by Rose Estes
Tam pawed his leg. Placing the stag on the ground, Mika pushed aside the branches of the spruce and entered.
Chapter 18
HORNSBUCK AND REDTAIL greeted the arrival of the stag with much happiness. RedTail gobbled the numerous scraps greedily as Mika and Hornsbuck butchered the animal quickly and efficiently at the edge of the stream.
“By the Great She Wolf, you look as though you’ve bathed in the blood,” Hornsbuck said with a laugh. “You’d best wash off. Anyone seeing you would think you’d rolled in the thing before you brought it back.” Mika just smiled and did as he was told.
Hornsbuck could not understand Mika’s refusal to partake of the stag, but lost no time in worrying about it, stuffing himself with great quantities of meat, barely waiting for it to sear over the tiny flame before he choked it down.
“Now that we have meat, can we leave?” Mika asked.
“Aye, we’ll leave tomorrow,” said Hornsbuck.
“And the gnolls . . .” began Mika.
“They’ll never find us. You’ll see!” said Hornsbuck, and then there was no more talking as he addressed himself to his food in a serious fashion that precluded speech.
RedTail slobbered and growled over a leg bone, bits of flesh and gristle dotting his thick red pelt, and Mika could not help but observe that man and beast bore a strong resemblance to each other.
Tam and Mika lay down together and tried to ignore the sounds of crunching and slurping.
Mika looked at the princess, his eyelids heavy with fatigue, and in that foggy state, she looked quite lovely, almost as beautiful as she had when he first laid eyes on her. His half-closed lids filtered out the dirt and the smudges and the torn clothes and the snarled hair. In his mind’s eye, she was fresh and clean and lovely.
He yearned to see her awake, with her eyes open, staring at him with love. He tried to picture what form her gratitude might take, for now it was he alone who would win that reward when the spell was lifted—now that the others were dead.
Of course, there was the small matter of finding out who had placed the spell, persuading him to lift it, and emerging alive in the bargain. But that was another matter . . . and one that he would think about later. Still thinking of the princess and his reward, he closed his eyes and slept.
“Time to go, Mika. Best be awakening,” said a loud voice, rupturing the pleasant dream into splinters.
Mika opened his eyes and stared up blearily. Hornsbuck leaned over him, shaking his shoulder, a smile splitting the great beard.
Mika groaned and closed his eyes, trying to recapture his dreams. The princess had been just about to take off her dress.
“Go away, Hornsbuck. It’s the middle of the night.”
“Pah!” snorted Hornsbuck. “Get up lad, get up. Time’s a wasting, the sun will be up any minute now. It’s time to go!”
Mika opened his eyes and glowered at the ceiling of branches. The dream was gone and would not return. He turned his head and looked at the princess who lay scant inches from him, then closed his eyes and sighed. Sometimes dreams were far more preferable than reality.
He sat up and groaned. Mornings were not his favorite time of day. Hornsbuck handed him a stick, layered with grilled chunks of deer meat, singed and covered with a fine layer of ash. “Eat up,” he advised. “We won’t be eating for a while to come.”
Mika closed his eyes and did as he was told, finding it strange indeed to compare this meal with his last and declare it far inferior. Being a wolf had its advantages.
They packed the meat in two bundles made from the hide of the deer. The meat, unsmoked, would last no more than two days without going bad. But Hornsbuck said that it would be more than adequate, although he still refused to give any explanation of where they were going.
Other than the meat, which they loaded on the roan at Hornsbuck’s insistence, they took as much grass as they could gather. They cut the grass off at the roots and bound it in sheaves, and Mika was thankful that it was both lush and abundant or Hornsbuck would have left the roan behind. Lastly, they heaved the princess up into the saddle and tied her in place in front of the pile of pitch-soaked limbs Hornsbuck likewise deemed vital for some reason.
Mika took the opportunity to try and clean the princess up a bit, smoothing down her tangled hair and trying to wipe some of the dirt off her dress.
“Leave off,” growled Hornsbuck. “It won’t do any good, and the damn female probably won’t approve no matter what you do. You can’t ever please a woman. Why, once I brought back a whole bagful of hydra eyes for a woman . . . thought she could string ‘em on a necklace, do something pretty with ‘em. Almost got myself turned to stone getting ‘em for her. And did she appreciate ‘em? No, she did not! Threw them away! Said they made her sick! Can you imagine? Women. Pahhh!”
Hornsbuck eyed Mika critically. “If you need to do something, braid your own hair. You look like a damned woman with it down on your shoulder like that!”
Mika sighed, refraining from mentioning the painful bruise that still covered much of his scalp, and he scraped his hair into a loose braid to appease the older nomad who had definite ideas of what was appropriate.
Hornsbuck grunted with approval, then, taking one last look to make certain that nothing was being forgotten, turned and began leading them in a northwesterly direction.
They walked for several hours, leading the horse by the reins. They met nothing living, although they found a number of gnoll and hyena corpses, all of which had been chewed upon by hyenas or hyena-dons, most forest dwellers being too choosy to eat such foul offerings.
Only once did they find humans, a driver and a nomad, or what little remained of them, made unrecognizable by the severity of their wounds and the teeth of predators. They quickly buried the pitiful remains, said a few words, and hurried on their way.
The forest was thinning now, the sablewood and roanwood trees giving way to smaller softwoods— white-barked birch and quaking leafed aspen. The soil underfoot was changing from soft loam to hard-packed earth and stone. Periodically they were forced to skirt large boulders that stood alone like giant monoliths.
Hornsbuck called a halt and turned to look at Mika, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He studied Mika wordlessly for some moments as though filled with uncertainty. Then, coming to some decision, he sighed and shook his head.
“Look, Mika,” he said gruffly. “No man alive knows what you are about to see, excepting me an’ RedTail here. I learned it from someone else, and he’s dead now. It’s secret. You can’t tell. You’ve got to promise. Give me your solemn vow.”
“All right,” said Mika, puzzled as to what could possibly be so important.
“Don’t promise unless you really mean it,” growled Hornsbuck. “I mean, even if they pull your toes out with their teeth, you can’t tell. It’s that kind of promise I’m asking for.”
“All right,” Mika said slowly. “Even if they pull my toes out with their teeth, I promise not to tell,” he vowed, wondering all the while who “they” were and why they should want to do such a thing. Surely Hornsbuck was exaggerating.
“By the spirit of the Great She Wolf, Mother of us all, Guide of our spirits and protector of our souls, I Mika, son of Veltran, do promise never to tell this path to any man, not even if he pulls off my toes with his teeth and other horrible things,” intoned Hornsbuck, holding up his hand and nodding at Mika, commanding him to repeat the words.
Mika held up his own hand and repeated the words word for word, feeling foolish all the while. Tam sat on his haunches and looked up, tongue lolling, laughing. Mika refused to meet his eyes.
Satisfied, Hornsbuck lowered his hand and resumed walking. The ground began to rise underfoot. The trees grew sparse and then disappeared completely, giving way to a dense mat of coarse and prickly bushes. They shoved their way through them with difficulty. Once again, they began to encounter the strange boulders, although now there were more and more of them, the ground more rock than dirt. T
he land began to rise in a series of low, jagged hills, stretching away to the far horizon. Mika was not pleased at the thought of traveling across such harsh open land and started to speak.
Hornsbuck chopped off his speech with one slash of his hand and held it up as though forbidding Mika to speak while he stared in all directions with sharp eyes, scanning the forest behind him intently.
Seeing nothing and receiving unspoken confirmation of some sort from RedTail who had been busily snuffling the air with upturned muzzle, Hornsbuck led the roan to a large boulder that stood nearby, a boulder seemingly no different from any of the hundreds that surrounded it. He then gestured for Mika to follow.
Mika did so, thinking that they might be taking a brief break, but Hornsbuck dropped to the ground and began moving stones at the base of the boulder. Mika stared down at the grizzled nomad, totally bemused. What was the man doing?
Hornsbuck moved to the opposite side of the boulder, making certain that the roan was out of the way, and then leaned his shoulder against the rock.
“Get over here and help,” he growled, looking up from his efforts and seeing Mika staring at him strangely. Mika joined him, putting his own weight against the rock, although he had absolutely no idea what on Oerth they were doing or why.
Suddenly, the rock began to move. It shivered under their palms and trembled with the anticipation of movement.
“Push!” commanded Hornsbuck, straining against the rock, his face suffused with dark blood and his neck corded with effort. Mika obeyed, pushing harder now that it seemed that something was actually happening.
There was a loud rumbling groan, and the boulder rolled to one side, exposing a yawning black cavity at their feet that Mika barely avoided falling into.
He stared into the dark hole with disbelief. He looked up at Hornsbuck who grinned at him broadly. “What is this? Where does it go and how does it come to be here?” Mika stammered. “And how did you come to know of it?”
“Hah!” exclaimed Hornsbuck, slapping his hands on his thighs. “That is for me to know. There are still a few things left in the world that you have not discovered.
“Hornsbuck has had more than a few adventures in his day,” he said, green eyes glittering. “I am not just some dusty old nomad who knows nought but wolves and killing. Dainty manners ain’t everything. I, too, have my secrets, and they may save your life yet, young pup, so save your laughter and sneers for someone other than I.”
Mika felt the blood rush to his face and he sneaked a look at Tam who also appeared somewhat chastened.
“My apologies, Hornsbuck. I did not mean to give offense. I’m sure TamTur and I can learn much from you and RedTail.”
Their eyes met and held, then Hornsbuck turned away. “Too much talking,” he said gruffly. “You’ve even got me doing it. Let’s go.” Sweeping the area with one last look, he grabbed the reins and dragged the roan into the dark hole.
The roan was not pleased at the prospect and attempted to rear, his nostrils filled with the scent of damp earth. But Hornsbuck allowed no such opportunity, holding the reins tight in his huge fist right below the horse’s muzzle. He had no choice but to follow where he was led.
Mika was more than a little reluctant himself, having never liked close, dark places. But he followed hard on the heels of the roan with Tam close behind.
The earth sloped gently for the first few feet, and as his head dipped below the surface of the ground, Mika felt a hand grip his arm and pull him aside.
Hornsbuck pulled two of the pitch-stained limbs from the roan’s back and, striking his flint, lit them. They burst into flame immediately and began to burn with a bright flame, trailing tails of dark smoke.
Hornsbuck handed both limbs to Mika and then reached up and started pulling on what appeared to be the roots of bushes, that dangled from the earthen ceiling. There was a low, rending groan, and the boulder began to move. Mika’s chest grew tight and a feeling of panic came over him as the boulder rolled back into place, blotting out the blue sky above. It settled into place with a solid, final-sounding thump. Mika wondered with a panic if it would ever move again.
“Don’t mind,” Hornsbuck said roughly, clamping a callused hand on Mika’s shoulder, “it ain’t so bad, after a bit. You’ll get used to it. Come on, we’d best get going. Keep your mind busy so you don’t have time to think.”
Mika was not too sure about Hornsbuck’s logic, but he agreed in principle, so he handed one torch back to the older man and then followed behind the roan, concentrating on his immediate surroundings rather than the thought of where he was.
Their heads and shoulders brushed occasionally against the earth walls and ceiling. Roots poked through the ceiling, flaring briefly as they were touched by the torches. The roan filled the narrow corridor completely and scraped dirt from the walls which fell in Mika’s path.
Quite soon, however, the path dropped abruptly in a series of gigantic steps. It gradually widened until it was broad enough for both he and Hornsbuck to walk comfortably abreast, the wolves in the lead and the horse bringing up the rear.
The ceiling rose higher and higher until it was more than three man-heights above their heads, and Mika’s feeling of oppression lifted somewhat.
He looked about him curiously, noting the smooth blocks of stone underfoot that had obviously been worked by man or dwarf. Metal torch brackets were fixed to the walls at regular intervals, although the wooden stubs that filled them were draped with cobwebs, sad testament to the passage of long dark years since they had last known the heat of fire.
“What is this place?” Mika asked in a whisper that rustled about them in ghostly echoes.
“Don’t know for certain,” rumbled Hornsbuck. “I think it was a mine of some sort, although it seems too fancy for that. There’s all kinds of other passages coming in here and there. You’ve got to be careful not to stray.”
“Why? What’s down the side passages? Where do they go?” asked Mika, his voice filled with concern.
“Don’t know,” said Hornsbuck with a shrug. “Main path takes me where I want to go, so I never tried exploring. I figured it was safer sticking to the main trail.”
“Where does the main trail go?” persisted Mika.
“Straight into Eru-Tovar,” said Hornsbuck with a broad grin, looking at Mika, anticipating his surprise. He was not disappointed.
“Eru-Tovar?” questioned Mika, his eyes wide with surprise. “You mean this tunnel goes straight into the city itself?”
“That’s right,” nodded Hornsbuck. “Ends up right under an old abandoned temple. Discovered it one night when I was looking for a place to go with a friend. Quiet like, if you get my meaning.”
“I know,” said Mika with a smile, although it was hard to imagine Hornsbuck snuggling up to any woman. Still, the man did have his positive qualities, and once again he had surprised Mika with his ingenuity.
The passage of time was strange and different without the light of day. Mika grew disoriented and he could not tell if he was hungry or tired or how long they had been traveling by the time Hornsbuck called the first halt.
The ceiling and walls had turned from dirt to stone some time ago and now rose in vaulted arches above their heads. The walls were regularly spaced with rounded pillars of stone that flowed into the ceiling, more ornamental than functional. The passage had taken a sharp turn to the right when Mika became aware of a sound, more felt than heard, that reverberated through the tunnel.
A current of cold damp air struck them full in the face as they intersected a new passage. The sound was louder now.
Hornsbuck hesitated for a moment, then turned to enter the new tunnel which was lower still than the corridor they traveled. It was reached by means of a narrow ramp. As they descended, the cold rush of wind grew stronger and their torches flickered wildly and threatened to extinguish. However, once they reached the floor of the new corridor, the draft gentled and the flames steadied.
Now Mika could see the cause
of the noise and the damp draft, for on the far left edge of the passageway, which now yawned wide enough for twenty men to walk abreast, there ran a fast-flowing torrent of water that rushed by at a pace more rapid than a man could walk. It flowed in the same direction as they traveled.
Mika approached the water cautiously. It was black and oily in appearance and barely reflected the light of his torch. Mika shuddered, not anxious to draw closer nor tempted to slake his thirst from such a concourse. It looked as though it could suck a man under.
“Nasty, eh?” said Hornsbuck. “Don’t like the looks of it myself. That’s why I filled my waterskins from the stream before we left. Don’t want to wet my gullet from the likes of that. Don’t trust water at the best of times, and this,” he said, nodding his shaggy head toward the black water, “ain’t exactly the best of places.”
Mika nodded his total agreement.
They halted briefly beside the rushing water and built a small fire against the far wall, roasting chunks of meat on the ends of their knives. They sliced off generous portions of raw meat for the wolves and then fed and watered the roan.
“Well, at least she doesn’t cost too much to feed,” said Hornsbuck as he whacked the princess on the buttocks with casual familiarity. “And I’ve got to admit that she doesn’t talk too much. This spell certainly has its good points!”
Somehow, Mika felt offended on the princess’s behalf and spoke up, drawing Hornsbuck back to the fire.
“Why are we eating here? It’s so cold and drafty.”
“Figured the draft might wash away the smell of the food,” said Hornsbuck. “I’ve always figured that there must be some critters living down here. I don’t know what they are, and I’ve never seen any, but it doesn’t hurt to take precautions.”
“Critters? Like what?” asked Mika, the meat suddenly lying heavy in his stomach.
“Don’t know,” Hornsbuck said with a shrug. “Could be almost anything. All sorts of critters like the dark better than the light. Could be kobolds or gnolls or bugbears or trolls or gnomes, dwarves, goblins, or even orcs, for all I know. I can’t say for sure. I just keep my eyes open when I’m down here, and I don’t dally.”
