Chapter Thirty Six - word count 2279 - Dowload PDF
36.
      There was very little in the way of good cover as they moved down into the valley that led to the fortress.  So they inched with a slow determination, melting from one bit of cover too the next.  
      Marcus cursed quietly as his foot disappeared into a hole hidden by the long grass and he felt his ankle twist.  “Damn it Fenn, how do you get that big ass body of yours to move through here without killing yourself.”  He grimaced in pain as he rotated his injured ankle.  He was irritated with the elf because Fenn made everything look so effortless.  
      The elf turned to look at Marcus and shrugged his shoulders.  “Innate grace?”  
      “I’m plenty graceful you ass.”  Marcus grumbled at the implied insult, and tested to see how much weight he could put on his ankle.  
      “Tell that to your ankle.”  Fenn flashed a smile then looked back in the direction they were going, scouting out the next bit of cover.  
      “Why can’t we just march up to the fortress?”  Marcus hissed as he put his foot down and felt pain shoot up his shin from his ankle.  
      “Suck it up and quit whingeing Marcus.”  Kyle grumbled.  “You know damn well we are seriously out numbered and surprise is an advantage we need.”  
      The whole situation had Kyle worried.  Sorcha was sick.  She was pale and loosing more color in her cheeks every time he looked at her.  Something was wrong, but as usual she was being too stubborn to admit it.  Why the hell did he have to fall for a woman who merrily threw herself into danger’s path every chance she got?  
      Crap – he cringed inwardly.  He needed to stop thinking about Sorcha.  She wasn’t interested, what had happened to his resolve to let her go.  So much for having a steel incased heart.  
      They dashed to the next cover and Sorcha fought to keep up, her brow was beaded with sweat and it had nothing to do with the exertion of a running crouch.  The wave of nausea that had assailed her earlier was back and far worse than anything she’d felt before.  Her stomach clenched and Sorcha fought with every ounce of self-control not to start reaching.  The forest must be pure poison to make her feel like this, and the closer they got to the fortress the more she could sense Raven, like a malignant tumor sitting patiently biding its time before it took your life.  
      “You’ve got to be shitting me?”  Kyle leaned forward straining his eyes to see the entryway to the fortress.  “A portcullis?  Come on, I know it’s a big stone fortress, but a portcullis?”  
      “Is it closed?”  Crimson leaned over Kyle’s shoulder so he could have a look too.  
      “Never mind I can see that it is.  I’m surprised there is no moat.”  He twisted his lips in disgust.  
      “If I can remember back to when this type of fortification was in fashion.  I seem to recall they had a hidden entry, an escape route in case of a siege.”  Sable spoke behind Sorcha.  
      She jumped, damn the man moved like the smoke he could transform into.  
      “Yeah, some of them did, in fact it was quiet common.  Someone is going to have to go scout, and try and find the other opening if there is one.”  Fenn looked around the group waiting for someone to volunteer.  He had to stay with the main group.  The forest was playing tricks the others weren’t even aware of.  Fenn was sure he would sleep for a week when they got back.  He was exhausted from the continuous grip he had to keep on the plant life around them.  
      Marcus bent down, unlaced his boots and kicked them off then stood and pulled his shirt up over his head.  He revealed a chest that would have most women panting and drooling.  Sorcha raised a brow, but decided to enjoy the view.  
      “What the hell are you doing Marcus!”  Kyle barked as the cheetah reached for the button of his camo pants.  
      “What does it look like, bright spark.  I’m stripping.”  
      Sorcha didn’t avert her eyes and when Kyle turned to glare at her she had the cheek to grin at him.  “What?”  
      Kyle spun back to Marcus.  “Why the hell are you stripping?”
      “Because I’m going to transform into my cat and I don’t feel like fighting bare-assed naked afterward.”  He tossed the shirt he’d draped over a shoulder at Fenn.  “Hold on to that for me.”  Then slid the zipper of his pants down.  
      Kyle spun and turned Sorcha right around.  “You are not going to watch Marcus undress.”  He told her in steel-reinforced tones.  
      Sorcha’s only response was to laugh- she loved it when he was so jealous.  
      She was tempted to tell him that any woman would love the opportunity to see Marcus loose his clothes, but she knew that would be pushing her luck.  She’d only stared at Marcus to see Kyle’s reaction in the first place.  Not that Marcus wasn’t a truly fine specimen of maleness.   She just wasn’t interested in any other than the one with his hands clamped on her shoulders to keep her from turning.  
      Sorcha felt the energy pulse that was Marcus shifting to his cheetah form and turned.  
      Marcus released a low growl and moved off silently through the valley.
      “He’s going to go hunt down our entrance.  He said we need to stay put.  He doesn’t want to have to look for us.”  
      Crimson sank down to his haunches.  “Then we might as well get comfortable and wait.”  
      
      A half an hour passed as they waited.  A strained silence making the air thick in the little hollow they’d taken shelter in.  Everyone was tense the slightest noise had them flinching and reaching for weapons.  
      “I wish Marcus would hurry the hell up.”  Kyle stood and scanned the surrounding area for the cheetah.  “He’s taking to damn long.”  Kyle looked down at Sorcha and felt his worry intensify, she really looked green, she was not feeling well even though she was refusing to admit it.  
      “Sorcha are you okay?”  He tried again to get her to admit she was feeling sick.
      “I’m fine, quit asking would you.”  She snapped, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them.  Another wave of nausea hit her she clenched her teeth and started reciting poetry in her head.  She’d always been fond of Poe, and it was his poem Alone that she chose now.  Flowing through the verses of the poem in her mind to distract herself from the nausea
      The rustle of a nearby bush caught their attention.  Marcus in his cheetah form parted the leaves and stepped into the hollow.  
      Sorcha felt the pulse as he drew in his cat shifting back to human form.  She wasn’t surprised when Kyle stepped in front of her to block her vision.  
      “Well?”  He asked Marcus.  The cheetah grinned.  There is an escape route that comes out about a mile to the northwest.  It’s an underground tunnel.  Full of dust and spider webs.”  He pulled his pants on.  “It doesn’t look like it’s been used in a very long time.”  
      “That might mean it’s caved in.”  Crimson spoke.
      Marcus pulled his shirt over his head before answering.  “No, I checked it out.  It comes out in a dungeon.  That is our best way into the fortress.”  He sat down and pulled his boots on.  
      Kyle reached down and offered Sorcha a hand up.  She took it, not in the mood to argue with him.  Besides it was sweet that he seemed to be so worried about her.
      The group moved quietly and with speed, covering the mile to the entrance of the tunnel in ten minutes.  
      When they reached the tunnel entrance they stopped, taking a moment to decide what the plan would be.  
      “I’ll lead the way through.”  Marcus stepped toward the over-grown hole in the hill.  He ducked as he entered.  “Watch your heads, there isn’t much in the way of head room in here.”  
      They followed Marcus through in single file.  Kyle close on Sorcha’s heals.  
      Sorcha shuddered when she saw the spider webs coating ever surface.  She’d never been very fond of spiders, and the thought that she was probably surround by the little crawlies hiding in the profusion of webbing had Sorcha pulling her arms tight against her body and praying she didn’t encounter any of them up close.  She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted a steel studded wooden door over Fenn’s shoulder.  
      Marcus pushed against the door.  It opened with a creak and shudder of disuse.  Marcus muttered under his breath in the language of magic then held his right hand out palm up.  A small glowing orb glowed blue in his hand.  Casting just enough light that the dungeon wasn’t in total darkness.  He led the way forward again.  
      “This way, I think it leads to stairs that open to the fortress.”  
      The moved quietly following Marcus, he walked up the stairs leading to another studded door.  This one stood slightly open.  Marcus held up his hand warning the others to stop and be silent.  He extinguished the orb in his hand them moved forward without making a sound.  
      They could hear a muttered conversation on the other side of the door.  
      “Why do we have guard this stupid entrance.  I’m so sick of being put on the boring jobs.”
      “Ah, quit it.  Just shut-up and do what you were told to do.”  The second voice muttered.  
      “Its not like anyone even knows we are here, and if they did, they’d never get through the forest to get at us.”  The first voice continued with his whining.  
      “Nespan is just being cautious.”  The second man’s voice defended his leader’s actions.
      There was a snort before the first replied.  “Nespan is letting himself be led around by his dick.”  
      “Shut-Up.”  The second man hissed.  “I’m fond of my head I don’t want to loose it because you can’s seem to keep your mouth shut.”  
      “Yeah well.”  The first man sounded guilty.  “You’ll loose it anyway when hell’s minions catch up with us.”  
      Sorcha felt something brush past her, and looked down straining her eyes to see if there were any spiders on her.  What she saw was black smoke.  Sable was oozing past her and through the door.  Sorcha had to wonder what he was up to.  
      Sable flowed through the door, into the passageway.  There was no one there besides the two guards.  Sable smiled inwardly, and retook his form materializing with his back against the far wall of the passage.  One knee drawn up so his foot was planted on the wall and his arms crossed over his chest.  
      The whining guard was the first to notice Sable, he spluttered in terror.  “My... My Lord Sable.”  
      The second guard didn’t waist time with chitchat, he fell to his knees banging his forehead into the stone floor of the passage, in his effort to show supplication to Hell’s Prince.  
      “Well-well.”  Sable said in a voice darker than the bottom of an ocean trench.  “What have we here?  Two hunter demons playing guard?”  His voice flowed thick and smooth.  
      Sorcha, who still stood on the other side of the door with the rest of the group, shivered and wondered if Sable realized how much of a weapon that deep voice he wielded could be.  Even knowing that Sable was on their side, she felt a rush of fear flow down her spine.  
      “Yes my lord, we are guards.”  The second demon responded his face still pressed to the stone floor.  
      “My father would be anxious to speak to you.”  Sable murmured.
      “Mercy Lord Sable.”  The first guard blubbered. “Please my Lord have mercy.”
      “You don’t wish to speak to my father?”  Sable asked raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.  
      “No my Lord, we will tell you what ever you need to know.”  The first guard had joined the second speaker prostrate on the floor.  
      “Very well.”  Sable agreed.  “Rise so I may ask my questions.”  
      The guards their faces from the floor, looking at each other to confirm that the other was doing as Lord Sable had commanded.  They rose to a sitting position balancing on their knees but didn’t stand.  
        “So you ran away from hell to join Nespan’s bid for the throne?”  Sable wanted verification of Nespan’s plot.
      “Yes my Lord, he promised all who joined him high ranks in the new Hell.”  
      The second demon admitted with a tremble in his voice.  
      Sable laughed, a dark mocking sound.  “You are fools if you think my father would ever bow to the likes of Nespan.”
      “He believes he holds the key to killing the great Lord.”  The first guard answered.
      “And that is?”  Sable breathed the words.  
      “Do not say!”  The second guard hissed.  
      Sable unfolded his arms in one fluid motion lunged forward, smoke boiled from his hand sliding down the guards throat.  Gurgling and choking noised filled the corridor as the guard struggled to free himself from Sable’s hold.  It didn’t last long.  The soldier demon collapsed becoming a puddle of decomposing gunk on the floor of the passage.
      “Send my father regards.”  Sable spoke as the goop that had been the demon vanished.  The first demons blubbered in fear.  “I will tell you my lord, do not send me back to hell.”  
      Sable reached for the guard, sending the black smoke forward.  
      “Please my Lord!”  
      Sable stopped the smoke inches from the hunt demon’s face.
      “Very well – speak.”
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