Cavelost

by Courtney Privett

  I rubbed the tears from my eyes then, and I'm doing it again as I write this now. I'll never see them again, any of them, will I?

  Yana fiddled with my fingers and tapped on my thumb. "You have sons, I know. Tell me."

  "Shan and Tessen. Shan is also Daelis's son. He loves to read and he's so smart. He's studying at the University of Jadeshire. Tessen is a year younger. Sweet boy, very caring. He's apprenticing to a silversmith. He made my bracelet, the one with the stars that you like to touch. I had a third son. His name was Alon, and he was only a little boy when he got sick and died. That was four years ago, and I still miss him every day. I can never bring him back, but I still hold him in my heart."

  "I not understand all the words, but I find love in your voice. Now I know my new family. Take me home to them. Will meet them soon." Yana yawned and closed her eyes. It only took a minute or two before her breathing fell into the pattern of deep sleep.

  I returned my head to the ground and joined her. Dreams of my family followed, dreams that I hoped would not become my final memories of daylight.

  Day 15, part 2

  We've been informed that we face the Jarrah after the next light cycle. In a way, that is a relief. I'd rather not prolong our confinement and probable death any longer than it needs to be. I'm also hopeful that we'll learn the identity of our captor. Then again, the Jarrah could remain a complete enigma who decides our punishment will be decades of torture. I'd prefer a quick and clean death to that. If my body is devoured by Varaku, so be it. At least I'll already be dead and won't feel it. At least my vacated remains will be of some use, even if that use is nourishment for monsters and partial immortality as a bone dagger handle.

  Daelis is uncharacteristically quiet. He's sitting upright against a wall with Yana on his lap. They occasionally exchange whispers, I but I can't hear what they're saying. My guess is she's talking about her family and asking him about his. The latter would explain the sour look on his face. At least it distracts him from his pain. I know from experience that he's probably in the worst of it today. The wound will ache and itch as it heals, but for now I'm sure he's feeling nothing but a constant deep and intense sear that can't be relieved no matter what he tries.

  I've been in that place before, that insulated alcove of misery midway between injury and beginning to heal. My body is decorated with scars, and each one tells a piece of my story. I have a long scar on my thigh where a raging dwarf ripped me open with a dagger. There is the thin, faded white line that runs from the lobe of my right ear under my jaw from the murderous elven woman who tried to slice my throat and missed. There's the oblong purple mark on my left flank from where I fell onto a fence post as a child. I have a burn scar on my right hand and forearm sustained during the successful rescue of three people from a burning tavern. My favorite, aside from the tiger stripe stretch marks my children gave me, is the patterned scar on my upper left arm. It's an intentional scar, not from an injury. It's a mark of honor given to me by the orcs of the Broken Quagmire. I'm one of the few humans gifted with such a mark, and I cherish it. All I have to do is lift my sleeve and show it to an orc, any orc, and they know I am a friend of their race.

  Yana has many scars, mostly on her back. I think she was beaten and whipped, and that thought breaks my heart. Children deserve comfort and love, not pain. I want to take away her life of fear and replace it with one of love and safety. That can only happen if we make it to the surface, and I no longer have much hope that escape is possible. I need to rekindle that hope, even if it's just for her. She deserves so much better than the life she was born into. She's mine now, my little girl, my responsibility. I share that guardianship with Daelis and I'm surprised to find that I don't mind. She needs both of us and we need her. She keeps our fight alive, even in this forlorn abyss.

  Yana hugs Daelis. He flinches and bites his lip, but doesn't cry out. He's stronger than I thought before. I'm surprised, and he keeps surprising me in new ways. This wound will heal into what is likely his first major scar. His skin was completely unmarred seventeen years ago and I doubt he's gathered any marks of note since then, aside from the small line on his hand that was probably caused by a rather vicious piece of paper. Still, he's handling this injury better than a few of the seasoned warriors I've encountered, especially the elves, who have a tendency to shut down when they're in pain. He's not crying or begging or feeling sorry for himself. He's just enduring and waiting it out. Stalwart, paternal Daelis isn't a person I ever expected to meet. I suppose I have to admit we've both changed significantly since we last knew each other.

  I need stop watching Daelis and Yana and take some time to write a little note to my Tessen. I doubt he'll ever see it, but the thought is a gnat lingering at my ear. Then I suppose I'll eat the sorry and disgusting excuse for a meal that the guards brought. What after that? I have no idea and the wait to learn our fate is excruciating. Death or torture, torture or death. If we get extremely lucky, I'll see a means and opportunity to take out both the Jarrah and the Varaku closest to him so we can run. Unlikely, but still... where there is Yana, there remains hope.

  Tessen,

  I buried a chest under your favorite tree, the one where I used to read to you. Look under the branch where the swing was. Share the contents with your aunt and brother.

  Love,

  Mom

  Day 15, part 3

  Yana is asleep on my lap. Most of her, anyway. Her legs are on Daelis's thighs. She has claimed us. Both of us.

  After we get out of here and are settled back in Jadeshire, I'm going to ask Tessen to make a silver star with a Y engraved on it to add to my bracelet. Y for Yana. She's not my child by blood, but we've adopted each other so she still counts. The stars won't spell out STAR like Tessen wanted, but instead STAY. Appropriate. Stay with me. Stay together. Stay alive. Stay in my heart. Stay, just stay.

  I wonder how Yana will react when she finds out how many of the Uldru myths are true. Bears, stars, wide open spaces with no ceiling above, only a great blue sky ignited by a blazing sun. I imagine she'll be afraid of the surface world for quite some time, and her eyes and skin may be too sensitive to enjoy full daylight. She's so young that I believe she'll adjust over time. I'm not sure how young. She has no concept of years, or even days and nights. Sleep time, awake time, then, now, soon. She appears chronically malnourished, so she is likely small for her age. I think she's somewhere between four and eight years old, or the Uldru equivalent of that, but that is such a large age range for a child that my guess doesn't mean much.

  We'll figure her out more when we're home. I'll teach her about time, about the stars, how to read and write, how to sword fight. She'll grow up, fed and healthy and strong, and she'll never be anyone's slave. She'll fall in love with someone who sees her as beautiful, and maybe she'll have children of her own, children who will never know what it is like to live in permanent darkness. She'll be loved far beyond the end of her living days.

  However long or short a time we have left together, she will always be my daughter. She will spend the rest of her life knowing she is loved, knowing she belongs, knowing that even if we fail, we've tried our hardest to protect her. Yana Sylleth-Goldtree, our foundling daughter.

  It's strange to be willingly sharing parentage of a child with Daelis, after what he did to me with Shan. I have to admit that he's changed. He's earned my trust in this matter, but more importantly, he's earned Yana's. She's made a deviant little family out of us, even in this short time. I hope he keeps his promises to her if we escape. I don't think she'll ever trust anyone again if he doesn't.

  "I see my name. Are you writing about me again?" Daelis asks. His eyes are barely open, and I'm not sure if it's because he's tired or if he's trying to meditate away the pain.

  "You know I am. It's a compulsion at this point—writing about this mess in case we die and someone finds our bodies and the journal. I don't want my sons to think I gave up without fighting until my last breath."

  Daelis sl
owly leans to the right until his head rests on my shoulder. "I think it's so odd that you're writing what I'm doing as I'm doing it. Oh well. It doesn't bother me anymore. I understand your motives." He carefully raises his left arm until it sits against Yana's leg. "I can't imagine how hard it is for her to be back with the same creatures that she was running from. I've watched the terror grow in her eyes every time she's not being held by one of us. Thank you for agreeing to this. She needs us both right now."

  "We already have one child together. What's another?" I want to stretch my arms, but I can barely move with Yana on my chest and Daelis on my shoulder.

  "Or two or three," Daelis whispers.

  "Stop. I said before that I would love to have more children before I get too much older. That doesn't mean with you." I rub my brow before returning my pen to the paper. "You infuriate me sometimes, and I think you do it on purpose. You told me you wanted a whole bunch of children back when you used to sneak me into your bedroom. How many was it, six?"

  "Seven. I hated being an only child. Though it's probably a good thing that I was, considering how intensely my parents disliked being parents." Daelis sits upright. He whimpers as he turns away from me. "I need to lie down. Do you think we can move her without waking her?"

  "Going to sleep?"

  "Maybe. I don't know how well I'll be able to with the pain and knowing we'll probably be dying tomorrow, but I certainly can't sit up any longer."

  I slip my arm under Yana's legs and raise them so Daelis can slide to the ground. She's caught in a deep sleep, dried tears still staining her dusty cheeks. Once Daelis is positioned, I tuck her against his arm and chest. He kisses her hair and smiles before closing his eyes. He's not asleep yet, but he will be soon.

  I need to sleep, too, but it's difficult knowing this could be my last long sleep before a permanent slumber. I need to try, or at least close my eyes and rest. I'm going to lie down so Yana is between us, and then I'm going to give Daelis a kiss before he falls asleep. Just one. Just for being so wonderful with Yana.

  Damn it, errant heart, leave me alone. Don't even think about falling for the person who threw you into the most difficult years of your life, the person who abandoned his own child because of the fear his old family would never accept the new.

  I guess restraint doesn't matter so much when we're hours away from the Jarrah likely deciding we are to die. Still, all I have for Daelis is this one, solitary kiss before I embrace Yana and chase sleep into the abyss.

  Day 16

  "Who do you think it is? The Jarrah?" Daelis asked through clenched teeth as I dabbed at his shoulder with a clean rag and the last of my med kit alcohol.

  "This is healing nicely. No sign of infection and the edges are starting to knit back together. Not that it matters if–"

  "Rin, don't say it, not in front of her." He reached up and grabbed my hand. From the opposite wall, Yana offered us an anxious smile, then returned to producing a swirling purple mist from her fingertips. It wasn't as spectacular as her bubble trick, but it was still a pretty little magic.

  I pressed the back of my hand against Daelis's cheek. "No fever. I think you'll be fine. You're right-handed, so at least you can still throw if we manage to steal you a weapon, but try not to do too much else that requires upper body movement for now."

  "Rin, Rin, Rin." He was hesitant to release my hand. "Are you going to answer my question?"

  "We've gone over this," I said. I returned the med kit to my rucksack and sat down next to him. "For all I know, it's my mother. Or yours. Or some beggar street urchin neither of us gave money to. Or some bored, sadistic god who doesn't like your face.”

  Now, Yana continues conjuring vapor and mist from her trembling hands. Daelis's hand rests on my knee while I write in my journal. I don't feel like breaking contact. If physical contact soothes him, I'll let him have it. We are all terrified, and it is important to stay externally calm. A mind fogged by fear has difficulty finding resources within the chaos. Improvised weapons, escape routes, potential traps and allies all come into view. I can be afraid without letting fear overtake me. And I am afraid.

  "So am I." Daelis says.

  "Have you been reading over my arm this entire time?" I ask.

  "Yes. Sorry. I don't mean to intrude on your privacy. Or your space."

  I tilt my head until my temple contacts his. "Normally I'd mind, but I don't right now. We've reached our crossroads. Whatever happens next, we're in the now together. Even though our circumstances have been ridiculous, I'm glad we've been able to reconcile some of our past mistakes. I don't feel loathing when I think about you anymore. Quite the opposite. I rather like the person you've become."

  "Do you?"

  "Yes, I–"

  The gate grinds open and a Varaku face looks down on us. "Up. The Jarrah await."

  Time to go, I guess. Onward to death, or whatever other torture lies ahead.

  Day 17

  I'm not sure where to start.

  I'm still here. We're still here. All three of us. I have no idea where here is. I only know that we're alive and together.

  Now, where to start? This will take a while to write. Hopefully the others won't bother us until I'm done. I'll have Daelis distract them if they stop cowering or sleeping or whatever they're doing and wander over here. Ah, yes, there are others now. Two more. I haven't seen their faces yet to know who or what they are. I assume they have the same problem we do, considering they're wearing the same ridiculous dingy white woolen robes and they've been dumped in this gods-forsaken white cave with us. I'm sure I'll be writing more about the mystery duo later, unless they ambush and eat us.

  For now, I have the Jarrah to deal with. Forgive me if this comes out as nothing better than a word splatter. I'm still a little off-balance from whatever I was drugged with. I'm here, I'm alive, I have my sword back, and I may fall asleep before I finish writing this entry.

  This is what happened.

  After removing us from the stone cage, the Varaku surrounded us and shoved us down several long hallways with low ceilings and slippery floors. Yana refused to walk, so I carried her. She buried her face in my shoulder and sobbed as each prod by Varaku talons jarred our bodies. I kept alert for anything I could discretely tuck into my sleeve to use as a weapon, but so far there was nothing except moist rock walls and unarmed Varaku.

  We soon found ourselves in a massive cavern. The ceiling was studded with quartz lights and the stone walls were carved into gruesome reliefs of Varaku dismembering and devouring Uldru while hooded figures looked on. More terrifying than the walls was the crowd gathered on the floor, which was easily the size of the market square near the center of Jadeshire. Varaku stood close together, their mottled skin and leather clothing a mosaic of subterranean hues. Their sparkling diamond eyes reflected the quartz lights as they all turned to watch our approach.

  Beyond the Varaku, lining the carved walls, stood a large number of thin and ragged Uldru. The race's resemblance to elves was more pointed in the older Uldru, but there were few present who looked to be the age of maturity. Most were frightened, fidgety adolescents. I assumed they were allowed in the chamber to be taught a lesson. If you misbehave like Yana did, this is what will happen to you. I was afraid of the potential punishment more than of the Varaku themselves. Whatever the Jarrah decided, Yana didn't deserve it. She was too young to be anything but innocent.

  The crowd parted to let us through. Ahead of us was a raised platform carved from some sort of iridescent black stone. At the center of the platform stood two figures, cloaked in red and hidden behind black and white masks. Their eyes glowed like sea-green stars from beneath blood-colored hoods. So, perhaps the Jarrah wasn't a single person, but instead two people, or even a group. A guild or an order or a cult—this was going to change our list significantly.

  Chimes echoed off every surface when we stepped onto the platform. The cloaked figures stood unmoving, their black gloved hands partially hidden within their ample sleeves.


  We were forced to our knees. A Varaku attempted to rip Yana from my arms, but I refused to yield. I would not let her go. I had already told her I wouldn't unless I needed both hands to grab a weapon. So far, there were no potential weapons to be seen. Endless, unarmed Varaku, and an equally unarmed pair of Jarrah.

  "You were not expected to come this far," the taller of the Jarrah said. I recoiled at her voice. Her. The gender of the speaker was distinct even through the throaty whisper. How many of the suspects on our list were female? I couldn't remember. "We did not intend for you to find each other. We especially did not intend for you to take on this... stray slave. Our toys do not often survive past the first week, and it has been decades since any discovered the location of a hive."

  A rhythmic thump sounded behind us as the Varaku stomped their feet in unison. Thump. Thump. Thump. "Jar-rahhhhh!" Thump. Thump. Thump. "Jar-rahhhhh!"

  The shorter of the Jarrah took a single step forward. "Our loyal friends are hungry, Fathomless Mother. Shall we feed them?"

  Also female. Were all Jarrah female? I didn't know of any non-cloistered, all-female orders aside from The Sisters of the Moon and the Harmonious Sibyls, but they were peaceful, charitable, benevolent groups. Perhaps not all Jarrah were females, only the two representatives before us.

  The one called Fathomless Mother raised both of her gloved hands, then placed them on our shoulders. Daelis released a quiet yelp as she squeezed his injured flesh. She bent down, close enough that I heard her steady breaths stick to the inside of her mask. I didn't recognize the line pattern on the black mask. A white line ran from crown to chin, and it was intersected by three lines crossing the mouth, nose, and brow. The longest horizontal line was at the level of the mouth, and the shortest was at the brow, so the three together created the impression of a point-up triangle.