Call of the Herald (17 page)

She needed a much larger opening to crawl
through, but several large stones were wedged tightly just below
the hole she had created. She finally got one of the large rocks to
wiggle and rocked it back and forth, moving it a little more with
every sweep. She gave it a hard yank and nearly fell from her perch
when it jerked free, the stone hitting the water with a loud
splash. Catrin leaned back against the rocks and took a couple of
deep breaths.

"Are you all right?" Osbourne shouted across
the water, and his words echoed loudly in the cavern.

"I'm fine. I've found another passage, and
I'm going to see where it goes."

"Don't be gone too long, Cat," he said in a
quieter voice. "I don't want to be here alone."

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

The hollow left by the large stone gave her
more room to work and made the removal of the next one a bit
easier. She soon had a hole she thought she could squeeze through.
With her torch held through the hole, she saw the rubble pile
sloping down and away on the other side. Dropping the torch onto
the rocks on the other side--carefully so as not to extinguish
it--she wriggled her way through the hole, getting slightly stuck
when her belt knife caught on the stones. After freeing the knife,
she slid farther through the hole. A rock broke away and moved out
from under her hand, and she began to slide. She landed noisily,
her face just inches from the burning torch she had tossed into the
space. She wasn't bleeding, but she was a sore in several
places.

After gathering her gear, she moved past the
rest of the debris. The ceiling and walls were unbroken, and Catrin
was convinced these halls had been sealed intentionally. It also
occurred to her that whoever had done it had most likely done it in
a hurry. Otherwise, the barrier would have been much more
substantial. She recalled the arrow slits above the doorway and
thought perhaps they had not needed much more of an
obstruction.

When she moved her torch closer, she could
see how cleanly the stone had been cut. There were no visible seams
in the smooth walls, which seemed to be one continuous surface. The
floor was also smooth, though covered with a thick layer of dust
and dirt.

Walking slowly down the corridor, Catrin felt
like an intruder in a place long lost to the living. Ahead she saw
a doorway, but there were no tracks in the dust on the floor, so
she didn't think she would encounter any wildlife. Still, she crept
ahead slowly, half expecting a specter to jump out at her. Instead,
she found a short hall with several doorways on either side. She
looked into one of the rooms and saw some crumbled pieces of
pottery and rotted wood that may have once been a bed frame. In the
other rooms, she found similar hints that these had once been
sleeping chambers, but the rooms were rather small. She doubted
they had been rooms for the wealthy, and she wondered if they had
been servants' quarters.

In another she found a washbowl behind the
ruins of another bed frame. The bowl was almost perfectly
preserved, with the exception of one sizable chip out of the rim.
It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. She bent down and
wiped her finger across the surface to find under the dust that the
bowl was shiny with elaborate designs below the glaze.

As she bent down to inspect it more closely,
a clump of reddish clay caught her attention. It was wedged inside
one of the bed frame's wooden joints, as if it had been hidden
there when the bed was still whole. Drawn to the clump by some
mysterious desire, she pried it away from the disintegrating wood,
and a small shape revealed itself.

In the dwindling light of her torch, it
appeared to be a carving of a fish, made from some kind of milky
crystal, its surface porous and rough. She placed the little
carving in her pocket and in that moment saw her torch was not far
from burning out. She had been gone a while, and she figured
Osbourne was probably worried. She turned back, eager to tell him
what she had found.

Though she hoped not to use it, her spare
torch was tucked into her belt. When the first torch sputtered out,
she had to quickly decide if she wanted to light the spare while
the first was still hot enough to ignite it. She decided to save it
since she was not far from the opening, and her vision would
eventually adjust to the darkness.

Shuffling along the smooth wall, she worked
her way back to the pile of stone and poked her head through the
hole. The raft waited below, and she was grateful it had not gotten
loose. Looking across the water, she saw Osbourne's silhouette
leaning against the wall near the cavern entrance. Sliding forward
carefully, she was in a very awkward position when shuffling noises
and deep voices shouting words she did not understand suddenly
echoed in the cavern.

Twisting her neck and body so she could see
across the water again, she saw three shadowy forms outlined
against the light of the no-longer-shaded entrance. Helplessly, she
watched as two large men tackled Osbourne and tied his hands and
ankles behind his back. Two more forms entered the cavern, and she
knew she needed to escape. Jerking herself back through the hole,
she retreated into the dark corridor.

For a brief moment, she stopped to think;
there was nothing she could do to help Osbourne, but horrifying
visions of Osbourne as a captive tormented her. She was no match
for two grown men, let alone four, especially not men as large as
those, and she had no idea what her next move would be.

* * *

With four redfish in his sack, Strom stood
and stretched his legs. A light rain fell, thoroughly soaking him,
but at least he was outside. He had never been afraid of confined
spaces, but the cavern made him feel like the world was closing in
on him. Breathing in the fresh air, he started back toward the cold
and dark of the cavern.

His fears returned as he got closer, and he
wondered what would happen to Catrin next. It was as if the gods
were toying with her. Thoughts of the gods had always seemed
distant to him, but now he was overwhelmed by nagging questions.
The rules of his world had suddenly changed, and he was no longer
certain what was real.

It was almost too much for him to absorb, and
he turned his mind to the task of getting back safely. Not far from
the cavern entrance, he encountered Chase.

"Did you see anything?" he asked.

"There's an army coming from the north, and I
thought I saw movements in the trees, so I came back to check on
everyone."

"Did you hear that?" Strom asked. "That
sounded like it came from the cavern."

Chase didn't bother to respond; instead, he
took off at a run, Strom close on his heels.

* * *

When Benjin reached the farm, he sneaked back
into the hayloft to retrieve the things he'd hidden there. Under
the cover of darkness, he carried the sacks down from the loft and
used a piece of rope to tie them together before he slung them over
his shoulder. Then, knowing every moment he stayed only increased
the danger, he made his way along the fence.

Morning would arrive soon, and Benjin knew
the chances of his escaping were rapidly dwindling. Surely someone
would find the man he'd stolen the uniform from, and it was obvious
that men were searching the mountains for Catrin. Quickening his
pace, he tried to cover as much ground as possible before
sunrise.

When he reached the place where he'd first
seen signs of soldiers in the mountains, he froze. Nearby the snap
of a branch warned of imminent danger, but he couldn't pinpoint
from what direction it had come. Not wanting to lead anyone to
Catrin and the others, he began moving in the opposite direction.
The sound of moving leather was all the warning Benjin received
before a sword whistled by his ear. Reeling from his evasive
maneuver, Benjin let go of the string that held the sacks over his
shoulder and rolled away from them.

The soldier who stepped out from behind a
nearby tree was a giant of a man with muscles like cords of thick
rope. His face showed no fear or battle frenzy; instead what Benjin
saw was the cautious confidence of a seasoned warrior. Benjin
managed only a single swing of his sword. The ill-timed and
out-of-practice attack proved to be a critical mistake. Even as he
swung, Benjin saw the man raise his thick sword to meet his strike.
On the bottom of the soldier's blade, just before the crosspiece,
was a large notch. With the precision of a practiced movement, like
a dancer spinning in time with the music, the soldier lodged
Benjin's blade into that notch and used his strength, leverage, and
a quick snap of his wrist to shatter Benjin's sword.

Left with only the handle and crosspiece of
his sword, Benjin could only hope that a technique he'd learned
long ago would allow him to use his opponent's size and strength
against him.

Chapter 9

Mistakes are a necessary part of life, but
they should never be repeated.

--Wendel Volker, horse farmer

* * *

Shrouded in darkness, Catrin continued along
the wall. Her hand glided over the smooth stone, and she slid her
boots across the floor, testing each step as she went. Her fingers
found another doorway. She peered inside but could see nothing in
the darkness. There were side passages and doorways at irregular
intervals but nothing to indicate a way out. Each junction tested
her will. Could it lead to daylight? Her gut told her to continue
straight and let any pursuers explore the rest of the place.

In the darkness, tactile imagery gave her a
sense of her surroundings, but she felt lost without her sight. In
her fear, she moved with exaggerated caution, anticipating unseen
obstacles. When she heard muffled shouts, though, she became
desperate to move with greater speed, and she stumbled several
times in her rush to put distance between herself and those behind
her. Her instincts screamed for her to run as fast as she could,
but she made herself take it slowly for the sake of safe passage,
knowing that even a minor injury could lead to her death in these
circumstances.

No more shouts broke the silence, but that
did little to ease her anxiety. Only when she was far into the
depths of the mountain, by her reckoning, did she begin to let down
her guard. Beyond a steep incline, the hall grew level. A few steps
beyond the plateau, her fingers encountered what felt like cloth
that had been attached permanently to the stone, and it crumbled
under her touch. Her imagination conjured up the image of an
ancient tapestry, depicting heroic lords as they performed mighty
deeds. Unwilling to damage whatever it might be, she used only the
toe of her boot as a guide; beauty, even imagined, should not be
destroyed.

Occasionally she tested the wall with a
finger, but the tapestry stretched on for what seemed an impossible
distance. Her mind could not conceive a work of art so massive, and
she began to wonder if she were fooling herself. When her finger
once again met bare stone, she was almost surprised. The stone felt
cool under her hand, and she let her fingers glide along, feeling
her way into the unknown.

Her thumb encountered a deep swirl carved in
the wall, and that was all the warning she had before she walked
into a stone column. The pain and shock left her shaken for a
moment, but then she explored the column with her fingers: The top
was tapered gracefully, and the bottom was broad. At the base, she
found elaborate carvings, which felt like oddly shaped faces.
Hopeful, she stepped to the center of the corridor and through an
arched doorway, beyond which she discovered a cavernous hall.
Towering pillars, so massive their scale was difficult to fathom,
were illuminated in the pale light.

The distance separating her from the light
source further revealed the enormity of the hall, and she almost
doubted what she was seeing--this hall dwarfed any man-made
structure she had ever heard of. Even the floor was a marvel,
covered with an uncountable quantity of tiny tiles. Large sections
of the design were missing, and the loose tiles made for lousy
footing.

Distant rumblings of thunder warned of a
storm, and in the stillness, Catrin thought she heard rain.
Straining her eyes in the darkness, she headed in the direction of
the diminishing light but was soon plunged back into near
blackness, and she feared she would fall if she tried to go much
farther.

Exhaustion drove her to the nearest column,
and she settled near its base, her knees pulled to her chest.
Anxiety burned in her belly, and fear iced her spine. She worried
about Osbourne's safety and that of everyone else she knew and
loved. Unable to sleep, she tried in vain to find her meditative
state of awareness. Occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the
great hall only long enough to produce quick and frightening
glimpses, and the thunder and the rush of rain left distorted
echoes lingering in the air. Images of demons and phantoms, lurking
in the darkness, tormented her.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but when
she woke, she saw the far end of the cavern bathed in a soft, pale
glow. A jagged chasm, high in the wall, was the source of that
blessed light. Her muscles protested when she stood, but she rolled
her neck, stretched her legs, and started toward the light.

What appeared to be a throne of rough-hewn
rock seemed to grow out of the far wall beneath a colossal
bas-relief. The throne was grossly oversized--large enough to hold
ten men--and was flanked by a pair of statues in the shape of men.
Similar figures lined the walls, and they made Catrin's flesh
crawl. She soon realized they were not statues, but suits of heavy
armor, the likes of which had not been seen in recent history.
Under her breath, she muttered, "Strange. Empty armor guarding an
abandoned throne."