by Brindi Quinn
Nyte ran forward to help.
“Maybe it’s locked,” said Kantú, disappointed.
But the statement was immediately countered. Just then, the heavy door finally released and swung open. Nyte and Grotts fell backward from the impact, and the angel stone flew out of its groove, rolled off the island’s edge and into the mud.
As it sank into the mire, it let out a strange hiss.
Paying the hiss no mind, we inched toward the door and peered inside. The outside light illuminated a narrow spiral of stone steps leading downward.
“A staircase?” said Kantú.
It wasn’t a hidden treasure, but Nyte’s face looked as though we’d discovered something way more precious.
“Is this . . . ?” he muttered in awe.
“Is this what?” I prodded, but he just continued to stare, mouth agape, until he suddenly ran to his tent.
When he returned, he was carrying a worn map, but it wasn’t the one Scardo had been using. Rather, it was one of the ones Elder Pietri had given us to study in Yh’tak.
He flattened it out and examined it for a moment. Then he gestured to the door. “I think I know what this is. This could one of the entrances of the Orolian Tunnel.”
Grotts rubbed his chin, confused. “But the Orolian Tunnel was closed off at the time ‘o the Druelcan treaty, wasn’t it?”
“I think we just uncovered it. Look here.” Nyte pointed to the map where there was a thin line running from the elder village of Sredna to the southeastern corner of the Westerlands.
Grotts nodded.
“I suppose it could be,” said Scardo, examining the map with caution. “If it were intact, we could shave days off of our journey.”
Rend perked up at the information.
“What’s the Orolian Tunnel?” I wondered.
Nyte looked up from the map. “Remember when I told you about the leaders of the races meeting every decade? They would travel the Orolian Tunnel to avoid certain dangers.”
“Is it possible it’s still intact?” I asked.
“There is no way of knowing,” answered Nyte, “but if it were completely intact, we might be able to take it all the way to Yes’lech undetected.”
The thought of avoiding the remaining trudge through the mud was tantalizing, and the idea of a secret passage implanted in me a sense of adventure.
“Alright! Let’s check it-”
But I was interrupted by a hungry-eyed Rend.
“If it will take time off of our journey, we should use it!”
Now she wants to explore it? Typical.
“I’m afraid I cannot allow that,” protested Scardo. “If there is a chance of danger, then the Pure Heart should not go. It is vital that she remain safe!”
“Oh, no, don’t worry about me. I’m pretty sturdy!” I flexed my arm to make a point, but since I was actually quite puny, it probably only served to make him more anxious.
I hated being a liability. I really hated it.
Nyte eyed my puny muscle with a grin, but shook his head and said, “Scardo is correct. We should not chance such a thing. I apologize for getting lost in the moment.” He folded the map.
Rend started to scowl, but stopped when a low hissing intruded the air.
Puzzled, I peered over the edge of the island and into the mud where the angel stone had fallen. But what I saw made me recoil, for in its place was a large black mass bubbling beneath the mud’s surface.
“What is that?” I cried.
Kantú peeked over my shoulder and yelped.
The black thing, whatever it was, was spreading out and quickly filling the mud around the island.
“Get back!” Nyte jumped in front of us just as the mud level started to rise.
“Did the stone do this?!” I yelled, grabbing Kantú. “But how?!”
“I do not know.” Nyte stared at the mud. He was astonished. Crazed. The muck was pushing against the base of the island and creeping steadily upward. A fleck of the stuff sprayed his arm. He let out a cry. “Ah! It is like acid!”
It was like acid, for it had burned right through his skin.
“Quickly, pack the things,” said Scardo. He readied his bow and shot into the black muck, but the mud level didn’t falter. Instead, it swelled upon absorbing the arrow.
I gave Kantú’s collar a tug, and together we raced to tear down the tents and pack the supplies.
Rend shot a flash of red light at the thing, but it absorbed her light the same way it had the arrow, appearing to leech off her power and growing even more.
“What is this sorcery?!” she shrieked. “It seeks to swallow the entire rock mass!”
She was right. The mud level reached the height of the plateau and started to spill over the edges of the island. From there, the sludge crept inward. The black thing continued to circle the island and bubble violently.
We all backed away from the edges and crowded around the jutting rock. We too would get eaten if this continued.
“What should we do?!” I yelled, hands shaking. If the thing had absorbed Rend’s spell, then it would definitely absorb mine!
“The tunnel!” bellowed Grotts. “We have’ta use the tunnel!”
We had no choice. It was almost like the stone wanted us to go down there.
I edged to the staircase and peered into the darkness. I’d wanted to descend before, but it was different now that we wouldn’t be able to leave the same way. It didn’t seem so adventurous anymore.
This tunnel was either going to be our salvation or our tomb.
What should we do?!
You were able to open the door.
There might be danger down there!
But the stone let you open the door; it’s urging you to follow through!
“Let us go!” Nyte wasn’t put-off by the darkness in the least. He grabbed my arm and jerked me in after him.
The muck hungrily seeped toward the open door in pursuit, angry that we were getting away.
In a flash, Grotts seized Kantú and threw her in behind us. Rend and Scardo were soon to follow. They grabbed the packs, and ignoring the mud that licked at their ankles, raced to the door and flung themselves through. Grotts was last in. Not a moment too soon and with a mighty heave, he pulled the door shut behind him, narrowly escaping the acid-like monster.
We were engulfed in darkness.
Though it was muffled by our panting, the sound of the mud’s angry hissing on the other side of the door was a reminder of how close we had been to our demise.
Too close.
“We made it,” I whispered.
“What was that?” said Grotts breathlessly; but it was no use asking. We were all equally distressed and confused at the stone’s effect on the mud.
I sang a light orb into existence, and we descended the stairs one by one, still struggling to catch our breath.
~
The staircase went down much farther than expected. It took us down past mud level and deep into the ground. The steps were uneven, and I found myself stumbling forward every so often and grabbing onto various members of the party for support.
Out of all of us, Grotts looked particularly uncomfortable in the cramped passage. He descended sideways, his shoulders too broad to fit in the small, winding space. Kantú didn’t fare much better. Her large tail got in the way with each turn.
Was this preferable to the mud’s trudge? I wasn’t so sure yet.
“Watch it, Havoc!” hissed Rend as I yet again slipped on a loose rock, staggered, and grabbed her arm for support.
“Sorry!”
“Honestly! Sapes are so clumsy!” She gingerly leaped down two steps at a time to prove her superiority.
Kantú stuck out her tongue at the Elf’s fleeting back.
We traveled downward for what seemed like an eternity until Rend, who was now several steps ahead of the rest of us, reached the bottom.
“Nyte, I have found something.” Her voice echoed against the stone walls.
B
ut my ‘clumsiness’ would delay me for several minutes from finding out if the something was good or bad.
When I finally reached the last step, the light from my song revealed a small, dust-coated room. It was empty aside from a decaying wooden cot in the back corner containing fragments of cloth that had once been a blanket. The air was thick and cool, and stained with a musty smell that reminded me of the library in Farellah. Strange symbols akin to the ones from the door littered the walls of the shabby ‘dwelling’ . . . if it could be called such.
“Did someone really live here?” I asked, baffled as to what sort of person would want to live underground without the company of the moon and sun.
Unless . . .
My mind raced back to the story of Lusafael. The angel had lived in the Mud Sea for five centuries. Could the strange symbols be angelic? Nyte had said they were ancient . . . .
No, that was just a legend, and even if it were true, it’d taken place at the beginning of the world. There was no way the remnants could have survived . . . Right?
Still, it was pretty unusual.
“It does appear to be some kind of living space,” said Nyte, studying the destroyed cot.
“Who’d wanna live ‘ere?” asked Grotts. “It’s so small!”
Though arguably, the room was much smaller with such a large man inside.
Scardo, practical as he was, examined the room a bit before concluding, “If this is the Orolian Tunnel, this could be a rest spot for travelers.”
Right. The explanation made far more sense than my angel’s dwelling theory.
“If this is the Orolian Tunnel, then where’s the tunnel?” asked Kantú. Her question induced panic in me when I realized that the room didn’t actually appear to have an exit. I scanned the quarters, growing more anxious the longer it remained unanswered.
Are we trapped? What if we can’t get out? We’ll die here!
But then:
“Here.” For once, Rend’s voice, though stern, was comforting. She pointed to a small opening hidden in the shadows just behind the staircase.
“Phew!” Grotts chuckled and wiped his beading forehead with the back of his hand.
Scardo inspected the opening, brushing away thick spider webs, and poked his long neck into the darkness.
“Miss Heart, if you wouldn’t mind?”
I walked the orb over to him, also swatting at the dust-covered webs, and allowed its light to fill up the small space. When it did, Scardo’s mouth curled into a smile.
“We are extremely lucky,” he said.
I peeked through the hole and was greeted by a vast stone tunnel stretching in two directions. It was as Scardo had said; the room was a pit stop along a much longer route.
The group had been tense since our narrow escape from the mud, but at Scardo’s news, the energy shifted. Our likelihood of being ‘all right’ had just increased dramatically.
Kantú let out a whoop.
I stepped through the hole to get a better look, and Grotts shuffled in behind me. The space in the tunnel was much more accommodating for his stature.
That was when I saw that the walls of the tunnel were slick. Slicker than slick. It was unexplainable, but they seemed to not have suffered any corrosion through the years, appearing even polished.
“This is crazy!” My voice split and echoed hauntingly down both directions of the tunnel. Though eerie, it was a good sign that we weren’t blocked in . . . at least not yet.
Nyte inspected the floor. He pinched a bit of earth between his fingers. “The ground here is much softer than is to be expected at our depth. They must have removed all of the rocky earth when they dug the tunnel.”
When they dug?
“But who could dig something like this?” I asked. “And with what power?”
I tried to imagine how many spade-wielding men it would take to accomplish the task. A LOT, and that didn’t even explain the sleek stone walls.
Scardo fidgeted at the question. The orb lit the room only dimly, but I was able to catch the sideways glance he shot Grotts. Rend and Kantú were still in the dusty room, so they didn’t see it, but Nyte’s did, and his eyes flickered in response. Nonetheless, he continued to examine the dirt.
“Well, er.” Grotts seemed to be thinking hard about something. “Miners, mostly.”
“But how?”
I’d heard that miners were masters of rock, able to construct large structures out of mortar bricks and able to use polished obsidian stones or silver-coated glass to make mirrors, but this wasn’t brick or mirror; it was pure uncut stone, stories below the earth.
“How did it get like this?”
Grotts eyed Nyte’s back uneasily and then locked eyes with Scardo. Why was my inquiry so uncomfortable for them? It was only an honest question.
Yet, when Grotts finally looked at me, he refused to meet my eyes.
“I dunno,” he said, staring instead at my feet.
Is that so? It was obviously a lie. I raised a skeptical brow.
Nyte snickered but said nothing.
I don’t get it.
Grotts and Scardo clearly didn’t want to discuss the matter in front of Nyte, but why? They’d gotten along fairly well and had even included him in much of the decision-making. What did it matter since Nyte seemed to be in on the secret already anyway?
When I thought about it, I started to get mad. They were treating me like a child, and even though I was childish by nature, that didn’t mean that I wasn’t capable of handling the truth!
Scardo noticed my annoyance.
“Ahem,” he said, “there are people at the society headquarters that may be able to explain it to you. I apologize that we cannot be of more help.” He bowed low, but I had a sinking feeling it was to avoid eye contact more so than an expression of courtesy.
I looked back at Nyte, who was now shaking his head, one corner of his mouth slightly curved. I found the expression strange, but I wouldn’t have time to decipher it because he stood and interrupted the awkward moment with an enormous sigh.
“Well,” he said, brushing his hands together to remove the dirt, “we should not tarry here. Should we not move on?”
“Er, yeah,” said Grotts, looking sheepish.
Scardo only nodded, still bowed low.
Nyte popped his head back into the dusty room and called for Rend and Kantú.
Kantú’s tail was sooty gray when she scooted through the hole behind Rend, having unwantedly attracted much of the room’s dust. She shook out the bushy appendage, and gray specks flittered around her in the air, forming a dust cloud. I wafted it away, but it was too late. Kantú’s ears folded forward, and she let out a great chittering sneeze. The jerking motion only caused more soot to fall from her tail.
“This is ridiculous,” sneered Rend, backing away from Kantú, who was now locked in a vicious cycle of sneezing. “Which way?” She peered down the corridor.
Amidst the twisting stairs I’d lost all sense of direction, but luckily, Scardo and Nyte were both confident. They unanimously pointed down the right-hand tunnel, and Rend took off, shrouding her face in her sleeve to avoid the dust.
I stayed with Kantú and waited for the dust to settle. When it did, she tiptoed away carefully, plugging her nose to avoid another outbreak. We followed after Rend, making much quicker strides now that we didn’t have to combat the mud with each step.
We’d definitely be through the tunnel swiftly. I hoped I could survive under the weight of my song until then.
“Aura?” A now fully composed Kantú poked my arm.
“Hm?”
“I was just thinking about your song. When do you think you’ll be able to release it?” She bit her lip. Concern painted the brims of her gentle brown eyes.
You’re worried too, huh?
“Honestly, I don’t even know if I can now.”
Actually, I’d given the issue a lot of thought. The society was expecting me to deliver the Song of Salvation, but I’d never heard of a
songstress gaining her song outside of the Rite. Was it possible even?
“Well, Elder Pietri said your song was still intact, right?”
“I suppose he did. That’s good at least. If only I knew what was supposed to have happened at the Rite, maybe I could replicate it and urge the song out?”
She nodded. “That would probably work!”
“It’s a relief to know it’s still in there, and I’m glad it’s not broken or anything; I’m just worried that I won’t be able to release it on cue. How can I release it if I don’t even know how it works? I’m completely in the dark.”
Even at the Rite I hadn’t had much confidence in my songstress abilities, but at least I’d had the ritual to depend on. Now I just didn’t know.
“Maybe someone at the Yes’lech place will know how to do it? Don’t worry, Aura. Everything’ll be all right!” She tickled me with her tail, but it only produced the rest of the leftover dust.
I sneezed and Rend glared over her shoulder. In retort, Kantú shook a spiteful fist at the unpleasant Elf’s back.
“Boy, I’d like to swat her with my tail!”
“Heh. Bet you would.” Then I sighed. “Oh, Kantú. How I cherish you.”
I meant it.
“Oh, Lady Heart of our Salvation . . .” Kantú pretended to bend down in worship.
“Hey!” I growled and flicked her ear. “Not you too!”
She chittered uncontrollably.
“Miss Havoc!” Nyte had been scouting ahead to check for blocks in the passageway, but at that moment, his voice came echoing down the cavern. “Drop your light!”
“My light? Why?”
“You will see.”
Scardo swiveled his neck. “I do not think it is wise, Miss Heart-”
But I’d already let the song fall. It felt good to release the weight.
The cavern dimmed as the light disappeared, but it didn’t fade to darkness. There was another light source, a faint purple glow, coming from farther down the corridor.
“Pretty!” Kantú grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the place where Nyte stood.
He looked dreamlike in the dim glow.
Like a warlock or something.
As we neared, I searched the floor around his feet for the light’s source. Then I saw it.