"Breathing,” Yevele said.
“Breathing?” Berthold considered this possibility. “You mean the crystals are breathing? Like they’re alive?”
Jalafar-rula’s eyes grew wide, and he inhaled sharply.
“Wizard, you think they could be alive, these crystals? Like they might be creatures?” Berthold had edged farther down the wall, where the light barely reached him. His side was itching fiercely. The crystals were providing a needed distraction, but not quite enough of one. He turned so the others couldn’t see him, and he reached a hand beneath his tunic. All signs of that bite mark were gone, though not the other scratches and bites he’d received from the normal rats. But there was no longer a trace of the injury from the were-rat, just the small tufts of hair that felt baby-fme. He pulled the tunic back down as the light came closer. Milo was coming his way.
“More crystals over here,” Milo called to the others. “They’re all along this wall. They look like quartz. No, they look more like diamonds, too clear for quartz.”
Milo pushed at a thick, stubby crystal, feeling its warmth. He held the torch almost directly on it and watched the colors swirl against the wall. Primarily green from this one, blue from the next one.
“Can you hear them?”
Milo studied Berthold. The thief was moving back and forth between crystals that were set roughly level with his ears.
“Yeah, I do hear them. A little. Sounds like a kazoo stuck on the same note. But I think we’ve spent too much time listening to them already. We’ve let ourselves get distracted.” He extended his hand with the ring, still feeling the pull. “Time to go.” He looked to the others, seeing them still playing with the crystals—all but Jalafar-rula, who was behind them, staring at the ones higher up on the walls, brow knitted and lips working. “Wizard!”
Jalafar-rula scratched at his forehead. “Yon Milo is correct. We must leave now." The wizard was moving quickly for his age, motioning for Milo. “We should get away from the crystals.”
“Away from them?” Berthold leaned closer to the one in front of him, put his ear on it. “But I think they’re trying to talk to us.”
The wizard gestured luriously now, getting Milo to follow him, taking the light away from Berthold. “They be talking, but not to us. They be alive all right. I’m certain you are correct, Berthold of the Green. These be creatures.”
Naile was the last one to step away from the wall, the torch he was holding making their light shards dance almost hypnotically. He noticed there was a rhythm to the way the colors moved, the ones to his right showing rose, then the color flowing across the wall before it changed to green, then blue. It looked like one of the light shows he’d seen in a Manhattan dance club. But there was no loud, annoying music to accompany the color shifts.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Naile said finally. “I don’t know why, but I think they’re communicating with each other, or maybe with something else.”
“Or maybe someone,” Milo posed.
“Pobe,” Jalafar-rula said. “They be talking to Pobe.”
There were more crystals along the far wall they passed by, these higher up, the colors changing faster than the shifts the other crystals displayed. Some of these crystals were artful, one looking like a faceted mushroom growing from the granite, another resembling flower buds clustered together, a large one looking like a turnip, another akin to the curving beak of a tropical bird. Most were like the spirals they’d seen earlier, though larger and more colorful, only a few were clear here. There was no reason why the crystals should sprout from a granite wall, nor from the chert walls the next corridor was made of.
“None of these rocks make sense. Granite next to chert. Here’s some slate. Look.” Berthold was pointing to a section of wall. “I’ve been in plenty of caves. When I was in Kentucky, especially. These combinations of rocks don’t make sense. And the crystals. They just don’t — ” He let the others get ahead of him and he grabbed his side. It felt like he’d been bitten again, over and over. His hand clawed at the spot, pulling up his tunic and f eeling that the baby-fine hair had thickened and spread. “Don’t let it be like the game. Please. Please, don’t let it be like the game. Let this all be a very bad dream." “Berthold, move!” Naile was calling to him.
“Fine. I’m fine,” Berthold returned, hurrying and noticing an entire section of the wall where it met the ceiling seemed to be made of the crystals. The colors pulsed softly, violet added to the mix now. “Magic,” he decided. “Magic grew the crystals and formed these caves. Magic, I say!”
Naile heard him, and waved him to catch up. “Of course it’s magic. Wizards built this place. Probably everything about it is magic.” Berthold instinctively knew the crystals were valuable, a type of gemstone not seen on Earth and likely not seen here except in these ancient caverns. He pictured them faceted and set into rings, pictured how many coins he’d gather from merchants wanting them. And if they were creatures, perhaps wizards would pay for the crystals with wagonloads of potions and elixirs. They could enchant a magical sword for Yevele. Wait! What was he thinking! For Yevele? Magical daggers for himself.
“Berthold!” Naile motioned for him again. “Don’t want to leave you behind. Milo says it’s always a bad idea to split the party.”
Berthold took another look at the crystals and hurried along. He could come back later, with a large sack —several sacks — and take as many of the crystals as he could haul away. It would be better then, as he wouldn’t have to share the crystals with the others. And he could come back here again and again, filling up sacks and selling them across the country, amassing a fortune.
“Better to keep them all for myself,” he whispered, as he caught up to Naile. “Lord, what am I thinking? I’m not a greedy soul.” A pause: “But I need them more than the others do. I need the wealth.”
Alfreeta was again perched on Naile’s shoulder, her head crooked around and wide eyes staring at him.
Berthold raised his upper lip in a sneer and narrowed his eyes in return.
The little dragon shuddered and wrapped her tail around Naile’s throat.
When the entourage was clear of the cavern, and the last of their footfalls faded to nothingness, the place was once again bathed in soothing blackness and solitude. The crystals waited, holding their breath and making sure none of the trespassers were returning. Then they created their own light.
Pale olive green, warm rose, golden yellow, and sky blue pulsed from the various shaped crystalline creatures. Had Ingrge been here to see them, he would have believed it a recreation of the night sky’s Celestial Dance. There was a pattern to the way the colors appeared, how long each hue stretched between crystals and how bright they were. It was a language that was at the same time simpler and more complicated than ones spoken by the men of this world, and it was more beautiful. It carried through the walls the crystals were wedged in, like a tremor that follows a quake.
The words continued to shimmer through the rocks in the great caverns beneath Quag Keep for some time, searching for someone who would listen, finally finding just that. “They come,” the crystals reported. “The otherworldly trespassers come to you.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Realm of the Shadow Fey
“This is it? As far as this place goes?" Milo stood at the entrance to a cavern so massive the light from his torch couldn’t stretch to the walls or the ceiling. “This is the last of it? Even though the last of it is huge?"
The wizard nodded behind him and again took himself away from Yevele.
“The ring stopped pulling me the moment I stepped foot in here." Milo stared at the ring on his thumb. The lines were narrower than before, almost impossible to make out.
“It’s still pulling,” Jalafar-rula said. “If it’s black, it’s still pulling. You just have to be more perceptive.” He was much stronger now, and he raised an arm above his head to stretch. “But you be right, Milo Jagon. This be the last bit of the great Quag caverns. It has
been a long time since I’ve set foot down here. I’d forgotten how impressive it is. And how far from the surface. Quite the climb for an old man like me.”
“Quite the climb for a young one,” Milo added. “My legs hurt worse than when I went out for track in high school.” He brightened at the memory from home, then instantly scowled. There was nothing else from high school he remembered, and he was losing track of the inventory of the T-shirt shop. What sizes did it carry? “What does it matter, the sizes. What does any of it matter?”
“Pardon?” Jalafar-rula gave him a curious glance.
“And I just realized when we’re done down here . . . with whatever it is we need to do . . . we’ll have to climb all the way back up. Wish those Glothorio priests would have given us a round-trip ticket with that spell they cast. Ludlow Jade paid enough for it.” He bent and with his free hand rubbed the muscles in his thighs. “I feel horrible.” He brought his hand up to his stomach.
Yevele gently took the torch from his hand and went to the closest wall. “Granite and chert, like the other chamber. No crystals. Wish we could see this better. Searching this cavern is going to take a while.” She leaned against the wall and held her stomach, too. “Can’t see it all.”
“I can be of some help to you.” Jalafar-rula held out his arm like a falconer would, and Alfreeta obliged him by perching near his elbow. “I hate to keep taking your magic, little one, but mine is slow to return. Don’t have enough of it back yet for what I need. Just a wee piece from you, all right?” The little dragon gave a nod, then swiveled her head around so she could keep an eye on Berthold.
Jalafar-rula closed his eyes and raised a hand to stroke Alfreeta’s scaled belly. “1 could have done this earlier,” he said. “But we were not close enough to our goal. No use wasting magic, ye understand.” His wrinkled eyelids fluttered as if he was deep in a dream, and Alfreeta gave a small whimper as he pulled more magic from her.
Then his eyes snapped open and a green egg-shaped flame hovered in front of him, growing as large as a boulder before settling on the ground in front of him and illuminating more of the cavern.
“Like Kentucky.” Berthold turned, trying to take as much of it in as possible. “Just like some of the caves I’ve been in.”
The ceiling of the cavern stretched up nearly sixty feet in the center, sloping down to the walls. There were stalactites and stalagmites every few yards, some stretching the height of two tall men. Crystals were embedded in some of them, thin like icicles, thick and curving like tusks, and all of them glowing green in the light of Jalafar-rula’s magical flame. Everything in the cavern had a green tint to it, just as his lesser spell had given a green tent to the cell Milo and Naile and he had been in.
Here, the green cast made everything look eerie and alien, and it made their faces seem worn, their expressions defeated.
“So tired," Naile admitted. “And this cavern is so — ”
“Like Mammoth Cave,” Berthold said. “I remember a few things about the place. Hard to think . . . Mammoth Cave is maybe the biggest cave in the world . . . our world. It has chambers in it like this one, but they have paths on the floor where the rock has been smoothed from so many people walking on them. But this cave, this is as close to untouched as you’d find one."
The thief went down on one knee and let his fingertips brush the floor. “See, there are some sharp places here, and here. Not many people have walked across this stone. No electric lights installed for the viewing pleasure of the tourists. No guard rails to keep you out of the tunnels. Perfect for a cave.”
Milo snorted. “Glad someone likes this place.”
“I can feel the air stir, ” the thief continued. “More than in the chamber above. See the cracks in the floor over there? Air is coming through them. Must be some tunnels running just beneath this that wind their way up and bring air in from outside. It’s cool air. Smell it?” Then Berthold lost interest in the air and the cracks in the floor and moved to the nearest cluster of crystals. His back to the others, he pulled a dagger out of a sheath and stuck the tip at the point where the crystal met the stone. Pretending to study something in front of him, he worried the blade in, careful not to shatter the crystal. After a moment, he’d managed to work it out. It was roughly the length of his hand, warm and trembling against his palm. He was certain it was worth more than any of the gems he and Yevele had taken from the treasure jar. Thankful he’d lost two of his daggers, he put the crystal into an empty sheath. And started work on another.
“I’m not feeling so well, either.” This came from Naile, who was bent over, hands on his knees. “Sick to my stomach. Must be something about this cavern. Some type of foul magic or a curse. Maybe we triggered some sort of spell. Ugh. This is awful.”
Berthold freed another crystal, this one looking like an icicle, and fitting almost perfectly in another empty sheath. “I don’t think we triggered anything. I think it’s all that water you drank. I warned you.” He surveyed his companions. Even the wizard looked a little nauseous. “I told you not to drink too much of that water.”
“Poisoned?” Naile was gagging up some of the water, one hand on a knee, the other clutching at his stomach.
“Not at all,” Berthold continued. He was acting a little smug, but figured he had that right. “But I know caves, and with some exception — in our world and in this one. The water in caves is full of minerals, and certainly bacteria. You’re not used to drinking it, and it isn’t agreeing with you.”
Yevele was leaning against a cavern wall, her face pale. The wizard was near her, not faring as bad, but then he’d not drunk so much as she had. Milo straightened, his lips pulled tight in a grimace. He joined Yevele against the wall.
“So how long are we going to feel like this?” Milo directed his question across the yards to Berthold.
“How am I supposed to know?”
"You know so much about caves, or so you say.” Milo turned away from Yevele and spat up as much of the water as he could manage. He dropped the torch he’d been carrying, not needing it with the wizard’s magical light. “You’re the cave expert, Berthold. How long is this going to last?”
“I know enough about caves not to drink the water in them. I’m no doctor. I’ve no idea how long you’re going to be sick. I think. . . .” Berthold looked up. Part of the ceiling overhead was shadowed, but he thought he saw something moving. “Not bats. No guano. Haven’t seen any bats since we found the three of you in that prison.”
“No. There are no bats in these caverns. Never have been as far as I know/' Jalafar-rula held Alfreeta in front of him. He made a cooing sound to her and closed his eyes. She whimpered again as he drained more ol her magic. “Just a little, my friend. You need to help this old, old man feel better.” In a few heartbeats his color had returned, and Alfreeta seemed unhurt, though tired. He stood straight and looked to Yevele and Milo, then turned and shook his head to note how badly Naile felt. “Would that I could help you. All of you. The magic I know to cure ailments is . . . personal. And would that I had thought about not drinking so much of that water. ”
“Great. So you have no Tums or Pepto Bismol to share with us, ” Naile grumbled. “Well, at least one of us is feeling better.”
The wizard cocked his head, not understanding.
“Never mind, ” Naile continued. “I can tough this out. I’m a were-creature, right? A berserker. No stomach-bug is going to take me out.” He groaned when he stood, then he glared at Milo, who was standing close to Yevele. “Isn’t that ring leading you somewhere, counter man?”
Milo glared back. Then he dropped his gaze to the ring and concentrated on it.
Berthold was still looking toward the ceiling. "If there are no bats m here, Jalafar-rula, what might there be? What would keep the bats away from such a cavern?” He knew he wasn’t imagining things. Something was moving up there. “What would live here?”
“Oh, all manner of things, I suspect. Pobe likes trolls. ”
“C
an they fly?”
“Why no, Berthold of the Green. Whatever would make you think a troll could fly? ”
“Because this isn’t like the game, old man. Not exactly. Because you don’t have to burn trolls in this world. And because something is flying up there.”
Jalafar-rula rubbed his chin and looked to the green flames. With a gesture, the fire grew brighter and taller, illuminating much more of the cavern. Along the ceiling shadows cavorted, but not caused by the flickering green flames. They were lithe, having the shape of women, and sporting lacy gray butterfly wings from their backs.
Some had wings on their ankles and on the tops of their heads. One that he saw had scalloped wings beneath her arms. None looked taller than two feet, and all of them looked two-dimensional.
"Shadow fey,” the wizard pronounced. “You be seeing some of this world's most ancient and treasured souls, friends. I feared they had all left this place when Pobe grew strong. They are generally peaceable, sometimes curious. But they do not like the type of creatures Pobe surrounds himself with."
“You mean trolls.”
“Correct, Berthold of the Green. The shadow fey do not stomach the presence of such abominations. In the wilds, trolls hunt the shadow fey and consider them a delicacy. So take heart in knowing that there be no trolls here. For the fair shadow fey and the grotesque trolls are like — ”
“Oil and water,” Berthold supplied.
The wizard nodded and watched the fey ballet that moved from the ceiling of the massive chamber to the curving fall opposite Milo and Yevele. They looked small and fragile farther away, like insects caught in a beam of starlight. A few slid onto the floor and came near Berthold. But they darted away when he tried to touch one.
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