers below. I can take you anywhere you wish to go in the fortress."

"Draw a map for me. Show me how to get from the vault to the gatehouse. I'll send men to rescue the soldiers there. If they return safely, I may let you live yet. You have a chance to earn another day of life."

"Thank you, my lord, thank you, thank you. Please, may I have something to draw with?" Parchment and ink were procured, and Jarden began jotting out a route on the paper.

"You want to avoid this turn," Jarden said.

"This turn here, it looks attractive, but the chamber beyond is a choke-damp. You can't breathe in it at all. There's a more direct path through here, across this large room, but don't take it, the pillars are all unstable, and there are holes to another level below that I've never found access to. And then this—he scribbled 'avoid' with the quill—is infested with spiders." He offered up the parchment to Tavian, who looked it over carefully. Hope gleamed in his eyes.

"This map is accurate?" Tavian asked. Jarden nodded vigorously.

"Very well," Tavian said.

"Because you'll be leading the way, hands bound." Once more in the darkness beneath the vault, Tavian examined the walls more closely. They were definitely not same materials as the keep. The finish work on the walls and pillars might once have been fine, but plaster had flaked away over centuries of abandonment and damp, leaving nothing but bare walls behind. Twelve men—two fists, in military parlance—joined him there, each man with his own sword and torch. Tavian wore the sword and belt of a dead man.

He wished he had his own blade, but that was still in his bed chambers. His chambers, where Ilara lay, dead from her own poison. It hadn't even been that long since she'd tried to kill him, but it felt like a decade. Tavian's stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since then either.

"This is your last chance to amend your map," Tavian said. The man's hands were tied behind his back, and then bound to the shaft of a spear, its sharpened tip resting against the small of Jarden's back. If Jarden made any sudden moves, his guard had orders to run him through.

"I told you the truth," Jarden said.

"It is all accurate to the best of my knowledge. I have nothing to change."

"Onward then." They had only moved a short distance down the tunnel when they left Tar Corinath claimed land. The absence of Influence weighed on Tavian. He found making progress more challenging, as though the ground had gotten rougher. In a place like this, with the miasmic atmosphere pressing in around him, he was immediately tempted to claim the hextile. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

But Tavian had made the decision not to claim more tiles as they progressed. Besides diluting their Influence, a salient like that might alert the Anarvians to their presence and was at risk of being severed. Should they run into trouble, he was ready to extend his claim. Jarden, though, who'd never sworn fealty to Tavian and joined his kingdom, straightened, and moved more confidently on the neutral ground. The passage they crept down was narrow, forcing them into a single file.

It had the feel of a maintenance access corridor, and Tavian wondered if there had once been large rooms on the other sides of the walls now pressing in on them. Occasionally hefty pillars of stone broke through, pilings laid by the architects of the palace overhead. Knowing that the fortress was built on the old bones of a dead city was one thing. Seeing it was another. Dirt and junk filled the corners. Damp mortar crumbled as Tavian brushed a hand on one wall.

A loose flagstone squelched and wobbled beneath his step, squirting rancid water onto his leg. Tavian felt the intersection before they reached it. A black hole opened up in the wall to his right, the odor of death and decay wafting up from it on a cool breeze. Jarden pointed to the hole.

"That way is the chokedamp," he said.

"It is easy to lose your way there, and then you will die. The air is bad and will warp your brain. Two of my… assistants lost the track and suffocated there…" Squad Lieutenant Zael took a few steps down into the darkness, holding his breath. His torch light illuminated a dirty landing, several steps down; a black slick of oily decomposing matter coating the ground. His torchlight shrank, fading to a dull orange as he reached the bottom.

"Come back up," Tavian ordered, and the lieutenant turned. He moved slowly, laboriously back up the stairs, like his legs were made of lead. He was sweating and gasping for breath as he reached the top of the short staircase. His torch had returned to burning brightly. He leaned on the wall for a moment, and wiped his brow.

"Bad air," he said, agreeing with Jarden. They continued on, and then the corridor opened up into a low hall. The ceiling was only about five and a half feet above the ground, and Tavian had to crouch as he walked. Pillars were spaced about an area so broad that the torchlight did not reach the far walls. The whole place gave Tavian the feeling of being slowly crushed.

"Keep your eyes open," Tavian ordered, wary of a trap.

"Keep to the left," Jarden said.

"The ground is more stable near the wall." They crossed to the center of the room, where Tavian could no longer see the opening they'd emerged from. He noticed chalk markings on the ground and wall.

"What are these?" he asked.

"Evidence of my prior explorations," Jarden said.

"Safe routes. You can see the crosses, there, there, and there? Those paths lead to nothing but danger." Tavian nodded.

"Across there," Jarden pointed into the darkness.

"You can't see it, but over there, that's the other way across this hall, but it requires walking across a wooden plank that I used for a bridge. That path leads you through the chokedamp, though, so it is better avoided." A shadow moved in the darkness, and a chill went down Tavian's spine. Was it simply the flickering of torch light? An Anarvian, watching them? Or something more sinister? He wished desperately for his enhanced perception back. They crossed the vast space.

Occasionally Tavian caught sight of ancient furniture, piled up in heaps. He wondered who had done that, and why? They would have to come back, and see if there was anything worth sifting for Essence there. The youngest of Tavian's men let out a soft moan, and clutched his chest, leaning against a pillar. Tavian grabbed the boy, looking into his eyes. He was younger than Braun, and his face was white as a sheet. His eyes darted wildly.

"Steady, Mathen," Tavian said.

"Take a deep breath. You're seeing fairytales in the shadows." Tavian spoke to himself as much as to the boy. The young man nodded, slowly regaining his composure.

"Stick with me Mathen," said his Fist Captain, taking the boy by the shoulder and giving Tavian a nod. It was with a sense of relief that Tavian stepped back into a claustrophobic corridor at the far end of the hall. The ceiling here was much higher, allowing him to stand up straight. They continued through the winding passage, passing several openings on either side. Tavian had stopped tracking their progress on the map given to him by Jarden.

The passage narrowed until it became necessary to sidle through; at one point Tavian's back touched one wall as his chest scraped across the other. He couldn't turn his head to look behind him. It was a good place for an ambush. The enemy could kill them one by one as they emerged. He peered up ahead, to make sure that Jarden was still in the lead, his heart thumping. Then they emerged into a small circular room. Jarden froze. Tavian watched his face in the flickering torchlight, but couldn't read it.

The man started pacing nervously, swaying from side to side. His handler eyed them man, both hands gripping the spear shaft tightly. Tavian's hand strayed toward his sword.

"What is it?"