Riverwind p2-1

by Paul B. Thompson

  “What can I do?” she said, terror and the strain tightening her voice to a squeak.

  “The wall looks rough here,” Riverwind said. “I'm going to try and get a grip on it.” He shifted his weight to make himself and Catchflea swing. On his third try, he slammed into the wall. He heard Catchflea hit the rock.

  “You all right, old man?”

  “No! But get on with what you're doing, yes?” Riverwind found niches for his fingers and toes. He climbed sideways, rising and crabbing to his right. He drew even with Catchflea's feet, pressed against a smooth spot on the wall.

  “Is the rest of the rock around as smooth as this?” River-wind grunted.

  “Yes-I've nothing to grip at all,” the old man said.

  Riverwind called to Di An and explained he couldn't go higher from where he was. “I'll have to go back to the ledge,” he said.

  “Hurry,” was all she managed to say.

  He clung to the wall like a fly, moving when a good toehold caught his eye. He thanked the gods Di An had taken over as lamp bearer. Scaling this deadly surface encumbered by the light would have been impossible for him.

  “Riverwind!” Di An said sharply. “How far are you from the ledge?”

  “It's just out of reach.”

  “Then reach it quickly! The links in my chain are opening!”

  The weight of two men on the iron ring was too much, and the pinched link was spreading. Di An could only watch helplessly as the gap grew wider and wider. “Hurry, giant! Hurry!”

  Riverwind had no place to put his right foot. His left foot was firmly planted in a dished-out spot, but his right was unsupported. He stretched his right arm, digging at the gray rock with blunt fingernails, trying to scratch out a hold. Finally, the plainsman bent back on his left knee and sprang for the ledge. Just as his hand clamped on the rim, the link gave way. Catchflea fell, yelling and crying. In the half-second he had to spare, Riverwind hoisted himself onto the ledge and grasped the chain in both hands. He was nearly jerked over by Catchflea's weight, but he dug in his heels and hauled the old soothsayer to safety.

  Catchflea kissed the level stone of the ledge and wept with relief at his salvation. “Thank you, merciful gods,” he said.

  They were safe, but now Di An was marooned. Without a safety chain, she moved nimbly back along the rim, hopping the last two feet into Riverwind's arms.

  “I've got to rest,” Catchflea said. “My insides are still swimming like salmon in a rocky stream.”

  “Mine, too,” Riverwind admitted.

  Without his hook, and with the chain broken, there was no question of proceeding Di An's way. The only option open was the wide, smooth tunnel, the same one that had cost the lives of three of Di An's comrades.

  After a short rest, they continued. The passage was a good eight feet in diameter, so Riverwind had no trouble with headroom. The floor sloped gently upward, and progress was easy. Di An drifted to the rear, always keeping behind Catchflea. The windblast tunnel frightened her. To help take her mind off this danger, the old man began teaching her the Common language. This would help her survive in the upper world. Catchflea found she was an apt pupil.

  “I wonder how the walls got to be so smooth,” Riverwind said. The lamp picked up thousands of grains of mica, making the tunnel glitter like a wall of diamonds. “There's no sign of water. The rock is dry.”

  “Wind can wear down stone, yes?” the old man replied. “Sand can smooth out the roughest path if propelled by a strong enough breeze.”

  “Where does the wind come from, Di An?” She didn't answer, so Riverwind repeated his question.

  “The surface.” She peeked around Catchflea's narrow waist. “I hear there are great winds on the surface, where the sky is not fettered by stone walls.”

  “True enough.” Riverwind smiled at her description. “There must be a considerable opening in the ground for all that wind to come in.”

  “A cave?” suggested Catchflea.

  “At least. I was thinking of something much larger, like a crater or some sort of sunken pit. Wind can swirl around a hole like that and be swallowed.”

  The angle of the slope increased, and it became harder to keep footing on the smooth floor. Banged knees and skinned palms became common. Finally, a small plateau leveled out the tunnel, and the three travelers stopped to rest.

  “Maybe it runs all the way to the surface,” Riverwind observed. He squinted ahead into the gloom.

  “That would be good,” Catchflea mumbled. He was almost asleep.

  Riverwind downed a swallow of bitter Hestite water and said, “I'm going to scout ahead. Stay with the old fellow.”

  “Don't go far,” Di An warned. “It is death to become lost here.”

  “Not to worry.” He left his shoulder pouch and went on with only the oil lamp. The ruddy sphere of light diminished as Riverwind climbed the sloping tunnel.

  Di An watched until even the glow of the lamp was gone, then she sighed. She laid her head against Catchflea's shoulder. The soothsayer said in a drowsy voice, “An admirable fellow, yes?”

  She started. “Yes.”

  “Riverwind is pledged heart and soul to another; you should keep that in mind.”

  Di An shrugged. She lowered her head to Catchflea's tattered shirt again.

  Riverwind found that the wind passage suddenly forked into three directions, only a few hundred yards from where Di An and Catchf lea rested. One branch continued almost straight up; another dived sharply down from Riverwind's feet. The third slanted up at a more gradual angle. Ease of travel alone was reason enough to take that route.

  The old man and the elf girl were sound asleep when the young plainsman returned. He woke them. With clumsy movements and sleepy eyes, Di An and Catchflea rose and followed Riverwind. They obediently trailed him into the left branch of the tunnel. Then a sound filled the passage, a sound like the distant call of a ram's horn.

  Di An's sleepiness vanished. “The wind!” she cried. “May the gods help us!”

  “What'U we do?” exclaimed Catchflea.

  “Grab hold-take hold of each other! It's our only chance!” Riverwind shouted.

  The booming sound grew louder. A puff of dust swirled around the trio, now huddled in a heap on the tunnel floor. A wall of wind, invisible and roaring, hit them like a hammer. Despite their combined weight, the wind got under them and pushed them down the tunnel.

  Over and over they went, bump, bang, slam-screaming and praying and shouting warnings to each other as they tumbled. Once they were lifted completely off the floor and flew a few feet. Then they were back at the branching of the tunnels. They rolled into the open mouth of the downward slanting shaft.

  This tunnel was short, and Riverwind's stomach lurched as their bouncing ride through the tunnel gave way to a drop through open air. The force of their plunge tore their grips apart, and Riverwind found himself alone, falling through a depthless void.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Topaz Falls

  After a timeless drop through the air, they hit water. Riverwind sank a long way before he could kick back to the surface. He broke the top of the water. By the dim illumination in the cave he saw Di An floundering. He swam to her in a few powerful strokes and seized her by the collar of her copper mesh blouse. She spat and snorted ferociously, flailing her arms to keep herself afloat. All she succeeded in doing was hitting Riverwind in the eye.

  “Be still!” he said. “I have you!”

  “Halloo!” Catchflea called. Riverwind spied his friend on a rocky little island a score of yards away. He kick-paddled toward him, holding Di An up with his right arm. He deposited the wretched elf girl on the island and crawled out himself. Di An coughed and sneezed the water from her lungs.

  Catchflea patted her back consolingly.

  “That's odd.” Catchflea said. “We can see.”

  Riverwind shook his head, flinging droplets from his sodden hair. “Yes,” the plainsman said. “But where's the light?”
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br />   “Ah, over here.” Catchflea leaned back and rubbed his hand against the pinnacle of rock that jutted up from the center of the island. What resembled green moss came off on his hand and glowed faintly. The cave they had fallen into was coated with luminous green moss.

  “Curious, yes, how this could grow so far from the sun, yet make its own light,” Catchflea said. He gave a tentative lick at the smear of green on his fingers and immediately spat. “Ock! Oh well, I had hoped it might taste good.”

  As their hearts resumed normal rhythm, they sat with their backs to the pinnacle and surveyed the watery grotto. It was a big, irregular cavern, full of razor-sharp stalactites. The water was an odd golden color. Somewhere off to Di An's left, a muted roar told of falling water.

  Catchflea stood and stretched. When he did, there was a brittle snapping sound and his clothing broke in several places. “Merciful gods!” he said. “What is this?”

  Riverwind carefully bent his right elbow. His usually supple deerskins felt stiff and brittle. He bent his arm farther, and the elbow of his shirt split open with a glassy cracking sound.

  Di An flexed her legs and a shower of bright crystalline powder fell around her feet. She stooped to examine it.

  “Topaz,” she said, showing the crystals to the men. “The water leaves behind topaz when it dries.”

  “Our clothing has been turned to stone!” Catchflea said wonderingly. His beard had gotten doused, too. He touched his beard experimentally. Sure enough, it was stiff with newly formed crystals.

  “What shall I do? If I nod my head, my beard will break off!” he said.

  Riverwind touched his own glassy hair. “Then disagree with everything,” he said. “And only shake your head.”

  Most of their possessions had absorbed the topaz water and were slowly hardening. Both men's moccasins cracked. Every bend sent a shower of powder to the ground.

  “If this continues, we shall soon be naked,” Riverwind said. His boiled leather armor, being waterproof, was not affected, nor was the short mail skirt he wore beneath his buckskins.

  It was obvious they couldn't remain on the little island forever. In some places the water lapped at the sheer cave wall; in other locations a strip of moss-covered “beach” could be seen. Riverwind suggested they make for the beach across the lake, toward the sound of the falls.

  Di An shrank from the notion. “I cannot swim,” she said faintly.

  “I'll carry you on my back,” Riverwind offered.

  He swam slowly away from the island, doing a gentle breast stroke. Di An hung on tensely, straining to keep her face as high above the water as she could. Catchflea showed surprising ability as a swimmer, kicking ahead and making the beach ahead of Riverwind and his passenger.

  The rumble of the falls was louder. A thin crack in the wall proved the way out. It was a tight fit, but the walls were so thickly coated with moss, they were able to slide through. Upon emerging in the next cavern, all three of them were smeared with faintly glowing green paste.

  “You look like a ghost!” Catchflea said to Riverwind.

  “And you look like a wilted fern, old man.” Riverwind grinned and flung drops of moss sap from his fingers.

  Di An pushed past them and headed for the sound of the falls. The cave was cluttered with boulders and rounded mineral deposits that suggested melted blocks of ice or softened lumps of butter. Still gooey and glowing, Riverwind and Catchflea followed her.

  Around a bend they came face to face with the falls. They all halted, stunned by the majestic beauty.

  The falls were in a high conical cavern, five hundred feet from floor to ceiling. They issued from the apex of the cone and plummeted with feathers of wild spray two hundred feet to a ledge that jutted into their path. The water flowed horizontally for some five feet, then plunged off the edge of the ledge another three hundred feet to the floor. At the bottom of the falls, where the three travelers stood, was a pool of churning froth, colored golden brown. Where centuries of crystal-laden water had splashed on the walls, thick brown deposits of topaz, probably dozens of feet thick, now hung. The walls were studded with faceted gems.

  “There! Do you see?” Di An pointed her long finger high in the air. By the ledge three hundred feet above them was a dark, circular opening.

  “What is it?” asked Catchflea.

  “The tunnel we tried to take in the Well of Wind would've brought us there,” Di An said. “That's our way out.”

  The cavern wall seemed to present no great obstacle. The rugged face had plenty of hand- and footholds. It was decided that Di An would scale the wall and, once she reached the tunnel entrance, she would let down a chain for the heavier, less agile men to climb.

  Riverwind and Di An sorted through their climbing gear. Catchflea, bored, wandered off along the edge of the pool. Mist and spray drifted over the mossy shore, muting the green light. The steady roar of the falls drowned out the voices of his comrades. Catchflea wanted a sample of the topaz so abundant here. Gems often had magical and healing properties, and these subterranean topazes were likely to be especially pure.

  Every surface above the level of the moss was covered with topaz. Catchflea examined and rejected a number of large crystals as flawed. He wanted a perfect stone to take back to Que-Shu.

  He walked around an outcropping and was confronted with yet another wonder: a forest of topaz crystals growing at various angles from the rock floor. Some of the crystals were a foot tall and only a few inches in diameter, but some were as tall as he and more than a foot thick. He stared open-mouthed at the spectacular forest and then, with a gleeful yelp, headed in. Though he would have dearly loved to take one of the magnificent pillars of topaz home, he realized it might be more prudent to try to dislodge one of the smaller ones. Picking his way over the sharp, crystal-covered ground, he searched for a specimen of good carrying size. He was trying to pry one loose when he noticed the toe of a soldier's boot.

  Catchflea recoiled, sprawling backward in the topaz forest. He looked up and saw an elven warrior, sword upraised, standing several feet away from him.

  “I am a friend!” Catchflea declared. “And unarmed, yes!” The warrior did not move. Catchflea repeated his friendly assertion while getting to his feet. His moccasins were almost gone, and he didn't relish the idea of running over the sharp topazes to escape a Hestite soldier.

  The warrior still hadn't moved, so Catchflea approached him. He almost laughed aloud when he came within a few feet. The warrior was a statue!

  “Halloo!” he called when he saw Riverwind and Di An again.

  “Where have you been? It's dangerous to go off by yourself,” Riverwind said sternly.

  “Yes, yes, but I've made a wonderful discovery,” the old man said. “Come see!”

  He led them along the shoreline to the forest of crystals, where the stone soldier stood. Behind the first was ranged an entire company of statues. Di An counted eight rows of four and reported that there could be more, but in the dim light it was hard to tell. Some had their swords upraised and others stared toward the ceiling. Little detail of armor or facial features was visible. Only the smooth, golden topaz.

  “You see?” Catchflea said. “Isn't it amazing? Why would anyone set up so many statues in this lonely place? Do you know, Di An?”

  She scratched her head. “I cannot say. They are not Hest-ites, though, I am certain of that.”

  Riverwind frowned. “Who else could be down here?”

  She didn't reply but stepped over the jagged gemstones to get a closer look. Standing on tip-toe, Di An peered into the face of the first warrior. With a loud gasp, she stumbled backward. The grappling hook she'd been holding fell from her hands and she fled to Riverwind.

  “That's no statue!” she said. “It's a real warrior, encased in stone!”

  Riverwind and Catchflea exchanged incredulous looks and hurried to the first figure. Sure enough, on closer examination, the translucent citrine stone showed the planar features of an elven male.
Eyebrows, eyelashes, and tiny facial wrinkles could be seen inside the cold gemstone shell.

  “What calamity could do this to an entire company of fighters?” Catchflea breathed.

  Di An shivered. “Only Vedvedsica had that kind of power.”

  Riverwind stood nose to nose with the elf warrior. There was something odd about his face. He studied the fellow closely and finally said, “He's alive. His eyes follow me.”

  Catchflea and Di An fell back a pace. The old soothsayer looked down the silent ranks of frozen soldiers. “Alive?” he whispered. “All of them?”

  “I want to know who they are,” Riverwind said, stepping back from his inspection of the warrior.

  “Warriors of Sithas,” Di An said quietly. She had moved even farther away.

  Riverwind drew his saber-itself coated with a thin veneer of gemstone-and said, “I cannot walk away from these imprisoned wretches, knowing they are alive inside tombs of stone.” He raised his saber and tapped the pommel experimentally against the elf warrior's breastplate. The topaz rang and the warrior remained unmoved. With more force, Riverwind smote the same spot twice more, and the crystalline coating cracked and fell away in large chunks.

  He broke the topaz away from the elf's chest, arms, and neck. The warrior's sword arm, when freed, fell to his side. The coating on the warrior's face was now seamed by hundreds of cracks. The plainsman was able to pull it away. When his face was clear, the warrior exhaled with a dry wheezing.

  “Free!” he croaked. He inhaled and exhaled deeply several times. Suddenly, he seemed to recollect his surroundings. He looked wildly around the grotto. “Where is the vile sorcerer? Where is Vedvedsica?”

  “Not here, that is for certain,” said Riverwind. “Who are you?”

  “I am Kirinthastarus, captain to His Highness, King Sithas of Silvanesti,” said the warrior. “Who are you, human?”