“Kill them!” cried Damaris. “Burn this place to the ground if you must, only bring me their corpses!”
With a snarl, Niya drew her sword. But Loren seized her arm and dragged her back.
“You cannot take them all!” she cried. “Run!”
They did, turning and fleeing down the hallway as a small army surged after them.
forty
“WE CANNOT LEAVE WITHOUT DAMARIS,” said Niya as they ran.
“We cannot capture her and live,” said Loren. “If you turn back and attack her guards, they will overwhelm you. Now we can only escape, and try again another day.”
“You should have let me kill her.”
Loren did not answer, but she wondered if the Mystic were right. Yet Kal had been clear: justice was worthless if delivered in secret. Should Damaris die here, in the bowels of this mountain, who would ever even know? Especially if Loren and the rest of them did not escape alive to spread the tale. And if they killed her like common assassins, that would make them no better than the traitors they fought against who had tried to murder the High King.
But she had no time for such thoughts, not if she wanted to get herself and her friends out alive. They ran up the first stairway they saw, but it only took them up one floor, and they did not know which way to the next.
“We do not know the way,” said Chet. “We will never get out of here before they catch us.”
“Oh, stop your whining,” said Niya.
“There is no other choice,” said Loren. “We have to keep looking and hope for the best. One floor at a time.”
They turned this way and that through the halls, trying to create a weaving, winding path so that they could not be followed easily. Loren, Chet and Gem wore only cloth, and Niya was strong enough to run fast even with her chain shirt, so that they soon left the guards behind them. But they could still hear them in pursuit, their shouts and footsteps thundering in the halls.
At last Loren spotted another stairway. “There!” she cried, leading the way to it. But at the foot of the stairs they skidded to a halt. Above, they heard more shouts and the sound of running. Another group of guards, and this one making their way down towards them.
“We are trapped,” whispered Loren.
“Then it is a fight after all,” said Chet. He looked to Niya. “I suppose we should be glad we have your sword.”
“Wait,” said Gem. He looked up at Loren with wide eyes. “There may be a way. The shaft.”
She frowned at him. “It is shut, Gem. We cannot go up that way.”
“Not up,” he said. “Down.”
Her mind raced. Down, down, into darkness impenetrable—but where they had heard the sound of running water. It might be a river deep enough to swim. It might be only a few fingers deep. Or the rope might not be directly over the water at all, and end ten paces above a rocky cavern floor, and they would kill themselves if they tried the jump. But she knew what would happen if they stayed and fought the guards.
“We must try it,” she said. “Come.”
They ran on, and now they ducked their heads into each room as they went, searching for one that had a hatch. Chet found one in a few moments and beckoned the rest to him. Loren threw it open and looked up, just to be sure—but there was the metal grate, blocking the way in this shaft just as it had in the other.”
“Very well,” she said. “Down it is.”
They slipped through the hatch as quickly as they could, with Niya going last. She pulled the hatch as far shut as she could, though she could not latch it from the inside. It would have to do. Loren began to lead the way down.
Fifteen floors they had descended before they found Damaris. Loren thought they passed at least fifteen more, but it was hard to keep count, for no light came through the hatches on the lower levels. Soon they were in pitch blackness, and when they looked up they could only barely glimpse the lights that had dimly lit their way before.
“How will we even know when we reach the bottom?” called Gem. The sound of rushing water had grown loud enough now that he had to raise his voice to be heard.
“I imagine the rope will end,” said Loren.
“That is not comforting.”
Loren chuckled—and then she cried out, for the wall had vanished under her feet. She had reached the bottom of the shaft, and when she put out her foot to take the next step down, it met only empty air. For a terrifying moment she swung there in the darkness, swaying back and forth on the rope as she tried to tighten her grip.
“Loren!” cried Chet, for he could not see her in the darkness.
“I am all right!” she said. “The shaft has ended, but the rope has not.”
“Can you see the floor?” said Niya.
I cannot see anything at all, thought Loren irritably. But she only said, “No.”
Hand over hand she lowered herself once more, but now the way was harder without something to brace herself on. Her hands began to chafe on the rope, and she did not know how much longer she could keep her grip. As long as you must, she told herself, tightening her grip again. This place must have a bottom. They would reach it eventually.
And then the rope ended.
Loren felt it with her feet first, where they were wrapped around the line. Suddenly they encountered the curving loop at the bottom of the rope, where it turned and ran back up the shaft to the crank that must be at the top. She went a little farther down and stuck out her feet, but she already knew she would not find the ground. The rushing water was loud, thundering below them, but too far for her to reach with her feet.
“We are at the bottom,” she called up.
“Thank the sky,” said Gem.
“I mean the bottom of the rope,” said Loren. “The floor is still far below.”
“Ah,” said Gem. “That is somewhat less good news.”
“What do we do?” said Chet.
“A moment,” said Loren. “I am thinking.” At least she was able to put a knee in the loop of the rope and take some of the weight off her arms. But that only made her realize that her friends had no such support, and their grip must be as tired as her own. Her mind raced, desperate for an answer.
They could risk the jump. Though she could not be sure, it sounded as though the water was below them. They could drop from the end of the rope, and hope that they would land in the river that would carry them out into the valley. But then again, if the river indeed emerged out into the open, would they not be able to see the light of the opening from here? See. In her mind, she cursed the darkness. If she only had a torch, or moonslight, or—
Loren almost struck herself, she was so angry. You mad, mad fool, she thought. The magestones. She had them in her cloak, the same place she always kept them. But she had not used them since Ammon, and had nearly forgotten about them.
“I cannot hold on to this rope forever, you know,” said Gem. The boy tried to fill his voice with bravado, but Loren could sense the fear quivering beneath it. “Even one so strong as I am has his limits.”
“One moment!” she said, fumbling with her cloak pocket. Her hasty fingers seized a magestone from within the cloth packet and broke off a piece, which she shoved in between her lips. Then she reached for the back of her belt and drew her dagger.
The cavern erupted in light, silver and pale, like the glow of the Elves when they stood before her. Now Loren could see as though she stood in the sun, or better, for every detail was clear as glass, from the ridges in the rocky cavern to the cobwebs that collected in the corners.
She looked down and was immediately glad she had not risked the jump. There was a river, yes, perhaps fifteen paces below them. But it twisted and turned through a fissure in the floor, and just beneath them was only rock, pocked with spikes of stone that jutted up from the ground towards them, like hungry teeth eager to devour.
“We cannot jump!” said Loren. “There is only stone below us.”
“What?” said Chet. “How do you know?”
“My eyes are adjusting,
” she lied. “Are you not getting used to the darkness?”
“Then what do we do?” said Niya, her irritation plain.
Loren looked about. She could see other ropes hanging down from other holes in the ceiling—other shafts leading up to other wooden platforms, and all of them too far away to reach. But then she turned the other way, and saw that they were very near to the cavern wall, and there were shelves in the rock there. But it was at least five paces away—too far to jump, and certainly too far to reach.
“We must swing!” said Loren. “Swing the rope … this way.” She reached up and tapped Gem’s leg, on the side where the rock wall was. He did the same to Chet, who did the same to Niya.
“I see nothing that way,” said Niya.
“Trust me,” said Loren. “Draw back your legs, and … now!”
They did it, back and forth, back and forth. At first they were awkward and uncoordinated, but as they all sensed the rhythm of each other, they soon moved in unison. The rope only moved a pace at first, and then two. Then they got within reach of the shelf, but Loren missed her grasp. She tightened her grip on the dagger with one hand, and her hold on the rope with the other.
“This time!” she cried, and when she swung towards the shelf, she reached it at last. She threw herself onto the stone, and a lump in the rock struck her in the ribs, making her wince. But she seized the rope and pulled it tight, and just managed to keep from sliding off the edge again by wrapping her arm around a lump in the stone. The rope hung there, her three friends upon it, dangling over the rocky floor far below.
“Quickly!” she said through gritted teeth. “Climb down.”
Gem descended like a spider, and she sighed with relief once his weight was off the line. Then came Chet, and by the the time only Niya was left, it was easy. The Mystic reached the shelf at last, and Loren released the rope with a sigh. But above her she saw that the other three were fumbling blindly in the dark, their hands on the wall to hold themselves steady.
“We have to climb down from here,” she said. “The wall is rough. There are handholds aplenty.”
“How can you see?’ said Chet. “It is black as tar.”
“What matters is that I can see,” said Loren. “I will go down first. When I tell you to, guide your foot to the edge, and I will give you your first handhold.”
They did as she bid, and one by one they slid over the edge and began to climb down the stone wall. Loren put the dagger in her teeth, careful not to let it touch her lips, for it was frighteningly sharp, and she was gratified to see that its magical properties remained. With its help she took them all the long, dark, frightening way to the floor of the cavern, and when they had reached it they sighed with relief.
“If anything, I can see less than before,” said Gem. “If this place is so dark, is there even a way out?”
“The water must emerge somewhere,” said Loren. “It forms the stream in the valley beyond. Chet, put your hand on my shoulder, and the rest of you in a chain. I will take us to the water, and we will follow it out.”
So they progressed to the water’s edge. Loren could see that the river was nowhere near so deep as she had thought; she doubted it came up to her chest. But it was wide, and the way beside it was not always clear, so that it took them some time to follow it through the cavern.
When they reached the end of it, Loren hoped to find a curve in the rock, some sort of passage that would take them to the open air beyond. But to her dismay, the water ended at a wall, against which it frothed and bubbled.
“The water has ended,” she said.
“What do you mean, it has ended?” said Niya.
“It dives under the cave wall here. If it emerges in the open air beyond, it goes underground for a ways beforehand.”
“Then there is no way out?” said Chet.
“There is,” said Loren. She turned to look at him, but then realized that was pointless, for he could not see her. “The river.”
Niya snorted. “Underground? We do not know how far it is. We could drown.”
“Yet there is no other way.”
“Loren, I cannot swim,” said Gem, and now all his bravado had fled him.
She cursed inwardly, for she had forgotten. “I can take you, Gem. You can hold my shoulders.”
“He had better come with me,” said Niya. “You are not as strong as I am.”
Loren studied the Mystic for a moment, thankful now for the darkness. “I would rather bring him myself,” she said carefully. “Gem and I have done something like this together before.” That was true enough—in the city of Wellmont, they had swung under a gate that blocked the river. But in truth, Loren was not sure that she trusted Niya with the boy’s life. If the way became blocked, and Niya was given the choice of saving the boy or saving her own skin, Loren did not think it would be a difficult decision.
Niya only shrugged. “If you insist.”
“Loren, are you certain this is the best way?” said Chet.
“Of course not,” she told him. “But it is the only way I can see. Now come. Dawdling here will not make the swim easier.”
She shucked off her boots, and used the laces to tie them around her waist. They would not help with her swimming, but once they emerged out the other side, she could not go barefoot all the way back to their camp. Quickly she helped the others do the same, for their fingers fumbled in the darkness, and soon they were ready.
“All right,” said Loren. “Gem, take my shoulders. Follow the flow of the water. It comes out the other side in the end, so it knows where it is going. Good luck.”
“Luck,” said Chet, laughing suddenly. “How can we think ours is good, after all that has happened?”
Niya’s glare deepened, and without warning the Mystic flung herself into the water. After letting Gem take a deep breath, Loren followed.
The water snatched her at once and dragged her into the tunnel beneath the rock. Immediately it slammed her into the wall, and she felt Gem’s grip shift. Keeping one hand on her dagger hilt, she reached up with the other and clutched his arm. It was useless to try and swim, for the current was too strong here. She only tried to twist and turn so that the water pushed her into the the rocks instead of the boy, and used her legs to brace against the impact. Chet and Niya would not be able to see a thing, and Loren only hoped they did not take too hard of a battering.
Her lungs grew weak, and then began to burn. The tunnel ahead showed no sign of ending. She took her hand from Gem’s arm and tried to swim as best she could, desperate to speed their progress. If she was losing her breath, Gem must be near to drowning. Niya and Chet were nowhere to be seen. Had they become separated? Did the water run in different passages, ones she had missed as she passed?
A dim light appeared, different from the night vision of the dagger, illuminating the channel. The end of the tunnel at last. But though they could see the glow, they still could not see the exit, and spots had begun to dance in Loren’s vision.
Around her neck, she felt Gem’s grip slacken.
No, she thought. She seized his arm and kicked as hard as she could, striking for the light ahead. Hold on. Hold on, you little brat.
Sunlight erupted above them, almost blinding in its intensity. Loren shoved her dagger into its sheath and swam up, still clutching at Gem. Her head broke the surface with a great splash, and she sucked in a greedy lungful of air. The shore was only a few paces away, and she kicked for it. Niya was there already, on hands and knees in the grass, gasping and heaving. Loren flung Gem up on the bank first and then dragged herself from the water. Her black cloak had become dead weight, trying to drag her into the river again, so she undid the clasp and threw it off. She fell on the shore as all her strength left her at once, and her chest heaved with her breathing.
But then she thought of Gem and rose once more. She crawled to the boy and flipped him on his back, pounding on his chest. For one heart-stopping instant he lay still, but almost at once he coughed up water. She hauled h
im up to sitting and bent him forwards, and he kept coughing until phlegm came out.
Loren looked up towards the stream. Chet. Where is Chet?
Then he appeared, breaking the surface just as she had, a little upstream. He saw them and fought to swim to the shore, gasping just as the rest of them were. Loren sighed with relief. Chet had always been a good swimmer.
“Is he all right?” said Chet, once he had gained the land.
“Well enough, considering,” said Loren, giving Gem’s back a final pound.
“Leave off,” said the boy, waving a limp arm in her direction. “I am fine.”
Loren smiled down at him. But the smile died on her lips as a horn cut the air.
She had not had time to take in their surroundings, but now she looked up. They were at the foot of the stronghold, with its peaked prow jutting out into the air straight overhead. A few hundred paces away was the bottom of the long, winding ramp that led up to the main entrance. And down that ramp came figures running and shouting, their weapons drawn.
“They have spotted us,” said Loren. She fought for her feet and snatched up her cloak. “Come. We must run if we are to survive.” Quickly she unlaced her boots from around her waist and began to tie them on.
Niya struggled to don her own boots, her movements slow and sluggish. “I would wager that now you wish we had killed the guards in the valley as we approached.”
“I do not, but thank you,” said Loren, frowning. She cinched the last lace and stood. “Now is not the time for gloating, but for running.”
Run they did, following the stream. Soon the guards were behind them, giving chase along the opposite side of the river. But Loren and her friends were waterlogged and exhausted from the swim, so that they could not gain much ground, and soon their lungs burned anew.
“We cannot lose them,” said Chet. “We will bring them right back to Uzo and Annis.”
“And—” Loren almost stopped in her tracks, and only resumed her flight when Chet snatched her arm and pulled her along. “Shiun. Where is Shiun?”
“She will look after herself,” said Niya. “Likely she fled the fortress as soon as the alarm was raised, for who could think that we would escape?”
Weremage: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 5) Page 26