by Dan Willis
Much spat in disgust. “It’s true they’re not the most trustworthy bunch,” Much said. “But you don’t sound very trustworthy yourself, pretending and attacking. They’ve got as much at stake in terms of survival as we do. If they don’t get out of here or find help, sooner or later they’re goners.”
“Just like us,” Kellik added.
“Besides,” Much went on. “They’re familiar with this deep underground. They know things that are strange and foreign to us.”
“That’s right,” Rose agreed. “They clearly knew something about those mushroom people.”
“This is madness!” Chisul exclaimed. “These are Daergar we’re talking about. Their people kill ours on principle, and this lot is so bad that the other Daergar threw them in prison!” He looked around at the group of dwarves, taking care to stare hard into each person’s face. “We can’t let a bunch of murderers travel along with our women and our children. They’d be a constant threat to us. They’re a threat now. A threat we have to eliminate.”
“So you propose to deal with murderers by becoming one yourself?” Much asked.
An abashed look crossed Chisul’s face, and no one spoke for a long minute.
“Much is right,” Bradok said at last. “If we kill them because we fear them, does that make us any better than the dark dwarves?”
“No, but it would make us smart and alive,” Chisul said stubbornly. “As long as they live, I say, they’re a danger to us.”
“No, they aren’t,” Rose said. “They’ve got no weapons. They can’t go back to their own people, and they wouldn’t know how to survive on the surface without us. They need us, and they know it. They aren’t going to do anything to jeopardize our help.”
“She’s right,” Much said.
“She’s crazy,” Chisul said.
“This is too important. It involves all of us,” Bradok interjected. “I say we put it to a vote.”
He looked around and found most of the dwarves nodding. Chisul looked stone-faced but said nothing, while Jenner scowled in obvious resentment.
“All right,” Bradok said. “All in favor of letting Corin and his companions come with us?”
Most of the dwarves raised their hands. Noticeably refusing to do so were Chisul, Jenner, and Vulnar. Surprisingly Tal, Dallon, and Lyra also kept their hands down.
“Clearly the ayes have it,” Bradok said after a moment.
“This is a mistake,” Chisul said.
Bradok nodded. “It might be,” he said. “Time will tell. I’ll owe you an apology if you’re right. But right now, I think you’re wrong.”
Bradok and the others turned and moved back toward the tunnel where Corin and the others waited. Bradok felt strangely calm. Chisul had a point; Daergar were a cunning, ruthless clan and Corin and his companions were so bad, the Daergar had jailed them. Still, something told him the choice had to be taken on faith. Bradok realized that he’d started taking things on faith more and more ever since he met Silas. So far, faith hadn’t served him so badly.
“What’s the verdict?” Corin asked, rising from his seated position on the ground as they approached.
“You can come,” Bradok said.
“Just like that?” he asked. “No conditions? No chaining us up at night?”
“Well, we don’t have any chains,” Bradok said with a slow grin. “So, yeah, just like that. No chains.”
Corin seemed genuinely surprised for a moment. Then he held up the compass, eyeing it covetously, before tossing it to Bradok.
“You didn’t have to give in so easy,” Hurlic said, but Corin just shrugged.
“A deal’s a deal,” he barked to Hurlic. “I don’t know about you, but I want to live a long, free life and this is our best chance.”
He threw his cloak over his shoulders so everyone could see that he possessed no weapons. In fact he carried nothing-no pack, no gear; all he had were the clothes on his back.
“Come on, Omer,” he said to the young dwarf. He pulled back Omer’s cloak, revealing that the daft dwarf wore only a tattered shirt that reached to his knees. Then he put his arm around Omer and led him up the passage through the knot of survivors.
“I have a spare cloak and some clothing I’m not using at the moment,” Bradok said amicably as they passed by.
“Thank you,” Corin replied, nodding appreciatively.
One by one, the other Daergar displayed their similar lack of weapons and equipment and moved up the passage. The assassin, Thurl, came last. He opened his cloak, and from a hidden pocket in his shirt, he removed a flat piece of obsidian that had been polished as sharp as any dagger. That he handed to Bradok.
“Is that it?” Chisul asked.
Thurl cast the squat cooper a sour look then stepped nose to nose with him. “I told you, I’m an assassin. I don’t need a weapon,” he said. “And if a situation comes up where I do, I’ll find one in a hurry.”
Thurl stepped back then and held up Chisul’s dagger, lifted neatly from its scabbard on his belt. With a sinister smile, Thurl flipped the weapon over in his hand and presented it, hilt first, to the stunned Chisul.
Snarling, Chisul grabbed his weapon, and Thurl moved off, after his companions. Bradok examined the makeshift obsidian dagger in his hands. It was as sharp as any knife and relatively well balanced.
“We’re going to have to watch that one,” Rose said in a low voice.
“I’m telling you, we’ll have to watch them all,” Chisul growled. “I want it remembered that I warned this was a bad idea.”
“So noted,” Bradok said. Then, with a sigh of relief, he reached into his pocket, pulled out the compass, and opened it. The Seer smiled when she appeared, as though glad to be back in the hands of the rightful owner of the compass. She extended her arm, her spear pointing up the cavern toward the camp.
“At least we’re still heading the right way,” he muttered.
He looked up to find everyone heading back except Rose, who had been watching him and overheard. She looked at him intently.
“Having second thoughts?” she asked.
Bradok nodded.
“Don’t,” she said. “Reorx gave you that compass to see us through this ordeal, and now he’s used it to send us more help.”
Bradok stared at the compass, wondering if she was right. “Maybe so,” he said finally, slipping the device back into his pocket. Then he walked back to camp with Rose at his side.
CHAPTER 13
The Garden of the Gods
Eleven days after being joined by the Daergar, Bradok barely noticed the colorful limestone of the tunnel wall as he trudged forward. The compass had led them unerringly onward, pointing out sources of food from time to time but leading them in a seemingly endless trek. The rocky fissures had given way to old magma tubes of crumbly black rock that had, in turn, become a long chain of open caverns, and finally, the limestone passages they were in.
Bradok’s mind was fatigued from the sheer monotony and boredom of the journey. He wasn’t the only one suffering from nerves; everyone seemed snappish and on edge. The only ones that seemed unaffected were the children, Much, and Omer. Much and Omer took turns carrying any of the children who got tired. Their favorite by far, however, was Teal, the little toddler with the dark, curly hair. The sight of Much tromping by with Teal, usually giggling wildly from her perch atop his shoulders, forced half a smile from Bradok.
“This is getting bad,” Tal said, his voice interrupting Bradok’s thoughts.
He didn’t even glance over his shoulder. In the past weeks, he’d seen and heard more than enough of his companions, especially Tal, who was always preaching to him about leadership.
“At least we’re getting somewhere,” Bradok muttered.
“Chisul and Vulnar are talking up a rebellion back there,” Tal said. “They’re starting to wonder if the compass is leading us in circles, that maybe we should try heading some other way.”
“He’s welcome to try,” Bradok returned. “
So long as he doesn’t expect the rest of us to go off and get lost with him.”
“He reckons we’re already lost,” Rose said, stepping up beside her brother. “And he’s not alone in that idea; too many of the others are also starting to lose hope.”
“They’re getting desperate, I know. It’s these damn dark caves,” he said, waving absently at the brightly-colored limestone. “The dreariness of it all is driving everyone batty.”
“I’m just warning you,” Tal said, lowering his voice. “The next place we stop, there could be real trouble.”
“Chisul’s no real trouble,” Bradok replied, irritation thick in his voice. “Just get out of his way and let him make an ass of himself; folks will stop listening to him again.”
“This is different,” Rose insisted. “Everyone’s as raw as meat in a butcher’s window. They want to believe in something other than which way the compass is pointing. They need a positive sign of some sort. It’s been too long without any sign of hope.”
Bradok couldn’t disagree. He trudged along silently.
“Vulnar is saying our convict friends must have tampered with the compass,” Rose said.
“Isn’t that just the sort of thing Vulnar would say?” Bradok said disgustedly. “After all, he wanted us to kill them on the spot.”
Bradok held out his hands in a pleading gesture to the roof of the cave overhead. “Why is anyone listening to him?” he said. “Corin and his friends haven’t caused any trouble. And why would they tamper with the same compass they’d end up following?”
“You’re thinking with your head,” Rose said, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “These people are tired and worn out. Their heads are worn out too. They aren’t thinking straight.”
“That’s right,” Tal said. “They’ll gladly grab at anything that offers hope-even if it’s a bad idea coming from Chisul and Vulnar.”
Bradok had finally reached a breaking point. He whirled on Tal, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to a stop. “What do you want me to do about it?” he demanded through clenched teeth.
Tal’s eyes widened in surprise at Bradok’s unexpected and uncharacteristic action. If it angered him, he didn’t show it. Tal simply reached up and removed Bradok’s hand from his shoulder. “I don’t know what you should do, and I don’t know what I want you to do,” he said. “I was only trying to warn you.”
With that, Tal strode past him, leaving Bradok standing with his head hanging down in the middle of the passageway, the others streaming up and around him.
Rose lingered to talk to him. “You know,” she said with as much cheer as she could muster. “You’ve been a pretty good leader up to now. It would be a shame for you to let a little boredom and aggravation change all that.”
She was right, Bradok knew. Yet he couldn’t seem to shake off his black mood. It felt as if his head were stuffed with angry bees who kept buzzing and buzzing, all the louder.
He put his right hand out and let his fingers glide along the wall. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, using the touch of the wall to guide him forward. He let the breath out and took in another, trying to cleanse his mind. The bees just buzzed louder.
Cursing the infernal tunnels, he tried again, closing off his senses to everything but the rough, damp surface of the wall. He felt the coolness of the air as he breathed it in, focused on his lungs filling up, then on blowing the air back out his mouth.
Somewhere, from what seemed like a long way off, Bradok became aware of unfamiliar noises. They were not unfamiliar, really, but sounds and noises he hadn’t heard in a long time.
He opened his eyes, and the world returned to him. From up the tunnel ahead of him, people were shouting and calling out excitedly. The joy in those voices instantly lifted a weight off Bradok’s shoulders. He felt suddenly as though he could fly. Exhilaration flooded his body. He had no idea what had happened to cause such a stir, but he rushed up the tunnel.
Everyone he passed was wearing the same, hungry-for-excitement look. As he expectantly rounded a sharp curve in the rock, he thought his eyes must have been playing tricks on him. From somewhere up ahead, a pale, white light shone brightly. He held up his hands, shielding his eyes against the glow, and suddenly, a blast of cool air and the smell of water hit him.
His foot crunched on sand as he stepped out of the tunnel into an immense cavern. Everywhere he looked, different kinds of mushrooms grew: big ones, small ones, familiar ones, strange ones he’d never dreamed of. They grew clustered around columns of rock, along shelves in the rock, and even on the ceiling. Bradok could see peppertops, honey mushrooms, blackroot, and sagetube. There were tall, fat, red mushrooms and strange orange fungi that seemed to grow upside down from the ceiling. Mixed into the cornucopia were clusters of pale, glowing mushrooms Bradok recognized as the variety his clan called Reorx’s torch. The Reorx’s torch mushrooms were everywhere, filling the space with light.
Off to the left, Bradok could hear the sound of water lapping against an invisible shore. The air bore the pungent smell of water as well, and Bradok breathed in the water gratefully.
“This is more like it,” he said to no one in particular. The bright, colorful cavern reminded him momentarily of Ironroot, and he felt a pang of loss for the home he would never see again.
The smell of water drew him, and he turned toward the sound of the lapping waves. The floor of the cavern sloped down, and Bradok could see a vast, dark lake off to his left. Even as bright as the cavern was, no light shone on the far side of the lake, giving one the impression that it simply fell away into nothingness. The cavern’s floor sloped back down to a round opening with a short stretch of beach where gentle waves rolled in and out with a quiet whoosh. Already some of the children had their shoes off and were wading and splashing in the icy water.
“What do you think?” Much said, striding up beside Bradok with his watch in hand. “There’s still half a day left to march.”
“I don’t care what he thinks,” Chisul said, walking by toward the water. “This place is a dream. We should stay here for a while.”
“I agree with Chisul,” Bradok said easily. “We can gather food, wash out our clothes-”
“Bathe,” Rose said, pausing beside him and sniffing pointedly.
“That too,” he said, rolling his eyes.
They bathed in shifts with the women and children washing first, while the men stayed on the opposite side of the sloping floor gathering food. Corin and Xurces showed Bradok, Kellik, and Tal how to gather wall root, a fibrous fungus that grew out of the walls like scraggly hair. It didn’t taste particularly good, but its fibrous nature made it laborious to chew, so it was long-lasting nourishment. According to Xurces, a dwarf could survive on it without any other food, if need be. Everyone hoped that would not be necessary.
There were many mushrooms that no one recognized, and they decided to leave those be since the only way to tell if they were edible or poisonous was to eat them. Still, there were plenty of mushrooms they knew to be safe. Bradok quickly filled the cloak he’d tied off as a sack and went looking for others to help. Kellik’s eldest son, Rijul, seemed to have lost momentum, so Bradok went over to help him.
When he reached the lad, he discovered what had diverted Rijul from the important task of gathering food. Where he stood behind a pillar of rock, the floor dipped down, giving a perfect view of the beach. The lad’s eyes were the size of saucers. As Bradok came up behind him, he, too, could see the beach and the bathing female dwarves. His eyes unconsciously sought out a form, taller than the others, topped with wet red hair. For a moment, he, too, was mesmerized like young Rijul; then he realized what he saw-who he saw-and he turned away, blushing furiously.
“That’s enough, lad,” he said, taking the dazed Rijul by the collar and pulling him away. “Plenty of time for that when you’re older.”
Once the men had gathered enough food, Bradok opened his pack and began laying out his clothes to wash and sort. Beside him, Corin sa
t and watched. The only clothes he owned were the ones he wore under the spare cloak Bradok had given him.
“You must have been an important dwarf above ground,” Corin said, observing the quality of Bradok’s gear. “Chisul keeps calling you, ‘councilman.’ Is that some kind of leader?”
Bradok nodded. “I was a councilman of the city of Ironroot,” he said, adding, “a representative who voted for laws and public policies.”
Corin seemed impressed but didn’t say more.
As Bradok pulled out one of his two spare shirts, a wrapped bundle dropped from his pack and hit the sandy floor with a thud. The impact freed a delicate strand of gold that clutched a smoky gray pearl.
Corin whistled and picked up the pearl, pulling a necklace free from the bundle. It boasted gold chain-work with pearls, white diamonds, and a single teardrop-shaped ruby that, when worn, would dangle just below the throat. Bradok wanted to snatch the necklace away, but it was too late to keep it a secret from Corin.
“I’ll say you were a big man indeed,” he said, cradling the necklace and inspecting it with an expert’s eye. “Did you convert your wealth to jewels so you could bring it all with you?”
“I was a jeweler by trade,” Bradok said reluctantly. “That necklace is one of my own designs.”
“It’s exquisite,” Corin said, clearly impressed. “What a pair we could have made,” he said in a wistful voice. “In my time I could have sold this for four times its value,” he said. Then with a little shrug, he handed it back to Bradok. “Not much use to any of us now, I’m afraid,” he said.
“No,” Bradok said with a wistful smile. Taking the necklace, Bradok carefully tucked it into the bundle again and stowed it in his pack. After a second’s thought, he reached back in and moved the smaller bundle to the bottom of the pack, tucking it under a pile.
“You don’t need to worry about those valuables,” Corin said, a chuckle in his voice. “Down here they aren’t worth much. You can’t trade them to anyone, and you sure can’t eat them.”