by Daniel Kirk
Matt frowned. “Or does it mean we should avoid the third portal, and the red is supposed to be blood? I guess we’d better get moving, then, whatever it means.” He pulled his shirt back over his head. “We’re looking for three portals.”
“And we’re looking to see if we can’t get back into the Cord,” Tuava-Li said, “once these roots no longer block the way. If the great tree is pulling all of its roots out of the ground, the ones that block the Cord may be drawn out, eventually.”
“Or they might get broken off in the rock,” Matt said. “Let’s get going, okay?”
They strapped on their packs, stepped over a clump of roots, and found a smooth, stone floor beneath their feet. “The cavern’s ceiling is higher here than the ceiling in the palace at Hunaland,” Matt said, flexing his shoulders and standing tall. “I was getting pretty tired of having to bend over all the time.”
They followed a sloping path, creeping through gaps in massive roots that punctured the wall of the Cord. Some of the crumbling stone walls were carved with images of battles and military conquest. At first they tried to make sense of the scenes, looking for clues as to their whereabouts, and Tuava-Li explained what she could of the ancient Elfin culture and history revealed there. Tomtar, though, was feeling anxious. “Do you think we’re in the labyrinth, the one the Queen told us about?”
Tuava-Li shook her head. “The passages here are so badly damaged, ’tis hard to tell.”
Matt said, “I guess there could be portals, like the ones we’re looking for, in a maze!”
Tomtar tried to ignore the sensation of being trapped in the subterranean depths; he longed for open spaces and fresh air. “Why are there sweeping marks in the dust?” he asked.
“Probably just the movement of air over the floor,” Tuava-Li answered.
“But there’s no air down here; it’s completely still!”
“Maybe it’s gravity,” Matt offered. “Maybe the dust rolls downhill and leaves traces. What else could it be?”
The darkness and isolation underground were beginning to set all of their nerves on edge. Distant rumbling, like muffled thunder, let them know that the roots of the Adri were still working their way loose from the depths of stone and soil. The sound filled each of them with dark foreboding. If the tunnels should collapse, they’d all be crushed. Matt and Tuava-Li kept quiet, watching the paths for crevices and footprints and the walls for mysterious portals. Tomtar chattered on, despite his friends coaxing him to be quiet and listen for unusual sounds. At times they were able to keep the Cord within view, and at other times they were forced to veer away from it into dank and winding corridors.
Eventually, after endless hours of hiking ever downward, the path they were on dropped away into blackness. They stood at the edge of a large, cavernous hollow. The Fire Sprite cast flickering shadows over the walls, giving the distinct impression that there were figures moving among the fallen rocks. “What’s that?” whispered Tomtar, pointing to a dark pile of boulders. “I see something out there!”
“’Tis a trick of the eye,” Tuava-Li said, as her voice echoed off the walls. “’Tis a trick of the eye, a trick of the eye, a trick of the eye,” came the echo, again and again.
Tomtar’s eyes brightened. “That’s fun!” he cried aloud. The echo came back, “That’s fun, that’s fun, that’s fun, that’s fun …”
He unstrapped his pack and rooted around until he found his flute. Matt said, “What are you doing? I figured you lost that thing when our tent went into the ocean!”
“I tucked it into my belt, just in time. I’m only going to play a little—it’ll cheer us up!”
Tomtar raised the instrument to his lips and blew a quick string of notes. As the echo swelled, racing circles around the cavern, they all heard a low rumbling sound beneath the flute’s shrill whistle. Tomtar held his breath as gray flakes fell like rain from the ceiling. The three of them leaned back against the wall and waited for the sound to stop. Soon the rumbling faded away. Matt glanced upward, then leaned toward his friend and whispered, “There aren’t any tree roots right around here, Tomtar. That groaning came from the rocks right over our heads. You can’t play your flute here. These old tunnels are ready to collapse. If we’re not careful, the sound vibrations might be enough to bring the whole roof down on us!”
“I guess there’s no place I can play my flute anymore,” the Troll grumbled.
They backtracked away from the chasm, following twists and turns in the dark corridors, as Tuava-Li tried to determine where the Cord might be. She often felt a tingling sensation in her fingertips when a Cord was near, but here in the Underworld she just wasn’t sure. It had been the same with Matt’s compass—it was a useful tool that no longer worked the way it should. It seemed to Tuava-Li that they hadn’t wandered too far from the Cord, but they were surrounded on all sides by walls of earth and stone. Without a doubt they had entered the labyrinth, and in the end, there was no real way to tell how to get back out. “I think I need to rest,” Tomtar finally said. His legs and arms felt like lead weights hanging from his body, and his anxiety about being underground was wearing him down. “Can’t we stop and sleep somewhere, just for a little while? I keep imagining I’m seeing things out of the corner of my eye.”
“We’ve got to find our way back into the Cord, Tomtar,” Matt said. “Becky’s in danger. We don’t know what Jardaine has in store for her, down in this hole. If we stop to rest now, we might be too late to help her. We have to keep going!”
“Aye,” Tuava-Li said. “We have to keep going. Jardaine has the Seed of the Adri, and we’ve got to get it back, so that we can plant it the way the Goddess intends. Otherwise this entire quest will have been for nothing.”
Even as she said the words, Tuava-Li knew that she was trying to convince herself that they were true. Nothing, so far, had gone according to plan. Setbacks and unpleasant surprises all along the way made her wonder if it was nothing but her own stubbornness that made her carry on, when the Goddess might be making another path clear. When the time came for Matt to die for the Seed, she wondered, would she try to stop it? Would she try to save him, like she’d done so many times before?
“Nothing?” Matt said. “This will all be for nothing if we don’t plant that seed? I’m going to find my sister.”
Tomtar sighed. He hitched his pack a little higher on his back and shuffled his feet. A cloud of dust wafted up around his ankles. “I wonder what happened to the Elves who built these passages down here. It looks like no one’s been down here in a really long time. I wonder why they don’t keep these tunnels in good repair, if they really care about that Seed. You’d think they’d want it to look nice for us when we came down here. It’s the least they could do, really!”
Matt took a deep breath. If it helped Tomtar stay awake and alert, he could tolerate the Troll’s useless chatter. But he was beginning to think he was seeing things out of the corners of his eyes, too.
Deep in a crevice in the thick rock wall, not far from where Matt, Tuava-Li, and Tomtar kept up their weary trek, Becky lay sleeping. Hunger and fatigue had taken a toll on her. When she’d collapsed in the dust, crying pitifully, Jardaine had no choice but to stop and let the girl rest. At the back of the crevice the girl would be safe from a surprise attack by the creatures; and if Jardaine heard their slithering, shifting movements, or smelled their foul, meaty odor, there were several spells she could try that might stop them in their tracks. For one, there was that spell she had used to create the image of a monster in the minds of the palace guards who’d tried to arrest her in Helfratheim. Jardaine was good at projecting thoughts into the minds of others, especially fearful minds. The monsters didn’t seem like the fearful type, though.
Then there was the spell that brought down the roof of the passageway when Nick was being devoured. She would use that spell if she had to, though it might be dangerous for her and the girl at such close quarters. Beyond that, there was the spell she’d learned in the palace of He
lfratheim—the one she’d used to knock out the guards outside Prashta’s sleeping quarters. It had worked on Nick, too, when she’d tried it on him in the Techmagicians’ labs.
Of course, if it came down to survival, Jardaine knew she could change herself into a chameleon and scurry away while the monsters ate Becky. She yawned. She was so terribly tired! A few hours beyond the Gates of Vattar and she’d be refreshed and ready to proceed; if only she dared to risk falling asleep. She felt the throb of the Seed from within her Huldu. The thing had great power, to be sure. And then, somehow, the thought occurred to her that the Seed was what was making her so tired, that it was tapping her strength.
Suddenly the image of Nick appeared in her mind. Poor Nick, she thought for a brief moment. She’d treated him so unkindly, and all he had ever wanted was to be close to her. Jardaine quickly got ahold of herself. Of course, what Nick had really wanted was some of her power and prestige, such as it was. His death had been his own fault. If he hadn’t been so clumsy and weak, he never would have been eaten by the monsters, and Jardaine would now be that much closer to real glory, timeless adoration, and, dare she say it, worship. Aye, she thought, generations will worship me for what I’m about to do.
There was a sound, not far away. Someone talking. It wasn’t the smooth, mocking sound of the creatures; it was the sound of … a Troll. Was she dreaming? Imagining things? Jardaine held her breath, every muscle in her body tingling in attention. The sound became clearer as it got closer. Praise the Goddess! She peered carefully over the edge of the stone and upward along the wide corridor. There was a dim light, growing brighter and brighter. She thought she could make out three voices. Then she saw, in the distance, a Human boy, an Elf, and a Troll.
Jardaine’s mind raced: what to do, what to do? Praise the Goddess. She had to get Tomtar away from the others. He was already trailing up the rear. Before the three got any closer, she thought, she’d plant the image of the monsters in Tomtar’s mind. Or, maybe, first she would cast the spell that would make the Troll mute, in case he called for help and alerted the other two to stop and turn around. Yes, that was it! Praise the Goddess. Steal the Troll’s voice, make him think one of the hideous snake things was between him and his friends, so he would fall back. Then, once the Human and the Elf were past the crevice where she hid, Jardaine would bring down the roof of the tunnel on them and crush them to a pulp. Tomtar would belong to her, and she would have her Troll to complete the journey and plant the Seed. Praise the Goddess. It was a lot to do, in very little time.
Tomtar paused to adjust his pack again. He had a blister on his shoulder where the strap rubbed. “You know, I think those packs we had back in Argant were the best of all. They had canvas straps, and the zippers on the side pockets were—”
He felt something odd, like a breeze brushing across his face. Tomtar realized his lips were moving, but no sound came out. He tried to cough; maybe it was all the dust down here that had blocked his throat. But no, he could breathe just fine. He took a step forward, hoping to catch up with Matt and Tuava-Li and tell them something was wrong. Then his eyes caught movement in the shadows to his left. When he spun his head around to see what it was, a hideous snake thing was there, grinning at him. Tomtar froze in his tracks. He tried to cry out, but it was as if his voice had been stolen. He couldn’t utter a sound, not even a gasp. He dashed a few paces to the right, but the thing with the grotesque head of an Elf and the body of an enormous snake was there, right in front of him. He turned to the left, but there it was again! He blinked, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him. But everywhere he looked, the awful thing was there.
Matt and Tuava-Li didn’t notice that Tomtar had fallen behind. They trudged ahead, moving ever downhill in the glow of the Fire Sprite, when there was an eerie rumbling sound from above. Matt cringed. “Is it more of those roots pulling out of the rock?” he asked.
“Nooo,” said Tuava-Li, “’tis too close! I don’t like it; the rumbling worries me. We’ve got to keep moving!”
Now there was a distinct grinding sound, like jaws of stone. Broken shards of rock began falling from above. “Owwww,” Matt cried, as something struck his forehead. He brushed at his hair and felt Blood, and dust and stone began raining down.
A crack opened up above them. Bigger rocks began to tumble from the aperture. A boulder crashed, and then another. “Tomtar, come on!” Matt spun around and was surprised to see that his friend wasn’t keeping up. “Hurry up, we’ve got to get ahead of this thing, we’ve got to—”
As a cloud of dirt and debris struck him in the face Matt thought he saw a grinning figure staring at him from a crack in the rock wall. It wasn’t Tomtar; it was an Elf. And as he charged ahead, stumbling over Tuava-Li and pushing her to safety at the intersection of another corridor, just as the roof of the tunnel collapsed, he realized whom he’d seen. It was the monk, Jardaine.
Before the dust had even settled Jardaine leapt from the crevice, her Kolli held high. She was operating on sheer willpower now; the use of so much magick, so quickly, had cost her terribly. She was also beginning to think that the Seed was dangerous, and that she should try to keep it away from her body. Heart pounding, she made her way over heaps of fallen rocks and boulders to where Tomtar lay. He was facedown in the dirt, immobile, when she grabbed his shoulders and tried to turn him over. I’m so weak, she thought, unable to budge him. She looked helplessly at her own hands and wondered where she’d find the strength to go on.
A cough came from the crevice. “What happened, Astrid?” Becky cried, covering her mouth, and coughing again. “Are you all right?”
Becky was still more asleep than awake when she saw the figure sprawled amid the refuse on the dirty floor. There was dust in her eyes, sharp and stinging. She blinked, realizing they weren’t alone. Could it be—no, the figure was too little to be Matt. She leapt from the crevice and crossed the corridor. “Look who we’ve caught,” Jardaine said wearily. “Part of the ceiling collapsed, and he got trapped here. Quickly, child, help me tear a strip of cloth from his jacket. We must tie his hands with it, so he won’t be able to hurt us when he awakens!”
Becky helped Jardaine bind Tomtar’s wrists. He lay stunned in the dust, unable to speak, and senseless from the barrage of rocks that had fallen on him. Jardaine was certain that Matt and Tuava-Li had been crushed in the collapse of the passageway. Now all she had to do was find her way back to the Cord, proceed to the end, and plant the Seed. A sound brought Jardaine out of her thoughts. She realized Becky was whimpering. “What’s wrong, child? Aren’t you glad that we’ve caught one of your enemies?”
“But where’s Matt?” she asked. “Where’s Tuava-Li? Do you think anything happened to them? They should be with Tomtar! Maybe they got smashed by all these boulders! Maybe they … the snakes …”
Becky was choking on dust and her own sobs. Tomtar was coming around; he managed to sit up, despite the fact that his hands were bound. His eyes went wide when he saw Becky with Jardaine. But he couldn’t say a word, he couldn’t utter a syllable. He was terrified, too, that the hideous snake creatures were still nearby. His eyes darted around, looking for any sign of movement among the fallen rocks. Becky stared him in the face. “Where’s my brother?” she cried accusingly. “Talk to me! You think you and your Elf friend can kill Matt, so you can plant your Seed and get famous? You won’t get away with it, Tomtar. Astrid and I came halfway around the world to stop you!”
Tomtar’s eyes bulged. Who was Astrid? He shook his head and mouthed the word no, but it was no use. It was clear that Becky hated him, and somehow she thought he was in on a plot to kill her brother. Tuava-Li had never told him about the real plan, so he was completely befuddled. He knew that Jardaine was up to no good, but why? Tomtar’s gaze went from Jardaine to Becky and back again, pleading, imploring, but he could not make a sound. He wanted to tell them about the monsters, too, so they could all escape before the creatures came back. “Why don’t you talk?” Becky cried. “Why don’t
you tell me what you’re doing? Aren’t you ashamed of what you’ve done, after you pretended to be our friend?” Becky grabbed Tomtar by the collar of his jacket. “Tell me! Tell me!”
There was a low groan from the rocks in the ceiling. Little pieces of stone fell like drops of dirty rain. Something rumbled, deep, yet not so far away. “Enough, dear one,” Jardaine said in a soothing voice, as her eyes anxiously scanned the ceiling. She brushed some of the dirt and broken pebbles from Becky’s hair as they stood beside the bewildered Troll. “Now that this tunnel’s collapsed, we must find another way back to the Cord. Let’s grab our things. We’ll take the Troll along with us.”
“But—but shouldn’t we look for Matt?” Becky asked. “Since Tomtar was here, Matt and Tuava-Li have to be nearby!”
Jardaine put on a pained smile. “The Troll could tell us, if he wanted. But it appears he’s not interested in cooperating! Come, we really ought to leave.”
Once again Becky grabbed Tomtar by the shoulders. “Where are they?” she pleaded. “You have to tell us where they are!”
Tomtar turned his head toward the wall of fallen rock. He would have gestured with his hands; he would have pantomimed what had happened. He wanted to tell Becky that she was wrong. He wanted to tell his friend that Jardaine was her real enemy, and this was all part of some bizarre plot to—to what? It made no sense. Tomtar struggled to his feet. Jardaine struck him with the back of her hand, and he fell back against a boulder.
Jardaine steadied herself against the wall; fatigue came over her like a fog. She knew that the spell she’d placed on Tomtar was going to wear off before long, and he’d be able to talk again. It was imperative to get to the heart of the Underworld before the Troll was able to tell Becky the truth. She had to get back to the Cord, and soon it would be too late. “This is getting us nowhere,” she said. “He refuses to talk because he knows whatever lies he tells will only get him into more trouble. We’ll go back the way we came and listen for sounds. Perhaps the other two went down another passage. We’ll find them, don’t worry!”