Page 30 of By the Horns (Royal Artifactual Guild #2)

Twenty-One

Gwenna

Are you certain this is a good idea?” I race after Raptor as we head into the designated “drop” area at the far end of the walled-off guild quarters.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Raptor strides ahead of me, a pack, a shovel, and a pickaxe strapped to his broad back. A few steps ahead, four other Taurians are walking together, all of us headed for the same location. They all take huge steps, and I’m forced to jog to keep up with them.

“Because Master Jay is going to lose his mind if he finds out we’ve been noodling about in the tunnels! We’re not allowed!”

He pauses and I practically run into him. “Incorrect.”

“What’s incorrect?”

“The rules state that fledglings are not given work permits for the tunnels. No one will let you work without a work permit, so it’s moot.

” He takes the two enormous canteens that are slung over my arm and pulls them over his head, shouldering their heavy weight easily.

“And you’re not working anyhow. You’re observing . I’m the one who’s working.”

And he gives me a dazzling smile that makes me all flustered inside.

“I just don’t want to get into trouble,” I protest again, but my words are fainter this time.

“No one’s going to fail you for coming with us,” Raptor reassures me.

“You’re going to have five chaperones who will all report back to Master Jay that you touched nothing and simply held the lamps and some water for us.

It’s not a bad thing for you to come down here, get some experience being in the caves and all that. ”

“I’ve been in the caves before,” I remind him. Last year’s disastrous training involved us going down into the tunnels multiple times, only for us to get into all kinds of trouble.

“Yes, and you were with Master Magpie. The less said about that, the better, frankly. This will be different.” He casts me another easy look. “I’ll take care of you. No worries.”

I’m not worried about him not looking out for me.

I’m more worried about what I’m going to feel when we go down into the tunnels.

Every other time I went down into the Everbelow—the vast warren of tunnels and ruins that carve out Vastwarren’s underbelly like cheese—I’d be buzzing all over from the dead I’d sense.

At first, I thought it was nerves, but now I know it was a lot more.

I’m also worried that I’m going to feel things too strongly and need to distract myself again or else I’ll give away my worst secret—that I might be a necromancer. But I can’t tell Raptor any of that, so I just nod and trot after him, clutching my fears to my chest.

We pass another secure walled area, Hawk flashing his authorization to let us through.

Our group consists of Hawk, Raptor, a big older Taurian named Osprey, and two younger Taurians I don’t recognize.

They don’t blink an eye when I join them, probably noting my fledgling sash and marking this as some sort of training.

Then we’re in what’s called the drop zone and I’m reminded of just how ugly the heart of the city truly is.

You would think that digging for artifacts in an ancient, buried city beneath our feet would mean that we’re traipsing through marble ruins and old buildings.

That’s what I thought, at least, when Aspeth first described things to me.

Instead, the actual work area entrance looks like nothing more than a bunch of holes dug into the earth with scaffolding built around them.

The entire field is covered in mud and tracks, and big gaping holes are scattered about, with rope-and-pulley systems for lowering artificers into the ruins.

I always thought it’d be more dramatic than that, but no. We’re tossed in like a bunch of bloody miners and expected to just wander about below as if we know what we’re doing. Sometimes the guild strikes me as utterly ridiculous.

Half of the Taurian team heads down first, and I’m in the second group.

We wait for the basket to return and then climb in while a repeater turns a crank and lowers us to the appropriate level.

The basket lurches along, swaying as we’re dropped down the tunnel, and I force myself to pay attention to my surroundings.

As we go down deep into the earth, the sunlight above disappears, replaced by the dim glow from various artifacts lodged along the sides of the pit we descend.

Sparrow told me once that artifacts that provide light are rather common, and so the guild uses them to illuminate the tunnels.

I watch as we approach a glowing teacup and then pass it, followed by a small glowing stone of some kind, and then what looks like a candleholder with no candle.

All the while, the basket creaks and continues to jerk downward.

Raptor leans over to me. “You nervous?”

“Just wondering if the repeaters have ever dropped a basket too far,” I whisper back.

“Aye, and a Taurian was sent to clean that mess up, too.”

I jerk to look at Raptor in shock, but the twinkle in his eye tells me that he’s joking.

I pinch his arm to let him know I don’t find that funny, and his grin grows even broader.

He leans in close to say something else, but I don’t hear it, because the basket drops into a large, echoing cavern, and then the buzz of a thousand long-dead bodies hits me like a slap to the face.

I’m dimly aware of Raptor sliding an arm around my waist even as the buzz grows greater and greater.

My skin breaks out in a cold sweat, my guild shirt sticking to me immediately.

It’s like we’ve dropped to a new level and I’m in close enough range to feel everything now.

It’s stronger than ever before, and I don’t know how to make it stop.

Nor do I know how I’m going to stay down here all day with them, pretending that nothing is wrong.

The basket creaks to a stop, and the entire thing sways. A bolt of fear flashes through me, and I clutch at Raptor to keep my footing.

“Easy now,” he soothes. “I’ve got you.”

I suck in a deep breath, noticing that the sharp, sudden fear chased the worst of the prickling sensations away. A distraction. That’s what I need to get through the day. No one needs to know that I’m struggling.

One of the big Taurians pulls a hooked rod out of the oversized basket and uses it to latch on to an iron circle sticking out of the rock over a tunnel.

A big 21 is painted on the side of the wall next to an arrow pointing deeper into the earth, showing our destination.

The basket is tugged over to the lip of the tunnel and we all climb out—or rather, Raptor hoists me out and sets me down on solid ground.

Once the basket is sent back up, an oil lamp is lit and the three big Taurians stare at me.

“She gonna pass out?” one asks. “Looks pale.”

“Just a bit of motion sickness. She’s fine now, aren’t you, Gwenna?” Raptor rubs my arm, the one more distant from him, and it still feels as if he’s keeping me hauled against him. He probably is, just in case.

“I’m good,” I manage. “It was dizziness, but it’s gone.”

It’s not gone. The unnerving sensation is building back up, and I manage a bright smile for the others even as they shoot me disapproving looks.

I focus on their sashes instead. Two artificers with a great many Lesser Artifact pins on their sashes.

Raptor’s wearing the same unadorned pale white sash as mine, that of a fledgling.

I wonder if this is humiliating for him.

The Taurian whose name I don’t recall holds out the oil lamp, set carefully atop a shoulder-height walking stick (my shoulder, not theirs), and I take it from him. “If I’ve got the lamp, should I be in the front?”

“You can be at the rear,” Osprey says. “We can see just fine in near darkness.”

Of course. It’s another reason Taurians are so prized in the Everbelow. I nod and take the canteens that Raptor hands back to me, slinging them over my neck. “Lead on, then.”

Raptor shoots me another worried glance, but when our party takes off and I gesture that he should follow, he does.

I trail behind them, putting a hand on one metal canteen to stop it from banging against my gut.

It scratches me, and I realize there’s a hard metal shard sticking out of the side.

It’s no bigger than a hangnail, but it’s enough to hurt when it bites into my hand.

It’s also enough to distract, so as I walk, I push my hand against the shard, over and over again. It keeps the buzz at bay, and I’m able to concentrate a bit more.

It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been down in the tunnels, and from what I’ve heard from others, there’s a variety of shapes and sizes.

Some of the older, more excavated tunnels have walls that have been smoothed down from all the artificer traffic moving through them, while others seem to be carved from jagged rock.

Some are tight, with little headroom, and some are big enough that one could drag that ridiculously huge statue of Sparkanos through with no problem.

This particular tunnel is closer to the latter, with a high ceiling and a practically roomy size.

The floor is worn down and slopes deeply the farther we go in.

The blackness around us gets more and more intense, and the air grows colder, and I’m reminded of just how deep into the earth we are.

If it wasn’t for the lamp I’m holding and the fact that I’ve got three strong Taurians walking in front of me, I’d probably be a little panicked right now.

But the dead feel no nearer, and the tunnel isn’t getting smaller, so even the intense darkness at the edges of the light becomes normal after a time.

The Taurians talk cheerfully amongst themselves as if I’m not there, discussing what the harvest is going to be like in the southern plains due to this year’s drought; the Greater Artifact that was uncovered by an artificer named Pelican, whom no one seems to like; the best place to get corn cakes in the city.

It’s all so completely normal that I relax. Stab my hand with that sliver of metal again and again, and relax.

Soon enough, we reach the crumbled part of the tunnel and reunite with the others.

The buzzing feeling is less awful here, so I’m able to slow down the hand-stabbing a bit.

The big tunnel is blocked off by what looks like a jumble of rocks of all sizes, and I wonder what caused the cave-in.

The others in our group—Hawk and another Taurian—are gazing at the rocks, assessing the situation.

“We’ve got big pieces to move, so that’s both good and bad.

Good in that they’ll be easier to take care of, bad because they’re heavy,” Hawk says.

“Heavy for puny humans, you mean,” brags a Taurian, and flexes his bicep. The others snort with amusement.

I clear my throat.

They look over at me, startled, and the one flexing his arm immediately lowers it. Raptor just gives me an utterly amused grin. “Yeah, not all humans are bad. Some of them are rather adorable.”

“Oh gods, you’re just as bad as the rest of them,” I say, waving a hand as if to shoo him off.

They laugh again, and Hawk points at the largest boulder. “We’ll start there. Who’s got the wand?”

Osprey pulls it free and holds it against the tunnel wall, drawing a massive circle.

As he does, it lights up and creates a portal.

Sunlight spills in from the portal, and on the other side, a bored-looking repeater jumps to his feet and straightens the black sash on his shoulder.

He’s standing in what looks like a rock quarry, and as I watch, the portal seems to tilt, facing what looks like the edge of a gigantic hole.

“Ready over there?” Osprey calls.

“Ready—send through as you please. The portal’s in place.”

Osprey turns back to Hawk. “There we go.”

“All right. Let’s get moving. Be on the lookout for signs of a man-made collapse. Scorch marks, unusual debris, or even broken artifacts.”

“You think this was deliberate?” Raptor asks.

“We’re going to rule it out” is all Hawk says.

I shiver at that and jab my hand again.

Raptor glances back at me, no doubt making sure that I’m all right. I give him an overbright smile and step back as the Taurians gather around the largest boulder, debating how to maneuver it. “If we pull it free, it could cause more of a rockfall than already exists,” says Osprey.

“If it does, then this tunnel is no use to us anyhow. Besides, I’ve never met a Taurian who got bested by a mere tunnel collapse.” Hawk’s words are challenging, meant to fire them up.

Raptor just rubs his hands together. “Let’s earn ourselves some coin, aye?”