Chương 41

Good intentions cannot promise survival. Stick to the plan. What was the difference between challenge and suicide? Harker had pondered the question for several hours as they ascended the first of many small peaks beside the Gnarl. He already found the hike itself challenging, but it did nothing to increase his progress. More than once he'd eyed the sheer cliffs to the east and wondered if climbing them instead might push his Ordeals. He'd tossed the idea aside each time.

A fight like the ripperweed would do nicely, but only if Adhira would keep her axe to herself. If she helped, he'd gain little to nothing from the experience, same as before. No, what Harker needed was a foe that could push him regardless of Adhira's presence. Ancestors, but that's idiotic. Yet Harker couldn't deny the fact that he needed to push his ranking higher.

Unlike Adhira he had no desire to be in the top three let alone rank one, but if only the top one hundred were allowed entry into the Nine Spires then Harker would be among that number. No matter what. Wind whipped across the trees, setting their budding limbs dancing. The sky darkened too swiftly and too early for nightfall. Harker eyed the horizon, where a storm was clearly rolling in once again. He adjusted his partially melted cloak.

"We should find shelter soon." Adhira peered about.

"Where would you suggest?" Around them the forest clung to the rocky slopes tenaciously. The recent storms had toppled many, but most were held aloft by the tangle of their branches. Winter-withered vines wrapped others, enveloping entire trunks in a net of thinning vegetation. New buds clustered around shrubs and the ever-present ferns had grown thicker across the rocky slopes.

"Wait. What's that?" Adhira followed Harker's finger.

"That's a flower. Don't tell me it's another one of those ripperweeds."

"No." Harker waved off the suggestion.

"But it shouldn't be doing that."

"What're you talking about?" Harker stepped closer, and kneeled before the blossom. It was a yellowbell, good for soothing aching joints and also quite tasty raw. They were also known for one other thing.

"These only bloom in the sun."

"Your point?" Harker jerked his chin toward the sky.

"The storm clouds. All of these should be as tight as a merchant's purse."

"Alright," she said slowly.

"Why does that concern you?"

"I'm always concerned when details don't fit." Harker looked outward, pulsing his Talent. There were more yellowbells further in, open just as these. A strangeness thrummed through his awareness. The cold breeze rolled through once again and, for a moment, it was warm. Adhira sniffed.

"Do you smell that?" Harker did. It was sharp and insistent, yet it smelled like nothing particular at all.

"That's the scent of unassigned tidal gems." Harker stood up.

"Are you sure?"

"I've encountered it dozens of times at the smithy. I'm certain." Tidal gems. Used primarily as reservoirs for infused devices, they were immensely valuable, in addition to being quite rare. The Gnarls were known to have a vein of them. It was why the Sunken City existed at all. But they're mined out of the mountain's roots, not its surface. Adhira pointed into the distance. Smoke, thin and almost invisible in the growing storm-dark. It rose above the tree line for only a bit before being cast by the winds.

Someone had made a fire.

"A stash of tidal gems either means an open vein or something far worse." Adhira eagerly stepped off the path, moving past Harker.

"Either way, I'm going to find out. This will be good for our ranking." Adhira set a fast pace, heading towards the smoke up the slope, and through the forest. Trees were toppled everywhere, same as before, held in place by their vines. Harker kept pulsing his Talent, waiting for something to jump out at them. His heart hammered. Haring off into the woods was a terrible idea, but he never once slowed his steps. Progressing at least one of his Ordeals was too strong of a lure.

Up a steep game trail and through a rocky defile, they found their quarry. The pair stood atop a switchback trail overlooking a forested valley. Harker knelt down on the trail, running his hands across the ground. Wagon ruts marked the half-dried mud and the plants were all trampled.

"Something heavy was moved through here and at least three people."

"Bandits," Adhira growled.

"No doubt preying on anyone traveling through the mountains. We'll do everyone a favor and remove them." She started forward.

"You can wait here, Harker." Harker passed by her, already heading down the switchback trail. She caught up.

"You're coming? I assumed you'd wish to be more careful. Have I corrupted you in such a short time?"

"It's more like an infection," he said, studying another blossom that shouldn't have bloomed, "and you're contagious."

"Perhaps I should keep my distance, then." He glanced at her.

"I never said that." Adhira flushed, and Harker wanted to smack himself on the head again. He cleared his throat.

"We'll need your axe to get those gems." Adhira frowned, "I see." She cut ahead of him, axe held at the ready.

"Then we move swiftly and stay low. Outside the trees, we are exposed here on the trail." Bent low, the pair slipped down the trail, hiding between the shadows of the trees that clung to the cliff.

"There are two types of bandits," Adhira explained in a low voice as they walked.

"Former soldiers or opportunistic cretins. The latter are easier by far to deal with, but the former always set some sort of perimeter guard." While his Talent couldn't extend as far as his eyes, Harker spotted neither guards nor lookouts. By the time they made it to the bottom of the trail, there was no alarm raised—because no one was there. They stood at the edge of a haphazard encampment. Pieces of wooden debris were everywhere, along with piles of piles offal next to ashen pits that had long since cooled.

Beyond the trees and trampled undergrowth, a series of caverns yawned.

"Must be in there," Adhira muttered. Most of the caves were relatively small, barely large enough to shelter a single person. One, however, was many times larger. Wide enough for five men abreast, it stretched into a tunnel that curved into darkness. Harker agreed, but he was more curious about the exterior first. The firepit was gleaming with newly banked ashes—clearly the source of the smoke they'd spotted.

Drippings of some sort of animal fat was spread along one of the rocks, and a trail slipped toward the cavern. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. They were cooking. He sniffed. Recently too. So they're likely resting now. Vulnerable.

"Harker." He looked up from the fire to where Adhira stood by a thick tree. On the other side, half hidden by bushes, was a crude post driven into the earth. Tethered to it was one of the largest hounds Harker had ever seen. At least fifteen hands high, it was heavy across the shoulders and rump—perfect for pulling a wagon. It flinched when they stepped closer.

"Shh shh," Adhira soothed, reaching out a hand. The enormous bullhound flinched back, and Harker spotted red staining its fur in sharp smears.

"What have they done to you?" She got closer, the tether on the bullhound keeping it trembling but unable to flee. When she placed a hand on its snout, however, the hound shuddered and leaned into it.

"Poor girl." Harker eyed the harness still wrapped around the hound.

"That's an expensive kit."

"Yes. They've clearly taken this beauty from someone," Adhira said.

"A merchant, if I had any guess. The question is, are they still alive?" With a final pat on the hound's snout, she strode toward the cavern. Harker stopped her with a touch.

"Hold." He leaned forward, eyeing the ground.

"There's a trap."

"Steeltooth," Adhira said, with a sneer. The mechanism was half buried and nearly indistinguishable from the ground around it—but more than obvious to even his weaker pulse. At ten feet wide, it was fitted with a mess of coiled springs, steel arms, and a great deal of the teeth it was named after. Like a beartrap, this was held open with a simple catch, one that looked to be triggered by stepping anywhere within a foot of it.

"One wrong step and it'll cut you off at the knees," Adhira said.

"Where's it end, though?"

"Here." Harker took a careful step over it, clearing its radius by a good six inches. Beyond it were a series of other traps, each one half buried in the packed dirt around the cavern mouth. Four of them, each a spring-loaded spike ready to launch upward. None were as large as the steeltooth, but they were just as dangerous. His Talent pulsed, and Harker made out the faded marks of hobnailed boots.

"There's more. Step where I step." He moved through the traps with a delicate precision, matching his boots to the faint outlines he sensed. Adhira followed a bit less gracefully, but they made it across the entry way in only a few seconds—too fast to put Harker at ease. Ah. There it is. He stopped, forcing Adhira to bump into him.

"What now?" she hissed.

"A trip line, just on this side of the last spike trap." Harker followed the nearly invisible wire across the cavern mouth and up the stone wall. It connected to a series of bells hung high enough to be lost to the shadows.

"Clever."

"Too clever not to have a lookout," Adhira agreed. She hefted her axe.

"Come. This time I lead." The cavern extended back for at least fifty feet of winding tunnel, and soon they could hear the sound of rough laughter. It echoed around them even without Sovereign Sight, but Harker continued to pulse his Talent. New noises joined the amusement: logs crackling with flame, the faint billow of heated air, the clatter of wood, and the rough scrape of steel. A whimpering sob. Harker stopped. The merchant is alive. Underneath it all, however, was a faint, thrumming roar.

It cradled all the other sounds, muting them almost as it carried a piece of them off to other places. The sensation crawled across his ears and skin alike, so strange—so alien—that he could only shudder.

"Potent. Smoke and man-sweat." Adhira wrinkled her nose.

"I can barely tell if the tidal gems are even here with all this stink." Harker shook off the sensation.

"They have the merchant. I can hear him whimpering."

"Hm. Then we must move faster."

"Be careful," he said in a low tone, grabbing at her arm.

"They likely have more traps." Adhira shook off his grip.

"Traps cannot stop me." She slipped forward, quiet despite her gear. Harker hung back, shifting his feet. Every instinct, both natural and cultivated, told him to run. His plans, however, did not agree with his gut. I have an escape route. I know what we are capable of. This is a fight we can win. He squared his shoulders. And I need the challenge. Harker crept close behind Adhira as the voices of the bandits strengthened in volume even as their words slurred with drink.

The sounds overlapped, too many speaking at once to make out any individual words, but they didn't seem to care about being discovered. Adhira stopped at the edge of the final turn in the tunnel, axe braced against her chest. She jerked her chin toward the opening, and Harker could only take that as him going first. Then she pointed at her eyes before jerking a thumb toward the bandits. Ah. Take a look. He took her place, putting his hands over his mouth before whispering.

"Sovereign Sight." Water rushed through him and Harker squeezed those muscles within. It squirmed in his grasp like a greased spring, but this time he didn't try to hold it in a single line—what he required was something a bit wider. Holding it tight against the palm of his right hand, he let it spread outward like the cone of a sea snail. The squirming continued, but the pressure from the Water was far less, and his Talent all but gushed from his grasp.

Sovereign Sight spread into the room, hitting a full five feet in a blink. Harker wobbled, dizziness crowding out his vision. He clenched hard, halting the spread before it sent him toppling. Breathing through the deluge of sensation, Harker adjusted himself until the waves of his Talent settled into something close to calm. Details rolled through his mind, and all he could do was grip the wall for support. Heartbeats. Five were pumping like distant drums.

He could taste their sweat, feel the grit of the dirt across their armor, and the rasp of rusted steel as someone dragged a file across metal. The fire was salted, its logs doused with the same smokeless treatment Harker had used himself. The ground was sandy and loose, though it had been trampled flat closer to the tunnel. Too many details. Focus. He pushed away the irrelevant feeling of the dirt beneath hobnailed boots, or the colder loam just outside of the fire's radius.

He focused on the cold steel that hung like wounds across his skin. They were shaped like… axes? Yes. And swords set beside a tall, metal-capped stick. Two axes. Three swords. A pike. The silent roar was stronger now too, yet it remained distant. It shuddered through the stone, carried between the words they spoke like an echo no one else could hear.

"—all my years, I never expected a haul like this!" one of them crowed. They gestured and a dark liquid sloshed onto the dirt.

"A merchant headed up from the city? What fool would pass through the Gnarl instead of below it?"

"Be glad he did, Webly! Or else you wouldn't be eatin' that boar, nor drinkin' that wine!"

"Too right! Bless you Master Merchant for bein' a salted fool!" Laughter shook the cavern, pelting Harker's skin like pebbles. That's why there's no lookout. They're all celebrating. Fools.

"What'll we do with it all, captain?" a third voice asked.

"That tidal gem is as big as a fist, but the rest…I don't know what half of it even is."

"It'll all sell for good coin," a new voice added. This one was deeper than the rest. Older.

"The Shroud pays well, so long as we can get this back into the city." The Shroud. It wasn't the first time Harker had heard the name. So they're an organization. Was Miriam a member? Is that why she had Shadow's Essence? The vial still sat in his pack, ready to be used. A plan started to form in Harker's mind.

"Pity about the merchant's lady though!"

"It's what you get for runnin'. I warned her, didn't I? Not my fault she got a bolt through the heart."

"The merchant ain't lookin' too good either. Think that gut's gone rotten?" Likely an infection, unless they're using poisoned weaponry. Doesn't sound like it, else they'd be more sure. Harker ran through a list of what reagents he'd collected. If pressed, he could concoct something to counteract an infection—so long as it hadn't progressed too far.

"Do I look like a healer? The coin-pincher is useless anyway."

"But the combination—""You think he's gonna tell us? After what you did?" Someone spat.

"Nah. We'll just break open the damn thing and take what's ours."

"Damn right!" Five voices joined in a ragged cheer, wooden mugs clunking against one another. Harker pulled back, his reservoir twinging in pain. It was less than half full, but that wasn't the cause. A sharp sensation scratched at his tributary down his right arm, and his palm ached fiercely. Depths. Not now! The raw Sea was wearing at him faster than ever. He suppressed a wince and looked to the girl. Adhira was standing close, eyes bright and face flushed. It was almost intimate…

if it weren't for the toothy grimace and axe in her hands.

"They hurt someone?" Harker nodded.

"They're around a fire," Harker started, voice lost in the drunken bandit's revelry.

"If you can put up a wall—""No. We act!" Adhira growled, before she leapt into the cavern with an echoing bellow.