Free The Beast of the North by Alaric Longward Page B

holes, but I could hear scrapes and groans of people still living in there. People, or something else , I thought. Water was dripping from above as we passed halls of a formerly glorious make.
    ‘The Old City. The oldest, the very oldest parts are positively ancient. It was burned in the Hel’s War,’ the masked master said. ‘Thousands of years ago. Two thousand and five hundred or so ago. Perfect for our needs.’ It leaned on me with cool familiarity. ‘Valkai’s men know the ways, and I’m learning to. I might lead them, but they are unpredictable. I hate unpredictable.’
    ‘The guards never venture here?’ I inquired. ‘Truly?’
    The Horns shrugged. ‘Many are corrupt. Not all. They occasionally do. Sometimes we tend to go too far, and even coin in the hands of an official does not make a crime go away. They sometimes raid. Especially higher, up the hill where we have some bases. These lower tunnels are long and lonely and dark. Last year, they sent twenty trained men to clear us out up there. They found nothing. Two got lost. We found them.’ The voice was casual and cruel, and I nodded unhappily as a burly, fat turnkey looked up from a meal he was enjoying in a dark corner. His eyes betrayed incredulity as if it were unlikely for anyone to leave the dreadful housing below.
    Up we went, and there were underground streets we passed, some with scorched walls and ancient signposts. Up above, I heard the tumble of a barrel as someone was pushing one along the road, and I wondered what time it was.
    ‘Night,’ the voice behind me answered. ‘It’s nighttime.’
    ‘I see,’ I told Horns as it pushed me past some villainous looking men. A man was climbing down stairs from what was formerly an inn, and then I witnessed a sight to shock me. A troop of fifty men was marching by, holding blackened shields and spears, their steps in sync and a young, fierce looking sergeant was marching next to them. ‘You raising an army?’
    ‘Why not,’ the Horns answered, guiding me toward an official looking building where great bustle was evident; men and women going in and out of the building that was likely some sort of a tavern under the streets of Dagnar. ‘We get runaways from all the armies in the world. And those who have nothing to eat learn to wield weapons fast enough. There are a thousand people living down here. Few want to escape.’
    I hardened myself. They needed me, I reminded myself. They won’t kill me if I try. And so I decided I’d be brave. ‘You sound like a real benefactor. Look here,’ I said and pointed at the muddy tiles we were walking on. The Horn leaned closer; I grinned, prayed, and then I pummeled my elbow to the silver mask hovering over my shoulder.
    The figure of my nemesis fell back, apparently surprised even if unhurt by the string of curses drifting from under the mask. I thanked the gods when I saw the Horns falling right amidst the marching men, many of them toppling over my jailer. I thrust forward and ran for the crowded building with the bustling crowd of a hundred or so. As I ran, my face flowed, and I took on Valkai’s feral, stubble marked face. Behind me, the troop of men was turning in confusion and some shouts rang out from the sergeant. I dodged and weaved my way inside the tavern. ‘Hold!’ I yelled, my voice guttural and mad. ‘A prisoner is escaping. All of you; quick as you can, you mottled pigs! To the nearest exit!’
    They stared at me for a moment. I feared I had failed, and they would laugh like jackdaws until I was clamped in irons. Likely, they would laugh during a necessary and deserved ass kicking as well. Then I also feared Valkai would get up from a table, his quivering finger pointing at me.
    But no. A one eyed man got up instead, so did fifty others, all pulling weapons, and they ran out, toppling two armored men about to grab me. ‘This way!’ one of the women in the group screamed.
    ‘He is a thin scoundrel! Dressed in silks!’ I yelled, and