Tina Daniell - Dark Heart

As Kit and Colo drew closer to the castle, the first bodies began to appear. People hanging from blackened trees. Skeletons in the field. Scorched bodies, as well as pieces of bodies, lying where they had fallen, in gullies and on top of each other. Some were obviously months dead, others relatively fresh and putrid.

"Look!" cried Colo, pointing to one dangling from a tree.

Kit nodded as she recognized a soldier in the full armor of the unit that had surrounded them two weeks earlier. It was one of that troop, or certainly one who had belonged to that troop at one time. And he was only the first of many from that armored militia, brutally slain, whom Kit counted as they passed.

The spectacle was more terrible than either of them could have anticipated. Kit had never dreamed such unspeakable horror, and she had to steel herself to endure it. Colo's eyes looked straight ahead, but she too was reeling with disgust.

They passed a section of land that was sprinkled with upright corpses hanging on poles like scarecrows. Their faces suggested gargoyles, distorted grotesquely; some of them were ancient and rotting, some of them newly slain. These were all mages, and some had signs hung on their bodies. One of them, covered with cruel wounds, had a board slung around his neck:

This mage failed my purpose and paid the price-Luz Mantilla

"The mage," whispered Colo, pointing.

"Yes," said Kit, recognizing the robes of the one who had performed the magic cyclone that had whisked Ursa away only two weeks before.

Still they spied no living soul.

Now they caught sight of the towers of the castle. But something was wrong. The towers were crooked, distorted, some parts smashed to the ground. Only a needle spire in the center of the mass rose high into the sky above the yellow mist. This one tower seemed separated from the rest, an island adrift in a sea of rubble.

It was as if the fist of a god had smote the castle down, shattering it and driving it underground in several directions.

Closer on, the yellow mist became even more oppressive and it was impossible to see very clearly things more than a few yards away. All of a sudden a monolith of brick and rubble jutted up before them, ending the road and making a blockade. In the middle of the jumble of stone was a maw framed by timber that showed descending steps. They could ride no farther.

Except down. The stone steps led into a passageway. No sentries barred their way. Light flickered ahead.

"This way?" questioned Colo.

"Either that or turn back," said Kit.

"We've come too far already."

Kit nodded, but took a moment to check her weapons. In one hand she wielded Beck's sword and in the other she carried a copper dagger that she had taken from one of the dark elves. She glanced over at Colo.

The tracker had two swords taken from the elves, a short blade, and a coil of rope. Kit's companion had risen at first light, painted her face and braided her long, sandy tresses with feathers. Now Colo tied up the horse and turned to lead.

Kit felt a rush of warmth for the diminutive female, who was the very opposite of a homebody such as her mother. Colo was one of the most truly admirable women she had ever encountered.

Without speaking to each other, Kit and Colo began to inch down the stairs and through a long stone corridor that stretched endlessly in front of them. Torches set high along the walls gave what little illumination there was. The women stuck close to the walls, staying clear of the center in case of traps. They scuttled a few feet at a time, weapons alert, feeling for side passages.

At times the stone corridor eased downward, other times it buckled and elevated slightly. Unseen creatures scurried out of their path. The tunnel was damp; water trickled somewhere. Unpleasant fumes hissed through cracks in the walls. At times the way was so dark that Kit and Colo could see very little, except the outline of the other against the opposite wall.

After a time they came to a large, high-ceilinged chamber that was better lit, but seemed half caved in at one end. There were four exits-five, counting the one from which Kit and Colo had entered. They branched off in four forward directions that, with the entrance, made up a star shape.

In the center of the room was a high mound of bodies, heaped on each other like firewood. Some were propped up whole, seemingly alive, frozen in mid-gesture; others were mere skeleton parts. There were dozens, maybe hundreds of corpses, with skulls white and rotting, clothes in tatters, body organs everywhere, and rats darting in and out of openings.

Kitiara gave a gasp and brought a hand to her mouth, while Colo involuntarily stepped closer to her, gaping at the sight.

"What?" Kit shuddered.

"Breathe shallow," said Colo firmly, steadying Kit with a hand on her shoulder.

They shuffled closer to better see the gruesome death heap, to look for any evidence that Ursa was among the dead. Suddenly a ghost of a man sprang up from the middle of the pile, all yellow skin and bones and leer, wispy white hair and goatee, dressed in fetid, flapping rags.

Colo and Kit separated in an instant, their weapons up and flashing. But there was no other movement in the room, and the old coot seemed more daft than dangerous. He was leaping from foot to foot, chattering to himself. In his hand was an iron ring of rusty keys.

"She has come! I be free! Which one is she? Maybe I be seeing double. After all this time, I be free!" babbled the old fellow.

"Stand still," ordered Colo. "What are you saying, grandfather?"

"Here! Here!" The man proffered the hoop of keys.

Kit gingerly outstretched a hand and took the ring. The metal was lime-encrusted.

"1 think he's dotty," said Kit acidly, still looking around warily.

"Who are you old man? What's happening here?" Colo demanded again. She sheathed her sword and belted her knife, perhaps to reassure the codger.

The old man had leaped close to Kit and Colo, and now pranced in a circle around them, conversing merrily with himself. His long, white hair shimmered like cobwebs. He kept pointing off in various directions.

"The Great Lady, she says I can go when you come. I been loyal. Last of the loyal, that's me. I been keeping the jails for many years. Many, many years. I'm all that's left. Except-" he bit his tongue and lolled his eyes "-except the Iron Guard." He halted his dancing nervously and said loudly, "Except the Iron Guard. I don't forget thee, no sirree. I pay homage to thee." He bobbed his head spasmodically.

"Take," he said, indicating the keys. "Yours now. I go! She promised." He gave a little wave and started off.

"Wait!" cried Kit fiercely, grabbing his arm and gesturing threateningly with her dagger. "Where is the lady you speak of?"

He turned to regard her, stroking his goatee. "Five tunnels there be," the old man said thoughtfully. "You will find her by traveling the right one, I do believe. Which one? I do not speculate. Myself-" he looked fretful "-I have not laid eyes on the Great Lady for many months now. She leaves me alone. That is my reward. Others not so lucky. Advise extreme carefulness."

He bent and whispered conspiratorially. "I seen the Iron Guard, though. They come and go. Go get visitors. My job," he said with a proud chuckle, "is to take care of the visitors. Only," he beckoned Kit closer with one thin, yellow finger, "two left. Tch-tch."

He put the finger to his lips. "The Great Lady is very angry," he added knowingly. "Shush," he said, swiveling to cut off Colo's question. "I risk my life telling you this."

The old man swaggered around, his chest puffed out. "She up in tower somewhere, very angry. Everyone fail, everyone disloyal. Big killing." He tilted his head toward the death pile in distaste. "Not me. I'm very trustworthy. I keep the keys! I be loyal!" he bragged.