Silvanus and Empire, an Original Novel (Chapter Twenty-Five)
Welcome back to Silvanus and Empire, the one and only serialized fiction novel on Steemit that features evil sorcerous witches, snarky beanpole scribes, and an irascible mule. No, really, I checked.
Allow me to re-introduce myself! I am your humble hose @beowulfoflegend, back from a harrowing weekend down in the wilds of the Metropolitan New York Area to celebrate my brother's wedding. Now that that's been taken care of (and I have my notebook back again), it's time to pick up where we left off - with Spirit-of-Vengeance manipulating Lyrinn to use her powers to do dastardly things to the local flora and fauna. With no further ado, here we go!
Silvanus and Empire
By the time Dafydd, Bryn, and Einion, who clung to Malcolm's tether, had arrived at the Lemon Squeeze, twilight had ended. The darkness of night had crept across the land, prompting the travelers to stop for the night. Dafydd had come back from surveying the path ahead, shaking his head. "Path's too dark, even wi' torches," he said. "Cliff's too high t'risk it. And I'm as tired as Malcolm looks."
"Da, he always looks like that! Don'tcha, Malcolm?" Einion giggled as the animal butted the boy with his muzzle.
"Aye," said Bryn, sinking to his haunches. He leaned up against the rough-hewn wall of the Lemon Squeeze's tunnel. "This is likely the safest place t'stop for th'night, what?"
They had set up camp just inside the eastern end of the tunnel. A few dozen paces further down the passageway, the sounds of the Cliffspring, swollen from spring rains, could be heard coming from the far end, nearly deafening as it plunged to the lowlands below. While the eastern gate of the tunnel was brown with rust, it still hung on its hinges; the ruined western gate was mostly gone, fallen into the ravine below, the constant spray from the falls hastening its demise. The small guardhouse on the western flank was similarly ruined - its wooden door long gone - but its twin on the opposite end was still relatively intact. It was there that they had stored the meager belongings they had taken with them.
Scavenging some broken masonry that had fallen from the walls generations ago, they had built a small ring to enclose their cooking fire. The gentle orange glow was the only light to be had.
Bryn shivered, pulling his knit cap down lower over his head. He shifted closer to the fire. "Gettin' cold," he murmured, looking up at the sky."
"Still early," Dafydd said. "Typical Cliffspring weather. Hot days, cold nights, even in springtime."
"Be a hot summer this year, then."
"Every summer's hot in the forge, right Da?"
Dafydd reached over and tousled Einion's hair. "S'right, son."
Bryn picked up a piece of kindling and started poking at the fire halfheartedly. "So what're we gonna do once we get t'Imperial City?"
"Well, we've got that scroll from Old Oren. He tole us t'go straight to th'Scribner's guildhouse." Dafydd scratched at his beard. "Said it's in th'church district."
Bryn looked out and down the tunnel, towards their destination. "Aye, but then what?"
Dafydd shrugged. "Then we hope the Emperor sends us some guards."
"Think everyone'll be safe 'till then?"
The smith looked over at his son, who had wrapped himself in a coarse woolen blanket. He was beginning to doze. "Old Oren'll know what t'do," Dafydd said quietly. "He's an ornery old coot, but he's smart - an' word is he's been in Annex long enough t'remember th'last time there was a Bloodhair attack."
Silence stretched out across the campfire. Einion's soft snores could barely be heard above the Cliffspring's constant roar. "Shame about young Caddoc," Dafydd said finally.
Bryn swallowed. "Y'think they..." He looked over at Malcolm, who was busily chewing his dinner. "Y'think he's gone?"
The powerfully-built blacksmith shrugged. "Sur ehope so," he said quietly. "Don't wanna think about what those savages might be doin' t'him otherwise. The Bakers... well, you saw as good as I did."
A gust of cold wind crawled its way through the tunnel, making their fire gutter. Dafydd looked up, craning his neck around the roof of the tunnel. A dark swath of sky was swallowing the stars, one by one. Malcolm brayed, pulling on his tether, waking Einion with a start.
"We'd better get some more cover," Bryn said, gathering up the remains of their evening meal. "Storm's rollin' in, and looks like it's movin' fast."
Dafydd's son clambered to his feet, the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, and untethered Malcolm, trying to pull the anxious mule deeper into the tunnel. Einion frowned as the mule dug his hooves in, not budging an inch, and then gasped as blue-white arc of lightning split the sky; startled, Malcolm bolted into the tunnel, nearly dragging the young boy off his feet.
Dafydd caught Einion in one arm, wrapping the mule's tether around the other. Malcolm skidded to a halt, ears back and quivering. "Easy there, fella," he said. The wind whipped through the tunnel again. "So much for a quiet night!"
Bryn nodded, gathering up the last of their things and joining the others deeper in the tunnel. "Amazin' how fast the weather turned," he said. Thunder rumbled as another lightning bolt jumped from one cloud to another; rain began to fall abruptly in a near-solid sheet and drum incessantly on the hard-packed dirt beyond the tunnel entrance. "You'd think we were at the bottom of th'Falls!"
"Aye, amazin'," said Dafydd. He flicked his eyes back and forth, scanning the near-darkness in between lightning flashes. "I don't think I've ever - yes, son?"
Einion was tugging on the smith's trouser leg. ""I'm scared, Da. Rain don't feel right. Malcolm don't like it none, either." The mule's ears were still back, pressed against his skull. His eyes rolled nervously in their sockets.
"It's just a spring storm," Dafydd said. He wrapped an arm around his son. "Nothin' to fear, we're safe in the tunnel, ain't we Bryn?"
The farmer was quiet as he squinted out into the storm. "Honestly Dafydd, I'm not so sure." He began to back away from the eastern tunnel entrance deeper into the tunnel, "I think we might-" He was drowned out by a titanic crash of thunder as a bolt of lightning struck the eastern end of the Cliffway not thirty paces from the tunnel entrance. Bryn fell backwards, scrabbling on the dirty rock floor. The stink of ozone crept after him, borne on a sharp, gusting wind.
"By the Emperor! Did y'see that?" The farmer regained his feet. He had snatched his cap from his head and was wringing it violently. Malcolm brayed, pulling hard enough to nearly knock Dafydd off his feet as another bolt of lightning splintered the Cliffway, sending gritty shards of rock and dirt skittering deep into the tunnel.
"Right, that's it. Time t'go!" Dafydd pulled Malcolm and his son towards the western entrance of the tunnel. "Bryn!" He shouted. "C'mon y'daft fool! You wanna be blasted right outta yer clogs?"
Bryn backed up another few paces as another lightning bolt touched down, pulverizing a second patch of the eastern Cliffway. "It's gettin' closer!" He cringed as debris blasted into the tunnel. He turned and ran.
Wind howled through the length of the tunnel, bringing sheets of icy rain along with it. The tree raced through, a panicked Malcolm in tow, as lightning strikes danced around the entrance like a hound pawing at a foxhole. Dafydd paused at the western end, peering out into the coal-pitch night. "Path is level for th'next twenty paces or so," he shouted over the howling storm. "Then there's three or four switchbacks. Y'gotta go slow or you'll tumble right off th'cliff and into th'Falls!"
"Are you mad? I'm not goin' out there!" Bryn's eyes were wide. "We'll die in this storm!"
"We'll die in here if we don't move! You wanna be in here when a bolt of lightning brings the roof down on our heads?" He reached out for his son's hand. Einion was huddled in his blanket, clinging like a storm-tossed sailor to Malcolm's flank. The mule wasn't doing much better. "come on, boyo. Be brave. Don't let go!"
Bryn watched the two lead a braying Malcolm out into the dark. He shook and shivered in the cold, empty tunnel for a moment before scrambling after them.
The storm hit him like one of Dafydd's hammer blows. Instantly soaked to the skin and chilled by the clawing wind, he set off down the path, trailing his left hand along the cold, clammy rock face to guide him. From the intermittent lightning, he could see his friends well ahead of him rounding the end of the first switchback.
He stumbled forward, keen to join with Dafydd and Einion, when a blast of lightning touched down on the road ahead of him, close enough to make his hair stand on end. He fell backward with a cry, struck blind and deaf, paralyzed by shock. Finally he found the courage to roll over. Crawling hand and foot, he opened his eyes and peered down the road.
A vast swath of the Cliffway had been demolished. An entire portion of the switchback ahead of him had been pulverized, triggering a crumbling rockslide that left fifty paces of roadway awash in rubble. At the point where the bolt had struck the road was gone altogether, leaving an impassible gap of more than ten paces.
Bryn moaned and picked his way down the path, crawling closer to the ruined edge. "Dafydd!" He called. "Einion!" The only response was the roaring storm.
Lightning flashed again, stitching the image of Dafydd and Einion huddling around Malcolm, safe on the other side of the gap, into his vision.
"Bryn!" Dafydd bellowed. Even the smith's powerful voice could barely be heard above the clamor. "Y'all right?"
"Aye!" the farmer shouted back. He looked down at the chasm separating them. The Falls thundered beneath them. "Looks like I get t'go back to town after all!"
"Very funny!" The sky flashed again. It seemed as if the storm had finally spent its fury; the rain began to lessen. "You better go tell 'em we're cut off, soon as you can! Me and Einion'll keep going - we gotta get to Imperial City!"
Bryn's heart sank. He chanced a glance back over his shoulder, up the path and into the dark, yawning expanse of the Lemon Squeeze. He swallowed, turning back to his friends, and nodded. "Be safe!" he shouted. "Emperor watch over you!"
Dafydd nodded. He placed Einion on Malcolm's back, still wrapped in the now-soaked blanket, and began leading the two down what was left of the Cliffway. As he did, the rain stopped abruptly as it started.
Bryn looked up. The clouds were parting; the cold light of the stars once more shone down. As quickly as the storm had fallen upon them, it was gone.