“He’s right. We can’t stay here much longer. Gita, you take that shoulder. Use your arm to help support his weight.”
It’s strange how pain can dilate time. The process of sitting up couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds, but those seconds seemed to stretch on into hours. Shahin couldn’t quite bite back the scream this time. At the end he sat forward over crossed legs, panting as though he had just run for miles. He closed his eyes to gather his composure.
“So… you were… scouting?”
“I was.” Bahadur kept his voice carefully neutral.
“How bad? …Bring …my tunic. Use it …as a wrap.”
“Bad.” Movement said that Bahadur had motioned for the cloth. “It’s a wonder the tunnels don’t smell of rot already. Some of the bodies have been chewed on, but it was like they got distracted by something. Others look like they were trampled… No way of telling if there are still creatures in there. I didn’t hear any.”
Shahin was finally able to catch his breath as Bahadur finished speaking. The other man crouched as though to catch him if he fell over. Shahin ground his teeth at being reliant on his former captor. Maybe it was unfair to hold that against the man, but he didn’t care. Gita stood on his other side, fingering the tunic that Arvinda had produced for him, back when he’d first joined the Chèin’ii.
“Thank you, Gita.” Shahin held out his arm to take the shirt. He lifted it by the shoulders and scowled. “Not long enough like this. Let’s tear it into strips and tie those together.”
“But – ” Gita started, then changed her mind. “Are you sure? Let’s try it this way, first.”
“…If you insist. My long jacket just barely did the trick before.” He’d have to sit through it twice this way, but right about now, in her shoes, he’d be clinging to anything familiar, too. Shahin gritted his teeth and said nothing as she satisfied herself that the tunic was too short to tie around his chest.
“If you’re done?” He tried to smile, but his mouth only curled into a rictus.
Gita nodded hesitantly.
“Thank you.” He passed it to Bahadur, who tore the shirt in broad strips from the neckline to the hem. Shahin tied them together while Gita kept anxious watch around one of the boulders they sheltered behind. After longer than Shahin liked, they had a long strip of cloth.
“Gita, will you help me?” Bahadur asked when they had finished.
They worked in silence, mostly.
“And just think, I had to do this alone the first time,” Shahin grunted at one point. Bahadur had tugged the wrap a little too tightly.
“For what it’s worth, Shahin, I told my men to hold back once we discovered… this,” Bahadur said a little later. He let the cloth go a little slack to gesture at the bruising around Shahin’s broken ribs.
“And what am I supposed to do with that? Be thankful this wasn’t the third time they were broken?”
The other man shook his head and resumed wrapping. “I don’t know. I do know your information saved our lives.”
“You could have had it sooner. But I guess in the captain’s place I’d have laughed, too.”
“That doesn’t sound like the captain.”
“Well, that’s what happened. It was someone else – urg – started the mocking.”
“Who? …Not that it really matters, now. Might not’ve mattered then.”
“Some southerner with a big sword.”
After that, it seemed like there wasn’t much to say. Shahin’s teeth hurt from grinding them as his chance companions pulled the wrap tight. He allowed himself deep, throaty growls when he felt like he had to scream.
“Just when I thought I was used to it.” He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, testing the bonds. “Good. All right, let’s go.”
* * *
The mine shaft was lit intermittently by the few lanterns that were neither broken nor dry. Often these flickered violently, as though their oil were nearly gone. Shahin and Bahadur each took one as the light from the entrance faded. The sandstone walls and ceiling were rippled and ridged as though worn away by blowing sand, even though they were drawn by miner’s picks. Gita flinched away from every corpse they passed and kept as close to Shahin as she could. He kept his eyes fixed ahead. He still saw them, and he couldn’t escape the smell, but not looking kept the nausea at bay. Bahadur was leading them somewhere. He wouldn’t say where until after he’d poked his head through the lone wooden door they came across.
“Found it.”
“Serpents, found what?” Shahin snapped, irritated and in pain. If it were anyone else, he’d have regretted the tone.
“The on-site office.”
“There’s an office?”
“Someone has to monitor things here. Don’t just stand there, get in.”
Shahin arched an eyebrow at Bahadur – what’s the point? – but followed. It was better than the carnage in the shaft. Gita closed the door behind them.
“Now, why did we have to come in here?”
“Because there should be a map.”
“Right. I guess I’ll start looking over here.”
The office was a small room; it was only a few minutes later when Bahadur surfaced from under the writing desk with a piece of rolled parchment.
“Found it! I think.” He began rolling it out on top of the desk as Shahin and Gita came to look. “Yes, this looks like just the thing.”
“There's still a little oil here, too.”
“Good. Did you find anything, Gita?”
The girl just shook her head.
“No matter. Let’s have a look.”
* * *
Armed now with a map and a few jars of lamp oil, the three set back out into the mines in search of a secondary exit. The tunnel curved unpredictably, and occasionally Bahadur would have them turn off into a cross-tunnel. Sometimes they passed landmarks of a sort – generally stacks of raw salt bricks ready to be carted out of the mine. Once Shahin paused to pocket a chip of rock salt; another time he glanced down a side passage only to see a cache of stoppered jars. The acrid smell of black powder tingled in his nose. Through it all the horses stuck close, whickering nervously and rolling their eyes at every stray noise.
Shahin lost all sense of where they were. Without Bahadur’s map this would have been hopeless. He tried not to wonder how many had made it through in the night, or if anyone was still wandering lost. Shahin moved as quickly as he could, but it wasn’t enough. Even after Gita let him lean on her shoulder Bahadur had to wait on them at every intersection. Had the ceiling been only a little higher he could have ridden Kamari, but that was one thing the mine had never been designed for.
They came to a rough three-way intersection deep within the mines. There was another cache of explosives; by all appearances the miners had been opening a new tunnel. Somewhere off in the distance rocks clattered. Shahin felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and Gita pressed up against his side as though he were her real uncle. Bahadur pulled up short at the same moment. They looked at each other with wide eyes.
Shahin grunted as Kamari nearly knocked him over trying to huddle closer for safety. There it was again, still faint but audible this time – tchra! Tchra!
“How much farther?”
“Far enough to be trouble. Let’s hurry.”
“I’ll try.” He had made it through the ruined city on his own when his body should have been in worse shape. He shifted his weight from Gita’s shoulders and took hold of Kamari’s reins. Leaning on the slip of a girl was no help.
Shahin hurried down the rippled stone corridor as best he could. His breath came more heavily than it had any right to. Every step jarred a new stab of pain.
Bahadur half-ran from one intersection to the next, using the time to make sure their path was clear. The chilling cries of the monsters grew louder, and came more often.
They’d never get out so long as they stayed with him. “Bahadur.”
The other man stopped to wa
it, peering about with his flickering lamplight.
“Take the girl and get out of here. I’ll get them off you.”
Bahadur lowered the lamp and turned to stare back at Shahin. His look shouted don’t be a fool.
Tchra! Tchra! The sound was close; maybe around the last corner, maybe only the one before, and Bahadur’s face smoothed into a calm mask. He nodded once, slowly.
“Good luck.” Bahadur grabbed Gita’s hand roughly.
“You, too.”
“What – wait!” Gita planted her feet.
“Gita, I can’t go any faster. Go with Bahadur. I’ll be fine.”
“But -”
“There’s no time! Go on, I’ll catch up.” Shahin turned back the way they had come and lifted his lamp, hoping she wouldn’t hear the lie. This seemed to be a fairly new section of the mine; maybe that meant there would be more explosives nearby. Bahadur hurried off with his horse, practically dragging Gita behind him.
“You going to wait around for me, girl?”
Kamari whickered and stomped a hoof.
“I guess so. Stay.” He hobbled down the tunnels as quickly as he could, trying not to jump as the hunting cries and the scrape of carapace on stone seemed to rush towards him. Kamari whickered anxiously.
Finally, down a set of side passages far too far from where he began, was a small cache of miner’s bombs. With luck he might even live through this. He gave a low whistle, and Kamari trotted towards Shahin and his pool of light.
Shahin set his lamp on the ground and piled the stoppered ceramic jars under the nearest support arch. Kamari whisked her tail and stood quietly while he finished, urged on by the approaching hunting calls. By the time they were in place he thought he could see the shadow of monstrous pincers. Shahin pulled himself into the saddle, trying to avoid knocking his head on the ceiling while still favoring his side.
He used the lamp to light the plug of the jar in his other hand and tossed it over his shoulder at the pile. Shahin caught a glimpse of blood-red mandibles in the flickering light. He lay low against Kamari’s neck, wrapping his forearms in the reins and thrusting his feet through the stirrups up to his ankle. She leapt forward. No matter what happens now, I should stay in the saddle.
Moments later the plug he had lit burned through, and its jar exploded with a loud bang and flash of yellow. Kamari spooked, and the rest of the pile went up in a series of explosions that filled the tunnel with smoke and falling rock.
Now they were galloping. He would just have to trust to the horse to find a way out of here. The smoke seemed to obscure everything, even the light of the lamp he still held. As Kamari ran from the explosions the light seemed to dim. A familiar feeling of vertigo swept over him and the acrid smell of black powder filled his nose as the light extinguished.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The sound of explosions rolled through the mine tunnel, followed by tumbling rock. The horse whinnied and shied. Gita struggled to hold her. Despite himself Bahadur looked back, but the light of the explosion did not reach them. He looked down at the map one more time.
“Time to move, Gita.” He started down the corridor, hoping he was reading it right.
“Is… is he dead, too, now?”
“That’s really up to him, isn’t it? Are you coming?” Bahadur glanced over his shoulder to look at the girl leading his horse.
He could smell smoke. The dust cloud couldn’t be far behind; they would choke if they didn’t hurry. He gripped her wrist, crumpling the map in his hand, and set off towards what should be an exit. Gita had to jog to keep up with his ground-eating stride, but the horse needed no urging.
Once, Bahadur’s path led them to a dead end that shouldn’t have been there. Gita stood, panting from the exertion, while he studied the map. Smoke began to eddy about the roof and dust about his ankles before he worked out an alternate route.
“Let go, Gita.”
“Huh?”
“The bridle – let go of it.” She looked confused, but did as she was told. No sooner had the leather left her hand than he scooped her up and set her in the saddle. She blinked.
“Keep your head low and hang on. I think I know another way out.”
She nodded.
“We have to turn around for a bit. Sit tight now.” Bahadur smiled and hoped she found it reassuring. She wasn’t that much older than his boys. No. You’re not going to think about that. Not now.
There was just enough room to turn his horse in a tight circle in the confines of the tunnel, although the mare balked. She balked more as Bahadur led her back into the cloud of dust and smoke.
Before long, Bahadur asked Gita to hold the lamp for him; he used his newly-freed hand to lift the neck of his tunic over his nose and mouth. He still wanted to cough, but it was easier to breathe that way. The lamplight barely illuminated five feet in front of his face, and he expected the flame to gutter at any moment as they crept through the tunnel. He kept track of where they were by count and his memory of the map. Checking it now would be useless.
He had led them around three corners before the lamplight brightened again. The haze was dissipating. His eye caught on a wisp of cloud. It looked like a tendril creeping forward in search of light. There must be an exit this way, then.
“You all right back there, Gita?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” She coughed.
Bahadur nodded to himself. He felt a little lightheaded, but that would fade as the air cleared. “We’ll be out soon.”
“Mm-hm.”
Bahadur sighed. How did one comfort a girl in this situation? Serpents, how would I comfort a boy in this situation? But we can’t stop moving. Not yet. The low rumble of falling rock reached his ears as they passed another intersection. He led them down the tunnel opposite the sound – a bit of luck, that. Please make it out. He meant the wish for Shahin, but then realized he wished it for himself, as well.
They went straight at the next intersection. The dust was beginning to clear from the air and the rumbling of falling rock grew weak behind them. The creaking of the wooden beams made him nervous, though. They turned at the third intersection. A little later the tunnel curved sharply.
There, through the winding tunnels of rippled rock, was their first glimpse of natural light. It was as orange as the flame of their lamp, but it did not flicker or falter. The light glinted off the edges of steps carved under it.
The legs that had not rested in two days somehow found the energy to pick up their pace, and the light grew rapidly. Soon they were climbing that set of shallow steps to the world above and tasting the fresh savanna air. He extinguished the lamp.
Orange light slanted down through the portal, illuminating the topmost steps. He shaded his eyes as he crossed the line from shadow into light. The horse shook its mane but didn’t try to bolt. The stairs led up out of the hillside and onto the grasslands. Beard grass rippled in the warm evening wind. Behind them the bluffs loomed, rust-red and magnified by their own shadows. Gita sat up and stretched.
“We should find a place to rest. It’s been a rough couple days,” Bahadur said.
“Can we… stay near the mine? Maybe that way…” Only the question was hopeful.
“Sure.” Bahadur glanced around. He wanted to wait, too. Somewhere nearby should be where the miners would set up camp in the middle of their long shifts.
There. The barest of trails led a few hundred yards into the grass, where a small stone circle marked a fire pit. If they were lucky the strongbox would be well-stocked.“That looks like a good spot.”
* * *
Several minutes’ walk from the mine entrance a small clearing of packed dirt surrounded a stone circle lined with soot and ash. Bahadur now had a fire crackling merrily, its warm light pushing back against the encroaching night. Gita sat staring into the fire, her knees hugged to her chest. There hadn’t been much food left – a little dried meat, some nuts, and an emergency canteen filled with water that tasted strongly of tin. It would do for tonight,
though, and a tiny breakfast, and that would have to do.
The mare grazed happily now that her tack had been removed. The saddle would serve as a pillow for one of them; he gathered beard grass for makeshift pallets, his back to their camp.
Gita hadn’t spoken since they left the mine, and Bahadur was only barely able to get her to take a piece of jerky. Even then she only nibbled. He understood, he really did, but worry still dogged his heels as he worked.
“He’s dead, isn’t he.” She stated the question as fact, and her voice shattered the quiet.
Bahadur felt his heart leap into his throat. He stilled, a sheaf of grass in one hand, as he calmed his nerves. He took a deep breath before answering.
“We don’t have any proof of that.” Yes, child, I think he is. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her.
She didn’t answer right away. She didn’t even look up from the fire. “He’s dead. My family’s dead. The caravan is destroyed. Everything is wrecked.” The worst of it was her voice: flat, emotionless, a rote recitation of irrefutable facts.
“Everything I loved has been destroyed. Everything I touch… will be destroyed. You may as well just leave me here.”
By all the absent gods. Bahadur set the grass in his hands with the rest of the pile he had gathered and walked over to the fire. He crouched next to her, sitting on one ankle to bring them face to face. He turned her by the shoulders to look at him.
“Gita, I lost my family back there, too.” He gripped her hands in his own, feeling the back of his throat clench. Now that he wasn’t focused on surviving the moment, it began to hit him. “I couldn’t save my boys, my wife… I couldn’t even save myself. But I’m here, alive, and so are you. We both owe it to him. Because of that, I swear to you that so long as I draw breath I will protect you.” He wasn’t sure where the words came from, but it gave him something solid – something that would keep him from drowning in his loss.
“But how long will that be?” Her voice was sharper than any dagger.
Advent of Ruin (The Qaehl Cycle Book 1) Page 9
