Black Tooth unceremoniously scooped up Spicy and placed him on one of the packhorses. At least the animal moved at a more measured pace than Runner’s horse. He felt a flush of anger at how the youth had died. Had been murdered. But at least he had fought, while Sage Somni…
He pushed the image of the old goblin jumping from his mind.
They rode for an hour until again the ground descended and became a field of broken stone. Lord dismounted and they continued on foot. They passed a few crystal-blue pools of bubbling water. Spicy felt the air grow warm as they rode along the banks of one such pond. Besides a few yellow weeds, the water appeared free of plant life.
Lord met up with Alma at the top of a rise. He pulled his map out as the men gathered.
Spicy caught a glimpse of the map in Lord’s hand. It appeared crude and unfinished. But Lord put it away. When Spicy saw what lay ahead of them, he understood.
Lord didn’t need the map anymore.
Ahead of them lay two craggy peaks, just like the glyphs had said.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
There were scratches in the rocks—long white carvings done with an indeliberate hand. They looked nothing like the careful and detailed glyphs of Spirit Rock, nor were they in the old script. This language was something entirely new.
But who had drawn the words?
The raiders had set up camp by the entrance to the narrow pass. Horses wouldn’t be able to travel further, so Lord had his men prepare to set out on foot. Two would remain with the animals and all nonessential gear. He loaded Oren down with two large satchels. One held a selection of Lord’s books. The other Spicy only caught a glimpse of, but the bag was well oiled and packed with paper-wrapped cubes that Lord double- and triple-checked before trusting Oren with the load.
Blades had mentioned clay bombs when the troll had attacked. Spicy wondered if that was what was in the packages.
Meanwhile the men grumbled. The ground was difficult even on foot, and they were exhausted. The air stank with sulfur. And one raider near Spicy grumbled that Lord had brought them there to die.
But Lord didn’t hear any of it, or pretended he didn’t.
Lord signaled and the raiders began walking, leaving the camp behind. Alma had gone on ahead and was out of sight. Thistle followed on Lord’s heels, her chain in his hand.
Blades nudged Spicy. “What kind of treasure does your lorekeeper hide all the way up here? This is too remote. And that last village had less gold than yours.”
Spicy kept his mouth shut. He tried not to show his own apprehension. The rocks above them now looked like a bottom row of a gar’s teeth. A few of the nasty fish lived in the deeper lakes of Athra. Even the air in this remote land was unbreathable. Why would this desolate place be anything special? Why would the sages dedicate so much effort to remembering it and then fight so hard to keep it a secret? None of it made sense.
What did Lord expect to find?
Yet enough of the men believed there would be a treasure at the end of their journey, even if they grumbled.
Spicy recalled goblin stories of greed gone unchecked, with goblin treasure seekers meeting their doom from any number of fates both ironic and mundane. But surely Lord’s obsession must be based on more than a myth or fairy tale.
Thistle tripped several times as she was led along. Spicy had to concentrate to keep his own footing.
Lord paused at another marking on a rock. It looked like six vertical lines crossed with three horizontal scores, like the grid to some rudimentary child’s game. Thistle had no luck interpreting its meaning.
Spicy had never seen anything like it on any of the maps or in any of the books. He didn’t think it was goblin in origin. Had men drawn this? He had heard rumors of savage tribes of men in the east mountains. Yet surely there would be other signs of their presence. And who could live in such a forsaken place?
“Bring up the boy,” Lord ordered.
Black Tooth prodded Spicy forward. They waited and watched him as he took a closer look at the marking.
“I’d be guessing,” Spicy said. “But this isn’t the work of a sage.”
“Obviously,” Lord said, his eyes narrowing. “But how does this fit in with the map?”
“We’re here. This is the end of the map. Or close to it, at least.”
The men murmured with excitement. Lord waved everyone on.
The pass narrowed further until they had to squeeze through a few places where the rocks almost touched each other. Finally it led out to the bottom of a high, narrow canyon. A stream trickled down the center, the gray water vanishing between giant rocks. The walls around them were covered in the markings. Some were dozens of feet above the valley floor. As the men marveled, Spicy looked for any signs of footholds or ladders but saw none.
Further along they found bones. The remnants lay scattered haphazardly across a small area. The men gave them a wide berth. Blades walked through the middle of the remains and picked up a jawless skull. It still had tattered scraps of hair attached.
“Looks like someone fought a battle here,” Blades said. “This guy lost.” He tossed the skull aside.
Lord crouched to examine the bones but touched nothing. “Too many are shattered. Unless whoever slayed these men broke their bones afterwards, they were thrown from above. Perhaps the mountain kingdom men bring their criminals here. They appear to be stripped of all belongings. Or they were sacrifices to their pagan gods. Barbarians.”
“You think tribals did this?” Blades asked. “What about goblins? They’re the only ones we’ve seen up here.”
“We haven’t seen anything in a while. If this place is sacred to the goblins, it may be to the tribals as well.”
Spicy looked at the bones. He tried to believe all of them were human, but it provided little comfort. A raider whistled from up ahead.
Lord marched forward. Around a bend in the valley stood a tall, prominent rock that jutted from the valley floor. It too was covered in scratch marks, but these appeared more intricate, artistic even. The marks were arranged in neat columns. At the top was a larger symbol, a glyph. A pair of eyes.
Spicy had no idea what it meant. But if Somni had one eye on his home, was this related? Did a sage live in this remote valley?
Again, the marks were beyond the reach of any man or goblin not using climbing equipment. Could a troll reach that high? Spicy decided one could.
The men murmured as they looked up at the mysterious rock.
“Quiet, all of you,” Lord said as he climbed to the rock’s base. “Give me time to think.”
He stared up at the arrangement of symbols for a long moment. Then he waved Spicy and Thistle to join him.
Black Tooth shoved Spicy, who walked ahead of him without further prodding. He grabbed Thistle’s arm. She appeared worn and fearful. Her chain was looped up in one arm and no one was holding the other end. In her tousled hair she still had one of the blue ribbons Rime had given her so long ago.
“Remember when Father took us collecting blackberries the first time?” Spicy asked.
“What?” she asked. “Father didn’t, that was mother.”
“Blackberries,” he said more emphatically. “You kept telling me to eat as many as I could even after our baskets were full. You said they’d all be gone after the day was over, that the fruit remained ripe only from sunup to sunset that one day.”
“I…I guess so.”
“I ate so many berries I was sick even before we got home. And when Mother made her pies, I couldn’t even look at them. When she found out how much I had eaten, she was mad at me, not you.”
Thistle shook her head, clearly confused. “That never happened,” she hissed. “Why are you telling me this?”
They were a few steps away from Lord when Spicy stopped her. “Because I need you to know we’re going to be okay.”
“Enough whispering,” Lord said. “What do you make of this?”
The longer Spicy looked at the symbols, the more he kne
w that only the one on the top held any meaning to him. Those eyes belonged to the dragon on the map. They had been staring at him every time he had ever pored over the map’s features as a child. But they also matched those of the dragon glyph Somni had scratched away from the face of Spirit Rock.
Lord offered Thistle the notebook she had been working on back on Spirit Rock. She took it and was leafing through its pages when Spicy had her close the book.
“It’s actually very basic,” Spicy said, stepping past her and pointing up. “The eyes are the eyes of wisdom. The sages. All of them. One marked our sage’s home. Here are two. A sign of perfect vision. And they preside over the wealth of what’s written below. It’s here somewhere, hidden.”
Lord considered Spicy, his jaw clenching. Spicy met his gaze. He felt his own heart hammering in his chest.
“Spread out,” Lord ordered. “Look for any signs of any unusual rock. Blades, get out your shovel and start digging at the base of the boulder here.”
“Me?” Blades said. But he didn’t wait to be told again.
But before Blades could even begin digging, Medico stepped in the way. “Lord, we shouldn’t be here. Can’t you sense it? It’s in the air. The ground is sacred. We’re trespassing beyond just goblin holy ground. Something else is here. The language on the stone isn’t goblin script.”
“Medico, I tolerate your influence on the men because of your skills,” Lord said. “That is why I leave the setting of bones and binding of wounds to you. But you’d challenge my authority over our men now? When we’ve found what I’ve been searching for?” He casually placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“No challenge, Lord. Just a grave concern.”
“If this is no challenge, then step aside. Your responsibilities lie elsewhere.”
“Some of these men look to me for their souls.”
Lord clenched his jaw and bit back a reply. Finally, he said, “Then care for them later. After we’re through here and underway, I give you leave to conduct whatever ritual you deem prudent to comfort them. And their souls.”
Medico offered a curt bow of his head. Blades was free to dig.
Soon the men were all occupied with turning over stones and checking every cranny in the cliff face. Blades continued to work at the base of the giant boulder.
Spicy kept Thistle close. While she still had a chain and collar, it wasn’t latched to anything, and he was free. All they needed was an opportunity. Yet the rock above him with all the writing continued to capture his attention. A book would molder. What was so important that it would be set down in stone?
He found himself wanting to know what the words meant more than anything else.
An hour into the search, Alma appeared, walking along the side of the stream. The rock and its writing didn’t appear to interest her, nor did the trench Blades had dug. “The valley gets tight again a mile up, and the water looks like it runs deep in springtime during the melt. It also flows down over a cliffside nearby. But besides the bones, there are no signs of anyone. What’s going on here?”
“Treasure,” Blades said miserably. “What are you going to do with your share?”
Lord remained busy in his book. “Keep digging.”
“We have goblins for this. Or non-officers. I’m not here for toe work.”
“We left our ranks behind when we left our post,” Lord said without looking up. “If we don’t come up with some sort of compensation, all those ‘non-officers’ will leave us. Or they elect new officers who can get them paid. It’s what professional soldiers do.”
Blades leaned on his shovel. “Be honest, Lord. There is no gold. You’re not here for goblin loot. This is all busy work. Why not share with everyone why we’re really here?”
“Keep your tone civil and your voice down.”
Alma sneered. “What’s the matter, Martin? Hands get too soft for any real work? Give me the shovel.”
A whistle split the air.
Oren came running. “They found something.”
Lord and the others followed to where all the men were gathered on the opposite side of the giant stone. Alma grabbed Thistle’s chain and led her along, pulling her away from Spicy. Spicy trotted after them and craned his neck so he could see.
If ever there was a chance to escape, this was it. But he didn’t have Thistle. And he felt an urge to know what they had found.
It looked like a cluster of large stones had tumbled together over the ages, aided by the rush of water. Dry branches and other debris filled the cracks. But the longer he looked, the more it appeared that the stones were deliberately placed, almost like a rough low wall obscuring whatever was hidden behind them.
“There’s an opening in the rock behind it all,” Oren said. “It goes down.”
Using branches as levers, the men began to nudge a few of the smaller rocks back. A flat stone entryway became visible, something obviously unnatural and formed with tools. The opening also had stairs leading down.
“Fetch a lantern,” Lord ordered.
When the lantern was brought up and lit, Lord handed it to Spicy.
“It’s time, young goblin. Go in there and find this treasure.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Something moved in the darkness in front of Spicy. He didn’t see it, but he definitely heard it. Perhaps it was only rocks shifting from the men clearing the way. But he froze.
“Quit stalling,” Black Tooth said.
“I’m not. There’s something in there.”
Black Tooth peered in. “I don’t see anything. Go.”
Large rocks still cluttered the opening to the stairway, but there was enough space to squeeze through. He had to take care lest the lantern overturn as he descended. He paused to listen but didn’t hear the noise repeat. Once at the bottom, he raised the lantern to survey the passage before him.
At his feet lay a cluster of loose debris, twigs mostly, carried in by wind or rising water. But the cave itself was some sort of tunnel or mine built ages ago. There were metal fixtures set into the ceiling that were thick with rust. Along the smooth stony walls he discovered more scratches, hundreds of them, similar to the writing on the boulder above.
Spicy traced his fingers along some of the grooves and tried to estimate the width of the claw that bore such massive talons. He had seen a bear twice in his life. But his mind hit a wall when he tried to picture a bear that could write.
The passage extended into darkness but appeared to widen further down. His eyes adjusted. He would have to rely on his ears and nose and then his feet if he was to survive.
“See anything?” Blades called.
“Yeah,” Spicy said. “There’s something down here but I want to get a closer look.”
“What is it?”
“Hold on. I’ll need a minute. Then I might need help bringing it out.”
Stones from the entrance continued to be pulled away, letting in more light. Spicy crept forward, one hand on the wall. The floor of the cave had cracked and risen. A few puddles shimmered as Spicy stepped through them. White lines marked where standing water had once been. But further along, the cave was dry.
A dank smell stung his nose. It reminded him of the goat pens back in Boarhead. He was moving beyond the daylight. His foot touched something. He prodded it.
A stick?
Crouching and shining the lantern light low, he found a bone. Not human. A deer leg. It still had a clump of hair near the hoof, but the bone was scraped clean of its meat.
Compared to the outside air, the cave was warm. Stuffy, even. He moved as deliberately as possible, careful of each step, imagining himself sneaking up on a deer, where any sound might spook the animal. Yet so much more was on the line than in any hunt he had ever been on. And now he knew whatever creature had marked the rock faces outside also took down deer.
More bones lay about in loose piles. And then the cave floor appeared almost swept clean. Whatever the creature was, it had its place for eating. Further alon
g, the passage took a turn to the right and it became impossible to see without holding the lantern in front of him. The air tasted somewhat sulfurous. Whatever volcanic poison flowed through the ground was here as well.
He heard a sharp breeze pick up from somewhere ahead, but the sound quickly died away. Spicy froze and waited. Silence, then the breeze rose again, and then fell, like a soft, deep exhalation. Like something breathing.
If the bear was up ahead, it was close enough that it could overtake him before he could retreat to the entrance. All his instincts told him to run.
Spicy turned the lamp down until the flame was a tiny blue finger. He realized he was holding his breath. Whatever the bear was, it sounded like it was asleep. If it was hibernating, it might not easily stir.
Even in the faint light he made out new markings. These were intricate designs like those on the boulder above. Spicy squinted to see better and raised the lantern.
The inscriptions were more concise than those at the entrance. He marveled at the complexity of each letter. These seemed to run in lines from left to right. Somehow these were words, and the words sentences.
He lost himself for a moment, touching the lines and wishing he understood them.
A hard whisper echoed through the cave.
“Ssssssaaaaaaaaggggggge.”
Something had spoken, but the word faded and didn’t repeat. Surely it had been a trick of his ears.
The clatter of more shifting rocks came from the mouth of the cave behind him. One sounded like it crashed down the steps, the sound echoing.
“Gob, where’d you go?” Black Tooth called.
“Right here,” Spicy whispered to himself.
There was a shifting sound in front of him. Whatever slumbered began to stir. He had never been afraid of the dark. It had always been an obstacle to vision, nothing more. The gloom benefited hunter and prey alike. Yet he hesitated, and then turned the light all the way up.
A second room lay ahead of him, where the sounds had come from. It remained a pool of darkness.
Spicy picked up a rock. It was fist-sized. He hurled it into the center of the blackness. It struck something soft. There came a grunt, followed by a deep, guttural rumble from the thing’s throat. He turned and ran. A bone snapped under his feet.
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