Martin Hengst - The Darkest Hour

The High Priest went rigid and the warriors were instantly on alert. They circled him, claws unsheathed, their ears and eyes vigilant for what had alarmed their leader.

“What is it, Your Holiness?” Chrin was the nominal leader of the warriors. He was an older Xarundi, graying with age but still well-muscled. His senses were as keen as those with half his years and the others naturally looked to the experienced fighter for their orders.

“A hunch, Chrin.” Zarfensis pointed to the city. “Xenir says that this was once a city of the Chosen. The vermin took it from us when they drove us out of the human lands. What’s the first thing we do when we settle somewhere? Whether it's a new cavern in the Warrens, or the farther outposts, what is the very first thing we do?”

“Secure an escape,” Chrin answered, his jaw dropping in a feral smile. “You believe there is a bolt-hole.”

“Would our ancestors really have been so different? If the idea is so well ingrained in us as to be second nature today, certainly that imperative comes from our proud lineage.”

“Let us hope so, High Priest.” Chrin turned to the other warriors, ordering them out in pairs to scout the untamed wilderness outside the city walls. He alone remained with Zarfensis, watching over the city.

Long moments of silence passed as they waited for the scouts to return. Minutes quickly lengthened and became hours. Zarfensis grew restless, but Chrin remained in his alert crouch, only the occasional flick of an ear set him apart from a statue. Even the High Priest had to admire his discipline.

There was a scuffle nearby and Chrin whirled toward the sound. Pinpricks of blue fire betrayed their brethren as they made their way through the undergrowth. One by one the teams returned, reporting their failure and accepting the consequences of their shortcoming. Zarfensis assured them that if there was a failure to be had here, it would not be on them. They were following the orders of their Warleader and assisting the High Priest.

The second to last pair returned with news, both the news that Zarfensis so eagerly wanted to hear and news that was far less welcome.

“Report,” Chrin growled.

The adolescent Xarundi was awash with the smell of fear and Zarfensis wrinkled his nose. To his credit, the youth quickly regained his composure and presented his report.

“We found what we thought might be the bolt-hole. It was near the south-west corner of the city, almost out of sight of the city walls. It was covered with rocks and loose earth, but it smelled different. It smelled older.”

“We were clearing the debris to see if we could find an entrance to a tunnel when a patrol from the city saw us. We expected the vermin to run, but they advanced on us. We turned and ran, not from cowardice,” the youngster paused, as if wanting reassurance that his elders understood his meaning. Zarfensis nodded and the scout continued. “We wanted to draw them away, so that if we were right, they’d be none the wiser.”

“Did your plan succeed?” Zarfensis was now nearly as tense as Chrin. If the vermin discovered the hole, and it was an entrance into the city, they would waste no time in securing it, he was sure.

“Oh, yes, Your Holiness. They gave chase almost immediately, which is the problem. As we were drawing them into the woods, we inadvertently fled past our brothers.” The scout looked pained. “We led the vermin right to them! Our brothers didn’t have time to react. The vermin subdued them and took them to the city. We escaped and came directly back to report.”

“You’ve done well,” Chrin said. Then turning to Zarfensis, he pointed a long claw toward the city. “They may be young, but they carry the honor of the Chosen. They’ll do whatever they can to escape, and that may work to our advantage. If the vermin are busy dealing with the Xarundi inside their city, they may overlook those of us still outside.”

“Agreed. We should make haste.”

The party of Xarundi set off for the hole the scouts had found. They ran on all fours, trading off a bit of the stealth for speed, for they all felt that time was of the essence. Zarfensis was pleased to find that the mechanical leg, though it was louder than his brothers, only mildly affected his gait and he was able to keep up with the others easily.

It didn’t take long at all for them to reach their destination. Chrin set up guards around the perimeter and assigned four of the largest Xarundi to help clear the rocks and earth from the pit. He urged them to work quickly, but quietly. They had already lost two of their brethren to the vermin, they could ill afford losing anyone else.

Zarfensis knelt near the pit as they worked, his nose working to uncover the myriad of scents that were layered on top of each other. There was damp earth and moldering wood, rotting leaves and fungus. All to be expected. But there was something else. Something faint and peculiar, something that just didn’t belong.

The High Priest shifted his vision into the Quintessential Sphere, pressing outward from the here and now and passing, with some difficulty, through the veil that separated the memories of the past from the present. He was vaguely aware of the Xarundi working around him, of Chrin barking orders in hushed tones, but the bulk of his consciousness was in the living memory of the place where he stood. He pressed back through layers of memory, digging deeper into the past until the surrounding area began to change. Huge trees became saplings, streams appeared that had long ago withered to nothingness, and before him lie a deep tunnel in the earth.

He looked toward the city. Though he could see the hazy outline of the present-day walls, inside the Sphere the memory was vivid. Squat stone buildings made up the bulk of the city. This was ancient Xarundi architecture, Zarfensis knew. From before the days when the vermin had driven them underground to fight for their existence.

Turning his attention back from the city, Zarfensis moved his consciousness down into the tunnel. The memory of a dank, musty smell assaulted him and he suddenly felt wary, as if he was being watched. Unnerved, he quickly withdrew from the Sphere and refocused his attention on the physical world.

Chrin was watching him. “Doing some scouting of your own, Your Holiness?”

“Yes,” Zarfensis replied. Unsure of whether it was Chrin’s regard that he had felt so keenly, or something else. “This tunnel, properly excavated, will give us the access to the city we seek.”

Chrin relayed the new information to the working Xarundi, who redoubled their efforts to clear the entrance to the tunnel. Now that they were almost guaranteed access to the city, there was a definite air of excitement and anticipation about them. Zarfensis knew that they wanted to enter the city as much to complete their mission as to free their brethren from the vermin. He couldn’t blame them. The very thought of the Chosen being exposed to the vermin’s barbaric methods of interrogation set his fur on edge.

There was a soft cry from the bottom of the pit and Zarfensis moved to the edge. He was astounded at how much progress they had made so rapidly. Eight feet down, they had broken through into what had once been the tunnel. Recalling the perimeter guards, the rest of the Xarundi cleared the entrance under the watchful eyes of Zarfensis and Chrin.

Once the entrance to the tunnel was widened sufficiently to accept his frame, Zarfensis dropped into the pit, his mechanical leg making a metallic ring as it struck the stones underfoot. He ducked into the tunnel, letting his vision adjust to the darkness. The pale blue glow of the Xarundi’s night vision turned everything in the tunnel monochromatic. Still, it was quite easy to see that the tunnel had been abandoned for quite some time. The timbers that had offered support for the walls and ceilings were rotting and in some cases had given way entirely, allowing the damp earth to encroach on the tunnel.