HOTT 06~ Burning Blade By A_Lost_Prophet

[Greggrth]

Hey there, just to say, this is NOT my story. I am only postig this for my good friend a_lost_prophet as he's got no internet and can't do it himself. All credit for this piece goes to him, not me. I am just the messenger. So, without further ado, here is the story.

[COLOR=yellow]<< The Heroes of Ten Tors[/COLOR]

Burning Blade:

Closing the door of the hotel room behind them, they sat on the beds? corners. Pulling the elastic, that held the cover down, out of the way, they opening the black file and emptied the pages onto the covers. Newspaper cut-outs, about two dozen references to thirteen missing children that disappeared in the Hotwells region over the past nine months. Some of them, telling the story of the same missing child but under a different rumour, conspiracy theory according to some, slave trade according to others, and most popular being the paedophilic serial kidnapping. Police reports, official documents from the forensic investigation and transcripts of interviews. How she got a hold of the latter set of documents was a mystery.
?Why are we bothering with this,? Robert tossed the last cut out back onto the pile. Frustrated; he couldn?t find any answers, he headed into the bathroom.
?This is what we do.?
?Which is what?? he yelled back, ?she hasn?t told us anything.?
?She does this sometimes,? Tom threw himself back on the bed, rubbing his tired eyes. ?The answer being so bleeding obvious to her, she expects we?ll find out eventually.? He said yelling loudly over the trickling sounds that Robert made against the toilet bowl. He thought he understood her, but something was slightly different this time, about her approach.
?What is your job anyway?? he asked walking through the door having stripped to his dark grey boxers, the ones that hugged around his arse and barely supported his package. Tom only let it distract him for a moment. He was still aroused from Shaun and anything would have set him hard. But Robert had had his share for the night.
?Guild Keeper?? he asked, lifting himself up onto his elbows. ?Just a er...? how to do define the role without making it sounds like a maid, book worm or admin boy. ?Just to help you guys really, help you with information, planning your next move and...? it had finally clicked, ?that is why I can?t figure out what she wants us to do??
?Why??
?I?m not the one who?s planning my next move. You are. This test is for you.?

Morigan?s exercise in investigation and Guild work was directed at its? newest member, not Tom. He spread the documents out across the bed, nice neat rows once about the above the other and from his lofty height and looks down absorbing everything. Robert?s impulse was to scout the area in the reports. The information was sketchy and there was nothing else to go on. This is where the work of the Guild Keeper ended. In the field was where the role of the Heroes would take them. And between the two, the work can be done.
Hotwells was a borough of the city like any other. Historical foundations with new developments sprouting out like weed. But the one thing it will have that no other borough did, is the Clifton Suspension Bridge as the skies view, raised 250 feet above their heads.
?How well do you know this bridge? Tom asked the historian.
?Why??
?If that fell on top of us, what would happen??
?Well, around fifteen hundred tons of bridge would come crashing down on us...I could take it.? That cocky humour resurfaced through the walk to the scene and soon enough they warmed up to each others? company again. ?One of the stories about this place said, the gorge was dug out by giants and that they drank the lake dry, ? Robert paused mid step taking in the sight, ?few days ago I thought that was bollocks, but now...how much of that is true??
?Probably still all bollocks, but can always check the library.?
They scouted the grassy cliff face; Robert?s eyes narrowed as he looked up at the ridges.
?Let?s go up? he suggested, his gaze following a zigzagged path up the side. ?If I was kid wondering around here, I would climb,? he looked around briefly and ran for the slope as he would, if he were a child. Mounting the rocky ridge under the darkness Robert began his ascent, Tom reluctantly following behind. His narrow body hugged the cliff wall, one foot shuffling in front of the other and speeding up the thin stone steps. The limestone face crumbled under Robert?s heavy foot, with every lift away with his thick thighs would kick a boulder of rock down into the muddy river bed. His long foot stomped into the ground like an iron pick and steadily held his weight. His fingers picked at the hard surface, burrowing holes as he clawed onto the wall with fear. The strong breeze echoed through the valley, shaking the spindly bushes and long grass. It kept trying to blow Tom off the rock face, his long hair and unzipped hoodie rustled in the wind. As his gripped tighter against the wall he couldn?t help but take a look down and remind himself, how high he actually was.
A song echoed in the darkness, a wailing lullaby sung into the wind and a heckling laugh between breaths. They wondered closer; drawn to the sinister music they shifted back and forth along the valleys surface. Robert stopped and looked around again. The sound of cars crossed above and below them, the ones venturing over the bridge that hung above their heads were closer to the ones that snaked down into the deep.
?Questioning your indestructibility?? asked Tom, laughing nervously as he followed Robert?s gaze down to the concrete floor. ?You sure this was a good idea??
?You know, 20 minutes ago, I would have said yes.? They continued on ahead, following the chorus and the choir. The fell and ominous music led them to a slither in the wall. Hidden behind a protruding surface was a chasm into the deep, an unseen cave. Tom slid in, but a larger Robert found it a tighter fit. Sideways his broad body was still wider than the gap; he slipped one arm in and reached out for the wall with his hands. His naked pecs pressed against the rock surface, struggling to press through but pulling himself in, he broke through the rocky frame and stepped into the darkness. They used the walls to guide them through the dark, travelling deeper, they stopped to follow the sounds of skittering footsteps that circled all around, and then there was silence. They were being watched, as silent as they tried to make their intrusion; the dwellers knew they were not alone. The clapping of feet against the bare rock echoed off into the distance until there was silence; they had fled and left Robert and Tom behind.
?What the fuck was that?? whispered Robert, his body pursed against Tom?s back, the lips murmured into his ear. They slowly stepped down the slope, hands at either side holding onto the wall, their fingers brushing against the dust and stone. The scuttling noise echoed past them again, taps bounced from front and behind, they couldn?t tell where it was coming from. Tom would stop at every sound that rang through that tunnel and have Robert?s hulking mass crash into him from behind.
?I?d wish you?d warn me when you do that!? he hissed quietly.
Tom reached into his pocket, fishing around among the keys and phones for a gemstone he always kept on him, because in the dark he?ll never find the right one in his backpack. To the tiny yellow pebble he held in the palm of his stretched out hand, he called out into the darkness, a bellowing sound that resonated down the low tunnel.
?Helios!? sunlight penetrated the granite and white light flooded the caves.
?They?ll see us coming!? cried Robert, looking at the Guild boy like he was insane.
?They already know we?re here.? Tom dashed down the burrow, further into the ground, moving light and swift holding the gemstone out to lead the way. Robert followed closely, keeping Tom from running off ahead into trouble without help; he kicked at the rocked and shouldered chunks out of the wall. With light at the end of the tunnel, Tom put the crystal out and returned the smouldering gem back into the pouch with the others. They silently moved towards the opening and meandered around the wall of the large chamber, a bolus cavern that had been axed away slowly over the years. The grey stone shone under the glowing blue calcite that sparkled up the walls. Neither of them could guess how long the squatters dwelled in this atrium for, right in the heart of the city. They stepped over the rickety wooden scaffolding that spiralled around the room from the bottom up, shuffling closer to the edge. Down the pits, squabbling in their packs, a muddle group of frog like trolls stumbled over rocks, trinkets and bludgeons. Their yapping and shrieks echoed through their self made mines, incomprehensible babbling of a primal dwarfs. They collected tools and weapons, fought over pretty looking rocks, others went to dig, and most came back from them.
?I count 47,? said Tom, staying as close to the wall as he could, blending into the silhouette of the wooden planks.
?We should leave them to it.?
?What? Why?? protested Tom,
?We?re here looking for missing children, not to gate crash a trolls dig site.? Robert replied. Tom understood his logic but if only he knew. Looking closely at them, beneath the shrapnel that made up their armour, the tattered roots and leaves they wore, were the ruined clothes that were too small for a full grown man.
?They are the missing,? Tom said, ?That?s why she sent us here, to kill them.?
That singing, came from the deep shadow; children were lured by the lullabies and once in their trap, would be mutilated and changed into Hobbes.
?There?s no way to change them back, and they?ll keep attracting more victims. Let?s go,? they shuffled back towards the tunnel, to make their way out and out of sight and plan their next move. But a curious little Hobbe blocked their way. It oddly looked at these two giants, tilting its head from side to side, who where these two oddly shaped creatures wondering around their home? Then with a giggle, hopping from foot to foot as it clapped it?s hand, having lit the dynamite strapped to its pot belly.
The giggling freak blew itself up, amused in its final moments by the sparkling fuse that ran down the cord. The structure around the tunnel collapsed, the splinters few across the air. Tom and Robert?s bodies were flung aside and tumbled down from rock to plank, until they both lay in a crumple heap on the floor. The grey mist settled, dust and rubble hung in the air like a dank fog. They were still, as the crowed moved in to stop and stare; these two giants, one of which was a monstrous tower of muscle. Stirring under the pebbles, Robert pushed his body off the ground, shaking the fuzz from mind. His body should be broken, from the fall and the debris he smashed through. But his thick lean muscle was an unnatural armour that earth nor steel could cut, all the more he felt invincible, untouchable and jacked with power. Resting on his hands and knees he turned to Tom. Robert was catching his breath but nothing passed through the guild boys blue lips.
The Hobbes gathered around the wreckage of the two intruders, innocent and malevolent over the dinner that dropped from the roof. They curiously approached, prodding Robert?s granite-like triceps with some pathetic excuse for a mace. Robert grabbed the mangled wood and iron stick that was being jabbed into his arm and slapped it across the heads of the three nearest goblins.
?Tom, get up,? he rocked the shoulder of the body that lay beside him. ?Tom!? the stumpy creatures closed in, armoured and armed. One spawn with dark wooden stilts strapped to his body, a child trying to be a grown up, with spectacles and a blunderbuss. Shots were fired high and low, aimless and poor; the force of the blast threw the Hobbes into the back wall and blew holes in the rocks behind the Hero. Robert got to his feet, towering over them all, a forearm flick and the twin short swords fired out and landed in his hands. With the flat slide of the blade he smacked one goblin after the other, up and away. Slicing through rifles and cutting down maces he disarmed the bouncing lunatics that skipped around them, others just vacantly looking up at him.
He couldn?t kill them, as much as he knew that these little monsters were beyond deliverance, he couldn?t look at them without seeing the lost faces that were posted in the papers. But he had fended them off for now; he turned around and rushed back to Tom. He was still out cold, or worse.
He threaded his arms around Tom?s back and hoisted him up. Kicking his way through the growing crowds of dwarves he searched for a way out. The wooden frames that sloped up towards the tunnel were charred splinters, there was no way back up there. But three tunnels were freshly dug, one of them must have led somewhere, or at least provide them with a nook to hide in, to slip by them later and then climb to their escape. It might work, he hoped, but frankly he was clueless as to what to do, panicking in the midst of the frenzy he carried Tom?s body into the caverns.

In the darkness he lugged the body of the guild boy down tunnel after tunnel, narrower and narrower the passages became as they moved further away from gem light. What where they digging for? Burrowing this deep down, so far and without direction that they left themselves with nothing more than a convoluted labyrinth? Through random turns and great leaps to cover more distance, they found themselves in a pitch black corridor far from the noise of scattering feet and juvenile yammering.
?Rob??
The giant lowered his body against the slanted wall. Tom was still weak; he couldn?t hold his own head up, it just rocked to the side. He mumbled, the words were quiet and mixed. The blow to the head was worse than he imagined, to normal humans it had done much more damage than it would have done to a Hero. He remembered Tom had packed water. Digging through the gemstones, books and spices he pulled out the bottle. Gently he lifted his head, trying to not to do any harm than what was already done. His hand gently pursed under his chin, pushing up slowly and leaving his mouth ajar. The water trickled down from the bottle past Tom?s lips. First, there was nothing. A bad sign; brain damage, fractured skull, cerebral oedema, Roberts mind raced through all the grim possibilities. A response, a choke, Tom gagged on the water but it was enough to bring him around and have his lips seeking more. Robert?s body relaxed in relief, shoulders and head dropping.
?My head,? he winced
?You took a nasty hit.? Robert whispered, offering more water, ?some motherfucking shit pile, blew himself up.? Tom let out a weak laugh; he still hadn?t opened his eye. The dim light from the calcite in the adjacent tunnel was fading, and the yellow crystal that Tom still kept a tight grip on had faded to an evening?s twilight. The shuffling footsteps marched closer, the echoes gathered in the tunnel adjacent to their hiding place. I?m going to have to do something, Robert thought. He couldn?t just hide waiting to be found, cornered.

The stinging headache throbbed. Clawing at the wall to hold himself up, Tom struggled to force his eyes open, and once open it was harder to keep them that way. Prickling pain gnawed at every muscle, sharp stabs shot through his neck and his mind. The world around him was pitch black, but for the stark glow at the corner of his eye, that stung the back of his retina. His mouth was parched; a dry stagnant film of dust and rock coated his tongue and throat. He reached up for jagged stone, something at the surface that he could grip. Finding his leverage he hoisted his body up, only to topple back down under the weakness in his own legs. A second attempt; this time slowly to awaken his sleeping thighs and balance his body on his thin brittle ankles, although twisted, didn?t hurt as much as he would have imagined. But the pain would eventually come; he knew that it was dulled by the flooding endorphins for the moment. So now was the time to move, when he couldn?t feel the full extent of the damage. He hugged against the wall, travelling aimlessly, his torn jumper brushing against the crumbling surface. He realised he was nowhere near the main chamber; he had moved to the lower recesses of the mine, question was, by whom? Did Robert carry him here to safety, where is he now? Or was he a meal to be saved for later? Well if the latter was the case, he hopes the little shits choked.
Neither of them were nearby, Hobbe or Hero. Should he be worried or feel safe? He wouldn?t wait for time to decide his fate, he tumbled through the darkness, meandering through the caves aimlessly, hoping to find some upward slope that would lead him to daylight, but every rise would be followed by a fall, every clearly path would be followed by one riddled with discarded tools and broken crates.
At the sound of mutterings he stopped and threw himself against the wall, pressing his body against it tightly and remaining out of sight. But the sounds weren?t discourse. It was the dark music, the lure of the Shadow Court, the whispering words sung with the solemn melody. The siren song was played for him, but the soothing euphoria was not felt, instead a cold realisation and panic. He knew what the music was, who was behind it. Their powers to maul and mutilate their victims, wouldn?t work on him; he wasn?t that innocent to be twisted so easily. The only reason they would try, was to lead him away from safety and into harm?s way, to the centre of the mob. So he ran, as fast as his broken body could and as far as he could, towards areas of light, where the darkness wouldn?t engulf him. The path became more treacherous, debris and wreckage on the floor, the tunnels became narrower. Wherever he was running towards it felt like a freshly dug tunnel, unsmooth and in ruin, the closer he travelled to the deep the weaker the songs got. He couldn?t understand, in the darkness they were in their element. What this far down could be driving them away?

Where the hell did he go? Rob returned to find a pile of rubble and Tom?s bag, but no Tom. The area of ground where he rested him down on looked undisturbed. There were no fragments of wilting weapons on the floor, he doubted Hobbes came along and carried him off. He must have come too and walked off in a daze. He dreaded to think what sort of trouble he could have walked in to having hit his head so hard.
Rob raced down the dark tunnel. This was the only direction he could have gone. He had his eye on the other routes and didn?t spot the hobbling boy wondering in a stupor. Not unless he took something from the bag helped him remain unseen.

Through the tunnels Tom ran from the yammering of Hobbes and towards the silence, and out from the peace the sinister song would play on. What once was a sirens song was now a shrieking alarm to ward off unwanted guests. Genuine or another ploy?

Robert shielded his eyes from the falling debris. Rock and dust crumbled from the ceiling as blasts went off in the distances. The Hobbes had become trigger happy with their supply of dynamite, careless throwing them down dark tunnels.

Genuine indeed, the Shadow didn?t want anyone discovering what they and Hobbes were doing digging this far down. They were looking for a treasure. Another chest, similar to the one that held the Twin Dead Stars, was secretly buried inside solid rock. How anyone managed to do that was beyond Tom, but it was a spell he was interested to read on.
The picked holes in the rock wall showed the reckless workmanship the Hobbes employed to cleave their prize from the stone grip of the earth. The same holes chipped away at the wooden chest, only scratching the surface, a second spell stopped the tip from digging through to whatever was inside. Tracing his fingers across its iron braces, Tom found his way to the lock; he thanked his luck that it had been uncovered. The broken key talisman would pick the lock but with the chest half buried he couldn?t open it.
Another boom went off in the distance, the cavern shuddered and dust rained from the ceiling, nothing to bring the cave down but they were getting closer. After a moments silence he continued, getting a grip on the chest and trying to yank it out of the wall. He lifted his foot up to the wall space beside it and pushed against it.
Nothing,
A quick scan of the chamber and there was nothing he could use to pry it loose. They may have been reckless in their work but the Hobbes remembered to put their toys away. A rumbling from the far corner and the next set of explosions blew a hole in the wall. The cavern collapsed as Tom and the chest were flung to the far wall. Great slabs of rock collapsed upon him, tenting as they piled one on top of the other.
Over the echoing ring, a faint voice yelled in the distance, slowly louder as it repeated until it was clear.
?GRAB MY HAND!? the voice yelled. It was Robert.
With his hands and feet on the ground, Tom tried to crab shuffle his way loose, trying to see how much he could move. The opening was too small for him, but on the other side he had seen his bag at Robert?s feet, he reached and took it. Shaking off the fogginess, his wincing eyes searched for the box among the rubble, took his luck he found it had been blown clear and free. Hands pursed either side of his chest he pushed his body off the ground and against the rubble above him, shifting to the left with every press.
?Where the hell are you going?? Robert called back after him; crawling down in the dirt he tried to reach out and pull Tom back by his ankle but missed the shred of torn denim by an inch.
Rowing with his elbow he moved closer to the chest. He tightly clutched the broken key talisman, he loosed his grip and the imprint in his skin stung.
?Tom?!? he ignored the calls from behind,
?Almost...? he stabbed the key into the lock and turned, and with a loud clunk the lid fell open by a slither. He moved in closer, from that distance he would never be able to shake it ajar. The yells continued from behind, Robert calling him back but he was so close. The chest was wedged between two slabs of rock. Tom pried it open as wide as he could and shook it waiting for the content to spill onto the floor, as if he were raiding a stolen handbag. The metal pieces clanged and rang from side of to side like a rattle. Reaching underneath he clawed around the inside and tugged it loose.
Fingers hooked into the bottom of his dark jeans and pulled at him. Looking down his leg he saw the demented grin of the tiny Hobbe that crawled through the space. He kicked at his face, his legs and feet thrashing against the little monster. In his hand he saw the reflection of light from the dark chrome pick, the metal warmed in his palms. He stabbed the creature in the face. As the pointed edge sliced down the cheek and dug into the Hobbes shoulder tearing at the ragged shirt. From the fibre and torn flesh the Hobbe was set alight. The flames spread around the head until every cloth was burning in an angry fire.
?ROBERT!?
?Get out? he heard from the opening, the sound of his voice followed by the shatter sound of sword and steel, the insane wailing of Hobbe and crashing sound of the cave around them. Crawling out he weaved around the rubble, but the way was blocked. The smouldered Hobbe laid on the ground as the trickle of flames and ember burned across its body. Around his belt the last stick of dynamite had been lit, a low glow that had reached the base of the fuse.
?SHIT!? he yelled out, Robert turned to gape in the rock seeing the dead Hobbe and live grenade. Both scrambled through the stumps that obstructed their escape, rocks, Hobbes and rubble. But seconds after they turned the deafening explosion drummed against their ears, their bodies flung aside. Robert?s fall was cushioned by debris but Tom was thrown deeper into the cave in. As soon as his senses returned, Tom was crippled by the agonising pain that shot up from his left leg. He tried, digging his bloodied fingers into the dirt, to move his body through the crawl space, but the pain only worsened. A boulder had come crashing down on his knee with that last blast. He held back the tears and the urges to cry out in pain or cry out for help, but only barely. His eyes and lips were squeezed shut an tasted his own blood. Struggling to stay awake he turned to the voice that yelled his name. In the distance and fading the closer his eyelids drew together. He whimpered quiet, rapidly drawing in breath after breath, but the air was thin, and the ceiling above him was closing in. The space and the oxygen were escaping him and he saw in tomb close in around him.
Robert raced back to the heap, the lanterns and glowing crystals were shattered, except for the small flickering flames the cavern had been engulfed in darkness. He traced his finger around the rock, got a grip. The stones shifted but only slightly, dust crumbled from the cracks as he shifted his hands for a better grip, but he couldn?t move it. Resting his body against the cold surface before him, he drew breath, listening to pained whimpering below.
?Tom?!? He yelled again. ?Tom!?
?I?m stuck,? he barely managed to get the words out, ?My leg.?
Powerless, it hurt to admit that himself, the invincible one, but that?s what he felt. Unable to help the boy who, had only been a stranger days ago, meant everything to him right now. He was the Hero of Strength, and it was time to prove it, to Tom, Morigan and now to himself. He grabbed the stone again, braced his legs against the ground, knees bent, arse out. Flawless technique taught to him at every rugby match time and time again. He pushed against the stone, envisioning the opponent scrum before him. Every muscle and tendon bulged with a steel strength.
His pecs swelled out a few extra inches and pushed against the stone. Veins snaked down his arms, pumping his biceps and triceps to solid balls of muscle while his forearms became a web of throbbing, pulsing veins. His fingers dug into the base of the rock, practically cracking it in. They burned with power and blood, being pumped from his thumping chest. His legs started to bulge, pushing off against the ground. His thighs ballooned with strength, struggling for space, only to rip the new jean down the seams.
Roaring into the darkness he pushed will all his might and the unmoveable moved. He pushed and heaved upwards, lifting the 200 kilo block from the surface.
Light shone from somewhere, but most of it was blocked by the immense form of Robert as he hauled the rock above his head. Every one of the Hero?s muscles was pumped and huge, straining against his skin while veins fuelled their power. His lats were spread insanely wide like wings of pure muscle while his pecs were awash with striations, like the slabs of muscle were desperate to break through. A monstrous sculpture of muscle and raw animal strength, a titan, an Adonis!
Robert?s body twisted, his muscles rippling as he effortlessly tossed the monolith. Then he swooped down, weaving his thick biceps under the boy?s body and lifted him. Tom rest his palm on one pec, his body burned and felt harder. Robert, squeeze the boy slightly to bring him closer and turned to one of the tunnels.

?I got ya?