Darkfall: Deathborn, page 8
The horse Jack rode was a brown mare. She was a little thin, but handled well and certainly wasn’t skittish. He’d been told her name was Tabatha.
The group progressed towards the trees at a steady canter.
‘Why are there only seven of us?’ Edwin moaned. ‘We have no idea what we’re getting into. We need more numbers.’
‘I’m getting tired of hearing your voice, Edwin,’ Len warned him. ‘We’re here to see what we can find, so stay alert and do as you’re ordered.’
Jack turned to look back over his shoulder, towards Edwin, who caught him looking. Edwin frowned and shot him a scowl.
‘What about you fellas?’ the weaselly man asked the others. ‘Don’t you agree this is idiotic?’
Jack only knew the names of two of the other men with them: Ash and Brian, two brothers. Ash was the oldest, in his late thirties, and had thinning strawberry blonde hair and a long, bent nose. Brian was about half a decade younger, and his light brown hair was long and shaggy, falling down over his thin shoulders. Jack had seen the other two around, though he still didn’t know their names. One was a short guy with a bald head, his mouth and chin a patchwork of sores, and the last man was the oldest and most portly of them all, with flushed red cheeks, pale skin, and greying hair.
No one answered Edwin’s question. Jack was pleased Edwin didn’t have any of his regular cronies along with them, and wasn’t getting any backup when it came to arguing against Len.
None of them were that stupid.
Jack heard Edwin huff and let out a long exhale. ‘We’re riding to our deaths, I tell you.’
The group stayed silent until they got closer to the group of trees. Jack heard the cawing of some crows, the running water of the brook, and a light breeze that swept through the tree branches, but little else. Len brought his large stallion to a halt, and everyone else followed suit.
‘Off your horses, people,’ he ordered. ‘Look around the area on foot. See what you can find.’
The instructions were followed and the horses were allowed to graze as the seven of them investigated. The stream was a little farther ahead, just beyond the cluster of trees, but Jack saw nothing out of the ordinary in the fields around them. However, they had to stomp through shin-high grass to inspect, so he knew some clue might be hidden.
He felt both woefully unprepared and vulnerable. Back at the chapter house, he had spent a little time with Gus studying the bestiary. Much of what was contained within the book was difficult to believe, but he’d tried to take in as much as possible. It had been less than a week since he’d learned monsters really did exist, and this was the first time he’d been given an opportunity to face another one of them.
Jack had with him a large machete blade which was tucked into his belt. While it was sharp, the metal was weathered and rusted in areas, and the handle was wrapped in dirty white cloth. He’d also been given a smaller blade, which he kept tucked away in his jacket. Most of the weaponry the Deathborn had for their members were old and well used: a choice of blades, spears, serrated hooks, scythes, and other farming equipment. The two brothers and Len did have firearms, however, with the brothers each holding old-looking rifles, and Len a revolver. Jack had never fired a gun before in his life, so he wasn’t upset about how the weapons had been distributed.
Edwin had complained, of course, but Len had dismissed him, saying Ash and Brian were by far the better shots.
As Jack continued his search, he kept his hand on the handle of his machete. A rustling sound near the base of a tree drew his attention. The grass there was even longer, and he noticed faint movement in the blades.
Probably a small animal, he reasoned, but decided to look anyway. He tightened his grip on the handle and drew steadily closer. It was only when Jack was right upon the source of movement that he relaxed his grip. There was a wooden cage hidden in the long grass, made from sticks and twigs, which were tied together with twine. No, he thought, not a cage… a trap.
Within the trap was a small brown rabbit shuffling around in its confines. The animal’s movements were slow and sluggish.
‘How long have you been here?’ Jack quietly asked the animal. It occurred to him that if the trap here had been set, obviously some of the hunters who headed out here had made it to their destination before disappearing. However, whoever had set it hadn’t been around long enough to claim the bounty. Judging by the condition of the rabbit, Jack didn’t think it could have been stuck in the cage for longer than a day. He briefly considered grabbing the animal; they didn’t know how long they’d be out here, and it would make a half-decent meal. Instead, he took a breath and lifted the door of the trap, allowing the no-doubt hungry bunny to groggily hop free.
‘Looks like you’ve been through enough already,’ Jack whispered as the animal disappeared into the grass. He then stood to his feet and held the cage aloft. ‘Len,’ he shouted over to the leader of the group. He waved the trap around. ‘I found this and it was set, so someone’s been here.’
He saw Len nod. ‘Look around for more,’ Len ordered everyone. ‘And let me know if you find anything else.’
The search turned up a few more traps, one of which was a hangman’s snare hanging from the branch of a tree. However, it was out towards the stream where they made their biggest discovery: evidence of a camp.
The camp was in an area mostly hidden by some high bushes, trees, and particularly tall grass. The centre of the grass had been patted down to make room for the remnants of a fire and two small, basic tents. There was also a low open cart situated close by, with piles of hunting gear: skinning knives, rope, twine, sticks, blankets, and even some rabbit and deer carcasses that had begun to age and smell.
‘No horses, though,’ Jack noted.
‘They likely bolted,’ Len said. He then pointed to the remains of a low, broken branch. ‘Might have been tethered to that, but got spooked enough to yank themselves free.’
‘No blood that I can see,’ Jack added as he started to pace around the camp. ‘So, if something happened to these men, I don’t think it happened here.’
Len cast his eyes around the area, deep in thought. ‘But something did happen to em’. I can feel it in my water.’
‘Why don’t we just go back and report what we’ve found?’ Edwin suggested. ‘Nothing more we can do here.’
Len didn’t say anything in response—he didn’t need to. The intimidating glare from the hulking man was enough to make Edwin fall silent and lower his head in submission.
‘Perhaps the hunters just got scared, took the horses, and escaped in a hurry, leaving all this behind,’ one of the brothers suggested.
Jack considered that. It was as much a possibility as the horses bolting on their own.
‘Might be the case,’ Len replied, ‘though if it were true, the hunters likely would have gone back to Low Moorsley, and we know that didn’t happen. Everyone keep looking. There’s more here, I just know it.’
The men spread out again and began to search. Jack was puzzled. While the trees and bushes and high grass blocked some lines of sight, the area in general was just too open for anything to be hiding. It wasn’t even like they could have been attacked by something like a wild boar, as there were no bodies left behind, and no blood that he could see. Nor were there any signs of struggle: no dropped weapons, the tents hadn’t been ransacked or damaged, and everything looked to have been left untouched on the cart.
It was as if the hunters had vanished. Or, more likely, wilfully walked off somewhere.
Then an idea struck Jack: maybe they were lured. But lured where? There was nothing around.
He walked over to the brook, which was roughly a hundred paces away from the camp. On the far side of it was a shallow hill, not high enough to hide much behind it. Still, it was worth checking, so Jack waded through the shallow water to the other side. He then walked around the base of the hill to the back, making sure he could still see the others over the top. His eyes were soon drawn to something in the face of the grass-covered incline.
A crevice had been cut into the base, opening up like a small mouth with a grassy beard around it. Jack squatted down and peered inside the opening, which was about a couple of feet wide. He could see grassy roots sprouting from the soil of the tunnel inside: a narrow route seemed to lead down, though the light didn’t penetrate far enough to see much more. Jack did notice that many of the exposed roots and weeds seemed to be forced inwards, as if something had passed through.
It didn’t look like a hole dug by a rabbit or badger, more a natural formation over time. Regardless, Jack cautiously reached an arm inside, to see if he could find a back to it. The only things he felt, however, were more hanging roots and stones buried into the soil. Apparently, the tunnel went on much farther than he could reach. He pulled his arm back and rested on his haunches. It was tight, very tight, but Jack thought the space was just high and wide enough for a man to crawl through.
Probably not Len, though.
It didn’t seem likely someone would go down there of their own volition, unless they had a good reason, and forcing a person inside seemed like it would be difficult.
Jack stood up and waved over to the others. ‘I might have something,’ he shouted.
The rest of the group made their way over and stood examining the crevice.
‘It’s just a rabbit or badger borough,’ Edwin said.
‘Too big for that,’ the portly man said.
‘Not for a badger,’ Edwin argued. ‘Some of those nasty vermin can get huge.’
‘Someone needs to go inside,’ Len stated. He then drew out a box of matches and handed them to Jack. ‘I don’t reckon I’ll fit,’ he said, ‘but you might. Push yer head in there, light a match, and see what you can see.’
Jack looked at the discoloured cardboard box in Len’s huge paw. He was reminded of the lesson on starting a fire he’d given to Samuel a week ago. It was one of the many he’d wanted to teach the boy, to make sure his son was strong enough to face the world.
‘You still with us, brother?’ Len asked as he shook the matchbox. ‘You seem a little lost in your thoughts.’
Jack shook his head and took the box. ‘I’m fine,’ he said. He then drew out a match and bent down, pushing his head closer to the opening. It would be a squeeze, but Jack was confident he could get his upper body inside while his arms held the match out ahead of him.
‘Careful a badger doesn’t bite your face off,’ Edwin said with a sneer.
Not feeling the need to respond, Jack took out a single match and carefully lit it, cupping his hand around the naked flame. Once he was satisfied it wasn’t about to go out, he leaned forward and carefully began to shuffle forward while resting on his elbows, pushing his arms, head, and shoulders inside. With the match held out ahead, Jack kept his movements slow, inching forward, though it caked the front of his shirt and vest in muck.
Once he was far enough in, Jack looked around. The flame illuminated a little way ahead, but he could clearly see the tunnel continued much farther, at a manageable decline, cutting down into the earth.
Jack pushed himself inside a little more, to the point only his shins and feet were exposed outside. He felt cramped and claustrophobic. The walls on all sides pressed into him and the air was thin.
Then, Jack saw something lying on the ground and froze.
It was a single boot.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘You can’t seriously want us to go down there!’ Edwin snapped. ‘We’ll get stuck.’
Nobody was listening to him. ‘We’ll need something to light the way,’ Jack said to Len, who was rummaging through one of the saddlebags on his horse.
‘Agreed,’ Len said. He then pulled out a bundle of old cloth, consisting of ripped-up shirts, trousers, and other loose rags. He took out a yellow tin of kerosene oil and unstrapped a bundle of long, thick sticks that had been tied to the back of his horse. ‘Quick tip for ya, lad. Always bring materials to make torches if you’re out on a hunt—you never know when you’ll need them. And fire is one of our best weapons. Remember that.’
‘Those torches will be unwieldy while we’re moving through such a tight gap,’ Jack said. ‘It’ll be hard not to drop them, and even harder to keep them alight.’
‘You’ll need to use matches while you’re crawling,’ Len replied. ‘These are for when things open out into a bigger space. The tunnel is going to lead somewhere, and there won’t be any natural light down there.’
Jack looked down at the boot in his hands he’d retrieved from the opening. It was a male's brown shoe, made from cheap leather. While he couldn’t know for sure, Jack was fairly certain it belonged to one of the missing men and had likely come free while they’d been crawling. There was no blood on it, and it wasn’t torn or damaged in any way beyond general wear and tear.
The plan the team had come up with was simple: Jack would go down first, followed by Edwin, then the others, all except Len, who was simply too large. It would be slow progress, so it was decided the others would wait outside at first until Jack signalled for them to follow.
Jack wrapped the head of one of the sticks with fabric. Next he tied the material off and slipped the torch into the side of his belt. He also tucked the kerosene oil and box of matches into his pockets, then adjusted the position of his machete, strapping it to his back with a leather sheath Len had given to him.
‘Go carefully,’ Len told him. ‘Shout for us only if you need to. If there is something in there, we don’t want to alert it.’
‘Understood.’
Len then pulled free a coil of rope and passed one end to him. ‘Tie this around your waist. Any sign of trouble, we’ll pull you out.’
Though he understood the reason for the suggestion, Jack thought being yanked back helplessly through the passageway might cause him more harm than anything else.
‘Is it really needed?’ he asked.
‘It is, because if you find anything and need the others to come down as well, I want you to give three clear, hard tugs on the rope. That way, I’ll know to send them down, rather than you having to shout and give your position away.’
Jack tied the thick rope around his waist, and Len began to unravel it while Jack moved to the entrance of the opening.
‘Remember,’ Len said, ‘move slow and careful. Three hard tugs of the rope when you are ready for the others. If you need urgent help, shout like buggery and we’ll pull you out. You ready?’
After staring into the void for a moment, feeling a smattering of nerves flutter up from his stomach, Jack gave a firm nod. ‘I’m ready.’
He then knelt down and pushed his way back inside the gap.
As soon as he was in, up to his waist, Jack lit a match and held it out before him. As before, the match offered only a little light. With the machete on his back and the torch at his side, worming his way forward was a little more restricted than it had been the last time, but Jack was still able to make steady progress. Hanging roots brushed his face as he used his feet to push off the ground and force himself forward.
After about ten feet of crawling, always at a steady decline, there was a noticeable increase in the sharpness of the drop, to the point that Jack had to wedge his feet into the tunnel’s side walls to keep from sliding forward too quickly. The rope around his waist was uncomfortable, and it was pulled taut by the others, them giving him just enough slack to keep moving. He noticed a foul odour grow stronger the deeper he got, smelling like old, spoiled meat.
Eventually, Jack’s match burned out and he had to light another; he ended up going through three before the ground started to level out and he emerged into a larger area. The surrounding darkness was too thick for the light from the match to penetrate, and the flame went out before giving Jack any idea of what surrounded him. Here, the awful smell intensified.
Working mostly in the dark, and in a squatted position, Jack removed the wooden pole from this belt, took out the tin of kerosene, and felt his way to the fabric head of the torch. He doused the material in the fluid and then, carefully, lit another match and put it to the cloth.
The head of the torch went up with a strong flame. He raised the torch up higher, pushing back the dark, and saw that there was now room for him to stand fully. Though he couldn’t see too far ahead, Jack realised he was in some kind of shallow, natural cave system, about eight feet high and roughly the same width. The side walls, ceiling, and ground below him were a mix of stone, rock, and soil, as well as some protruding roots and yellowed weeds.
Jack took a few paces forward and quickly stopped. On the ground before him, he spotted something. It was a section of dull, red human intestine, specked with dirt.
His body tightened and his eyes darted around, his ears trying to pick up on any sounds. There was nothing.
Regardless, he knew it was time to get the others down now—it would be idiotic to continue exploring alone. He took hold of the rope behind him, which was still taut, and gave three tugs before untying the rope from his waist and letting the end fall to the ground. Jack didn’t want to be tugged about as the rest of the men made their way down the tunnel and disturbed the line. He then reached behind himself and drew out his machete while he continued to listen intently. Still nothing. He squatted down to inspect the fleshy tube on the ground. It was about a foot in length, with both ends looking like they had been chewed. The dull colour of the dry flesh indicated it had been there for a while.
Jack was tempted to continue forward while waiting for the others. Simply standing there with his torch, like a beacon in the night to anything that lurked inside the cave with him, made him uneasy. But then again, walking out into the unknown by himself was equally unappealing, and possibly even more foolish. In the end, he waited, though it was a full ten minutes until Edwin emerged out into the cave with him.
