Brothers in Arms; the re-awakening

Soon they had to start climbing, and they were glad for Jac’s advice to carry as little as possible, but although the cliff-face was sheer, it was eroded and weathered and there were plenty of hand and footholds. Once or twice Ethan looked down and was amazed to see how high they had climbed in only a short time. Targon, restricted by his deformity and unable to reach very far both upwards and to the sides, had difficulty with some of the more awkward holds, but with Ethan to guide him in front and Donal to help him from behind he was able to manage.

After a while they began to see peculiar-looking pungent green stains spattered here and there on the rocks.

“Bat-droppings - and some of them very fresh,” said Targon tersely in response to Donal’s questioning glance, as they paused briefly to regain their breath.

“Bat-droppings? But look at the size of the damn things! That’s all we need,” groaned Ethan, horrified, “Here we are, wet and cold, hunted and harried, and now we’re going to smell like a manure heap as well. What a party this has turned out to be!”

“You have no idea,” said Jac with a wry grin.

“Oh, no”, said Kitti, “Why didn’t you tell us before? Bad enough to be groping around in the dark, but to have to contend with bats as well! I hate the horrible little things; don’t they get tangled in your hair?”

“Bats getting tangled in your hair won’t be a problem, I assure you. But remember, we didn’t have any choice; and I didn’t want to put you off - we didn’t have enough time and it wasn’t the place to debate the subject. If I could have organized some fragrant, cuddly little rabbits I would have done so,” explained Jac, unapologetic, “Anyway, Ethan and Donal aren’t scared of a few bats, are you, boys?”

Donal and Ethan looked at each other warily.

“Apart from finding wading in bat-droppings quite revolting, usually a few little bats wouldn’t bother me at all,” said Ethan, “But this place seems full of such pleasant surprises - is that why I get the feeling I’m not going to like this very much?”

“Let us keep going,” said Donal stoically, “We have already chosen our course. Whatever it is that stands in our way, we will just have to face it; whether pleasant or unpleasant, sweet-smelling or malodorous, it does not matter.”

Jac lead them as far as a narrow ledge with a few stunted pines clinging to it’s brink, at one end of which was an almost invisible cleft in the cliff-face; inside they could hear a rustling and twittering which sounded to Ethan’s imagination like the noise of thousands of seething creatures. Despite their reservations they did not dwell outside for long, as a bitter wind had sprung up and was scouring the mountainside and whipping briskly into their faces.

“Inside quickly,” said Jac, “These mountain breezes can easily tip you over, and it’s a long way down.”

The rustling sound became amplified many times, swelling almost to a roar, as they passed into the cave. Only dregs of light penetrated the narrow mouth, but there was enough for them to see that the floor was liberally speckled with the green-white, slimy droppings.

“Damn, what a stench,” said Ethan, almost gagging.

“You will soon get used to it,” Jac assured him, “at least I hope you do, because it will become many times worse as soon as we go deeper into the caves; and pray that none hit you on the head from above.”

Ethan ducked instinctively, quickly felt for his hat, realized he had left it in the pack and groaned.

“At least it might help my hair grow,” he said, resignedly looking on the bright side, “I think I have a few bald spots coming on”.

Above and to either side of them the cleft quickly opened out into a vast cavern, the roof far out of sight in the darkness, and although he strained his eyes Ethan could see no sign of the bats that were presumably the cause of both the noise and the stench. Jac swiftly lit and distributed torches and began to clamber up the rock face ahead of them.

“Why must you always make things more difficult? Could we not stay on the floor of the cave?” Ethan shouted after him, “Big guys like us prefer our feet on the ground.”

Jac paused only briefly in his ascent.

“Do you see the bat droppings on the floor?” he said, “Quite revolting, wouldn’t you say?”

Ethan nodded.

“Before very long we’d be seven feet deep in those; just over your big head, in fact, no matter how tall you are, Ethan. Still want to try it?”

“Well, what are we waiting for”, said Ethan, with sudden enthusiasm, “Get up there, you mugs, and let’s climb!”

The ascent was damp and dark and slimy, and made even more difficult as the rock-face was unweathered by wind or rain, and the edges were sharp and cutting.

“Make sure your torches remain lit,” called Jac from up ahead, “It will become even more treacherous, but we can’t afford to be too cautious; the shrikes won’t be able to follow us up here but the Inquisitors may not be far behind, and if they are close enough to see the light of our torches we may never lose them.”

This reminder spurred them on to greater speed and they continued to climb higher and higher. Then, all at once, a huge shape lunged at them out of the blackness above. Kitti screamed and Donal thrashed at it wildly with his torch. The creature dodged, easily evading Donal’s blows and then dove out of sight again into the darkness.

“Gently, gently, Donal,” remonstrated Jac, “The poor little thing was probably just confused by the light of your torch”.

“Hell,” said Ethan, shocked, “What do you mean, poor little thing, you didn’t say they were so goddamn big. The bats at home were tiny; that thing was nearly the size of a horse.”

“Well, now you know the worst,” said Jac, with no sign of contrition, “And, believe me, that was one of the smaller ones. But remember that they won’t attack us deliberately unless we appear to be threatening their cubs - and their cubs will all be hanging from the roof of the cave. Hopefully we will not be needing to climb as high as that - hopefully, I say.”

Regaining their composure they followed Jac, who to their great relief had reached a more level plateau. Though wide in places, it was slick with droppings, and the stench, which now mainly came from below them, was every bit as nauseating as Jac had predicted. The noise from above became louder and louder, and more and more of the huge bats, all even larger than the first one, began swooping down on the company, shrieking with anger and fear and threatening to dislodge them and spill them over the edge. With one hand holding the torches, which were fluttering crazily in the draughts created by the huge wings, and the other hand protecting their faces from a buffeting, they tried to keep going as best they could, but it was like battling against an unendurable storm. Very soon Jac was forced to call a halt, beckoning them over to a bay in the cliff-face, where an overhang provided them with at least some protection from the bats, though not the noise, which had now become almost deafening.

Jac was noticeably concerned.

“We can’t go on like this,” he shouted, ducking as a trailing wing scratched at his face, “It’s slippery and treacherous enough as it is, but the bats are much too nervous and aggressive. I knew it would be bad, but not nearly as bad as this. They will dislodge us all too easily. And if we fall off the edge, we will be lost.”

“It might be the light that disturbs them,” wheezed Targon, “but we will need the torches to see our way, else it would be pitch black”.

“And don’t forget, it could be Donal’s body odour that’s annoying them as well; he hasn’t had a bath in weeks, you know,” said Ethan.

Jac stooped again to avoid another dipping wing.

“Targon, could you reach them with the mind-meld, and use it to settle them down, let them know we mean them no harm?” he asked.

Targon shook his head doubtfully.

“It will not be easy,” he said, “There are so many of them, tens of thousands upon tens of thousands. They are very agitated, and their thoughts are very fractured, and very afraid; full of fear of us, sick with fright for their cubs”.

He squatted, closing his eyes in deep, frowning concentration for some moments. Then he smiled.

“But there might be a way. I will need Kitti to help; I can mind-meld with them, and in turn Kitti can spell them through me,” he continued.

“Just as you did with us that first time,” said Donal, understanding.

“Although this will be much more difficult. There were only three of you, and we will need to maintain the spell constantly as we travel,” said Targon.

“And the spell takes far too much concentration,” Kitti appealed, “I won’t even be able to see where I’m going - and neither will you Targon, for all your bright ideas.”

“This is getting more and more awkward and complicated,” said Jac anxiously, “but I don’t know what else we can do; we’ll just have to take that risk. You’ll have to try the spell, and Ethan and Donal will have to guide you. Better tie yourselves together, Ethan to Targon, Donal to Kitti.”

“Yeah, right, give me the light one, why don’t you,” grumbled Ethan.

Kitti laughed through her misgivings, just as Ethan had intended.

“It’s not so bad Ethan, really. I will have to concentrate much harder than Targon, and so am much likely to slip,” she said.

“I’ll try to remember that when Targon drags me kicking and screaming over the edge - it’ll be a real comfort; hey, I feel better already,” said Ethan.

When they were tied together, and Jac had checked and reassured himself that the knots were absolutely secure and reliable, Kitti composed herself and began to chant softly, words that had no meaning for Ethan nor Donal, though the tones were as exquisite as ever, even in the middle of the hellish din. Targon stood behind her, as if physically supporting her, his gaze fixed on the darkness above where his huge targets dove and screamed and swooped. For a time there was no change, and the wild fluttering and screaming continued unabated; then, slowly, moment by moment, the cries became less frenetic, the dives fewer and fewer and more languid and less aggressive, and the noise gradually abated and subsided, until at last all was quiet and still, the echoes of Kitti’s chant fading away, only the occasional chirp of a hungry infant betraying the presence of vast numbers of the creatures hanging above them in the darkness.

“Damned useful thing, this mind-meld” said Ethan.

“Now let’s hope they stay that way,” said Jac. He turned to the others, his tone suddenly grim.

“Whatever happens, at all costs, do not fall over the edge,” he said, his eyes glinting in the torch-light, “Do not fall over the edge,” and Donal was surprised by the urgency in his voice.

Jac again led the way, and Ethan followed immediately behind with Targon. Donal took Kitti; even though they were bound together he held her hand firmly, yet as gently as if it was a flower. In spite of her concentration, she smiled at the big man’s exaggerated courtesy. They travelled in this cautious manner for hours, their progress made even slower by Jac repeatedly stopping to peer carefully into the many dark tunnels that led off to their left, on the side away from the chasm, and

to warn them again and again about the dangers of falling over the edge.

“He does know the way, doesn’t he?” Ethan murmured to Donal, and even his quiet words echoed loudly though the huge caverns.

Then Ethan saw Jac turn to them once more.

“Yes, we know,” he interrupted, as the young man started to speak, “Whatever we do we won’t fall off the edge”.

“Actually,” said Jac, “I thought we might be able to rest for a few moments. The ledge is a bit wider and safer here - it might be as good a place as we’ll find for some time.”

“Are we nearly out of these hellish caves?” asked Donal, finding a convenient rock that was relatively free of bat-droppings and carefully sitting Kitti down.

“I think so,” said Jac, “Another few hours should see us clear on the other side - I hope.”

“I thought you said you been through here before,” said Ethan.

“Yes, although never as far in as this,” admitted Jac, unperturbed, “But don’t worry, I think my sense of direction is fairly accurate.”

“Well, that sure makes me feel a heck of a lot better. Mucking around in the dark is even better fun when you don’t have even the faintest clue where you are, ain’t it? So for all we know, apart from Jac’s sense of direction, we could be completely lost. Can we not just keep going till we are out or, almost as good, until we are sure that we are not going round in circles? It would be such a comfort to at least know that,” said Ethan.

“The descent is even trickier,” said Jac, “And we will need all our strength for that. So we’ll stop, even if it’s just for a while; anyway, my arm is exhausted from carrying the light”, he said, looking around for somewhere dry to prop his torch.

Suddenly dark figures rose behind him. Donal was first to see the glint of metal in the torchlight, and shouted a warning, turning to cut the tether with Kitti at the same time. Jac twisted like a dancer, his rapiers hissing as he drew them fluidly from the scabbard. There was a twang of bowstrings and a flight of quarrels spat through the air towards them. Jac dodged two of them with cat-like speed and they

skipped harmlessly on the rocks and disappeared into the chasm. Donal threw his huge frame across Kitti and Targon, and one buried itself viciously in his left arm and another in his right thigh. Ignoring the pain, Donal wrenched out the arrows; they left two huge ragged tears from which warm blood at once came welling up. Two figures confronted Jac, another four rushing forward as Donal leapt up to meet them, disregarding his wounds and shielding the still dazed Kitti and Targon.

The curved blade of Donal’s broadsword swept out in a great arc, whistling in the air; it was impossible to avoid on the narrow ledge, and three of the attackers, their parrying strokes futile, were bludgeoned instantly to the ground. Recovering quickly from the trance, Kitti slipped forward and slid a stiletto expertly across their throats. Abruptly there was a storm of leathery wings; the bats burst free as the pacifying spell disappeared, and they began to dive upon the fighting group, trumpeting their outrage.

From the rear Ethan, slower to react, had watched the nightmarish scene; the stench, the combatants struggling and slipping on the slimy floor, the thin light from the guttering torches dropped haphazardly on the ground casting bizarre, giant shadows against the rock walls, the wild wings boiling around them, the urgent cries of his companions. As before, the Inquisitors spoke no words, their only sounds gasps of effort and grunts of pain. Then an Inquisitor rushed from the shadows to attack Ethan, blades weaving and whirling hypnotically.

“Now don’t you be trying that fancy foreign stuff on me, boy,” Ethan muttered, but his opponent made no response, and came on implacably.

Ethan by now had his broadsword drawn, but he could see that his opponent was far more skilled than he, and that he would have no chance in a straight sword-fight. He saw the first strike coming, and managed to raise his sword quickly enough to parry it. He sensed a knife in the Inquisitor’s other hand, and knew he would not be fast enough with the sword to block the following strike. He raised an

unprotected fore-arm to ward it, feeling a burning pain as the knife bit deeply through his shirt and deep into his flesh. Stifling a cry of pain, he dropped his sword and punched his surprised opponent flush on the chin. Stunned, the man fell like a stone, and Kitti’s knife darted in from behind and sliced the exposed throat.

Ignoring the wound in his arm, Ethan looked around; the fight had ended as quickly as it had started, Donal standing in a circle of bodies, Kitti and Targon crouched behind him. But Jac and an Inquisitor were still grappling on the ground, both of them by now weaponless. The ledge where they fought sloped slightly downwards and was slick with droppings. They rolled towards the edge and as if sensing this, Jac’s struggles became more frantic.

“I’m falling, I’m falling,” he cried, and they could hear the fright in his voice, and see the rock begin to give way under their combined weight.

Ethan was the first to move; diving across the slimy floor, he caught Jac’s outstretched arm as the struggling combatants toppled over the edge. In turn Donal and Targon grabbed Ethan’s legs from behind and braced him as best they could, shouting encouragement.

“Hold on, Ethan, hold on,” urged Kitti. For a long moment Ethan’s grip was tenuous, and Jac continued to slide downwards. Both their hands were slippery with sweat and rock-slime, and blood was coursing from Ethan’s wound and cascading into Jac’s terrified eyes and down over his face; Ethan thought he was losing his grip and saw Jac’s eyes take on an almost resigned expression, beyond terror. But he held on fiercely and at last his strength began to assert itself, and inch by agonizing inch he pulled Jac higher until he was able to scramble the last few inches to safety himself.

As they lay gasping and breathless from their efforts, they heard the Inquisitor land with a dull squelch. They looked down, the floor of the ravine below them now partially lit by a torch that had fallen and continued to burn with a sputtering uneven light. The Inquisitor was embedded to his neck in an off-white gluey paste of putrid bat-droppings, and over the top of the paste dark shapes were now

crawling eagerly towards the captured man, who could also see them approaching in the dim light. He thrashed and struggled wildly, though he was clearly held tight in the sticky paste.

“Help me, help me, please” he screamed, “I can feel them on me, they’re eating me alive; they’re eating me alive! They’re all over me, please, please, help me - !”

The crawling shapes swarmed over his face, one burrowing into his shrieking mouth; his shrieks became muffled.

“So they do talk after all,” said Jac.

Ethan did not reply, but turned and fetched his spear from the backpack. As he took aim into the ravine, Kitti grasped his arm.

“Don’t waste it on one of them;” her smile was pitiless, “We may never be able to get it back,” she said.

Ethan shook her off more roughly that she had expected.

“Whatever he’s done, no-one deserves to die like that,” he said quietly. He looked over at Donal; the Irishman nodded, and Ethan took aim again. As he did so, a thick black tentacle extruded from the slime, and before Ethan could make a cast, wrapped itself around the fallen man’s neck and pulled him under the paste with irresistible strength, the man’s muffled screams reaching an even higher pitch of terror. In a moment he was gone, dragged to some dark lair deep within the

labyrinth of caves. Ethan could still hear the screams, and for a time, until the sputtering torch went out, he remained peering down into the gloom, as if unwilling to let the doomed man go.

“There is no more you can do for him, Ethan,” said Donal, hauling Jac to his feet, “He is gone; but you were right to try. Let us leave this place now; we can attend to our wounds later.”

“Only after I make sure that they’re all dead,” said Kitti, making a macabre circuit of the bodies.

“All gone,” she reported brightly; Donal did not like her tone.

The muffled screams of the fallen Inquisitor followed them through the caves for a time, then stopped.

Jac looked at the others.

“Now you know why, at all costs, I warned you not to fall over the edge,” he said.

Many hours later they finally emerged from the caves, blinking into a clear morning, glad to have the passage of the caves behind them. Worried about the possibility of infection or poison, Jac had insisted on stopping to dress their wounds, especially Ethan’s, whose left forearm had been cut to the bone. They had also been forced to employ the mind-meld again to quell the cave-bats, and this had proved particularly difficult on the descent, so their passage had taken them

much longer than expected.

To the company’s general relief, and Donal and Ethan’s particular delight, the horses were already there and waiting for them, contentedly cropping the grass of a lush alpine meadow bright with wild flowers and mountain orchids. They looked up at the slime-encrusted, evil-smelling company with expressions of mild reproach, as if annoyed at having had to wait so long.

Jac, still wary, listened intently for some moments.

“I can hear nothing, nothing at all - we may have finally lost them. What do you think, Targon?” he said.

The hunchback cast about in all directions, then nodded slowly.

“You may be right; I can only sense the faintest trace, and it is far, far away and becoming more faint and distant all the time – certainly too far to detect the jewel, unless we use it again,” he agreed.

“Can we rest here for a bit, then?” said Ethan, almost plaintively, laying his blanket on the ground, “I’m so tired I’m gonna sleep where I fall.”

“We should be safe enough here,” Jac concurred, looking around, “And I think we could even risk a small fire.”

“Great,” said Ethan enthusiastically, “Break out the coffee and beans. And Kitti, how about a song?”