by John Daulton
When they’d taken what they needed to explore the cave further, Ilbei nodded for Meggins to proceed. The younger soldier complied, moving up the passage with a torch held out before him.
For several hours they followed the stream along. Ilbei noted that the vinegar smell grew stronger, but other than that, there was little change in the scenery. The cave had turned slowly back in the direction of Fall Pools and stayed that way, or at least as near as Ilbei could tell, and he was certain enough to announce it to his men when they came across a small patch of glowing fungus, which Ilbei recognized as the same type he’d seen in the ettin cave.
“We’re gonna undo all of this morning’s march,” Kaige said. “We’re going the wrong way.”
“We’re goin the right way is what I expect.”
“Right way for what?”
As if to stymie any answer Ilbei had, the next few steps brought them to where the cave split, a low-ceilinged branch leading left and a slightly narrower one leading right. The stream came from the left passage. The right one was completely dry, but it had not always been so, for it too was smooth and polished, obviously by the flow of water over the course of many centuries. How recently those centuries had come to an end was impossible to tell. Meggins stopped for a moment and peered into one passage, then the other, then back at Ilbei, his face traced in golden curves of torchlight. “Well, Sarge, you were saying?”
“Hmm,” Ilbei hummed, the sound low and rumbling in his barrel chest. He waded up the stream to the left until he was at the edge of Meggins’ torchlight. He sniffed the air, then listened in silence for a time. All he could hear was the running water.
He went back and entered the right-side tunnel, taking the torch from Meggins as he passed. He repeated the listening and sniffing thing.
“Well, I suppose we ought to go left, bein as I smell copper and lead that way,” he said at length. “But the vinegar is comin from the other one.”
“The vinegar might be something natural, something fermenting up there, maybe something leftover from before the water ran dry,” Mags said. “This one might only run in wet years or when the snowmelt is on with the first heat.” Ilbei glanced over at Jasper, who appeared to agree, though he was mostly busy retying the knot in his robes, which he’d made to hold them up and prevent them, sort of, from getting wetter than they already were.
“All right,” Ilbei said, “then left it is. I expect ya all ought to be ready fer whatever comes. Kaige, pull that shortsword ya wear; that long blade won’t be nothin in here. Meggins, be ready with yer bow.” He turned to Mags and Jasper behind him. “Mags, light another torch from the ones we put in that pack of yers, and come along behind with Jasper. Hold it fer him if’n he needs to read some kind of spell. Keep an eye out behind us too as we go along.” When they were ready, he took the torch and the lead from Meggins, then headed up the stream.
The cave grew narrower as they progressed, making the stream deeper and with very little in the way of dry edges to serve as a bank for walking upon. In places, the passage narrowed so much that they had to get into the water and wade, above the knees for Ilbei, well below for Kaige, somewhere between for the rest. Ilbei’s main concern was noise, splashing along as they were, and the shape of the tunnel amplified the sound of every step.
He followed the tunnel for some time, perhaps another hour, occasionally passing through sections where tiny patches of the glowing fungus grew, noting that it grew around cracks that blew cool air, suggesting they were near the surface or the face of the steppe somewhere.
At length, they came to a very small chamber, more of a bulbous expansion of the passage, really, and in the center of it, some three paces in, was a waterfall. It crossed the chamber in a shimmering sheet, spilling out from a long crack in the ceiling and splashing into a pool of its own making like a curtain. The veil of water was backlit by more of the glowing fungus, which grew around the edges of the pool more thickly than in other places along their way. The blue light seemed to dance with the golden glow of the torches, giving the waterfall a colorful, nearly prismatic effect. Ilbei noted that the smell of lead was strong, smelted lead, not just raw ore. It was a difference as obvious to him as would be the varied aromas of fine wines to a connoisseur. Stepping through the sheet of falling water, Ilbei discovered the far end of the chamber only a few paces away. This was the end of the passage, he realized, and the beginning of Harpy Creek.
Turning back to face his companions, he saw that there was a narrow ledge to his left, a shelf perhaps a half span wide. On the right, there was hardly anything of an edge at all, only the sloping angle of the cave wall as it bowed into the rock, the work of the waterfall eating away at it for countless spans of years. The fungus grew all around the water’s edge, and he noted that a good deal grew at the bottom too. Unlike those in the little pool in the ettin cave, the clumps of fungi at the bottom of this pool glowed dimly, just like the ones that weren’t submerged. He turned full circle, making sure he hadn’t missed any dark openings or crawl spaces, but there were none. He did notice, however, that in one place the fungus grew in a straight line up the wall. He went to it and discovered a crack in the stone, wide enough he could get his fingernail in it. A cool breeze blew out of it, heavy with the smell of lead. He leaned closer and sniffed. Sure enough, that was the source of the scent, lead with a hint of copper. And with it came the voices of men.
He snuffed the torch in the water and motioned for the rest of them to stay back. Only Kaige had come through the curtain of water to join him, but the big man had the sense to lean back through and convey Ilbei’s instructions that they stay put.
Ilbei pressed his ear against the damp stone. The cool air chilled his cheeks, the moist breath of a mountain stirring through his beard. He listened, but he couldn’t make out what the voices said. They were men, but that was all he could tell. Frustrated, he returned to his companions beyond the waterfall.
“There’s somebody down there, but damned if I can hear a thing. Jasper, ya got anythin in that bag of yers to lend a hand … or an ear?”
Mags gasped at that, as if she were about to laugh and then changed her mind. Then she pitched forward and splashed into the pool right in front of Ilbei. The light of her torch extinguished as she fell, plunging them into darkness for the span of blinks it took for their eyes to adjust to the soft light of the fungus all around.
“Mags,” Ilbei called out as he stooped and reached for her. He bumped heads with Meggins, who was doing the same, and his helmet clanked against Meggins’ skull. Something hissed right above him, followed by a thwick noise from the sheet of water behind him and another, much louder sound like something huge had struck the stone. That loud strike was followed by a rainfall patter of small objects, like gravel landing in the pool.
“To the sides, to the sides,” Ilbei hissed, pushing them all out of the line of the main passage. His eyes were beginning to work in the dim light, which was amplified a little by the waterfall. He risked a peek around the edge of the chamber, down the passage through which they’d come. The stone near his face erupted as he did, pieces of it embedding themselves in his cheek. A dark shadow passed in that same instant, long and skewing off sideways upon impact with the curve of the stone behind which Ilbei ducked. Something wooden clattered off the wall opposite him, followed by a splash.
He could just make out the dark island of Mags floating facedown in the water, nearly carried out of the chamber and down the stream. He hooked her backpack with his pickaxe and dragged her back, hauling her up onto his lap. He rolled her over, pressing his face down near hers, leading with his cheek to feel her breath as he had the air coming through the crack only a few moments before. There was none.
“Assassins,” Ilbei hissed. “They’ve killed her.” Something cut his hand as he moved it over her body. It was the point of the shaft that had struck her down, shot all the way through and emerging several finger-widths through her chest. “The Skewer,” he hissed. But when he fe
lt the tip of it, it didn’t feel right. The bolts that Ergo the Skewer’s crossbow fired had narrow, three-pronged heads. This was a two-barbed arrowhead. He rolled Mags’ body over enough to see the black arrow in her back, the shaft a dark line in the dim luminance, the bright green fletching glowing in the ghostly light of the fungus all around. “Verity!”
“That’s right, Sergeant,” came the reply. “And you’re trapped like wintering bears in there. No sense making a fuss.”
“Jasper, can ya do anythin fer her?” Ilbei pushed Mags toward the mage, whose teeth were chattering audibly. Ilbei could see the whites of his eyes glowing blue in the fungal luminance. Ilbei had to ask again. Jasper looked up at him, fighting with his fright.
“N-not if she’s d-dead. Is she … dead?”
“She might be. She ain’t breathin. Can ya do anythin fer her?”
Meggins pulled her toward him, a little deeper in the chamber, and followed the same procedure Ilbei had. He pressed two fingers against her neck as well. He shook his head. “I think she’s done,” he said, but he pushed her toward Jasper and held her so the skinny mage could look.
“I’m n-not a n-necromancer,” Jasper said.
“Just check and see what ya got in the bag,” Ilbei hissed. “This is what we brung ya fer.” He started to look away, but stopped, adding, “And quit that chatterin so as ya don’t bungle it somehow.”
“I think you people think I’m a doctor or something,” he said, but he was rummaging through his satchel as he mumbled it.
Ilbei watched him and could tell by the way he moved, breaking off a piece of fungus and using it to look inside his bag of spells, that he didn’t believe he was doing anything that would be of use. At least he’d found the will to get the chattering stopped.
“Verity, ya son of a basilisk,” Ilbei spat. “Mags is dead.”
“Of course she is,” Verity called back. “As the rest of you will be. So let’s not prolong this. I’d really like to be done before sunrise, or at least before dinnertime tomorrow if you people insist on dragging it out.”
“Ya done shot a woman in the back!” Ilbei said. “What kind of sorry whoreson maggot does that?”
“She had a quarterstaff,” Verity replied, “declaring her as a combatant, which you know perfectly well.”
Ilbei glanced to where her quarterstaff had landed, half in the water, half nestled amongst a clump of the glowing fungi. “Well, she didn’t declare no fight with ya that I seen. Fact, there weren’t no declarations made at all, as last time we seen ya, we was all on the same side. But now ya gone and got me riled some, so this here is me declarin fer ya, honest like.”
“Yes, yes, Sergeant, your bravery and pugilistic talents were well known long before the army brought you down from Leekant. But I have no intentions of getting close enough to witness them firsthand.”
“Coward,” Ilbei called back.
“I think prudent is a better word. We all have our own unique gifts, Sergeant.”
“She never done ya one lick of harm,” Ilbei said. He turned and regarded poor, limp Mags lying in Meggins’ arms, Jasper muttering over her under his breath, reading from a scroll by the light of a busted fungal knot. She hadn’t even gotten past her twenty-first year.
“Listen, if it’s all the same to you,” the hunter said, “I can see as well as you can that you’re at a dead end. Which means, you’re trapped. And since you really don’t have any way of getting past me, wouldn’t it be easiest if you just gave up and let me finish this?”
“There’s four of us,” Ilbei called back.
“Yes, three infantrymen, one of whom has a standard-issue shortbow, and a scroll-mage who sits there in the dark with you chattering like a chorus of yammering clams. Unless whatever he’s muttering strikes me down soon—which seems unlikely given that the boys went through and pulled his offensive spells—I think the odds are grossly in my favor.”
To punctuate that statement, a chunk of the wall where the passage narrowed exploded into bits of gravel, once more sandblasting Ilbei’s face. The arrow ricocheted off the rock and hit the back wall with a dull wooden thunk. Ilbei scowled at it as it splashed into the pool.
He turned toward Mags and the muttering of the mage, but Jasper had just finished. He saw Ilbei looking at him and shrugged. “That’s the best I can do for now. I don’t even know exactly what it does. It just says ‘Growth Heal – One.’”
“How in the nine hells do ya not know what it does? Don’t ya have to know that stuff?”
“I do know them if I am the one who writes the enchantment. This is obviously a standard-issue spell down here in Hast because they gave me tons of them before we left. I have no idea who penned them.” He held up the parchment, but it was blank, the words gone after the reading of the spell. “It’s the same version as the one I read for Kaige’s head. They gave me some other healing spells that are surely better, but they’ll take several hours to read properly.” He glanced around them, then down at his shaking hands. Ilbei could see the parchment corners vibrating in the light, and the tightness in Jasper’s jaw suggested that he was trying very hard not to chatter.
Ilbei would have cussed, but there was nothing to be had for it just then. “Then dig a little deeper in that there sack and tell us what ya got that we can use.” Ilbei kept his voice low, loud enough to be heard over the splashing waterfall but not beyond, or so he hoped. It was hard to say how far off Verity was. It was pitch black down the tunnel as far as he could see.
He glanced to Meggins and Kaige, the two of them having pulled Mags’ body off of Jasper. They were in the process of getting her out of the water, up onto the shelf of stone. There was barely enough room to stuff her onto it, and even with that, her legs were going to stay wet. Not that it was going to matter much to her now, Ilbei thought.
He noticed the black wooden arrow bobbing in the pond, floating lightly on the surface, its green fletching glowing slightly bluer in the ambient light. “Kaige, get that fancy arrow he just shot. Use yer sword. Stay out of his line of sight.” Ilbei hoped maybe there was some kind of magic in those black shafts that they could turn back on Verity.
Another arrow broke flecks of stone away.
Jasper leaned against the stone, head down, shoulders drooping. Ilbei took the wilting wizard by the shoulders. “Listen here, soldier. I understand you’re cold and wet, and Mags lyin there like that done yer spirit an awful turn. But givin up ain’t gonna get us out of here, I can tell ya that. Now straighten up, take a breath, and wake the man in ya. Think of Her Majesty’s glory if’n ya need, or of that mum ya got back home, waitin on yer return, but find a way to snap to. We need yer brain workin fer somethin other than rattlin yer teeth. Now come on, son, think, what have ya got?” When Jasper merely looked up at him, his eyes blank, fear and cold smothering him, Ilbei slapped him hard across the face. “I said snap out of it, boy. We need ya with us.”
Laughter echoed up the cave at them.
“A fine troop of men you’ve got there, Sergeant. Her Majesty’s finest no less.”
“You’ll see it true when we get done pullin our steel out of ya.”
Another spray of rocks peppered the side of Ilbei’s face, the arrow splashing somewhere beyond the waterfall.
Jasper was at least blinking when Ilbei looked at him again.
“Come on, Jasper. Ya got to have somethin in that damned bag. Think, son.”
Jasper’s wits seemed to be returning.
“I can’t get it, Sarge,” Kaige said.
Ilbei turned to look, and saw the big man bent over, both hands wrapped around the black length of one of Verity’s arrows as it floated in the blue glow of the pool. Kaige’s broad back was bent and his tree-trunk thighs flexed as he strove to lift the arrow out of the water, straining and grunting as if it were an enormous thing and bolted in place.
“Won’t budge,” Kaige said after another try. “Like it’s stuck on the water. Might as well be ten tons of stone.”
; Ilbei didn’t risk trying to climb over Meggins and Jasper for fear of exposing the protuberance of his belly to Verity’s brutal bow. And to what end, anyway? If the great strength of young Kaige couldn’t lift that arrow from the surface of the pond, floating and bobbing as it was, as easily as a bit of cork might, well, then there wasn’t likely much more Ilbei could do. Clearly, Verity’s arrows were cursed. Or at least, cursed as far as Ilbei and his men were concerned.
Another arrow hit the wall, and more bits of stone stung him, biting into his skin like insects. “Gods damn ya, Verity!” he called.
He glanced at the line of the crack from which the voices and the huffing air came. They were close to somewhere else, even if there wasn’t a crawl space. If he tried to make one with his pickaxe, he’d expose himself like a damned gopher jumping out of its hole into the haymaker’s blade. But there might be something Jasper could do, even though Ilbei hated the very thought of what he was about to ask.
“Jasper,” he hissed low. “What about teleports? Have ya got one of those in that bag of yers?” He shuddered as he asked it. Few things made him shudder like the thought of teleporting did. For some it was spiders, others heights. For Ilbei, teleporting was everything unnatural in the world. But, short of blind, headlong assault, it was the only way out of here.
“I do have teleport scrolls,” Jasper replied. “But they won’t get us out of here.”
“Why not? What the hell are they fer if’n not fer that?”
“They only gave me teleports with a fifty-pace range.”
“They what? Fifty paces? What kinda— Well, that makes as much sense as sendin ya out joustin on a three-legged horse. Why on Prosperion would they give ya a gimped spell like that?”
“Too many first-year wizards would rather not be in combat,” Jasper said. He sighed and looked as if something had struck him funny. “They told me that when I—” He paused, as did Ilbei, as another crushing arrow struck, blasting them with stone chips and bits of grit.