Escape From Riddler's Pass (6 page)

Here Noa stopped. “But I hardly need to show you that painting. You have seen the city yourself. Life has changed very little over the past three decades.” He walked away from the wall of paintings, shaking his head.

Then he looked up at them. “But I have talked too long. I have not yet asked you for your history. I doubt your story to the ruler clan was fully accurate.” He looked at them expectantly.

Jesse was about to speak up, when Silas stood, motioning for him to be quiet. “Maybe not,” he said firmly, “but it will have to stand for now.”

Noa nodded, seeming to accept his answer, whether or not he understood it. “Would you like something to eat?” he offered. “I have only the small ration the hunter clan gives out, but….”

“No,” Silas said quickly. “We have supplies of our own.”

“But thank you,” Jesse added.

“Perhaps something to drink, then?”

“Actually,” Rae said, moving toward the door, “I have to say, I'm ready to leave. It's strange for us to be so far underground.”

Noa nodded. “I understand, though it will be hard to say good-bye to my first—and perhaps only—guests. I will show you the way. It's not far from here.”

“Wait,” Silas said, stepping in front of him. He set his pack on the ground, and rummaged through it, pulling out the Rebellion symbol. Now, in the darkness, Jesse noticed what he had not before: the faint white glow around the stone. “What can you tell me about the Rebellion?”

“The Rebellion,” Noa said softly, reaching out for the stone. “May I?”

At first, Silas jerked his hand back, studying Noa. “He's not going to steal it, Silas,” Jesse said, exasperated.

“I know,” Silas snapped. He handed the stone to Noa, who stared at the symbol carved into it.

“My father spoke of the Rebellion,” he said. “In the old days, he was part of the representer clan, which dealt with the Above-grounders. The Patrol members hated the Rebellion, I remember that much.”

“With good reason,” Silas said bitterly.

Noa didn't seem to hear him. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “There was one story my father used to tell. I remember it, because it was one of my favorites. He overheard a Patrol member talking one day, telling of a fellow Patrol who had gone mad and spoke of a place in the mines where there were traps and secret tunnels. He described it as ‘the place where the fist pounds the mountain.'”

“The fist?” Rae asked, sounding confused.

“Yes, that's what the other Patrol member thought too. He described the man's ravings as a hilarious joke, and apparently thought nothing of them. My father thought differently. He knew of a place fitting the crazed Patrol's descriptions.”

“How?” Jesse asked.

Noa shrugged. “Our people created these mines, nearly all of them. The first one was poorly planned, full of twists and turns and dead ends, deep in the heart of the mountains. It was mined of anything useful and abandoned generations ago. My father always believed that was the place the man spoke of.”

“But what does that have to do with the Rebellion?” Silas pressed.

“Of course,” Noa said, like he had forgotten. “The man also repeated the phrase, ‘The Riddler's Pass. The riddler and the Rebellion.'” Noa smiled slightly. “My father told the story well, imitating the man's crazed words. But, though I found the story amusing, Riddler's Pass does not sound like a place hospitable to visitors.”

A mild statement
. “So their headquarters are somewhere in the Deep Mines,” Jesse mused out loud.

“Yes,” Noa agreed. “About half a day's journey from here, in fact, if I remember correctly.”

“Then you know where the headquarters are?” Silas demanded, his voice rising in excitement. “Why didn't you tell us before?”

“You didn't ask before,” Noa said, shrugging. “You asked what I could tell you about the Rebellion—its history. Its location is something to be looked up in a book of maps, not something to be told about. There is a difference.”

“You have a book with a map of the Rebellion headquarters?” Silas asked in amazement.

Noa nodded. “The mountains are our home. You Above-grounders are newcomers here. In the old days, we had every ravine and crevice diagrammed. I am perhaps the only one who remembers.”

“Why haven't you done anything with it? Told anyone?”

“Who would I tell?” Noa pointed out. “No one Above-ground knows we exist—besides you, of course. No one here cares. And besides, how do I know this Rebellion is evil?”

“They killed my father,” Silas said in a dull, dead voice. “He was a priest, shot in an attempt by the Rebellion to murder the governor's steward. He was innocent—killed for no reason. What could be more evil than that? The king may do wrong, but it cannot compare to the evil of the Rebellion.”

“Who are you to judge that?” Noa asked. “Is the evil that destroyed my mother and my people greater than the evil that destroyed your father?” His eyes, though squinting, seemed sharper as he stared at Silas.

Silas didn't answer. He just stared straight ahead, unblinking.

Without another word, Noa crossed over to the cluttered desk on the other side of the room and began rustling through papers and books. “I can't recall where it might be. Never added to it myself, you see.”

Jesse sat back down on the ground to wait. Rae chose to pace, and Silas just stood, staring at Noa. “A map of the headquarters,” he muttered to no one in particular. “And they had it all this time….”

“Here it is!” Noa said triumphantly, producing a thick volume. “
The Geography of the Suspicion Mountains
.” Silas was at his side immediately, and Jesse and Rae looked over Noa's shoulder, not a difficult task with a dwarf.

“Above-ground locations….” Noa muttered, his stubby finger running down a neat index. “Riddler's Pass.” He looked up. “A label added by my father, of course.” He turned the pages carefully and slowly. Silas tapped his foot in a repetitive beat on the floor.

Finally, Noa reached the right page. “There,” he said, pointing. Spread out over both pages was the diagram of an elaborate tunnel system. Jesse could hardly follow all its twists and turns.

“A view from above,” Noa explained. “This map is, of course, more than twenty-six years old, but perhaps it could be of use.”

“Yes,” Silas said, staring at the page. “Yes. This is what we've been waiting for.”

Noa turned the page. “A wider view,” he explained. Now the map showed the topography of the mountains themselves, and the nearby landmarks.

Silas took the book from Noa and pointed to a town near the border. “I know this village,” he said. “Caven. My father was born there.” He looked back at Jesse and Rae. “We can use this to get there,” he said. “I know we can.”

Something inside of Jesse wondered,
And then what?
But he said nothing.

Silas turned to Noa. “Can we take this with us?”

Noa just laughed. “A funny sight you would look on the road, hefting along a large volume of maps to find your way.”

“I mean tear out the pages.”

From the horrified look on Noa's face, Jesse would have guessed Silas had suggested killing his firstborn child. “Of course not.” He snatched the book away from Silas. “I'll make a copy.”

He took out a clean piece of parchment and dipped a quill in a half-full bottle of ink. “I don't have much left,” he said apologetically. “It will have to be small.”

“Just so we can read it,” Jesse said, although Silas looked about to protest.

Several quick, fluid strokes later, Noa had outlined the features of the map. In surprisingly neat handwriting for someone with such clumsy-looking hands, he labeled the landmarks and added the necessary details.

Jesse admired the finished product. It wasn't an exact copy, but the lines were clear and accurate, though smaller. Noa clearly had an artist's eye.

“It will help,” Silas said, studying the map again, then placing it carefully in his pack. “Do you think anyone else here will have more information?”

Noa laughed outright at that. “No. I know they will not. They discard any information that is not immediately useful for survival. The Roarics have always been a race of workers, not thinkers,” he explained with a shrug. “And after the Fall, the leaders decided that it was the representer clan's questions and demands that caused the destruction of Urad. So questions, and with that curiosity and knowledge—became the enemy.”

“Yet they have you, the History Keeper,” Jesse pointed out.

“Yes, they have me,” Noa said, giving a dry chuckle. “The village idiot, the strong young man who plays with heirlooms, paints on his walls, and writes records in books when he ought to be hunting and mining to ensure New Urad's survival.”

Then he shook his head. “But this is no time to feel sorry for myself. I will lead you to the river.”

The river?

But Noa continued without explaining. “I walk there often to get away from the town. It leads to a passage that will take you to the surface. Believe me, the other Roarics have already forgotten about you. You will not be missed.” He paused. “At least, I hope not.”

 

They almost made it out of New Urad without any trouble. Noa was leading them all the way through the small village, when a dwarf with a pickaxe and a dark scowl stepped out from behind the last house. He stood firmly in their way, stocky arms crossed in an unspoken threat. Even though the Roaric was half his size, Jesse couldn't help feeling a little nervous.

“I don't suppose he's here to wish us good-bye,” Jesse muttered.

“Doubt it,” Noa muttered back. “Not Vane.”

The Roaric, Vane, stepped forward. Dirt and sweat made lines on his wide forehead, making his sneer seem like something permanently etched into his face. “Going somewhere, History Boy?”

“Yes, I am,” Noa said calmly, meeting his gaze. “To the river. To show the newcomers how to fish.”

“So they can do work to help New Urad? Like you never do?”

“We all do our part, Vane. Now, step aside. Please.”

Vane didn't seem to know how to respond to Noa's cool politeness. Jesse got the feeling this conversation had happened many times before.

Instead of moving, Vane looked up at the them. He stared longest at Rae. “You're a pretty little thing, for an Above-grounder,” he said, grinning at her. “Maybe you're half Roaric yourself.”

“Maybe,” Rae said, her eyes blazing even in the dim light. “Like you, I'm small in frame. Unlike you, I'm not small of mind. That's half.”

Vane's smile went away.

Jesse groaned inside.
Rae always knows how to make enemies
.

“Hold your peace, Vane,” Noa said, as the other Roaric muttered angrily. “She's new here.”

“She should go back where she belongs,” Vane said, spitting at their feet. “All them should.”

“I tried to tell Kasha that but she— ”

“Not Above-ground,” Vane growled. “In a grave.”

With that he marched back into the pitiful streets of New Urad.

Noa watched him go. “Quickly,” he said, “before he comes back and brings friends with him.”

“He
has
friends?” Rae wondered out loud.

They hurried into the gash in the rock that led into a wide tunnel. The path was lined with the glowing stones, giving just enough light to see what was ahead.

“Friendly neighbors you have here,” Jesse observed.

“Actually,” Noa said, “I have more hope for him than the others.”

“What do you mean?” Rae asked, shaking her head in disgust. “I'd like to smash his face in with one of these glowing rocks.”

For a moment, Noa stared at her, as if bewildered that she could suggest such a thing. Then he said, “At least Vane cares. There is still some life in him. There are still some questions. He's come to all the wrong answers, of course. But at least he's asking.”

That sounded crazy to Jesse, but Noa seemed to be a bit eccentric anyway.
Then again, after so many years alone in the dark, who wouldn't be?

“What's that sound?” Silas asked, stopping.

Noa kept on going. “The river. We'll be coming to it soon.”

Calling the trickling water a river was a bit of an exaggeration. Jesse decided it was more like a stream, especially compared to the strong, clear Dell River of his homeland. The thin band of water flowed along the path. Jesse prodded the water with his walking stick. In the middle, it would come only to his knees.

While Noa, Silas, and Rae walked on, Jesse stopped and took off his shoes. He had walked far over the last several days, and his lame leg was stiff and sore. At home, dipping it in cool water always helped.
I'll just walk in the river
, he reasoned.
I can still keep up
.

The bottom of the stream felt like gravel, but Jesse felt a sensation of relief as his leg dipped into the water with a small splash.

Noa must have heard, because he whirled around. “No!” he shouted, running toward Jesse. “Get out of there!”

No sooner had Jesse stepped back onto the rocky ground than the stream began to boil with movement. Jesse took another step backward, staring at the swirling water. He wondered at first if somehow he had triggered a whirlpool like he had heard of in sailors' stories. Then he saw tails and fins, pale in the dim light, sticking out of the water.

“Cave fish,” Noa explained. “Jags and rockeyes, we call them. Blind as anything, with holes for eyes, but they can feel movement. They're carnivorous.”

“You mean I could have…” Jesse sputtered. He took another few steps away. Even Silas looked a little startled at Noa's words.

“I've heard of a Roaric or two who lost a hand or foot that way,” Noa said sadly, “often children too foolish to obey the warnings. But mostly, we're careful around them. They don't find many of our kind to eat.”

Jesse jammed his feet back into his shoes, refusing to look at the fish again. Rae leaned a little closer to the water, which had calmed down some. “What do they eat, then?” she asked.

“Each other.”

For the rest of the journey, all of them were careful to stay far away from the water. Jesse scraped his arm a few times on the far wall because he walked so close to it.

“They're very flavorful,” Noa said, as if trying to persuade Jesse the fish weren't so bad after all. “As long as you pull off the scales first. They're as tough as armor.”

Jesse shuddered. “I could never eat those…things.”

“There isn't much food left,” Noa said, shrugging. “We haven't gone Above-ground since the Fall, so our diet consists of fish and the animals that come into the mines that Roarics from the hunter clan kill.”

So that's what Bern was doing so close to the surface
, Jesse realized. Then he thought of something else. “No one will go to the entrance we came through,” he said. “Not anymore.”

Noa looked back at him. “What do you mean?”

Jesse explained about the cave-in, leaving out the details of why the king's men were chasing them. Noa didn't ask. “Another scene to add to the histories,” he exclaimed. “And an exciting one, at that.”

Jesse stared at him. “Aren't you afraid you'll run out of food, now that one of your passages is shut off?”

“Maybe it will force my people to leave,” Noa said. “I've been trying to convince them for years, but now that Urad is gone forever, perhaps they will listen. Sometimes it's good to have every route taken away except the one that leads up to the light.”

Secretly, Jesse wondered if anything would convince people like Kasha, Bern, and Vane to leave New Urad.
They'd rather die here, I think
.

After walking for a few more minutes, they found where the stream curved into a small crack in the stone wall, carrying the water to the caves and crags deeper in. “I must leave you here,” Noa said.

Jesse looked around. No light shone from the surface as far as he could see.
And we haven't traveled up far enough. We must still be a long way underground.
“But how do we get Above-ground?”

“Continue straight on,” Noa instructed. “The ground will begin to slope upward. I've only been past here once, as a boy. I remember many rock piles. Keep going, and you will see the entrance to the surface. All mines eventually lead there.”

“Come with us,” Jesse urged him. “You can't stay here forever.”

“No,” Noa said, shaking his head. “That would be the easy way—just as responding to the Fall by denying thought and questions was the easy way.” He gestured to the dark cave. “And you can see where that leads.”

Noa smiled, a tired, lonely smile. “But at least some good has come of this. I can now make the first new painting since Father died. He would have liked to meet you; I know it.”

Rae was already backing down the tunnel. “Thank you for all you did for us.”

“It was nothing,” Noa said. “God go with you on your journey—wherever it might take you.”

Jesse grunted.
Why does everyone keep saying that?
“I don't think God will be coming with us. If he exists at all, he probably hates me.”

Noa cocked his head curiously. “And why do you say that?”

Jesse glanced down at his crippled leg. “Well, I can't walk well, for one. Where was God when the accident happened? Where was God when my parents disappeared? I didn't do anything to deserve it. Why do bad things happen to good people if God can stop them?”

“Ah,” Noa said thoughtfully, apparently not bothered by Jesse's sharp words. “The Great Question. Put another way, why does a good, powerful God allow suffering? Jesse, if I knew the answer to that, I wouldn't believe in God; I would
be
God.”

“Oh.” Jesse didn't bother to hide the disappointment on his face.
Maybe the reason no one can answer the question is because there is no answer.

“But,” Noa continued, “perhaps I can share with you something I've learned. When I was young, I didn't understand why my father lived away from the rest of the village, or why he painted the Histories, or made what seemed to me to be strange, meaningless markings in his journal. But even though I didn't always know why, I trusted my father.”

Noa reached up and put his hand on Jesse's shoulder, just like Jesse's father had once done. “And, to him, those strange markings made sense all along. Each fit together to form a greater story.”

Jesse pictured the neat, clear letters on the worn pages of Noa's books. He couldn't think of anything to say.

“We really should go,” Silas said. “You and your map have been of great help to us. I've waited for so long….” His voice trailed off, but there was a strange, new quality to it that Jesse didn't like.

Noa waved him on. “I understand. Above-grounders can't be kept in the darkness forever.”

Silas and Rae continued into the darkness, but Jesse hesitated.
I'll come back someday
, he decided.
Then I'll tell Noa the adventures I have had with the Youth Guard
.

Before Jesse could say good-bye, Noa spoke up quietly. “It's destroying him.”

Jesse blinked. “What?”

“Silas,” Noa said. “Hatred is a form of evil. It can only destroy the person who holds it. Silas will have a hard time coming to the One who alone can conquer evil—harder than any of the rest of you—he wants too much to be in control.”

What do I say to that?
Jesse tried to make a joke. “So, the History Keeper is a prophet too?”

“No,” Noa said, shaking his head, “but much of history is the study of people, and much of prophecy is the same. Sometimes a prophecy is just taking what is known from the past and applying it to the future. I was like him once.”

That was difficult for Jesse to picture. The two seemed to be radically different. “Well, maybe there's hope for Silas after all,” he said, half-joking. Noa's heavy tone was starting to worry him.

“You're right about that,” Noa agreed. “There is always hope.”

Jesse tried one last time. “Are you sure you won't join us?”

“Yes,” Noa said, “but thank you. This is where God has placed me. When the Roarics decide to ask questions, to remember the past, and to learn from it, then they will have the courage to leave New Urad. But, until then, I must stay.”

He stared into the dark, like he could see something far away. “I am the only light they have.”