At the top of the stairs Shanna shivered from the touch of a breeze. She held her torch high and, stepping forward, saw a gaping tear in the wall that looked back at her like some great eye. It was low enough that she could stand on her tiptoes and lean in. With hair blowing off her shoulders and the distinct smell of salt assailing her, she peered down the opening's length to see a jagged ruin of a passage that narrowed just at the edge of her torch's light. Chewing her lip, she considered it. The space was narrow. Almost too narrow. She'd have to crawl on her stomach and leave her light and cloak behind, but as long as it didn't close up on her, it should lead her out. She only hoped it didn't end in a sheer drop to the ocean. She let out a deep breath, bearing in mind for a moment her other options. There were so many tunnels and rooms in the Underkeep, she might wander for days—weeks, even—and still not find her way out.
Her mind made up, Shanna took off her cloak. It would only snag in the tight confines. She lifted herself up and into the great eye, turning only to wedge her torch into a slit before she began shuffling through the opening. At first, she only needed to hunch. But then she was on her knees. Two more strides and it was all fours. Even that didn't last long as she went to her belly. She kept her arms in tight, using her forearms to squirm her way forward as she gritted her teeth against the pain of jammed elbows and knees. Once she was past the reach of her torch's light, the way began sloping upward. Shanna shuffled faster, immediately regretting it as her pant leg caught on a jagged protrusion. She yanked herself free, tearing the fabric and invoking a line of pain across her thigh that brought tears to her eyes. She needed no further warning to keep her pace tempered, though such caution was forgotten the moment she heard the distinct sound of the ocean. Scurrying forward, she found the ceiling high enough to regain her knees. Then she saw the most glorious thing. The night sky, still cloudy, but bathed in moonlight. She approached the vision, stopping only when the passage went no further. She took a moment to deeply inhale the cool, night air before she took stock of her surroundings. Beneath her was a grassy expanse, far enough away she'd have to climb down to reach it. Shanna wasted no time, lowering herself slowly as she took care to keep a grip or foothold before probing for the next purchase. Places to clench a hand or set a foot were abundant. She almost made it all the way without incident. But, with ten feet still to go, one foot slipped. It was enough to send her sliding down the cliff face. Pain sliced her chin and then she was no longer sliding, but falling. The next thing she knew she was flat on her back, watching stars dance across her vision. She blacked out.
When her eyes finally opened again the stars were gone, replaced by hulking shapes that hovered over her. Rough hands grabbed her, hoisting her up while gruff voices and the smell of leather and brine dominated her disoriented senses. She felt the tops of her feet sliding across the grass. She tried to speak, but managed only an incoherent mumble. She must have passed out then, for when she next woke she was being carried. Again, she demanded release. "Let… me go." She let out a deep breath as she tried to bring her vision into focus.
"Eh?" said a man's voice.
"Let me go," she said again, this time more coherently.
"Ah, so there's some life left in you after all."
Strong hands made sure she could stand without assistance, then she was released. Shanna shook her head clear and looked at her rescuer. He was a tall man with dark, rumpled hair and a long moustache. He wore a hardened leather breastplate over a nightshirt tucked haphazardly into a pair of pants. A small sword was belted at his waist. Shanna took in others beyond him. A few held weapons. The soldier's voice snapped her attention back to him.
"You're lucky we found you, girl. The city is crawling with dwarves. We only just made it outside what's left of the walls without getting caught. You've damn near been out of it for—"
"Sergeant Tippin!" a whispered voice said. "They're coming!"
Tippin grabbed Shanna by the shoulder. "Come. We have to move."
Shanna was half-dragged along a rock-littered surface. Behind, she heard others running with her. Further away, gruff voices grew distant for a moment, but then Shanna heard a loud outburst and the shouts drew nearer. Risking a quick glance over her shoulder, she spotted torches bobbing in the darkness.
They entered a stand of trees, the lean trunks forming a protective screen as they slipped between them and into a clearing beyond. Shanna thought at first they might use the place as a refuge, but then she saw the torches ahead and she knew they were trapped.
Leather clad dwarves stormed into the clearing from all sides. Sergeant Tippin shouted for those armed to form a ring around Shanna and the others. He'd barely drawn his sword when the dwarves were on them. Steel rang. A man whose back was to Shanna grunted in pain, then he fell forward, dead. Others were cut down or knocked senseless. In moments, it was over.
The dwarves said nothing as they pushed and shoved the refugees into a line. Then, one dwarf, the leader of the bunch by his look, gestured at them to start moving. They obeyed. All but one woman, who remained still and who whispered words of madness over and over to herself. The woman was about Shanna's height, but more than three times her girth. Shanna recognized her immediately. It was Nora, the woman who meant to see her condemned to a life of drudgery and misery. The dwarf who'd gestured them forward showed her little patience: without a word, he shoved her so hard she stumbled to the ground. She stayed down, covering her face with her arms. Soft whimpers escaped her lips. Patience gone, the dwarf raised his axe to finish her off. Chaos nearly ensued. Several men made to launch themselves at their captors, but brandished weapons stopped them in their tracks. The dwarf made ready to bury his axe in Nora.
"Wait!"
Shanna hadn't realized she'd spoken, nor that she'd stepped forward, until she was right in front of the dwarf. Only Nora, lying on the ground, separated them. Shanna met the dwarf's eyes. She saw no compassion in them, no pity, but he lowered his axe. Slowly, Shanna held a hand out to Nora. The woman must have recognized her, for she smiled faintly, then accepted her hand. Together, they fell in line with the others. Shanna gave the woman's hand a squeeze.
"We're going to be alright," she said to her, as much for the woman's benefit as her own. "We're going to be alright."
6. Escape
AARON CAME ALERT THE MOMENT the skiff stopped. They were outside Norwynne, run aground in a quagmire made when the floodwaters had surged and then retreated. Just yesterday, the area might have been meadow, pasture, or plowed farmland. Now, a glance over the boat's side showed Aaron a land salted and bracken.
The eslar jumped from the craft without a word. Aaron, moving slower, attempted to stand, but he only set the skiff rocking and nearly lost his balance before Ensel Rhe yanked him out bodily. Mud oozed between his toes as he sank to his knees in the muck. While Master Rhe reached into the boat, Aaron stood in silence, watching him and shivering. Aaron had spied only a single pack with them. Master Rhe straightened with it hoisted over one shoulder. Then he put a foot to the skiff and pushed it away. They both watched it drift before Master Rhe led the both of them to higher—and drier—ground.
The first thing Aaron did was slough the mud from his feet. It was a futile distraction from the breeze that set his teeth chattering. Soaked through, he knew he'd little hope of getting his clothes dry until the sun came up. Even then it depended on the cloud cover, which as of now had diminished only enough to let the barest of moonlight through. With sunrise hours away still, Aaron was just resigning himself to frigid misery when Master Rhe reached into his pack and tossed him a bundle of clothing. He promptly unraveled a dry tunic and a thin but serviceable cloak. He had his wet tunic exchanged for the dry one and the cloak around his shoulders in moments. He rolled his wet laboratory vest up for the time being, mindful of keeping its stoppered vials, all of which appeared intact, safe. He'd put it back on once it had a chance to dry. Aaron uttered a thank you to the eslar, but Master Rhe paid him no heed as he busied himself carv
ing a shallow depression into the ground with the toe of his boot. He gestured for Aaron to toss his wet tunic in, then he covered it with dirt and leaves. When he was finished, he did the unexpected. He drew a knife and pointed its tip at Aaron. Aaron's look of worry vanished quickly as the eslar flipped the blade so the handle was presented first.
"Here," he said. "Take this." He unfastened the knife's sheath from his belt and, when Aaron did nothing more than stare at the naked blade, plunged the knife into the sheath and again held it out. Aaron still did nothing but stare. "You'll need a weapon," Master Rhe said, "to protect yourself."
Finally, Aaron reached out and took it. He felt like he should draw the blade, test its balance, examine its workmanship. That was what a soldier or mercenary would do. But he was neither. He inserted the sheath under his belt and, again, murmured a thank you. Then, before his courage failed him, he asked, "Have you any shoes?"
The eslar's gaze went to Aaron's feet, which were pale with cold where muck still clung to them. Ensel Rhe shook his head. "No. You'll have to make do." Then he hoisted his pack to his shoulder and started walking away from the floodwaters and Norwynne.
"Wait!"
Master Rhe stopped.
"Where are you going?" Aaron asked.
He jammed a thumb over one shoulder. "This way."
"But, what is that way?"
"That is not important right now. What is important is that we get as far from the city as possible. The dwarves will be looking for us."
The eslar was just making to turn again when Aaron blurted, "But… we can't just leave! There's folk there that need our help."
"There is nothing either of us can do for them. They are on their own, as are we. Now, let's go." Without looking to see if Aaron followed, the eslar set off, disappearing into the dark.
At first, Aaron stayed put. Glancing in the direction of Norwynne, he eyed the skiff, which had gotten caught in the mud and not gone far. He looked past it, into the dark. Somewhere out there were dwarves who, for reasons unknown, wanted to kill him. Going back would be foolish. Suicidal, even. Yet was fleeing any less? Aside from some outlying farms and a smattering of mills, there was nothing around Norwynne for leagues. Unless Master Rhe meant to hole up in one of those, Aaron had no idea where they were going. He could either stay here alone in the dark and find no answers at all or attempt to coerce any bit of information from Master Rhe that he could. He chose the latter.
Once he'd caught up, Aaron positioned himself directly in the eslar's path. "Why did you save me? I mean, why only me?"
Ensel Rhe only stared at him with his stark white eyes. For a moment, Aaron wondered if he was not going to answer, but then he said, "I don't know."
"What—What do you mean you don't know?"
"I was asked that if things should come to their worst to get you from the city."
"But… why? By whom? Master Elsanar?"
The eslar would say nothing more as he gestured for Aaron to start moving. Aaron looked at him a moment longer, then he sighed. He was stuck. He couldn't go back, and while he didn't necessarily want to go forward, he also knew he couldn't stay here. He had no choice but to fall into step and go where Master Rhe led.
They traveled without light into the Grey Hills. Sparsely wooded with smaller foliage that thickened the further they went from the ocean, Master Rhe had little difficulty with the terrain or the faint light. Aaron, though, stumbled or tripped on every root, tangled bush, or piece of deadwood in their path. Ensel Rhe offered no conversation as he remained just far enough ahead to appear near invisible against the dark of the hills. Much of his clothing was dark leather: pants, boots, gloves, and brigandine vest. That, and his long coat, also dark, made him a shadow. Aaron might have quickly lost sight of him if the eslar did not stop at times either to wait or simply to listen. Aaron knew without asking that he listened for signs of pursuit. With his own ears Aaron heard only the usual night sounds: the hum of insects, the chirping of night swallows, the hoot of an owl. But nothing man or, of more concern, dwarven made. Aaron was relieved. While he'd gladly run into other survivors, he'd had enough of dwarves. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind when they heard the sudden sound of voices.
Ensel Rhe sank to a crouch. He motioned at Aaron to do the same. Aaron obeyed, making himself small beneath a canopy of brush. The eslar, ahead, now returned to Aaron's position, kneeling close. A finger at his lips cautioned Aaron into silence. They heard the voices again. Distant, but closing, the words themselves were unintelligible, though they were spoken in such a rush that there was no denying their urgency. Further away a chorus of raucous hollering sounded. Dwarves! Without thinking, Aaron started to rise. A firm hand on his shoulder forced him down. Briefly, he wondered if Master Rhe planned to leap out and slay the raiders just as he'd done in Lord Vuller's hall. One look at the eslar's face told him otherwise. While the fine lines of his cheekbones were rigid and his lips tight, the hand not on Aaron's shoulder remained upon the ground, away from his weapons. His body seemed relaxed, as if he were only waiting for whatever was happening out there to conclude so he and Aaron could continue on their way.
A mad scurrying announced the presence of the lead group. Aaron swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. His stomach was tied in knots, the skin of his forearms and the back of his neck tingling with a preternatural awareness of the violence to come. Though he remained stock-still, part of him wanted to leap up, to wave the refugees to safety before the dwarves appeared, but he was suddenly more afraid for himself. He remembered the dwarves' leering visages, the savage delight in their eyes as they had chased him. Part of him wanted to turn and run right then and there, but he forced himself to remain still. In the next moment, the battle began.
It was over quickly. A short clash of weapons, several sharp shrieks, and then the groans of the dying. Though the scene remained hidden by the shrubbery separating them, Aaron kept his eyes averted anyway. Only when shouting from the invaders told him that the captives had been cowed did he look up through eyes rimmed with tears. He saw torches bobbing in the dark and a ghostly scene was lit before him. In a clearing, dwarves formed a ring around a small group of keep-folk. Aaron watched as the dwarves started to usher them away. Most fell into line, submitting. But one—a woman—had other ideas. Despite repeated orders for her to start moving, she remained frozen in place. One of the dwarves shoved her. She stumbled forward and fell. It looked as if the dwarf meant to kill her. But then someone—one of the captives—intervened, walking forward to offer a hand to the fallen woman. Light from a torch swept across the figure. She was short, lean, with delicate hands and a sweep of raven hair that—
Shanna?
Aaron forgot himself. He started to rise. It couldn't be her. Yet… Aaron's lips parted, whether to call out or not he wasn't sure. He wasn't given the chance. A hand clamped over his mouth and another grabbed hold of him, dragging him down. Aaron struggled until Ensel Rhe draped his full weight across him. He was released only when the dwarves and their captives were gone.
Aaron didn't spare Master Rhe a glance as he rose and then pushed his way through the brush to walk into the clearing where he'd either just seen Shanna or her very likeness. Aaron stared in the direction they'd gone, wondering if he should try following. Instead he turned on Master Rhe.
"Why did you stop me?" he asked, his voice betraying his frustration and anger.
"Revealing our presence would have benefited no one."
"But…" Aaron clenched his fists at his sides. "We could have helped them. I could have helped her escape. I saw her. I know I did." He was sure of it now, though he'd no idea how she could have survived.
Ensel Rhe's eyes narrowed. "More raiders will be scouring the hills. We have to get moving."
Aaron wanted to say more, but met with Master Rhe's hard stare he felt his anger squashed until he felt compelled to nod in acquiescence. Then he was following the eslar deeper into the wilderness. For a time, the hope of seeing Shanna alive
sustained him. But it was not long before he began to question what he'd seen. In his mind, the images shifted and changed The hair had not been so long. The shape not so lithe. It had all happened so fast, the sight of her, or the person he'd thought was her, so brief. Aaron remembered the water sucking her down. The horror on her face. The pleading. She was gone. Dead. As much as he wanted her alive, she wasn't. Whoever he had seen had been someone else. It had to have been.
The sun came, finally, but it was only to light the morning sky from behind a thin shield of clouds whose gray threatened rain at any moment. Ensel Rhe did not slacken their pace. For a time, there was only the branches swiping Aaron's body and face and the simple effort of walking. They stopped at intervals, halting only long enough to rest weary legs and feet for a few minutes at most. One time, during one of their breaks, Ensel Rhe offered Aaron a drink from a leather skin. Aaron took a long draught, not realizing how thirsty he was until the cool liquid touched his lips. Ensel Rhe let him drink his fill before taking the skin from him. The eslar took only a small sip for himself. Then, without a word, and far too soon for Aaron's liking, Ensel Rhe started off again.
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