Sacrifice

by Vicky Walklate

  Spreitl shrugged and shook his head as they got to the back of the cavern. Blouzst rummaged at the base of a lusterstone, pulling an invisible lever. The ground rumbled beneath their feet and Dax gave her a conspiratorial smile.

  She raised her brows, and even Rhetahn’s eyes widened when a hidden door in the wall slid open, revealing a wide staircase between the glowing megaliths. The steps led downward into an ominous gloom.

  She pressed her lips into a grimace. “We’re going even farther underground?”

  Spreitl smirked. “No such thing as too far underground, Libby of Firstocket. Come on.”

  Sighing, she followed the others through the entryway, leaving most of the crowd behind. The door slid shut, plunging them into near darkness. Blouzst and Spreitl were the only ones with torches. The former led the way, followed by Dax and Rhetahn. Spreitl brought up the rear with Libby and three other elders.

  The staircase descended for a prolonged period, curving to the left. The air cooled, the stone banister as cold as ice under her fingers. Her teeth chattered and she wrapped Dax’s coat around her, unraveling the sleeves to cover her hands. Down they went, into the depths of the realm until the steps leveled into a regular tunnel, identical to those they’d traversed earlier. Blouzst and Spreitl ignited the unlit torches on the wall brackets, lessening the darkness.

  This tunnel smelled different from the others, dank and mildewed, like there was extra moisture in the air. The temperature increased as they walked, allowing her teeth to stop chattering enough for a new sound to permeate her senses. An odd grinding sound bounced off the walls, echoing around them.

  She strained to see ahead, as Rhetahn glanced back, frowning. She resisted the childish urge to stick out her tongue as, plainly unhappy with their ominous surroundings, he muttered something to Blouzst. The dwarf’s response was too low to hear. Libby looked in the direction he pointed. An archway loomed ahead, signifying the tunnel’s end.

  Beyond the arch, was the glint of water.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Libby gawked at the river crossing their path. The group were gathered on a timber jetty. Ropes hung from iron brackets on the wall. An identical dock sat on the opposite bank, connected by a wooden bridge climbing close to the tunnel’s curved roof. The waterway was perhaps twenty-five feet across, the stone banks on either side more like niches in the rock face, too narrow for even single-file access. Only the jetties protruding into the channel were wide enough to stand on.

  The fathomless water flowed with sluggish reluctance, as if the subterranean realm made it drowsy. Two moving iron chains marked its passage, running parallel around three feet above the water, close to the stone walls. The one nearest to them headed upstream, the far side went in the opposite direction. Torch lit bull-wheels were fixed to the walls for the cables to feed through. The contrivances prevented them sagging, guiding them around the farthest edge of the platform, under the bridge, then back to the wall again. They were the source of the grinding noise and presumably related to the rivercraft moored beside her.

  It looked like a cargo barge, long and narrow with a flat-bottomed deck. A helm-like platform with four benches was situated at the stern like a regular boat, but there was no visible rudder or tiller. Underneath the helm, a hatch led to a tiny cabin. Empty crates and barrels were piled in neat rows across the deck. On the nearside hull were three strange, claw-like devices; one near the stern, another at the bow, a third in the center between them. Each was made of thick metal and attached to a short chain fused to the top of the gunwale.

  “Is this...?” Rhetahn began.

  “The Yarkhelecht,” Dax said in awe. “The underground river. Its source is many miles north, but it flows underneath Taglemeiss. I had no idea.”

  “It is a dwarven secret, ground shifter,” Spreitl said. “Even those we trust to visit our homes are not privy to all our mysteries. Today, Lord Rhetahn, we make an exception for you. We cannot honor you with feasts or celebrations, so we gift you access to our Yarkhelecht to aid your quest.”

  The god inclined his head. “I thank the dwarves of Taglemeiss for their generosity. You have my word I will never reveal this secret and nor will my compatriots.”

  Libby nodded fervently, touched by the trust and loyalty the little folk demonstrated. Dax murmured in agreement and gestured at the boat.

  “Blouzst explained how this works,” he said, a frisson of doubt in his voice. “They’ll drag the barge to the downstream chain on the other side. Once we’re aboard, they’ll connect those claw things. They lock in place, enabling it to tow us along.”

  So that was what the contraptions were for. Attaching the cables to the boat. “What’s making the chains move?”

  “It is just one chain, Libby of Firstocket,” Spreitl replied. “Fashioned from the finest dwarven steel and maintained with great diligence. It runs on a loop between the villages closest to the source, to the town of Khulacht, where the river emerges aboveground. There are rapids and a waterfall there, powering the watermill that runs this system.”

  “How will the folks of other townships react when we travel past?” the ground shifter said. “Should we expect any trouble?”

  Blouzst shook his head. “We sent a messenger boat ahead, to tell any at riverside that strangers have been permitted access to the Yarkhelecht for reasons of utmost importance. The messengers will wait outside Khulacht, to help you debark.”

  Soon, they were ready to leave. The dwarves unfastened the barge from its moorings and dragged it to the opposite jetty using the bridge, turning it to face downstream. Libby, Rhetahn and Dax followed them across the bridge, which was close enough to the cave roof, all three had to crawl. Libby grimaced the whole time, her knees bruised from the earlier clamber through the outer tunnels.

  As the dwarves loaded full supply crates on to the deck, replacing the empty ones, she climbed aboard carefully. The two men followed her, taking positions at the mooring lines, as instructed by Spreitl. Given no orders, Libby took a seat at the helm. Once the men were in position, three swarthy dwarves grasped a metal claw each. As one, they barked a rough affirmation of readiness. Another pair of dwarves untied the ropes, holding the boat in place with surprising strength. The hull creaked as it resisted the slow current.

  “Our messengers will guide you back to the surface when you reach them,” Blouzst called, “and guide you back to the surface. We wish you luck in your quest, Lord. We will pray for you, as always.”

  “You have earned The Three’s gratitude, Blouzst,” the god said. “One day I shall return to feast with the loyal folk of Taglemeiss.”

  Amid huge cheers from the bank—the bridge and jetties were now crowded with dwarves—the claws clicked into place around the chain. Mooring ropes were thrown to Rhetahn and Dax, and the boat lurched in motion.

  They reached the first bull-wheel and she tensed, but there was no need. The designers had allowed the perfect amount of slack for the claws to feed through the mechanisms. She let out a breath as the men coiled and tidied the ropes, studying the contraptions and murmuring to each other. She would have liked a closer examination herself but held no desire to get nearer to the god, let alone engage in conversation.

  She contented herself with gazing ’round from her seat instead, noting the barge’s well-worn timber topsides and polished wooden deck. The vessel cut through the water with ease, ripples petering away as they glided onward.

  Finishing his scrutiny, Dax settled beside her on the bench. Rhetahn hesitated then joined them, sitting as far away from her as he could. She stuck her nose in the air and pretended she hadn’t noticed. Dax had, if his bemused expression was anything to go by.

  The ground shifter cleared his throat. “Blouzst said Khulacht is less than a day’s travel on the Yarkhelecht. We’ll save much time.”

  “This is a real stroke of luck,” the god agreed. “Once we meet the river aboveground and find a suitable rivercraft at Pikeport, how long will it take to sail to Amity Cany
on?”

  “Another day, depending on wind direction and assuming we’re not attacked on the way.”

  “Is that likely?” Libby shivered as she recalled the demon assault.

  “Even if it is, we’re safe for now. I suggest you both get some rest.”

  “You need a break too,” Rhetahn said. “When was the last time you slept?”

  The young man’s jaw set. “I’m fine. I’ll sleep when I need to. You’re not back to your full strength and Lissabet isn’t built for a trek like this.”

  She bristled. “I’ve coped so far. I’ll be lookout.”

  “I think not,” the god said coldly.

  “Why? Scared I’ll jump overboard and deny you the pleasure of my murder?”

  Rhetahn scowled and didn’t answer.

  Dax furrowed his brow, his gaze darting between them.

  She didn’t give them the chance to respond, hopping off the platform to the hatch underneath. “Here, there’s even a cabin for you to...oh. This might pose a problem.”

  She peered into the dark compartment under the helm. The berth was a perfect size...for dwarves. The square, windowless room contained two tiny bunks and a miniscule water closet so narrow she wasn’t sure if she would fit, let alone the men. Slipping down the ladder, she inhaled the rather fusty odor and ran her fingers across the clean bedclothes.

  “Looks like you get the cabin to yourself.” Dax grinned at her from the hatch opening, with Rhetahn peering over his shoulder. “I don’t fancy folding myself in half on a bunk. Toss us some blankets, if you please.”

  Libby peeped from the hatch to watch the men fashion makeshift beds on deck near the prow. The god insisted on taking first watch in order that their guide could sleep. As the ground shifter laid down with reluctance, the god leaned against the topside and unbuttoned his shirt. Her breath caught in her throat as his muscled chest came into view, staring in fascination as he dabbed dwarven ointment on his bloodied stab wound, his long fingers moving with slow, steady purpose. When they stopped, she blinked and raised her gaze.

  His icy stare was fixed on her, his lips drawn in a thin, unfriendly line. She quelled a rush of mortification and hopped back into the cabin as he opened his mouth, no doubt to rebuke her again or accuse her of some other crime.

  Settling on one of the bunks, she took off her boots in relief, followed by Dax’s jacket. Curling into a ball, she willed herself to sleep, to no avail. Rhetahn’s cold words from earlier kept jabbing at her, mixed with memories of his passionate kisses. She’d never been so conflicted in her life. He was her god, but also her future killer. Her enemy, yet for those few moments in his arms, her comfort. Despite her intention to bolt from him at their journey’s end, a traitorous part of her longed to experience his embrace again.

  “Has something happened between you and the girl?”

  She opened her eyes. Dax sounded like he was right beside her. Scanning the cabin in confusion, she tensed when Rhetahn’s curt response filled the compartment.

  “Nothing of importance.”

  The voices came from a circular, fist-sized hole on the wall at the end of her bunk.

  “Is it resolvable, Lord? This journey is dangerous enough without you two at each other’s throats.”

  A pipe opening, she comprehended in surprise, as stony silence followed the ground shifter’s query. That’s where the voices came from. A communication system, so barge-workers could be woken if required on deck.

  Her appreciation of the dwarves’ inventiveness increased. Utilizing lusterstones and waterfalls for power, creating rivercraft pulley and communication systems; she’d not expected this diminutive race to be so advanced. Her people knew so little of them, she’d half-imagined tiny, mole-like creatures, scrabbling around in burrows like animals. Lost in admiration, the god’s answer made her jump.

  “I have no desire to resolve it. The conniving minx tried to manipulate me into letting her go.”

  “Manipulate you? How?”

  The next silence spoke volumes.

  Dax sounded disbelieving. “Are you certain?”

  Rhetahn’s bark of laughter echoed through the pipe. “Positive. She was extremely convincing.”

  “But the girl is an innocent.”

  “Indeed.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. Was her virginal status written on her person, in plain sight? No one in Firstocket ever mentioned it, but then again, human girls tended to remain chaste until engagement or marriage. Perhaps it was more of a rarity among shifter races.

  “Forgive me, I’m struggling to believe it. Although I don’t know her well, it’s obvious she doesn’t have a duplicitous bone in her body.”

  “Maybe that’s what she wants you to assume.”

  “No,” Dax said in a stubborn tone. “She reminds me of my wife. Strong-willed, compassionate, and candid. Whatever she felt during your encounter was genuine, if ill-advised.”

  The god’s voice cooled. “Ill-advised?”

  “Finding solace in the arms of the one destined to kill her isn’t rational.”

  “Precisely why I called her on it.”

  “It’s likely that recent events have frightened her and skewed her judgement. You’re her god and her natural inclination is to yield to you. I’m telling you – the girl is devoid of artifice or pretense. Any fool can see that, and you are not a fool.”

  She snorted quietly.

  Rhetahn sighed. “Am I not? I used to believe myself an excellent judge of character. Now...” He gave another deep sigh. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

  “You’ve endured a terrible ordeal. You’re wounded and traumatized from what happened in the ritual. You’ve lost at least one brother, both, if Lord Mhaljett doesn’t recover. It’s normal to be disjointed after such terrible events. Even gods are permitted lapses in judgement.”

  The god huffed. “I’m not sure the rest of the realm would agree but thank you. Now get some sleep. Whatever happens next, we need you hale if we have any chance of reaching our destination.”

  “As you command.”

  Libby stared at the ceiling, touched by Dax’s defense of her and humbled by his insight into Rhetahn’s emotional state. Not to mention the god’s own affirmation of vulnerability. It didn’t excuse his behavior; nevertheless, she decided to attempt cordiality from now on. She didn’t intend to accept her impending death, but her mother always said courtesy built roads, while rudeness formed walls. The fewer walls on their journey, the quicker she would get home.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Good morning.”

  Dax’s voice greeted her when she peeked from the hatch hours later. She twisted to meet his gaze. He sat on the helm above her head, a platter of sandwiches by his side.

  “Is it morning?” She looked around in bewilderment. “Surely it’s evening or even nighttime by now?”

  “It probably is, I was being glib. Come have some breakfast, or perhaps a midnight feast.”

  She smiled and hoisted herself up. Water sloshed at the boat’s hull as the chains rattled through the torch lit bull-wheels. Between the torches were sections of pitch darkness. When her vision adjusted, she discerned Rhetahn at the bow, in his makeshift bed.

  “He’s asleep,” the ground shifter said. “I swapped with him after a couple of hours. He’s wearier than he lets on. Such a wound would have killed most men.”

  With a noncommittal grunt, she joined the young man on the bench. He handed her a small flask and a sandwich.

  Her stomach grumbled in appreciation, making them both grin.

  “Have we passed through many ports?” she asked.

  “A few. Plenty of bystanders have waved to us on our way, some looking happier than others.”

  “They must be curious in regard to our access to the Yarkhelecht.”

  “I imagine most understand it’s connected with the demons. Blouzst’s message should carry enough force to be obeyed. We’ll lose too much time if Lord Rhetahn is recognized again.” Dax stud
ied his grubby fingernails. “I understand you had a disagreement earlier.”

  “Yes, I listened to your discussion,” she said tartly. “There’s a communication vent between the bow and the cabin.”

  His expression cleared. “Is that what the pipe in the gunwale is for? You heard everything?”

  “Every word.” She hid her embarrassment at his knowledge of the intimate encounter. “Thank you for defending me.”

  He shrugged. “I was being honest.”

  “Even so, he is a god. Many people would have agreed with him, to stay on his good side.”

  “Like his ministers do.” He pulled a face. “I’m not one for toadying. He doesn’t need it.”

  “What does he need?”

  “Compassion. Honesty. Loyalty—”

  “And a good clip ’round the ear,” she finished, earning a surprised chuckle from the ground shifter.

  “I’ll leave the last one to you,” he teased. “He’ll enjoy it more.”

  Unsure how to respond, she busied herself with her sandwich. Smoked ham and tangy relish filled her mouth and she swooned. “Oh, this is good.”

  “Dwarves strive to satisfy their guests. We’ve enough food and water in those crates to feed a small village.”

  “If it’s half as tasty as this, I’ll be happy.”

  She studied the ground shifter while they ate in companionable silence. He wasn’t strikingly handsome like Rhetahn, but good-looking in a rustic, outdoorsy way. His thick brown hair was short and scruffy, his body rangy and strong, like a wolf in its prime. His eyes reminded her of spring ferns in a dawn light, their paleness a noticeable paradox to his ruddy skin.

  She hesitated. “I wanted to apologize for earlier. We were discussing my culinary disaster and I interrogated you on your home life. I’m sorry for prying.”

  He waved his hand in a throwaway gesture. “My fault for mentioning the boys.”

  “How do I remind you of your wife?”

  “You have the same pluck and resoluteness. She was somewhat worldlier than you, though.”