The Demon's Den and Other Tales of Valdemar

by Tanya Huff

  Jors released a long, shuddering breath that warmed the rock under his cheek and tried very, very hard not to cry.

  :Chosen?:

  The distress in his Companion's mindspeach helped him pull himself together. :I'm okay. As okay as I was, anyway. I just, I just missed you.: Gervis' presence settled gently into his mind, and he clung to it, more afraid of dying alone in the dark than of just dying.

  :Do not think of dying.:

  He hadn't realized he'd been thinking of it in such a way as to be heard. :Sorry. I guess I'm not behaving much like a Herald, am I?:

  A very equine snort made him smile. :You are a Herald, therefore this is how Heralds behave trapped in a mine.:

  The Companion's tone suggested he not argue the point, so he changed the subject. :How did you manage to communicate with the villagers?:

  :When they recognized what I was, they followed me. Once they saw where you were, they understood. Some have returned to the village for tools.: He paused, and Jors had the feeling he was deciding whether or not to pass on one last bit of information. :They call this place the Demon's Den.:

  :Oh, swell.:

  :There are no real demons in it.:

  :That makes me feel so much better.:

  :It should,: Gervis pointed out helpfully.

  * * *

  “Herald's down in the Demon's Den.” The storm swirled the voice in through the open door, stirring the room up into a frenzy of activity. All the able-bodied who hadn't followed the Companion ran for jackets and boots. The rest buzzed like a nest of hornets poked with a stick.

  Ari sat in her corner, behind the tangled tent of her hair, and tried not to remember.

  There was a rumble, deep in the bowels of the hillside, a warning of worse to come. But they kept working because Ari had braced the tunnels so cleverly that the earth could move as it liked and the mine would move with it, flexing instead of shattering.

  But this time, the earth moved in a way she hadn't anticipated. Timbers cracked. Rock began to fall. Someone screamed.

  * * *

  Jors jerked his head up and hissed through his teeth in pain.

  :Chosen?:

  :I can hear them. I can hear them digging.: The distant sound of metal against stone was unmistakable.

  Then it stopped.

  :Gervis? What's wrong? What's happening?:

  :Their lanterns keep blowing out. This hillside is so filled with natural passageways that when the winds are strong they can't keep anything lit.:

  :And it's in an unstable area.: Jors sighed and rested his forehead against the back of his left wrist. :What kind of an idiot would put a mine in a place like this?:

  :The ore deposits were very good.:

  :How do you know?: Their familiar banter was all that was keeping him from despair.

  :These people talk a great deal.:

  :And you listen.: He clicked his tongue, knowing his Companion would pick up the intent if not the actual noise. :Shame on you. Eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves.:

  Only the chime of a pebble, dislodged from somewhere up above answered.

  :Gervis?:

  :There was an accident.:

  :Was anyone hurt?:

  :I don't... No, not badly. They're coming out.:

  He felt a rising tide of anger before he “heard” his Companion's next words.

  “They're not going back in! I can't make them go back in! They say it's too dangerous! They say they need the light! I can't make them go back in.:

  In his mind's eye, Jors could see the young stallion, rearing and kicking and trying to block the miners who were leaving him there to die. He knew it was his imagination, for their bond had never been strong enough for that kind of contact. He also knew his imagination couldn't be far wrong when the only answer to his call was an overwhelming feeling of angry betrayal.

  The damp cold had crept through his leathers and begun to seep into his bones. He'd fallen just before full dark, and although time was hard to track buried in the hillside, it had to still be hours until midnight. Nights were long at this time of the year, and it would grow much, much colder before sunrise.

  * * *

  Ari knew, when Dyril and the others returned, that they didn't have the Herald with them. Knew it even before the excuses began.

  “That little shake we had earlier was worse up there. What's left of the tunnels could go at any minute. We barely got Neegan out when one of the last supports collapsed.”

  “You couldn't get to him.”

  It wasn't a question. Not really. If they'd been able to get to him, they'd have brought him back.

  “Him, her. We couldn't even keep the lanterns lit.”

  Someone tossed their gear to the floor. “You know what it's like up there during a storm; the wind howling through all those cracks and crevices...”

  Ari heard Dyril sigh, heard wood creak as he dropped onto a bench. “We'll go back in the morning. Maybe when we can see...”

  Memories were thick in the silence.

  “If it's as bad as all that, the Herald's probably dead anyway.”

  “He's alive!” Ari shouted over the murmur of agreement. Oh sure, they'd feel better if they thought the Herald was dead, if they could convince themselves they hadn't left him there to die, but she wasn't going to let them off so easily.

  “You don't know that.”

  “The Companion knows it!” She bludgeoned them with her voice because it was all she had. “He came to you for help!”

  “And we did what we could! The Queen'll understand. The Den's taken too many lives already for us to throw more into it.”

  “Do you think I don't know that!” She could hear the storm throwing itself against the outside of the house but nothing from within. It almost seemed as though she were suddenly alone in the room. Then she heard a bench pushed back, footsteps approaching.

  “Who else do you want that mine to kill?” Dyril asked quietly. “We lost three getting you out. Wasn't that enough?”

  It was three too many, she wanted to say. If you think I'm grateful, think again. But the words wouldn't come. She swung down off her bench and hand-walked along the wall to the ladder in the corner. Stairs were difficult, but with only half a body to lift, she could easily pull herself, hand over hand, from rung to rung – her arms and shoulders were probably stronger now than they'd ever been. Adults couldn't stand in the loft, so no one bothered her there.

  “We did all we could,” she heard Dyril repeat wearily, more to himself than to her. She supposed she believed him. He was a good man. They were all good people. They wouldn't leave anyone to die if they had any hope of getting them out.

  She’d been trapped with four others, deep underground. They could hear screaming, the sound carried on the winds that howled through the caves and passages around the mine.

  By the time they could hear rescuers frantically digging with picks and shovels, there were only three of them still alive. Ari hadn't been able to feel her legs for some time, so when they’d pried enough rubble clear to get a rope through, she’d forced her companions out first. The Demon's Den had been her mine, and they were used to following her orders.

  Then the earth had moved again, and the passage closed. She’d laid there, alone, listening to still more death carried on the winds and wishing she'd had the courage to tell them to leave her. To get out while they still could.

  “Papa, what happened to the Companion?”

  “He's still out there. Brandon tried to bring him into the stable and got a nasty bite for his trouble.”

  Ari moved across the loft to the narrow dormer and listened. Although the wind shrieked and whistled around the roof, she could hear the frenzied cries of the Companion as he pounded through the settlement, desperately searching for someone to help.

  “Who else do you want that mine to kill?”

  She dug through the mess on the floor for a leather strap, and tied her hair back off her face. Her jacket lay crumpled in a damp pile
where she'd left it, but that didn't matter. It'd be damper still before she was done.

  Down below, the common room emptied as the family headed for their beds, voices rising and falling, some needing comfort and absolution, some giving it. Ari didn't bother to listen. It didn't concern her.

  Later, in the quiet, she swarmed down the ladder and hand-walked to where she'd heard the equipment dropped and sorted out a hundred-foot coil of rope. Draping it across her chest, she continued to the door. The latch was her design; her fingers remembered it.

  The ground felt cold and wet under the heavy callouses on her palms, and she was pretty sure she felt wet snow in amongst the rain that slapped into her face. She moved out away from the house and waited.

  Hooves thundered past her, around her, and stopped.

  “No one,” she said, “knows the Den better than I do. I'm the only chance your Herald has left. You've probably called for others – other Heralds, other Companions – but they can't be close enough to help, or you wouldn't still be hanging around here. The temperature's dropping, and time means everything now.”

  The Companion snorted, a great gust of warm, sweetly scented breath replacing the storm for a moment. She hadn't realized he'd stopped so close, and she fought to keep from trembling.

  “I know what you're thinking. But I won't need eyes in the darkness, and you don't dig with legs and feet. If you can get me there, Shining One, I can get your Herald out.”

  The Companion reared and screamed a challenge.

  Ari held up her hands. “I know you understand me,” she said. “I know you're more than you appear. You've got to believe me. I will get your Herald out.

  “If you lie down, I can grab the saddle horn and the cantle and hold myself on between them.” On a horse, it would never work. Even if she could lift herself on, she'd never stay in the saddle once it started to move; her stumps were too short for balance. But then, she wouldn't be having this conversation with a horse.

  A single whicker, and a rush of displaced air as a large body went to the ground a whisker's distance from her.

  Ari reached out, touched one silken shoulder, and worked her way back. You must be desperate to be going along with this, she thought bitterly. Never mind. You'll see. Mounting was easy. Staying in the saddle as the Companion rose to his feet was another thing entirely. Somehow, she managed it. “All right.” A deep breath, and she balanced her weight as evenly as she could, stumps spread. “Go.”

  He leapt forward so suddenly he nearly threw her off. Heart in her throat, she clung to the saddle as his pace settled to an almost gentle rocking motion completely at odds with the speed she knew he had to be travelling. She could feel the night whipping by her, rain and snow stinging her face.

  In spite of everything, she smiled. She was on a Companion. Riding a Companion.

  It was over too soon.

  * * *

  :Jors? Chosen!:

  The Herald coughed and lifted his head. He'd been having the worst dream about being trapped in a cave-in. That's what he got for eating his own cooking. And then he tried to move his legs and realized he wasn't dreaming. :Gervis! You went away!:

  :I'm sorry, Heartbrother, please forgive me, but when they wouldn't stay...: The thought trailed off, lost in an incoherent mix of anger and shame.

  :Hey, it's all right.: Jors carefully pushed his own terror back in order to reassure the Companion. :You're back now, that's all that matters.:

  :I brought someone to get you out.:

  :But I thought the mine was unstable, still collapsing.:

  :She says she can free you.:

  :You're talking to her?: As far as Jors knew, that never happened. Even some Heralds were unable to mindspeak clearly.

  :She's talking to me. I believe she can do what she says.:

  Jors swallowed and took a deep breath. :No. It's too dangerous. There's already been one accident. I don't want anyone dying because of me.:

  :Chosen...: The Companion's mental voice held a tone Jors had never heard before. :I don't think she's doing it for you.:

  * * *

  When they stopped, Ari took a moment to work some feeling back into each hand in turn. The Herald was going to have her finger marks permanently denting his gear. Below her, the Companion stood perfectly still, waiting.

  “We're going to have to do this together, Shining One, because if I do it alone, I'll be too damned slow. Go past the mine about fifty feet and look up. Five, maybe six feet off the ground there should be a good, solid shelf of rock. If you can get us onto it, we can follow it right to the mouth of the mine and avoid all that shale shit.”

  The Companion whickered once and started walking. When she felt him turn, Ari scooted back as far as she could in the saddle, and flopped forward, trapping the coil of rope under her chest. Stretching her arms down and around the sleek curve of his barrel, she pushed the useless stirrups out of her way and clutched the girth.

  “Go,” she grunted.

  He backed up a few steps, lunged forward, and the world tilted at a crazy angle.

  Ari held her uncomfortable position until he stopped on the level ground at the mouth of the mine. “Remind me,” she coughed, rubbing the spot where the saddle-horn had slammed into her throat, “not to do that again. All right, Shining One, I'll have to get off the same way I got on.”

  His movement took her by surprise. She grabbed for the saddle, her cold fingers slipped on the wet leather, and she dismounted a lot further from the ground than she'd intended.

  A warm muzzle pushed into her face as she lay there for a moment, trying to get her breath back. “I'm okay,” she muttered. “Just a little winded.” Teeth gritted against the pain in her stumps, she pushed herself up.

  Soft lips nuzzled at her hair.

  “Don't worry, Shining One.” Tentatively, she reached out and stroked the Companion's velvet nose. “I'll get your Herald out. There's enough of me left for that.” She tossed her head and turned towards the mine, not needing eyes to find the gaping hole in the hillside. Icy winds dragged across her cheeks, and she knew by their touch that they'd danced through the Demon's Den before they came to her.

  “Now then...” She was pleased to hear that her voice remained steady. “...we need to work out a way to communicate. At the risk of sounding like a bad Bardic tale, how about one whicker for yes and two for no?”

  There was a single, soft whicker just above her head.

  “Good. First of all, we have to find out how badly he...” A pause. “Your Herald is a he?” At the Companion's affirmative, she went on. “How badly he's hurt. Ask him if he has any broken bones.”

  * * *

  :I don't know. I can't move enough to tell.:

  * * *

  Ari frowned at the answer. “Yes and no? Is he buried?”

  * * *

  :Only half of me.:

  :Chosen, I have no way to tell her that.:

  :Then yeah, I guess I'm buried.:

  * * *

  “Shit.” There could be broken bones under the rock, the pressure keeping the Herald from feeling the pain. Well, she'd just have to deal with that when she got to it. “Is he buried in the actual mine, or in a natural cave?”

  * * *

  :She seems to think it's good you're in a natural cave.:

  Jors traced the rock that curved away from him with his free hand. His fingers were so numb he could barely feel it. :Why?:

  :I can't ask her that, Chosen. She wants to know if you turned left around a corner, about thirty feet in from the entrance to the mine.:

  :Left?: He tried to remember, but the cold had seeped into his brain and thoughts moved sluggishly through it. :I... I guess so.:

  * * *

  “Okay.” Ari tied one end of the rope around her waist as she spoke. “Ask him if the quake happened within, say twenty feet of that corner.”

  * * *

  :I don't know. I don't remember. Gervis, I'm tired. Just stay with me while I rest.:

  :N
o! Heartbrother do not go to sleep. Think, please, were you close to the corner?:

  He remembered seeing the blood. Then stopping and looking into the hole in the side of the tunnel. :Yes. I think no more than twenty feet.:

  * * *

  “Good. We're in luck, there's only one place on this level where the cave system butts up against the mine. I know approximately where he is. He's close.” She reached forward and sifted a handful of rubble. “I just have to get to him.”

  A hundred feet of rope would reach the place where the quake threw him out of the mine, but after that, she could only hope he hadn't slid too deep into the catacombs.

  Turning to where she could feel the bulk of the Companion, Ari's memory showed her a graceful white stallion, outlined against the night. “Once I get the rope around him, you'll have to pull him free.”

  He whickered once and nudged her, and she surrendered to the urge to bury face and fingers in his mane. When she finally let go, she had to bite her lip to keep from crying. “Thanks. I'm okay now.”

  Using both arms at once, then swinging her body forward between them, Ari made her way into the mine, breathing in the wet, oily scent of the rock, the lingering odours of the lanterns Dyril and the others had used, and the stink of fear, old and new. At the first rockfall she paused, traced the broken pieces, and found the passage the earlier rescue party had dug.

  Her shoulder brushed a timber support, and she hurried past the memories.

  A biting gust of wind whistled through a crack up ahead, flinging grit up into her face. “Nice try,” she muttered. “But you threw me into darkness five years ago, and I've learned my way around.” Then she raised her voice. “Shining One, can you still hear me?”

  The Companion's whicker echoed eerily.

  “You don't need to worry about him running out of air, this place is like a sieve, so remind your Herald to keep moving. Tell him to keep flexing his muscles if that's all he can do. He's got to keep the blood going out to the extremities.”

  * * *

  :What extremities?: Jors heard himself giggle, and wondered what there was to laugh about.

  :Chosen, listen to me. You know what the cold can do. You have to move.:

  :I know that.: Everyone knew that. It wasn't like he hadn't been paying attention when they'd been teaching winter survival skills, it was just, well, it was just so much effort.