by K R Sanford
“I was thinking the same thing,” said Marco. “John, will that scanner of yours give us a cross-section of the mountain?”
“It could,” replied the Chief, “if l could pick up a signal from the outside.”
Rumblings sounded back at the cavern entrance.
“They're clearing away the entrance,” said Marco. “John, if you can get a recording of that. We'll analyze the sound waves later.”
“Right,” The Chief pulled off his pack and tore at the top flap. He produced the scanner and recorded the explosions at the entrance. The explosions were happening too quickly for anyone to think. Marco and William got knocked off their feet. They lay in the middle of the cavern. The rumblings grew louder and louder. The Chief pushed another button on the scanner. “Got it,” he said.
Marco was on all fours with William. “Good,” he said.
“Yeah, good,” William replied. “Now, don't you think it would be a good idea if we got the hell out of here?”
Marco smiled. “Sure,” he said. He picked up the scanner, stuffed it back in the Chief's pack, and glanced at William for a final order. William said nothing. He slapped the Chief's shoulder and said, “Let's get the hell out of here.”
They took off on a run. They did not slow for a hundred yards. Then, holding their pace to a steady trot, they breathed easier.
The air in the tunnel was warm and the smell of fresh-turned soil and horses lingered. The road was clear of rocks and made well for a downhill run. The Chief kept the pace strong and steady. Their steps shuffled long and hard against the packed road. They drifted together in a single step.
They were making good time. The rumbling back up the tunnel faded into muffled thuds. Their steps brought home the soberness of their plight. For the sake of the strong run, no one willing to break the cadence or miss a step. They were moving as one entity in the dark. The troop of four might have reached a new dimension, except for the centurion flickering up ahead.
He was like a candle in an ancient tomb. His image of the two-headed cherub with brandished sword paralyzed the troop. Faragorn pranced in the path of the oncoming warriors.
Gonquin cried out as he had on Shrine Lake Road, “Hi-yo, hi-yo.”
“Hi-yo,” shouted William.
The troop of four came upon Gonquin and Faragorn quicker than the expected. It was an effort to stop. The Chief set his crystal lamp on low. Marco put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. William held his side and was asking Gonquin about the others. Balrug was whispering sweet nothings in Faragorn's ear.
Marco pulled out the scanner from the Chief's backpack. He set it on the ground and reset the memory for the recording of the entrance.
“John, will you run a diagnostic?” said Marco. “Bring up a cross section for a two hundred yard radius.”
“Sure thing, Marco,” The Chief went to work. Within seconds a holograph appeared over the scanner in three-dimensions. The projection outlined the tunnel underneath Shrine Mountain.
“Here's an interesting spot,” he said. “It’s a hundred yards down and nothing but marshes above. It should come down in one piece, two hundred yards of tunnel sealed.”
“Let's hope you're right,” replied Marco. Marco turned to the silver cloaked rider. “Gonquin, we're going to seal the tunnel. We'll have to find another way out after that.”
“What you must do, you must do now, look.” Gonquin pointed back up the tunnel.
“A light shines,” replied Balrug.
“They've broken through,” said Marco. “Let's move out.”
They jogged another hundred yards then came to a halt. Marco loaded the cross-caster and turned to the Chief. “John, recheck our position and set your sidearm on overload.”
“Ready,” said John.
Marco reached for John's sidearm. “I'll take that, John,” he said, “You better get going. This is a one man deal.”
John hesitated then set the crystal lamp next to Marco. “Anywhere along here will bring two hundred yards of tunnel down on the road.”
Marco looked to John. “Clear everyone out, John.”
The Chief turned and trotted down the tunnel road after the others.
Marco watched as the darkness swallowed them whole. He checked the safety on his cross-caster then knelt and listened. The tunnel was quiet. The smell of rich earth was thick.
Horse dung stuck to his boot: “Stepped in half of it.” His mind raced from one thought to another. “Wait for the machine;” he told himself. “No one's there. Stay calm, steady, Oh crud!” He shook a glob of dung off his boot. “These horse turds are everywhere. They're not coming, no vehicle. They're waiting. That's it. No! What are they up tooinfrared? Crap! I can't breathe in all this shit!”
Marco pushed the trigger on the Chiefs sidearm. He stuck it between two rocks in the tunnel wall. He waited until the overload siren reached a high-pitched wail.
“Oh, I can't stand that sound,” said the Chief. “It's like someone clawing at the outer bulkhead on re-entry.”
William cringed. “What an annoying sound,” he said. “But, I suppose that's the idea.”
“Looks like he's coming,” said John. “He slipped the cross-caster over his shoulder and he's picking up the lamp.”
“I can hear him,” said William. “He's not going to make it. He's got too much ground to cover. His steps are too far away!”
Without warning, Gonquin and Faragorn were on a gallop up the tunnel. “Hurry, Captain, climb up.” Gonquin released his foot from the stirrup and Marco was up. Faragorn leaped and a moment later they were with the others running down the road looking for cover.
The shrill wail of the power cell hit critical, “Brace your selves!” yelled the Chief.
They froze in the middle of the road. Their hands covered the sides of their heads. A flash of light was everywhere. A loud blast erupted. Clouds of dust thundered through the tunnel, engulfing everything in sight. Gonquin and Faragorn, stunned by the explosion, feared the worst. They peered through the dust and dirt. A mountain of soil and rock came down a few yards from where they were standing.
“A little more mountain came down than you thought, huh, Chief?” said Balrug.
The holograph came to life once again over the scanner. The Chief pointed to the collapsed section. “No, that's about right,” he said. “We could have moved quicker, I suppose.”
“Humph,” grunted Balrug shaking the dirt off his cloak.
William brushed the dirt from his cloak and stomped his feet. Marco shook the dirt from his hair and spat mud out his mouth, which landed on William’s boot.
William turned to the Chief and said, “You could have brought us in a little farther.”
“Yeah, I know. But hey guys, we're alone now,” said the Chief. “The holograph shows the marches dropping straight like I said. I could have been wrong, sure, so what?”
“So, good, Chief,” said Balrug with a disgusted look on his face, still picking dirt from his beard. “Good for you. Do you want to join the others?”
Sealed from the outside world, the four marched on trying to regain their senses. The only direction that remained was straight into the bowels of Ameda.
“What now,” asked John?
“I don't know about you, John,” replied Marco, “I'm dead tired. I'm going to find the first hole I come to and crawl into it.”
“You might take that shell out of the cross-caster first,” said John. “If it went off, it would be another bad event by human.”
“I hope Bradley got his bad event,” replied Marco.
“He has spare engines, Marco,” said John. “Their ship will set down around here somewhere then it's only a matter of time before they come after us again.”
“Think positive, John,” replied Marco.
Balrug and William looked to each other for a sign of reassurance. They walked ahead while John continued.
“Think positive?” said John. “The Corsi Star System was a nice place before Bradley'
s Elite moved in. I took Ameda on as my home, Marco. I've been here now for seven years. Don't forget that. I don't like this attack!”
Marco could see outrage flare on John's face. “Point taken,” he replied. “We're all tired.”
“Point taken, you say. Tired? This is my home!” shouted John. “I left a collection of viewing cubes up there dating back thirteen hundred years. I make more discoveries in the Shrine every day. Plus, I want to tell you, I like the Vallians.”
“I like them too, John,” said Marco. “You say you make discoveries in the Shrine everyday: What do you make of Legion's Riddle?”
“Okay.” John took a breath and collected his thoughts. “In a way it's a game, but well, a very serious game considering the probable outcome.”
In a whisper Marco questioned, “Probable outcome?”
“Such as the riddle and the marble, as I understand it,” replied John. “These are tools to help the Vallians. That means; anyone in the psychic sea, or for anyone in the universal consciousness. The sea is a map to where you want to go in the universe, as well as in one’s personal consciousness. It’s a map to one's past, present and future. “
Marco replied. “There is nothing more tragic than having a tool like that available and not being able to use it.”
John pointed at William. “William showed the greatest promise. Pawdell tells me he has the power to levitate. I've seen him move the stars but when I come close to the table he stops.”
“Is that a fact?” said Marco. “William, you are hiding your talents. Why is that? You don't appear to me to be afraid of too many things around here.”
“It's late, Captain,” replied William. “And we are all too tired to get into this thing.” Pain strained William's voice. He sighed. “If you don't mind, in the morning, okay?”
Balrug chimed in. “It's the Village, Captain. They respect William. If he has something they don't have, he doesn't know. The Amedans will demand more from him, make him leader of all people, something like that.”
“I understand,” replied Marco. “Some other time we'll talk. That's if we get out of this mess.”
William shot a glance at Marco. “Think positive, Captain,” he said.
Marco chuckled. “Very well, William.” Turning his attention to Chief Spierd he said, “John, would you be good enough to run some tests with your scanner? See if you can locate anything that might lead us to the Amedans.”
“Will do,” replied John. “But on this run, we will be lucky if we can keep up with the Vallians.”
They walked in silence.
John thought of a program that would run a series of tests by itself. Plus, add energy sources and plot changing features or approaching objects.
Marco spoke into the air as if making his requests known to the gods of the underworld. “A nice soft pile of Amedan dirt would do me good right about now. Three or four hours of undisturbed sleep; that’s what I need, without these weapons grating on my ass.”
William raised his chin. He dropped back to where Marco was communing with the forces of darkness. His tenor voice whispered low and hoarse.
“What's up?” he said.
“Something wrong with your voice?” asked Marco.
“My throat is scratchy from the grit in this tunnel,” replied William.
“I talk to myself, William,” said Marco. “Where are the others were?”
“We turn down to the river camp in another mile,” replied William. “The best spots get taken early. Tildanfin's camp will give us bedrolls. Saralil will have some cakes. The horsemen and the mountain folk will be downriver a ways.”
“The river?” replied Marco.
“The river flows to the center of Ameda,” said William. “We will continue down that way on horseback tomorrow. When we get to the runway, we will go on foot.”
“William,” Marco lowered his voice. “I hope this doesn't sound funny. I get the feeling were being watched?”
“No, Captain,” whispered William, “It's not funny. But we're not watched. Things that live in the dark don't use their eyes.”
“No, but our light,” replied Marco. “They can see us for miles.”
“For miles?” replied William. “Captain, you are anxious about things you cannot see. Use you're hearing. Use your sense of smell. Feel the temperature in the air. Taste the moisture. Most of all, Captain, breathe steady, feel the elements move through your nose.”
Marco tried to walk with a steady breath to smell the scent of air and hear the sounds distorted by the tunnel. I’m getting nauseous,” he said.
“So am I,” replied William. “Put it together, Captain. You will see with your mind and I can tell you something about that.”
“What's that?” said Marco.
“Appelo, that’s an Amedan. He is for perception. Seeing with pictures is his discipline. I needed to see once again after the translator got placed in my shoulder. I could not concentrate too well. No, I could not concentrate at all. I was too weak. An enemy poisoned my blood. I got tired all the time. My nerves failed me. I had body spasms, and I was feverish for months on end. It felt as if I had a rock growing in my shoulder. Then, the Amedan translator neutralized the poison but I could not use my sight. When my sight finally returned, I could only see as if through a dark glass. There was nothing the Amedans could do to improve my eyesight.”
“You got injected by a powerful designer toxin,” replied Marco.
“Yes, well,” answered William, “there is a shamanic loop, cells that plan to cripple the victim. The toxin lives in the host and carries the mutation to new cells.”
“That's hideous,” replied Marco.
“Hideous, yes,” said William. “But I am alive and with Appelo's help. I learned to free associate colors with my imagination. My own vision of what the world around me looks like.
I learned to use the color blue from memory, Captain. I kept experiencing that color until I saw the sky in my mind. My other senses became more acute. I became entranced by the taste of wind. I can feel shadows on my skin and the scent of trees blowing cool from the hilltops.
A new world has formed around me and new sensations quicken my being. Now, I can tell you about the rocks to the left and the rocks to the right. I can hear their shapes and sizes, the dense rock and spongy soil. I can smell the dirt above in the tunnel. I can smell the trail of a hundred horses and the food wagons up ahead. And I can taste the perfume roots in the air and the pungent stench of Gork on the tip of my tongue.
But, we are quite alone, for now. When we turn right up here, we will descend into the camp of the Vallians. The sound of shuffling feet will be everywhere.”
Marco ran his hand over the top of his head. He was seeing William in a new light. “I don't know what to say,” he said. “You are blind right now but more aware of the things around you than the Vallians.”
William cocked his head in amazement. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I assumed you understood. Everyone in the village knows me, and accepts me as I am.”
Marco turned to the Chief for his reaction. He received an unemotional, “Amazing.”
“Well, I thought it was,” replied Marco. Then, leaving the Chief to his private thoughts, continued. “William, how did you know we have a mile until the turn off?”
William yawned. “Captain Miller,” he said. “Try this one for yourself this time. Do you smell the sulfur and the humid pockets of air? Do you hear the high-pitched sound of moving water? Put a picture of the tunnel in your mind. See the turn-off after the road that dips into the cool, moist spring-bed.”
“I can smell the sulfur,” replied Marco. “If you're saying you have a picture a mile down this tunnel, I'll have to take your word for it.”
“Suit yourself then.” William's voice grew impatient. “It's been a long night, Captain.”
“Yes, a very long night,” rejoined the Chief
They walked along without a word. The Chief went back to checking the best way to reprogram his scan
ner. The Captain strained to hear sounds in the tunnel. He sniffed the air and stuck out his tongue trying to figure out what the shape of a rock tastes like. William thought about the slight stench of Gork passing on the tip of his nose. Balrug walked ahead leading the pack down the tunnel road to the Grand Ballroom.
They reached the place where the road dipped in the moist spring-bed. The air felt cool and Marco waved his nose around like a love sick hound. William broke the silence with a chuckle.
“Captain, if you want to start your sense of smell, you can pass air in and out of your nose. Your nose will water then you can take in the scents. Try to pick out the different smells and picture what it is.”
“I’ll try that, “ said Marco, “Thank you.”
Gonquin and Faragorn were waiting on the other side of the spring-bed. Faragorn danced as the four approached. Gonquin held the glowing sword, Raven. “It is nine o' clock,” he announced. “We will meet at six o'clock at Tildanfin's camp after you have rested. Do you need anything?”
They waved him on with tired hands. They watched as Gonquin and Faragorn turn and galloped down the road to the river camp.
C H A P T E R 6
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The Grand Ballroom
As the troop of four departed the tunnel, the Chief turned off his lamp. The tunnel came to life with illumination from the larger room ahead. The four trekked on until they came to a rise. They stood looking at a ribbon of green fluorescence moving through an open cavern.
On either side of the river the Vallians pitched their tents. A dozen small boats got pulled up on shore. Across the river more boats sat. Stacks of firewood lined the beach for as far as the eye could see.
Half a mile down river, a long stretch of white sand covered the bank. The horses played and drank from the green fluorescent waters. Stacks of hay, oats and barley separated the river from the horsemen's tents. Fine wooden arbors stood in the open. Seats had been dug into the banks to form an underground theater. Marco gazed in wonder at the village retreat as the four marched into the camp.