by Jody Hedlund
For several infinite moments, an avalanche of rocks fell and would have snuffed out the torch if I hadn’t protected the flame by cupping my hands above it, regardless of the stones battering me. When silence finally descended, dust and debris clouded the air.
Above me, Vilmar groaned.
“My lord. Are you hurt?”
Something wet dripped onto my outstretched arm. Through the haze I blinked and saw a spot of crimson on my sleeve. Another drip splattered and then another.
Blood.
Vilmar was injured.
I pushed him upward, and he groaned again. Rocks clattered and tumbled from him. He’d taken the majority of the blows while sheltering me.
My pulse sputtered. How badly was he injured?
I twisted until I was free and, at the same time, lowered him to the ground. I raised the torch and assessed him. His eyes were closed, and his face was pale. A rivulet of blood ran down his cheek, likely from a gash somewhere on the back of his head.
A quick look around showed that Ty was unconscious and bleeding too. From where he lay, I could tell he’d tried to throw himself over Vilmar but hadn’t succeeded in time. Rocks of all sizes littered the tunnel, but thankfully, it hadn’t collapsed on us entirely.
On the other hand, rubble now blocked the passageway leading back to the main drift, and we were trapped. In order to free ourselves, we would have to lift the stones away one by one. If Vilmar and Ty were too wounded to aid me, I’d have to do it by myself.
What if I couldn’t move the rocks? What if they were too heavy? And what if I couldn’t escape this cave-in to make it to the Choosing Ball on time?
No, I couldn’t think so negatively. I had to shove my fear aside. First, I needed to tend to Vilmar and Ty. Then I’d work as best I could to clear a way out.
After lodging the torch into a crevice in the stone wall, I knelt in the narrow passageway next to Vilmar. I hesitated only a moment before I unbound the leather strap holding his hair back. Then I slipped my fingers through his thick brown locks and felt along his scalp until I located the slick spot where he’d been cut.
At the probing, he moaned.
I raised my skirt and reached for the edge of my chemise. Now frayed and gray, it ripped with ease. I bunched it and pressed it onto his cut. His eyes flew open, and he started to sit up. “Careful. You are injured.”
He closed his eyes and fell back. “Are you unharmed?”
“I am faring well.” Other than a few scratches and bruises, thankfully, I was uninjured.
“And Ty?”
“If you are able to hold this to your wound and staunch the flow of blood, I shall check him.”
Vilmar’s fingers fumbled as he pressed the linen to his head.
I crawled over to Ty and touched the pulse in his neck. At the steady rhythm, I released a tense breath. He was still alive. Probing his scalp, I found several deep gashes. I ripped more of my chemise and tied bandages around his head and one around a gouge in his arm. After arranging him carefully, I returned to Vilmar. Blood saturated the linen at his head, so I tore another piece of my undergarment and laid it against his cut.
Vilmar’s eyes eased open. “How is Ty?”
“His injuries are worse than yours, but I have stopped the bleeding.”
“Thank you.”
“I should be the one thanking you. If not for your protection, I would be hurt too.” As I tied the new bandage around his head, his blue eyes peered up at me, full of concern. I loved his eyes, so piercing and yet so tender at the same time.
“Can you tell how much rubble is blocking our exit?”
Through the haze, I once again attempted to assess the tunnel. Our situation was dire. But I couldn’t tell Vilmar that. “I am sure the others will be working on the other side to clear away the rocks and aid our escape.”
“It’s that bad?”
It would take us hours to clear a path. Before we were free, our torch would likely burn down to nothing and leave us in the dark as easy prey for the rats. The image of Molly’s empty sleeve hanging listlessly brought a lump of fear into my throat, but I swallowed it. “I shall begin removing the stones.”
Though his expression contorted with frustration, he didn’t protest as I rose. He likely knew that every minute of clearing away the debris could mean the difference between life and death.
I bent and picked up the nearest stone. At the scrape of a rock next to me, I paused to see Vilmar hunched over and lifting away a large stone.
“Vilmar. You are in no condition to stand, much less exert yourself.”
He swayed, and I grabbed his arm to keep him from toppling.
“Once I get moving, I shall be fine.” He lobbed the stone onto a heap near the end of the drift.
We worked for several moments in silence until he sighed. “Why? Why all this work in the mines when so few gems remain? It’s such a waste of time, not to mention a waste of so many lives.”
“The new gems grow again after Midsummer’s Eve.”
“Grow again?” He scoffed. “Gems don’t grow again. Once they’re gone, the mine must be abandoned.”
“Then why have slaves mined the Gemstone Mountains for years and never ceased to find them?”
“Why, indeed?” He tossed another rock.
Did I dare tell Vilmar the dark secret that had been my father’s undoing? The real reason the queen never ran out of jewels in the Gemstone mines?
I glanced at Ty and then back at Vilmar. I hadn’t told the secret to a single soul, not even to Benedict or Alice. I hadn’t wanted to put anyone else in the same danger my father had experienced.
Yet, if I failed to kill Grendel and so failed to put an end to the queen’s evil tradition of sacrificing a maiden, then someone else needed to know the secret. Vilmar was a man of honor, and perhaps he’d find a way to kill Grendel in my stead.
Before I could quell my misgivings, I forced myself to tell him. “The queen has the white stone, and her alchemists have discovered how to use it.”
He halted lifting another stone midmotion. “The white stone? For making gold?”
All throughout history, alchemists had been attempting to make gold. Recipes, secret potions, cryptic codes, and legends had been circulating for centuries. The white stone—also known as the philosopher’s stone—was one such legend. In fact, some claimed it was the most important ingredient in the alchemy process.
Apparently, Vilmar had heard tales of the white stone. Did he believe in its miraculous powers? That it held properties capable of transforming the simple into the extraordinary?
“My father, as a close advisor to King Alfred, was present when the king gave the white stone to his daughter Margery and three keys for an ancient treasure to his daughter Leandra. With the white stone in her possession, Queen Margery became obsessed and called every alchemist and philosopher in the Great Isle and beyond to assist her in unlocking the secrets of the stone. And they have been laboring for years.”
“And now they have succeeded?”
“They did not discover how to make gold. Rather, utilizing ancient formulas, they learned all the ingredients necessary to combine with the white stone to create jewels.”
“Jewels?” His voice held curiosity and, thankfully, was devoid of further scoffing.
“Yes, once a year on Midsummer’s Eve, the queen and her alchemists create the concoction. Then her priests bring a special golden box containing the stone and newly made concoction to the Gemstone Mountains. They descend into the mines and sprinkle the mixture throughout the tunnels. Weeks later, after the alchemy process works, the slaves begin to find the gems.”
Vilmar worked in silence for a moment, his expression severe. Did he believe me? Or did he think I was telling him fairy tales? The whole process seemed too mystical and magical to be true. And I wouldn’t have believed it myself, except my father had stumbled upon the truth.
“Last Midsummer’s Eve, my father discovered one of the secret ingredients th
e queen uses to mix with the white stone.”
Vilmar gave me his full attention. “So she killed him for knowing the secret?”
“She killed him because he wanted her to stop. Or, at the very least, he pleaded with her to find a way to make the concoction without using that ingredient.”
“What ingredient?”
Before I could respond, Ty’s faint voice startled us. “A human heart.”
We both turned toward him. Ty was watching me with new interest, as though he could see my deepest thoughts. The intensity made me want to shiver, but I pushed aside the urge. “The white stone concoction requires not just any heart. It requires the heart of the fairest maiden in all the land.”
Vilmar would have straightened and bumped his head on the low ceiling, but he caught himself. “So, after Grendel kills the fairest maiden, the queen uses the young woman’s heart in her alchemy?”
I wasn’t surprised he’d connected the two and now prayed he wouldn’t also figure out my plans. “Yes, after the slaughter and after Grendel retreats to his cave, the priests take the young maiden away to prepare her for a royal burial in honor of her sacrifice. During the embalming, they remove her heart, and except for the alchemists, no one in the kingdom is the wiser for the queen’s cruel custom.”
“Except your father.”
My heart ached at the memory of Father’s agony the day he’d entered the chapel just as the priests had removed the maiden’s heart and were placing it in the gold box with the stone. One look was all he needed to surmise the secret ingredient to the alchemy process, and he finally understood why the Gemstone Mountains never ran out of jewels. He came home distraught, paced for hours, and then fell to his knees in prayer.
After rising, he took me aside and privately told me everything he knew. Then he kissed me farewell, hugging me tightly and telling me to stay strong. At the time, I hadn’t understood why. But later in the day, when he was attacked and killed by so-called bandits after leaving the palace, I realized his confronting the queen and standing up for what was right had cost him his life.
I’d also since realized I was partly to blame for his quest to put an end to the sacrifice to Grendel. At that time, with my eighteenth birthday less than a year away, he’d likely been desperate to find a way to save me.
“So, the sacrifice of a young maiden to Grendel isn’t necessary?” Vilmar watched me carefully, so much so I feared he’d see inside to the plans I’d been formulating ever since I arrived at the mines.
I bent so he could no longer read my face. “Grendel’s rage must be assuaged in some way.”
“That accounts for why the queen has given up capturing him. She has more use for him alive than dead. The madman provides the excuse she needs for killing a maiden every year.”
“Though many knights over the years have offered to fight Grendel, the queen has fanned the fear of the people, reminding them of what happens if a warrior should fail to kill the monster, how countless more would needlessly die.”
“She is crafty indeed. If I were king of this country, I wouldn’t hesitate to put a bounty on Grendel’s head and handsomely reward the knight who brought him to me.”
I almost smiled at the confidence in Vilmar’s tone. He had a good and giving heart, but what did he know of ruling a country?
“I would not wish the fate of being sacrificed to Grendel upon any maiden. But I’m glad it isn’t you.”
I could feel Ty’s keen gaze upon me again, and I focused on the rubble and the task of removing the stones. I couldn’t agree with Vilmar. With the knowledge I had, I was the only one who could put an end to the madness. I’d rather forfeit myself to do what was right than stand by and watch the queen continue her evil practices for years to come.
Even more, I wanted to avenge my father’s death. The queen had taken an innocent man’s life for the sake of her selfish gain. She cost me the one person I’d loved more than anyone else. And I wanted her to pay for it.
But I wouldn’t be able to do anything trapped deep in the mines. First, I had to find a way out before the rats closed in on us. And before I ran out of time to make it to the ball.
Chapter
10
Vilmar
The torch sputtered, and I held my breath, praying it would miraculously keep burning even though only a blackened stub remained. The clatter of rocks was frantic, from my tossing and Gabriella’s. We’d both worked for hours trying to clear away rubble in order to make a way out, but every time we thought we were close to breaking through, we faced additional rocks. Had the entire mountain collapsed in this tunnel?
Ty had attempted to get up and help us, but he’d only been able to work for a short while before he bent over, retching. Gabriella insisted he lie back down and did her best to tend to his wounds and make him comfortable.
Once in a while, we thought we heard voices and the clamor of digging from the other side of the debris. But each time we stopped to listen, eerie silence met us.
Beside me, Gabriella paused, wiped her sleeve across her forehead, and then wearily grabbed another stone. Though we’d each long past wrapped pieces of her chemise around our hands to protect them from the jagged rocks, blood still seeped through the linen from all our cuts.
I wanted her to take a break and rest, and was angry with myself that I had to stand by and watch her work herself to exhaustion. But if we didn’t make headway erelong, our task of staying alive would get much more difficult once the light went out.
She swayed, and I held on to her arm and steadied her. When she stopped singing some time ago, I realized she’d reached the limits of her endurance, so I taught her a lullaby native to Scania. That had rejuvenated her singing for a short while before she lapsed into silence again, not even having the wherewithal to ask me how I knew the lullaby.
“Tell me more about your mother.” I tried once again to distract her from the difficulty of our predicament.
“I am too weary, my lord.” Breathlessly, she heaved another rock onto the pile behind us. “Will you not tell me more about the escapades you had with your brothers? I wish my own brother had lived. I am sure we would have been dear friends.”
I’d already shared all my stories about our childhood adventures fishing, swimming, and hunting, though I couldn’t tell her everything without giving away my homeland. I also couldn’t tell her about our strict education and training regime in preparation for taking the kingship, although with the chances of our escaping the tunnel growing slimmer, I wasn’t so sure that keeping my identity hidden mattered anymore.
At the prospect of failing to free her, I lapsed into frustrated silence.
As if sensing my self-loathing, she apparently felt it was her turn to distract me. “What is the first thing you shall do upon being freed from the mine once your sentence is complete?”
“I would like a feast with an endless supply of mutton and herring. What about you?” Although her sentence of slavery had no end date like mine, I persisted anyway. “What is the first thing you’ll do?”
“I should like a warm bath with scented soap.”
The torch flickered again, and I paused. “Your chemise, my lady. Let’s burn it and give ourselves more time.”
Without my needing to say another word, she ripped a strip and set it on fire. As we watched the dirty piece of linen flame and disintegrate, I knew we were only prolonging the inevitable clash with rats.
“Take my boots,” Ty said weakly from where he lay. “The leather will burn longer.”
I couldn’t. Then he’d be without footwear for the duration of our months in the mine, especially if I couldn’t locate any more gems for purchasing a replacement. I wouldn’t make him suffer that way. But he’d pushed himself up and was unlacing a boot.
“No. Keep yours. I’ll burn mine.” I stopped his hand and gently pressed him back to the ground even as I tugged at the laces of my boot. But at the flare of the fire behind me, I spun only to find that Gabriella had set one of he
r shoes on fire while she dangled the other, ready to add it.
At the sight of her pale feet poking out from underneath the ragged hem of her gown, my frustration arched, causing the wound in my head to throb. It wasn’t fair that she’d been reduced to wearing ragged clothing and shoes, devoid of even stockings. And now, if I couldn’t think of a way to save us, she might be bitten by rats and lose her limbs.
Hadn’t she suffered enough? “The duchess’s steward should be languishing here,” I spat the words. “Likely he took from the coffers and blamed you.”
She paused, and her shoulders slumped wearily. “No. I took the coins.”
“You did?”
“I took coins once a month, just as I always had.”
Surprise choked off my response.
She offered a weak smile. “Yes, I am guilty as charged, and I did not deny it.”
“Technically it belonged to you—”
“’Twas God’s, and I intended to give it back to him by distributing it amongst the neediest of my people, as I did on every new moon.”
As she resumed working, I could only stare at this amazing woman. I’d come here to learn to be the slave of all. And I’d done everything I could day after day to serve the other slaves around me, including Gabriella. But I clearly had much yet to learn.
Moreover, I had much yet to do. Innocent people like Gabriella were languishing and no better off than when I’d first arrived.
Had I somehow missed the true meaning of my mission?
While my thoughts rushed frantically forward, I grabbed the rocks and threw them away from the entrance, working even faster. As I clawed and dug, she did the same, only halting to add more ripped pieces of her chemise and her other boot to the fire.
The flames rippled and gave off a dirty black smoke that filled the air and made it difficult to breathe. Even so, we pulled at the rocks, hardly daring to stop lest we lose a second of precious light to dig our way to freedom.
