Down Among the Dead Men (Forest Kingdom Novels) by Simon R. Green Page B

were slick with blood. The others crowded in around him to take a look, and then all of them froze as from far below the cellar came the sound of something moving. It was a slow, dragging sound, but MacNeil couldn’t tell whether it was drawing closer or moving away. He looked at the others, but it was clear they weren’t sure either. The sound stopped. MacNeil put down his lantern beside the opening and drew his sword.
    “Flint, you and Constance stay here to guard the opening. Dancer, you come with me. We’re going to take a look at what’s hiding down in that tunnel.”
    The Dancer smiled and drew his sword.
    MacNeil looked at Flint. “If anything comes out of this trapdoor but us, kill it. If something goes wrong, shut the trapdoor and bolt it. Whether we’re out or not. If there is something dangerous down in that tunnel, I don’t want it running loose in the fort. When you’re sure the trapdoor’s secure, get out of here and report back to the reinforcements. They have to be warned.”
    “We can’t just abandon you,” said Constance.
    “Yes, we can,” said Flint. “He’s right, Constance. Our duty comes first, and Rangers are expendable. It’s part of the job.”
    The witch looked away. MacNeil looked at her for a moment, and then picked up his lantern and stepped carefully down into the opening and onto the first of the wooden steps. The narrow slat creaked loudly as he put his weight on it, but after an uncertain moment it settled again. He slowly descended into the darkness, holding the lantern out before him. The Dancer followed behind him, sword at the ready. Shadows swayed menacingly around them as they descended into the earth.
    MacNeil counted thirteen steps before he found himself facing the narrow tunnel that ran under the cellar. Unlucky for some , he thought wryly, and moved forward a little to give the Dancer room to join him. The circular tunnel was barely six feet in diameter, and MacNeil had to bend forward to avoid banging his head on the ceiling. There was sufficient room for MacNeil and the Dancer to walk side by side, but only just. The walls were smoothly rounded and bore no marks of human tools. The clay-like earth was tightly packed and slick with running blood. More blood lay in shallow pools on the tunnel floor. Like walking through something’s guts , thought MacNeil, wrinkling his nose at the stench. He stood listening for a long moment, the Dancer waiting patiently at his side, but there was no trace of the sound they’d heard earlier. He started forward into the gloom, the Dancer padding quietly beside him. MacNeil found the man’s presence reassuring. The darkness and the silence and the stench reminded him too much of his time in the Darkwood. He clutched his sword hilt tightly, aware his hand was sweating profusely despite the cold. It didn’t matter what was waiting for him; he’d face it and kill it and that was all there was to it. He was a guard and a Ranger, and he’d never backed away from anything in his life.
    But there was a time when you wanted to. The demons came out of the long night faster than you could kill them, and you wanted to turn and run. And you might have, too, if the dawn hadn’t broken first. The sun rose and the long night fell and the demons retreated with the darkness. The dawn saved you. And now you’ll never know whether or not you would have run .
    MacNeil shut out the insistent whispering voice and concentrated on the darkness ahead. The tunnel seemed to be curving gradually downward, and he wondered uneasily just how deep it ran. His boots slid and skidded on the blood-soaked floor, and shadows ducked and weaved around him as the lantern rose and fell in his hand. He shot a quick glance at the Dancer, but he seemed entirely unperturbed, his face as calm and bland as it always was. And then the Dancer held up a hand and stopped suddenly. MacNeil stopped beside him.
    “What is it?” he whispered.
    The Dancer shook his head.