Taker Of Skulls (Book 5) by William King Page B

mouth and nostrils just from the tiniest nip of their teeth.”
    “Sounds like they carry bloodbane fever,” said Karnea.
    “Can you do anything about that?” Kormak asked.
    “Maybe, if I can treat the wound quickly enough. My best advice would be don’t get bit.”
    “We go here?” Kormak asked, nodding across the square. He did not like the thought after what Karnea had just said. Crossing the vast open space made him feel exposed. Sasha shook her head.
    “We hug the wall here and turn at the next junction. That will take us to the Eighth Bridge.”
    “What are those lights?” Boreas asked.
    “Where?” Sasha said.
    “Across the square.” Kormak focused on where the warrior was pointing and saw a cluster of faint lights, drifting will-o’-the-wisp like in the distance. Suddenly they vanished.
    “What were they?” Boreas sounded disturbed.
    “Might be other prospectors,” said Sasha. She was frowning. “Might be Underdwellers. Might be ghost-lights. You see them sometimes. They come from nowhere, go nowhere and vanish as quickly as they come.”
    Something big fluttered directly overhead. Once again Kormak heard that unearthly shrieking. Looking up, he thought he saw a bat-like shape silhouetted against the false stars of the overarching ceiling.
    “We’d best get moving.” They pushed on. Every now and again Kormak looked up when he heard something large passing overhead. He suspected they were being tracked and he did not like that idea at all.

Chapter   Eleven

    THEY TURNED AT another statue, this time of a creature with a cat’s head and a woman’s body. She held a net in one clawed hand and a two-headed spear that resembled a pitchfork in the other. The road ahead ran through a long tunnel between giant buildings.
    “Who is that?” asked Sasha.
    “I don’t recognise her,” said Karnea. “A great deal of knowledge was lost during the wars with the Old Ones. Many of them passed on in their Shadow Wars even before the Solari came.”
    “Her name was Karkeri,” said Kormak, as memories of a temple, a witch and an obscene rite flooded into his mind. “I met some of her children once.”
    The others looked at him expectantly but he said nothing. The memories the statue brought back were not pleasant. It was a tale of too many dead and yet another failure.
    Ahead of them two more massive statues loomed. These were squat warriors with long beards and huge eyes, raising runic hammers in challenge. They were under-lit by a greenish glow rising from below.
    “The Guardians of the Bridge,” said Sasha. “Duncan always said he expected them to spring to life and challenge us.”
    As they got closer Kormak understood what she meant. The statues were almost twice as tall as he was but looked as life-like as all the previous works they had seen. There were very obviously dwarven warriors. There were subtle differences in style and if Kormak had to guess he would have said these were from a later period.
    The bridge itself was wide enough for a couple of wagons to pass abreast and it arced out into space. The stone looked smooth as glass, as if it had melted and run and then been moulded into shape like hot iron from a cast. All across the bridge were more statues, depicting male and female dwarves in a variety of poses and garbs, but that was not what interested Kormak. When he set foot on the bridge he immediately went to one side and hauled himself up on the protective barrier.
    Looking down he had a clear view into the depths of the city. Far, far below him a river of dark water bubbled and swirled. Tendrils of eerie green phosphorescence flowed through it. It did not look at all healthy.
    “The books say the waters were tainted when the plague came,” Karnea said.
    “Poison?” Kormak asked.
    “I don’t know,” she said. “But I would not recommend drinking from that river.”
    “I did not need a wizard to tell me that,” Kormak said.
    “The dwarves mined down there,” Karnea said.