The Survivors aot-2

by Dan Willis

  Then something else caught his eye.

  From deep below he could see an answering glow that pulsed in time with the creature on the surface. As he watched the glow with widening eyes, it grew brighter and brighter and larger and larger until the pulsing thing was longer than the ship.

  “Much,” he hissed. “Kellik.”

  Suddenly the little creature went dark and plunged beneath the water. Bradok strained his eyes to follow it, but the dark water hid it as effectively as a slab of rock. As he stared, a burst of yellow light flashed up from the water. Bradok covered his eyes for a second, startled by the brightness. When he could see better, the light from below revealed a creature similar to the others only impossibly large. One of the monster’s fore-flippers broke the surface and swamped Bradok with its spray.

  Like the small snakelike creature, the gargantuan version rolled over until Bradok was staring into its black, soulless eye. The unblinking eye was easily as big around as a pony keg.

  “What is that … the mother of all these babies?” Kellik asked, clearly shaken.

  “Or the daddy,” Much said, trying for humor.

  A moment later, the eye disappeared and the massive creature vanished below the water. Bradok watched its body flash briefly as it streamed into the depths; then it was gone.

  “New rule,” Rose said in a fearful voice. “No swimming.”

  “Did you see the size of that thing?” Chisul asked. “This lake must be very huge indeed.”

  “Aye,” Much said. “And deep.”

  Bradok swung his leg over the side and dropped back into the bottom of the boat.

  “We might as well get comfortable,” he said, sliding down into a sitting position. “This may be a long journey.”

  After that first encounter with the huge yellow beast, there was only calm and stillness, punctuated by intermittent visits by the glowing creatures. By the third day on the lake, the tension combined with the strange tedium had taken its own toll on the group. An unnatural pall hovered over the survivors. No one spoke or sang or laughed.

  “Something better happen soon, or I’m going to go mad,” Kellik whispered to Bradok as the two of them sat in the front, keeping watch.

  “Well, at least we’re going the right way,” Rose said from nearby.

  “How do you know that?” Bradok asked.

  “Well, I’m an optimist. What choice do we have really?” Rose shrugged. “We might as well assume we’re headed in the right direction.”

  Bradok chuckled, the sound seeming to echo unnaturally through the stillness.

  “We could just as well be drifting in circles,” Chisul scoffed. “Sooner or later we’re going to have to try something other than just sitting here and rotting.”

  “Like what?” Rose asked. “We can’t get off this boat, there’s nothing on board to paddle with, and even if there was, we have no idea which direction is best.”

  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Chisul said sarcastically, lowering his voice, “but the food’s running out, even with rationing. I guess we’ve got three or four more days’ worth, and then we’re going to start starving. I, for one, do not care to watch the children starve.”

  Silence greeted his comment.

  Bradok was worried about the food supply too, though he wasn’t going to admit it. They had about a dozen children with them. At some point they were going to have to try catching one of the glowing creatures and hope word didn’t get back to daddy.

  “He’s right, you know. I think I hear your stomach rumbling from here,” Rose said, looking over at Bradok.

  “That’s not me,” Bradok said, suddenly aware that he, too, heard something different than the eerie silence. As he strained to listen, he figured out what it was: a roaring noise, like rushing water.

  Much grabbed his shoulder and pointed off into the darkness. At the very edge of visibility, a wall of rock emerged into view. In the center, right where the boat was headed, gaped an opening like an immense black maw.

  “Everyone hold on to something!” Bradok cried out as he and Much leaped down to the bottom of the boat.

  All the dwarves burst into action-some grabbing their possessions, others their loved ones-and clutching for something solid to hold on to.

  Bradok had barely managed to grab onto one of the ship’s ribs and link arms with Rose when the ship pitched wildly, entering what seemed to be a dark tunnel. Suddenly they were being swept down and away from the lake at a tremendous speed.

  A thunderous crash shook the boat, and they spun around. The dwarves on board were tossed about like rag dolls as the vessel pitched and rolled and rocked out of control.

  Rose clung to Bradok’s arm, pressing her feet against one of the ribs of the ship to brace herself. Even as they careened through the black unknown, even as he wondered if he would live through that latest calamity, Bradok found himself distracted by the sweet smell of Rose’s hair.

  The ship shuddered again, slamming into something and grinding up and over the obstacle.

  Bradok noticed Kellik. The massive dwarf had pulled Hemmish into his chest and was leaning over the boy, forming a living barrier to protect him. That was dangerous; he wasn’t bracing himself enough. Bradok was about to call out to him when he felt himself suddenly tossed into the air, with the ship falling away beneath him. The sensation of falling lasted only a second before he was slammed into the wooden side of the ship. He could hear wood splintering and water roaring as he was thoroughly doused.

  A gash had been torn in the side of their ship, and water poured in. Before anyone could make a move, however, they struck solid ground with a thud and screeched to a halt. The torn side of the boat was propped up in the air, the water no longer rushing in.

  “We’ve stopped,” Chisul said from somewhere in the tangled mass of bodies back in the center of the boat.

  Bradok pulled Rose to her feet and asked if she’d been hurt. When she shook her head, he left her and moved to examine the boat and the gash in its side. Bradok could see that something had torn a ragged hole across four of the planks that made up the wall of wood. Had they been back in Silas’s shop, it would have been an easy fix. Out in the middle of nowhere, however, it was a fatal wound.

  “She’s served her purpose, lad,” Much said sympathetically, seeing what Bradok saw. He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “Looks like you’re going to get your wish after all, Chisul,” Rose said with a smile. Chisul, looking bedraggled as he stood up, snorted.

  But Bradok nodded appreciatively. “This is the end of the line,” he announced, moving to the opposite side of the boat, where the rail was just above the water line. “Like it or not, we all walk from here.”

  CHAPTER 9

  The Survivors

  The side of the beached ship tilted out just above the wet sand at the edge of the underground river. The smell of mineral water permeated the cool air, giving it a decidedly metallic tang.

  “Grab the lamps,” Bradok said, peering out over the black water.

  Rose unhooked the lamp at one end of the ship and brought it forward. As she climbed up next to Bradok, the light spilled over the side, illuminating a small beach of white sand a few feet away.

  Bradok took the lamp and held it high, looking back over the ship. Beyond, on the far side, he could see the mist kicked up by a waterfall in the distance that he could hear but not see. Black water extended out from the little inlet where the ship had come to rest. A rushing river hurried on past into the impenetrable darkness.

  “Well,” Much asked. “What do you see?”

  “It’s a miracle we’re not all drowned,” Chisul said, wringing the water from his shirt.

  “The good news is there’s a beach here that looks nice and dry,” Bradok said. “Let’s get everyone out.”

  Chisul shot him a sour look then stomped to the rail. “Who elected you leader?” he grumbled.

  “If you have a better suggestion,” Bradok said, “let’s
hear it.”

  Chisul didn’t answer, just jumped over the rail into calf-deep water and slogged his way up to the sand. One by one the survivors of Ironroot made their way out of the waterlogged ship and onto the cool, dry beach.

  “We need to get everyone out of their wet garments and into dry clothes,” Tal said as he made his way onto dry land.

  “There are a few cuts and bruises that will need your attention too, Doctor,” Much said as he limped away from the boat. Dark blood smeared the arm Much held cradled at his side.

  When everyone was out and accounted for, Bradok flopped down on the soft sand. It felt good to stretch out flat again.

  “We made it,” he said quietly. “We’re alive.”

  There was a moment of silence all around. Everyone was thinking of Ironroot, what happened back there, whether anyone could still be alive after all the wholesale destruction.

  Chisul thought of his father, wondering what had become of Silas. Kellik thought of his dead wife. Bradok was thinking of Sapphire, that last pleading look on his mother’s face before her life was extinguished.

  The cool air of the cavern moved and swirled in response to the waterfall and the river. Bradok shivered as it riffled his wet shirt. Tal had been right; they’d all catch their deaths of cold if they didn’t get out of their soaked clothes and into something dry.

  “We need to make a fire,” he said, forcing himself to stand. “Anyone with an axe, head back to the ship and cut some of it up for firewood. Start with the driest wood first.”

  A groan rose up from the dwarves, but several of the stalwarts stood and made their way back to the ship.

  “Everyone else, we need to get everyone into dry clothes. Men, make sure the women and children are taken care of first.”

  He half expected another complaint from Chisul, but Silas’s son was one of the first to stand and begin stripping off his wet clothes. Beside him, two rough-looking dwarves named Vulnar and Jenner were also changing into the driest clothes they had as rapidly as they could. Bradok realized those two stuck pretty close to Chisul, and he wondered absently if they were all three friends. He hoped not; Chisul was already proving a troublemaker.

  He pushed such thoughts from his mind and pulled off his wet clothes, leaving just his pants. Only some of the dwarves had gotten wet when the ship was breached, and it seemed there were enough dry garments to be shared and passed around.

  The sound of axes on wood filled the air, and within ten minutes a modest fire was crackling and popping on the sand.

  Bradok hung his wet items on a makeshift clothesline that the grandmotherly Isirah Anvil had strung between two stalagmites. Then he changed into other clothes from his pack. The fire had warmed the air nicely, and he started to feel like himself again. The trip through the bowels of Krynn in a boat was something he’d never forget, but dwarves as a rule are not fond of seafaring. It felt good to have dry land under his feet again.

  “So where do we go from here?” Much’s voice rose from the far side of the fire.

  “He’s right,” Kellik said, looking around. “We can’t stay here for very long. We’re almost out of food.”

  “There might be some fish in the river,” the rough-looking Halum Ironband said helpfully.

  “I think it’s clear what we have to do,” Chisul stated firmly. “We need to find our way out of here and get back to our people.”

  “That could be the most dangerous thing to do,” the grizzled, one-eyed dwarf said.

  “Dangerous if we succeed and dangerous if we don’t,” Isirah chimed in, clutching the youngest of her grandchildren to her side. “We weren’t made to feel very welcome back in Ironroot, and who knows how much of the place has survived? We could get lost and starve to death.”

  “That isn’t going to happen,” Rose said. “Reorx didn’t lead us down here just to starve. He’ll guide us to safety; I feel it in my bones.”

  “And how is he going to do that?” Chisul asked sarcastically. “Did he leave marks for us to follow or something?”

  “How should I know?” Rose replied with a dazzling smile that was wasted on Chisul. “That’s why it’s called faith.”

  Chisul rolled his eyes, but many of the other dwarves were nodding. Something Rose said tickled Bradok’s memory, though. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the strange brass device that had released the image of Reorx. Since then, Bradok hadn’t opened it; indeed, he had almost forgotten he possessed it. He wondered if it would even open again. But Rose had said that Reorx would provide for them, and she had given him the idea to try it again.

  He put his hand on the hidden catch and pressed. The purple stone on top flared, and the lid swung open. The inside of the device was hollow except for a purple mist that swirled inside it like a miniature cloud.

  Suddenly the mist began to pulse with light. Bradok threw his hands over his eyes but not before his vision swam with purple dots. When it cleared, all the eyes in the cavern were on him. From the top of the open device, another illusion sprang forth.

  It was a tall, slender woman that might be the image of a human, but Bradok couldn’t really tell. She wore a fitted breastplate and an ornate helmet with a plume. The rest of her body was obscured by a long cloak. The cloak and the woman’s inky black hair moved and flowed in a wind that Bradok could not feel. In her right hand, she carried a short spear, and a white bandage covered her eyes.

  “It’s a seer,” Isirah whispered in her wizened voice.

  “A what?” Much asked with trepidation.

  “A seer,” Isirah said louder. “They’re from the old stories, blind guides blessed with the gift of second sight.”

  As if on cue, the seer raised her spear and pointed off into the darkness.

  “I think Rose is right,” Bradok said, finding his voice at last. “We have more than just marks to follow; now we have a guide.”

  “Hear, hear,” Rose said, sticking her tongue out at Chisul. “I guess I wasn’t so wrong after all.”

  Chisul stared daggers at her but said nothing.

  “Enough of this small talk,” Much said, standing up and rubbing his arm while staring worriedly at the female spirit-image that was slowly dissipating. “We’ve got a direction now, so let’s get the supplies unloaded and be about our business.”

  Bradok, Much, Chisul, and the other men who weren’t cutting up the ship for firewood all formed a line and quickly emptied the ship of her cache of supplies. Silas had thought of everything but a rudder, it seemed. There were spare cloaks and water bags, wrapped oilcloth bundles of rations, two long poles with mountings for the glowlamps, a keg of long knives, and a keg of assorted tools.

  By the time they were through hauling everything out, Rose and Tal had already begun handing out the gear. Kellik made sure each dwarf was armed with a knife. Perin was busy showing Hemmish and his brother Rijul how a glowlamp on a pole would attract fish when held over the river.

  Several hours and a dozen fish later, Bradok lay on the sand, feeling better about his prospects than he had in days. The survivors of Ironroot were no longer a ragamuffin band of strangers; they had pulled together, and their hopes and spirits were high. He still wasn’t a believer, but it looked as though Reorx was looking out for them. Between the gear Silas left them and the strange compass, they should be able to make their way to safety.

  The weariness of the past few hours coupled with his full belly pushed Bradok toward sleep. He lay on the sand, rolled in his thick cloak. Sleep should have come easily, but it kept eluding him. With a moment to reflect on everything that had transpired, the reality of his situation began to sink in.

  Ironroot was truly gone.

  His life as a jeweler and councilman was gone. His father and mother were both dead. The future lay before him like a vast, unmarked plain. It seemed like a whole world of opportunities stood before him, just waiting for him to decide which path to take. Just choose the right path … choose … the word kept echoing in his mind as he finall
y drifted off to sleep.

  When Bradok awoke, the cheery orange light of the fire had died, leaving only the pale blue light of the lamps illuminating the cavern. In their unwavering glow, the cavern seemed somehow sinister, like an evil version of itself. He pushed such thoughts from his mind and rose carefully, so as not to wake anyone.

  A few embers glowed among the coals of the fire, inviting him to feed them with fresh wood, which he did. In a few moments, he had a cheery little blaze going.

  “That’s much better,” Rose said, materializing out of the semidarkness on the far side of the fire. “The glowlamps may burn for years without fuel, but their light has always made me feel as if a shadow was hanging over me.”

  Bradok chuckled quietly. “I was thinking the same thing,” he admitted.

  “Still,” she added, turning to look at one of the lamps hanging on the end of a pole that had been thrust into the sand, “I suppose we’d better get used to them. I suspect we have a long walk ahead of us.”

  “I hope it isn’t too long,” he said, poking the fire with a stick. “We’ve only got food for a few days.”

  “Then we’d better get moving soon,” Rose said.

  He nodded, looking around at the still, sleeping forms. Many of the dwarves who had escaped Ironroot by boat were old, well past their prime, and there were close to a dozen children.

  “And then there’s Lyra,” Bradok whispered to himself more than to Rose.

  But Rose heard and, turning to look at the figure of the sleeping pregnant woman, nodded.

  “She’s tougher than she looks,” she said. “She won’t hold us back.”

  Bradok shrugged. Some of the others were beginning to wake. “But what do we do if she has her baby?” he asked quietly.

  “Let Tal worry about that,” Rose said, nodding at her still-sleeping brother with a smile. “He’s good under pressure.”