Dig Within: Tales from the Emerald Mountains, Book Two

by Rhett DeVane

  “Spill it.” Taproot flicked one eyebrow up and down. “Burdens shared are burdens halved.”

  Elsbeth inhaled and blew out a breath. At least this riddle made sense. Beyond being her mountain life teacher and magic mentor, Taproot was a friend. She did not like keeping anything from him, large or small. Jen’s spirit-daughter crystal tapped against her chest, one more reminder of her problems. “I think I might have made a bad decision.”

  “If I had a chocolate bar for every wrong choice I’ve made over the years, we could eat for the rest of our lives.” He used his pointy finger to jab upward. “Reminds me. I have a couple of pieces left.” He stood and scurried across the room, returning with a battered metal tin. Inside rested two wrapped pieces of dark chocolate. Taproot handed one to Elsbeth and palmed the other. A special treat, since chocolate came only from a rare dump-dive find, or sometimes from the scientists who frequented the valley.

  Elsbeth nipped pieces of the chocolate and relayed the events of the past few days. The confection coated her tongue and made her words sweeter, she figured. As she spoke, Taproot’s expression darkened. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And it’s been four days since Sim and Grant left, and two since Jondu and Jen went to search?”

  Elsbeth nodded.

  “Why didn’t you come to me?” Taproot held both hands out, palms up.

  She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Because you said I should dig within and figure things out for myself.” She picked at one jagged fingernail until it ripped. “And you were so busy, getting ready to leave for your walk around or whatever . . .”

  Taproot leaned down until he was at her eye level. “While I admire your gumption, Princess, I am never too busy when it’s a matter of life and death.” The word hung in the air between them, dripping menace. Elsbeth swallowed. Her throat felt as if it was paved with rows of Sim’s pebbles instead of the silky chocolate.

  “Looks like I’ll be going topside today after all.” Taproot chomped the last of his chocolate nugget and stood. Since the other packs bulged with provisions for his long trip, he pulled out a ratty dump-dive bag. Within minutes, he had shoved in dried fruit, nuts, and other supplies. He grabbed a walking stick and a small camp ax. “Whatever you do, don’t let any of the others leave the clangrounds. Four of you wandering around in the deep snow are enough.” Taproot pulled on a rainbow-colored knitted cap, Mari’s gift from the past Fall Festival.

  Elsbeth jumped up. “I’m going.”

  “Now, Princess . . . I don’t.” Taproot stopped.

  If Elsbeth’s expression was as determined as she felt, the old magician would get the message. Nobody would notice her absence. Sometimes, Elsbeth went a couple of days without joining the clan in the Common Hall. They’d figure she was in one of her Lizard the Lousy moods.

  “Okay.” Taproot snatched up his cup and took one long drink. “Put on warm clothes. Grab your pack. Meet me at the hollow tree exit.” Bits of chocolate clung to his beard. “And I mean it about the others. Nobody leaves here but us. Clear?”

  Sim stood on the roof of a long building similar to the others but twice the size. Lights shone from a couple of the windows. He didn’t note any movement.

  “Last hut, this row,” Kenneth said. “Might think about stopping after. The sun is teasing the horizon.”

  “Just this one. Then we’ll move to the watch tree.” Sim took a long swig of water from his pouch. He hated to halt the search, but daytime was too risky. The few lowlanders on base would be up soon, moving around. Weariness washed over Sim. His back and legs ached. Rope burns crisscrossed his palms like angry red tattoos. Some sleep would be nice.

  “I’m sure this won’t take me long.” Sim recapped the water pouch and swiped the dribble from his lips. “I have this search thing down. Ten minutes, tops.”

  Kenneth took off. Sim could make out the owl’s outline when he landed on the watch tree. Better make this search a quick one. The darkness lifted more with each passing minute.

  Sim fastened the rope and descended the pipe. Shortly, he stood on yet another counter. The scent of this barrack differed. Mixed with the lowlander stench was an odd blend of odors Sim couldn’t identify. He pinched his nostrils shut until he could swipe Taproot’s salve beneath his nose. Even then, the air burned his eyes.

  He rappelled down the lower cabinet and landed on the floor. As before, he left the escape rope hanging.

  Nothing prepared him for what lay in the next room.

  The stinging rank odor of decay knifed Sim’s nose at the same instant he took in long rows of cots, pushed close together. Some were empty, their sheets pulled taut. Others held lowlanders.

  Sim crouched beneath a chair, trying to understand the scene. Why were all the lowlanders so still, some with sheets covering their faces, while others seemed to be asleep?

  Every now and then, one would moan or cry out. Shiny metal rods stood like sentinels at the head of each bed. A few held bags suspended from hooks. Long tubes snaked from the bags to the lowlanders.

  The room stirred a deep memory. Same large room. Rows of cots.

  Is this an orphanage, like Westside House? Sim wondered. That place where he and Elsbeth had met, where they lived until they fled for the Emerald Mountains.

  But these were full-grown lowlanders, not children cast aside by war.

  Sim’s curiosity nudged him. He jetted from beneath the chair, careful at first to hide beneath the cots as he studied the reclining lowlanders. He became bold, standing for long minutes beside the beds, taking in the yellowed, waxy skin. The odor of sickness.

  A hospital! Had to be it. Made sense why these few weren’t with the others who had sped off in the loaded trucks.

  Sim scaled one cot’s frame and sat on the sheet, watching a dark-haired lowlander. Deep smudges colored the skin beneath his eyes, and his breath came out in ragged spasms followed by long periods when his chest didn’t move at all.

  Death fascinated Sim. He’d often observed animals in those final minutes. Watched their bodies twitch until they became still and the warmth left them. Passing into the Light was what Taproot called it. What light, and where did they go when they went over there? Did it hurt? What part of them left, exactly? Was it like the vapor rising off the water’s surface on a cool morning?

  Something fell over him, ringing the sheet at his feet. Sim jumped up and hit his head against a dome made from wire mesh. His hands flitted around the cage, testing for a place to escape.

  “Gotcha!” A deep voice said.

  Jondu opened her eyes. Someone snuggled beside her, mumbling in sleep. Where was she? Then she remembered and was surprised she and Jen were still alive. Only she’d never admit such thoughts to Jen.

  Mmmmm. Jen moaned and shifted next to her. “I can’t move my legs.”

  “It’s because we’ve been cramped up for so long. We should get going. I think the sun’s up.” Jondu pushed against the twig door, expecting it to shift easily. Nothing moved. “Put your feet next to mine and help me.”

  Jen grimaced, forcing her legs to straighten. She tilted back and rested her boots next to Jondu’s.

  “On the count of three . . . one . . . two . . . three!” Jondu shoved as hard as her stiff legs would allow. The twig thatch didn’t budge.

  Jen’s breath came out in frosted puffs. “We’re trapped!”

  “Smooth yourself down, Jen. No need to go all rabid raccoon.” Jondu repositioned her feet. “Try again.”

  They kicked, pushed, grunted. Four bursts later, the laced twigs shifted a few inches.

  “I don’t see the outside,” Jen said. “Just white.”

  Way to state the obvious, Jondu thought. Lack of food and her cold achy joints brought out the cranky in her. She reeled in her mood and forced her voice to come out calm. “It must’ve been a heavy snowfall last night. We’re probably beneath a little drift.”

  “What’ll we do now?” Jen’s lips quivered, rimmed in purple-blue.

  We have
to move soon or we won’t be moving at all. Jondu kept the frightening truth to herself. She tugged at her pack until she could reach the top opening, then extracted a tin can and lid she used for camp dishes. “Use these. Dig!”

  Jondu tore into the snow barrier. She wasn’t going to die. Not now. Not like this, buried beneath a house of twigs and ice. How absurd. They dug and hurled clots of snow behind them.

  “Stop.” Jondu twisted her body enough to position one foot over the excavated hole. On the third kick, the crust flaked away, revealing a shaft of weak morning light.

  Jen joined and they both kicked until the hole widened enough for them to crawl out and wrestle their packs through.

  The forest floor lay beneath a thick blanket of powdery snow. Jondu scanned a circle around their makeshift camp. The storm had cloaked the boot prints, as if no lowlander had ever passed this way. The milky sunlight provided no shadows. Hard to tell which way to go. Overhead, the evergreen canopy shielded the sky. Below, familiar landmarks hid beneath the ice.

  “What do we do?” Jen’s voice shook as hard as her body.

  “Change perspective.” Jondu took the dump-dive rope from her pack and looped it around her waist and the first branch over her head.

  “Are you—?”

  “I have to go above the tree line, to tell where we are and which direction to head.” If she could climb a rock wall or a bee hollow, she could manage this. The limbs and needles might prove bothersome. Jondu inched up the trunk, moving the safety rope up one branch at a time each time, the way Taproot had taught her. “Keep an eye out for hawks,” she called back to Jen.

  Jondu scaled the trunk. The pine needles pricked her chapped face. She coached herself with every inch she ascended. Don’t think about the ground. Don’t think about how high up you are or the wind swaying this tree. Or how very long this will take to reach the top. Breathe. Easy. Breathe. Easy.

  The last few feet proved the most difficult, with fewer branches to grasp. Jondu finally reached the limb cluster at the tree’s apex. With her feet snugged as close to the trunk as possible, she pivoted to take in the view. The boulder field near the landfill showed to her right side, but trees hid all but one curvy ribbon of Mad Woman River. She took note of the notched top of Sleeping Bear Mountain. That meant the army base rested a little shy of her left shoulder, in the valley. She scanned the distance for something, anything she might use to keep them on track.

  Jondu smiled. There! A dead ash tree, full of woodpecker holes. Before that, she noted a copse of boulders: three, shaped like anthills. A fourth stone leaned over the top, forming a rock arch. Good enough. She memorized her new landmarks.

  The descent proved easier than the ascent. If she had to climb another tree later on, she could. Elsbeth and Taproot would be proud.

  Jen stamped her boots, hugging herself. “Glad you’re back down. Something big is moving over there. Did you hear that weird call?”

  “Yes. Didn’t sound like the hawks at the landfill or one of the Pensworthy owls.” Jondu pulled on her pack and snapped the belt. A hard day’s travel lay ahead and most likely well into the night. “Doesn’t matter. We can’t stay here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Elsbeth snuggled deep into the muffler wrapped around Taproot’s neck. The going was slow, even with the odd contraptions the mountain man had strapped beneath his boots. Her size allowed her to hitch a ride. She’d never manage in snow deeper than her height.

  All four of her missing clan members had to be okay. They had to! “What are those wacky things on your feet?” Elsbeth continued with a constant line of chatter to trick her mind from worry.

  “Snow shoes, Princess.”

  “Ah.” She had noticed the petal-shaped wooden loops leaning against one wall of Taproot’s library, but figured them to be some kind of herbal drying racks. During the long, boring winter days, she pondered on such and wished to ask, but Taproot sealed himself off for most of the cold season, professing to need a break from interaction.

  By the time each spring arrived, Elsbeth’s questions slipped her mind when the clan dove into festival preparations. Then summer came with its long days filled with gathering and preserving food, and fall with the harvest of acorns and other nuts. Then the Fall Festival and . . . Elsbeth sighed. Winter again.

  “Wish I had a pair of those snow shoes in my size,” Elsbeth said.

  “They are heavy. Would only slow you down. We don’t have the luxury of turning this into a stroll.”

  His words came out so clipped, Elsbeth decided to seal her lips and help him watch for signs of the others. A large cat crossed the path a few feet from them. Taproot halted. The animal stared at them for a couple of seconds then bounded off into the woods.

  “Emerald Mountain lynx. A sight you don’t often see.” Taproot resumed walking. “They’re elusive critters.”

  And probably would eat a one-spirit in an easy bite. Elsbeth shivered and hunkered lower into Taproot’s muffler.

  By the time they reached Mad Woman Gorge, the afternoon light filtered through the snow-tipped evergreens, turning the ice crystals into sparkly rainbows.

  “Now, where would they gain passage across?” Taproot pondered aloud. He swung his head right, then left. “Ah, there.” He made his way toward a place where a toppled sapling spanned the river. He searched the ground.

  “No prints, but these drifts cover any signs.” Taproot unlashed the snowshoes, hooked them onto the back of his pack, and bounced one foot on the sapling. “It should support me. Better than getting wet feet. Hang on.”

  The mountain man held both arms out like those tightrope walkers he had often mimed in the old tales from his life with the lowlander circus. Ten steps took them to the opposite side. He lashed on the snowshoes again. Glanced around for prints.

  “Look.” Elsbeth pointed to a series of broken twigs low to the ground, at the level a one-spirit would travel. “Grant always does that when he marks a trail.”

  “Good eyes, Princess.” Taproot squinted into the distance. “I’ll just bet those four are by the landfill, tucked beneath some rock, eating dried plums and chortling about how all of us might be worried about their crazy selves.”

  The boulder field at the edge of the landfill showed in the distance. Elsbeth’s spirit lifted.

  Jondu took a step and sunk up to her shoulders. Jen held out one hand and tugged until Jondu pulled free.

  “We’ll never be able to walk across this,” Jen said.

  “For an adventurer, you sure are a downer.” Jondu took off her pack and mashed it as flat as possible. “Follow my lead.” She lay down, resting her belly on the pack, then used her feet to push herself along. Jen huffed, but did the same. The two sledded across the snow until Jondu signaled them to stop next to a pine sapling.

  “This is okay for short distances, but we need a way to cover a lot of ground, up and down hills.” Jondu used one of Sim’s flint knife blades to saw through several pine boughs.

  “What are you going to do with those?”

  “Watch.” Jondu pulled out a ball of twine, grateful she had remembered to add it to the pack. She lashed the cut end of three short branches together, with the needle clumps forming a fan on the other end. Then she made three more sets. Jen stood, a slight frown painting her features.

  Jondu stored the leftover twine and her knife, and placed two of the bound clumps in front of Jen. “Put your boots here, and here.”

  “But, I don’t get—”

  “Just do it, please.”

  Jen stepped onto the spots where Jondu indicated. Then Jondu used two ends of the twine to secure the limbs to Jen’s boots. Jondu tied the other two bound clumps to the bottom of her own boots.

  “What are these things?” When Jen lifted one foot, the fanned clump followed. “I feel like a duck.”

  “Walk a couple of steps.” When Jen didn’t move, Jondu added, “Go ahead. Try.”

  Jen managed a few wobbly shuffles, nearly falling at first. She
got the hang of lifting her feet higher than normal, almost marching. “Hey, they work!”

  “Sure they do. If you watch the ducks walking in the mud sludge next to the stream, they don’t sink. It’s the way their feet are shaped.”

  Jondu smiled. All of those times she’d slipped topside to observe the animals and mimic their behavior had finally paid off. If she could survive in this kind of forbidding terrain, she could travel anywhere, at any time of year! She reached into her pack and fished around for her dried plums. Only two strips left. Bad planning there. She chewed on one strip. They’d have to forage beneath the snow for deer berries. Hope to find some.

  Jondu high-stepped to catch up with Jen and handed her the other piece of dried plum. She got her bearings, then turned forty-five degrees to the left and took the lead.

  “That cackle sound is close.” Jondu held out one hand. “Stop.”

  She and Jen had traveled the switchbacks across one large hillock, jumped over a small brook, and now stood at the edge of a clearing. The anthill-shaped boulders Jondu used as a landmark rested at the far corner of the meadow beneath a copse of skeletal hickory trees.

  She’d seen many such fields on her solitary excursions. In the spring and early summer, soft grasses and wildflowers would paint the ground white, yellow, lime green, and pink. Hard to believe their seeds rested beneath the layers of white.

  A large bird flew from the top of an evergreen, its wings spread straight out. Jondu jerked Jen by the arm and they dove beneath a thatch of dead briars. The owl swooped lower, lower, with legs extended. One burst sent the snow crust flying. The owl lifted away, a struggling creature clasped in its talons. When the bird reached a high barren limb, it landed and cackled. The captive creature emitted a screech. In one swift movement, the owl picked up the limp catch with its beak and swallowed the creature whole. Probably a vole. The small rodents tunneled beneath the snow, doing whatever voles do. Until an owl made them into a quick meal.

  “Wow,” Jen said. “It ate it all at once!”