Chương 18: Gate Seventeen (3)

The air grew cooler with every step inside the dungeon while the noise of the square above faded into distant echoes. Walls of roughly cut red stone surrounded them. Lanterns burned along the walls, their light yellow and unsteady. The stairs were broad enough for six men walking side by side, worn smooth in the middle by years of boots, hooves, cart wheels, and whatever else moved between the city and the dungeon below. At the bottom stood the entrance hall.

It was a vaulted chamber larger than any hall Teren had seen in this world so far, with thick stone pillars holding up the ceiling and several passages leading away into darkness. The nearest walls had been reinforced with heavy timber braces. Barricade frames sat stacked along one side. Carts waited near another. Blood streaked the floor in lines where wounded men had been dragged back. Several soldiers were hauling dead ashbacks across the chamber on low timber sledges, pulling them toward the foot of the stairs.

One carcass had already been rolled onto a heavy lifting cradle, where men were fastening it beneath the chains leading to the winches above. Nearby, two wounded men were being carried up the stairs on canvas stretchers, while another climbed between a pair of soldiers with one arm across each of their shoulders. The fighting had not reached the entrance hall, but Teren could hear shouts, heavy impacts, and the distinctly inhuman squeal of something deeper in the tunnels.

A man in a battered breastplate met Gannik near the base of the stairs. He had blood across one side of his face and a dent in his helmet.

"How many men did you bring?"

"Thirty-five guards and fifteen candidates," the yard-master replied.

"Where are your men holding?"

"Second, third, and sixth tunnels. The ashback boars have broken through the bends twice, but the lines are holding for now. A call already went out to the local guild hall. Some delvers are fighting ahead, and more are arriving every minute, but we still don't have enough mages to cover all three tunnels." Gannik nodded once, then looked at his group.

"Ten soldiers and five candidates to each tunnel. Candidates stay behind the shield line unless ordered forward. Five soldiers will remain here as backup." The man in the breastplate glanced over Teren and the others.

"They look green. Can they even keep their spears steady?"

"They'll have to." The man gave a grim nod.

"Then split them up and move them in." That was all the preparation they were given before being divided into groups. Teren and Dagan were selected in the same group, and they hurried toward the second tunnel along with the other soldiers and candidates in their group. Teren's shield felt heavier with every step he took, and his grip tightened around the spear as his heartbeat quickened. The passage beyond the entrance hall sloped downward slightly.

It was wide enough for several men but much lower than the hall, the ceiling rougher, the walls less worked. Old marks showed where stone had been cut, repaired, then damaged again. Heavy timber braces supported the tunnel walls and ceiling every ten yards or so. Lanterns hung from hooks between them, while a few were carried by boys who looked too young to be anywhere near this place.

As their jog slowed to a cautious advance, the smell of open blood faded beneath damp stone, animal musk, sweat, and something sharper that Teren assumed came from the monsters. Soon, they reached the battle line, though there was no sound of fighting at the moment. The tunnel had widened ahead, creating enough room for them to form a proper line of defense. Soldiers with shields stood across the passage in two staggered ranks, with spears angled forward between them.

Behind the line, men with longer spears waited to thrust over shoulders or into gaps. A few bodies lay against the wall, most of them human, though a short goblin lay among them. They had been dragged out of the way but not yet removed. Several dead ashbacks lay beyond the shield line. During the lull, a small group of soldiers used hooks and wooden levers to roll one onto a low timber sledge, then hauled it back toward the entrance hall with ropes.

The others would follow, carried above to the butchers once the line could spare enough men. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. The soldiers already holding the line glanced back as the reinforcements approached. A few visibly relaxed, though none lowered their shields. One of the soldiers who had come with them, a man with a scar down his cheek, pointed at the candidates.

"You lot, form up behind the shield line. Shields up. Spears low. Don't stab the man in front of you. Don't run unless I say run. When an ashback comes, aim the point at its chest or throat and brace the butt against the ground." The soldiers who had come with them moved into the front line, taking places among the men already holding it. No one stepped away; the newcomers filled the gaps and strengthened the formation while the candidates formed up behind them.

Teren tried to adjust his spear without looking incompetent. The scarred soldier noticed anyway.

"You." He pointed at Teren.

"Shield to your left. Keep the spear tight against its right edge and the point low. Thrust straight. Swing it like a sword and you'll lose it. And your life." Teren nodded and adjusted his grip, drawing the shield closer to his left side and keeping the spear tight against its edge. His hands felt damp around the spear shaft and shield grip, and his heart beat hard enough that he felt it would jump out of his throat any moment. He glanced left along the line to see how the other candidates were holding themselves.

One looked pale beneath the lanternlight. Another kept shifting his feet despite the soldier's warning. Then he looked to the other side and realized Dagan stood directly to his right. The big man held his shield steady and stared toward the dark bend ahead. For once, there was no trace of a smile on his face. A loud shriek came from deeper in the tunnel. At the sound, the soldiers working around the dead ashbacks abandoned the sledge and hurried back behind the line.

Two of them picked up their shields and forced their way into the front rank while the others took spears and filled the gaps behind them.

"Brace!" the soldier with the scar bellowed. The first monster came around the bend at a run. It was smaller than the carcasses outside but faster than anything that size should have been. Its low body was heavy through the shoulders, with dark hide across the front and an ash-gray back beneath coarse bristles. One tusk scraped sparks from the stone wall as it swung its head. Blood ran from wounds along one flank, but the creature did not slow.

It crashed into the shield line with enough force to drive the front rank back a step. The impact slammed through the men in front and into the line behind them. Teren felt the stone tremble beneath his boots before the force reached his shield. The formation buckled, shields knocking together as men struggled to keep their footing, but it did not break.

"Thrust!" someone shouted. Teren stabbed because everyone else stabbed. His spear point struck hide and slid. He pulled back, almost losing the weapon.

"Again!" This time he aimed lower, where the creature's front leg met its chest. The spear point sank a handspan deep, and the monster shrieked in pain. Teren nearly let go in surprise. Dagan stabbed beside him with far more strength than control, driving his spear deep into the creature's shoulder. A soldier in the front rank thrust into its throat. Another spear went into its eye. The monster thrashed, slamming against the shields as the soldiers drove their spears deeper.

Its movements weakened, then stopped, and finally, it collapsed. After removing their spears, the men in front shoved it back with their shields and brought the line into shape again. Teren realized he was breathing too fast, but he knew he had only survived because trained soldiers had held the line in front of him and someone had been giving clear orders he could follow even while terrified. That alone made this completely different from the pit.

In that place, he had been alone with a weapon he did not know how to use, every decision had been his, and he had known almost nothing. Here, he only had to hold his position, keep his shield raised, and use the spear when ordered. For someone with no real training, that was enough to keep him alive.

"Don't keep staring at it," the scarred soldier snapped.

"Eyes up, or the next one kills you!" Teren flinched and raised his gaze toward the bend. Hooves struck the stone beyond it—several sets, closing fast.

"Brace!" Three ashbacks came around the bend together. The first hit the left side of the line. The second drove straight into the center. The third skidded against the wall, tusks tearing sparks as it tried to force its way around the shield edge. Orders came from both sides of the formation.

"Brace left!"

"Hold!"

"Thrust!"

"Low! Low!" Teren thrust at the ashback in the center, but the spearhead struck the thick hide over its shoulder at an angle and glanced away. The creature rammed the shields again. One of the soldiers in the front rank lost his balance, and his shield tilted aside. Teren lunged forward and set the edge of his shield against the shields on either side, closing the opening in the line. The ashback struck it almost at once, jolting his arm and shoulder, but he held until the soldier regained his footing.

"Good!" the scarred soldier shouted. Teren pulled back into position. He had no time to think about the praise.