Kelfor (The Orthomancers)

Chapter 11

The Scoriats come tumbling into the cavern. We see and hear them long before they reach us. They are carrying some sort of torch to light their way, and the light from this precedes them down the tunnel.

They are taking little care to be quiet. There is a prepotency about the Scoriats; they simply believe they are so much better than we are. Perhaps they are, but this time we will not give in without a fight. Even though I am cowering in an escape tunnel, I feel fierce. I want to attack. I am pleased with myself; I am no longer afraid of them. For just a second, I think again of Tilan, of his expression as the guards hanged him. I wish with all my heart that he could have been here. He was a strong boy. What an asset he would have been to us now. What a waste! Such a terrible waste of so many lives over so many years.

I realize that I am going to have to fight to survive. I must get to Kelfor. Zivan is right. If I don't reach my goal, everything is lost. Not just this quest, but the centuries of mindless slavery. All of it, every last minute, has been forming a timeline with me at the apex. And I still don't know why. I experience anger again. Anger at my mother, at Quondam Azrial and at Praetor Thurifer. Why did they not explain more to me? How do they expect me to succeed when I have no idea what my role is?

I tuck the amulet well inside my tunic. That must survive, too.

The Scoriats are entering the cavern.

They realize that the walls of the tunnel have dropped away. The leading one raises his torch to find the ceiling height. It is about twice his own stature. I hold my breath. The cord across the cavern at knee level is visible in the light now bathing it.

But he must be looking up. He misses the thin rope, is too busy making a comment to the man following him. They continue.

I smile. They both fall, brought to the ground easily by Zivan's trap.

There is a high-pitched cry from Zivan's tunnel as she throws herself onto the Scoriats immediately behind these. And a holler as Doven leaps to make a start by putting the two downed Scoriats out of the fight. This he does by the less than scientific method of knocking their heads together. There is a heavy thump and then they both lie silent.

More Scoriats spill into the cavern. One of them is brought down by the rope. Another sees it and angrily slashes with his knife so that it falls to the ground, now useless. The same Scoriat scouts around and disables the second cord. He is a tall man with a proud stance.

There is a flash of movement from my left. Another cry, this time young and proud. I see Kalyka, silhouetted against the torches, as she swings down into this very tall man. Her knees are snagged up into her chest, her feet facing out.

She sweeps down from her hiding place on the rock. He sees her out of the corner of his eye, but not in time to react. He has only started to duck when her feet slam into his head. She is a slight girl, but she has caught the man full on; he falls heavily straight to the ground, where Doven's knife can reach him. The man lies still.

Kalyka has fallen to the ground too. The blow was so strong that it knocked her off the rope. But I can see her scurrying back to the rock. She scales it, not without quite a struggle, and I see her tugging on the cord linking her to the swinging rope. It begins to move obediently in her direction. I am pleased. She has shown her worth today.

Zivan is having less luck. Despite her experience and determination, she is fighting two of the Scoriats at the same time. They are both larger and stronger than she is. They were bred to be.

So she is not winning. But, on the good side, she is still standing. They are moving apart to make it more difficult for her to attack them both at the same time.