Mace chuckled. ‘Seven swords against a Vampyre city, and you talk of risks?’Corlan grinned. ‘I think we are all insane.’The sun slowly crept above the eastern mountains and the sentries disappeared from sight. ‘Now!’ ordered Mace, and we left the shelter of the trees and ran down the slope towards the walls. I kept my eyes fixed to the battlements, expecting at any moment to see a line of archers appear with bows bent, arrows aimed at our hearts.
But there was nothing and we arrived at the cold stone wall apparently undetected. Slowly we traversed the city until we reached the flood-gates set below the southern wall. The portcullis was old and rusted, debris clinging to the iron spikes.
‘What now?’ asked Raul Raubert. ‘It must be years since this gate was raised. It is rusted solid.’Mace splashed into the murky water and moved closer, examining the latticed iron. Piercollo joined him. The giant reached out and took hold of a vertical bar, his huge hands closing around the rotted iron. The muscles of his arms swelled out and his face reddened with the effort; but slowly the iron twisted in his grip. Flakes of rust fell to the water, then two rivets snapped clear. Transferring his grip, Piercollo began to work on a second vertical bar, then a horizontal. Within minutes he had opened a gap wide enough to allow entry.
Handing his longbow and sword to me, Mace clambered through. I passed his weapons to him and followed. One by one the others joined us until only Piercollo was left on the outside. ‘I cannot make it larger,’ he said, and only then did we realize that he could not join us. His massive bulk would never squeeze through so small a gap.
‘Wait here for us,’ said Mace and, without a backward glance, headed off into the dark depths of the city sewers.
The stench was nauseatingly strong and I did not look down at the water swirling around my boots. We heard the skittering of rats, the scratch of tiny talons upon stone, but we waded on into the darkness. When Mace drew his sword it blazed bright, casting huge shadows on the gleaming walls.
None of us spoke as we moved on. Such was my fear that I do not believe I could have forced words from my mouth.
The tunnel branched to the left and we followed its winding course. A swimming rat brushed against my shin . . . then another. I drew my own dagger, and in the ghostly light saw hundreds of the black shapes swimming around me.
I almost panicked then and began to thrash about, kicking out at the rats. Mace waded back to me, grabbing my arms. ‘Keep calm!’ he hissed.
‘I can’t stand them!’They are not harming you, but you are making too much noise!’I took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting for control. Ilka’s
voice whispered into my mind: ‘I am with you, Owen.’ I nodded and swallowed hard, tasting the bile in my mouth.
‘I am fine. Lead on, Jarek.’As we rounded yet another bend I saw a corpse floating facedown in the filthy water. Bloated, the stink of corruption lost amid the foulness of the sewer, the clothes had snagged on a jutting stone. Two rats were sitting upon the dead man’s back. What a place to die, I thought. What an awful resting-place. There were more corpses further on – some in the water, some on the narrow stone banks. The light of Mace’s sword sent shadows across the dead faces, giving the appearance of life and movement. I could not look and fixed my gaze to Corlan’s back.
Suddenly Mace halted and glanced to his right. There was an alcove there, deep and shadowed. He stepped towards it and I saw a child huddled against the stone.
‘Don’t hurt me!’ she pleaded.
‘No one will hurt you, little one,’ I said, moving towards her, but she shrank away, her eyes wide and terrified. Wulf stepped in quickly, gathering a rag-doll which lay beside the child and holding it out to her.
‘Is this your friend?’ he asked, his voice gentle.
‘It’s Mira,’ she told him.