by Sean Russell
“Kehler came to you with questions that he hoped you might answer,” the priest went on. “Did he tell you what he hoped to do?”
Erasmus did not answer, but the priest would not speak further.
“No,” Erasmus said after a moment, “Kehler told me nothing, but I am hoping you will remedy that, Deacon. Why has he gone into the cave? What is he looking for?”
Deacon Rose turned and looked back at the house, then out over the garden at the sky. “Something that might not even exist. Something that certainly should not exist.”
“If you want my cooperation, Deacon, you will have to do better than that.”
Rose continued to stare off at the stars, but he nodded vaguely. “Do you know, Mr. Flattery, that there is within the cave an area called the Fairy Galleries. It was named for its reputed resemblance to a mythical place—or perhaps the place was merely literary.”
“‘The Journey of Tomas,’” Erasmus said, realizing suddenly what the priest was saying.
“Yes. ‘The Journey of Tomas.’ It is an ancient lay, older than the Cary Minstrels’ rendering, that is certain. The story of a man lost in a great cave who emerges into the starlight finally, almost starved, but he recognizes no constellations. When the sun rises, he finds he is in another land, similar but not the same as his own, and peopled by a different race. He lived there some time, learning their ways and their tongue. But finally he began to miss his wife and wonder about his small children, so he ventured back into the cave again. What happened there is a story unto itself, but eventually he emerged. And what did he find? His children grown, his wife dead and in the grave for many years, though he had been gone only two years by his reckoning. No one knew him, and his world was changed.
“After a brief time among his own people, he went back into the cave to seek the way back to Faery. There are different endings to the song: he finds his way back, he dies in the cave, or he almost dies when the people of Faery come and bear him through by their secret way. One may choose the ending one prefers—unlike life.”
“What are you saying? That Kehler is seeking the way to Faery?” Erasmus laughed but this did not seem to affect the priest or his mood.
“The song is just a song, no more. I am only saying that men go seeking the objects of their desire. Perhaps even the creations of that desire. But what they find is invariably different than they imagined or hoped. This strange propensity in mankind is what makes us children—it is also what makes us great.
“What does Mr. Kehler seek? I am not absolutely certain, Mr. Flattery, though knowing him as I do, I would say he seeks knowledge. But what he will find, I fear, might be quite different.”
* * *
* * *
Clarendon laughed as he and Erasmus walked through the village, returning from the gathering of vinophiles.
“‘The Ballad of Tomas.’ I do know it.” He chuckled again. “Though I think most could say the same. You see, when the cave was discovered, it was given an entirely different name, and then some local worthy—a mayor, I think—got the idea to rename it for the cave in the old song. There is a fairly large lake within it and other features that are similar enough, though most large caves would have many of these. It draws the tourists, for in the summer many of the town’s visitors tour the caves, the Cave of the Mirror Lake chief among them, for, you see, the plan worked.” Clarendon laughed again. “This priest, what is he up to, do you think?”
“I wish I knew, Randall. I dearly wish I knew.”
“Well, at least I think he spoke the truth when he said that men go seeking their desires and often find something quite unexpected. He failed to say, however, that these are among mankind’s greatest discoveries—both for good and ill.”
Eighteen
Kehler held aloft the lantern, illuminating the opening.
“I think we should go in tonight, at least some way, in case we’re pursued.”
“Do you think it’s wise to go on in darkness?” Hayes asked.
“It’s always night in the underworld, Samual.”
Hayes could hear his companion’s smile in the words. “Yes, of course, but . . .” He let the protest die. “All right, if you think it’s best.”
They climbed back up the path among the firs and found their guide unloading the horses. “We can make a camp here,” the man said.
“We thought we’d go in tonight,” Kehler said, not at all self-conscious.
The man stopped what he was doing. “Tonight? You might be better rested in the morning.” He paused and looked at each of the gentlemen. “But suit yourselves.” He set one of their bags on the ground. “I would caution you to be most careful in your explorations, gentlemen. You cannot imagine the difficulties of carrying a man back to the surface again. There are some tight places in the cave, and getting an injured man through such can be near to impossible. I have had to do it myself and never want to be so employed again. I urge you, be mindful as you go.”
Kehler and Hayes divided their effects into sturdy canvas packs of the type used by foot soldiers.
“It seems an enormous amount of gear,” Hayes said hefting his pack.
“We must have it, though. A spare lantern is a necessity, and lamp oil, and ropes. We must have food and a change of clothing, a compass, candles, and the survey. I have left everything out that I felt we could possibly do without. Feel fortunate that we do not have to carry water, for there is water enough in the cave.” Kehler took a last look at their bags. “We will leave some food and a few other things just inside the cave to await our return, but the rest I’m afraid we must shoulder. Let me just fill the lantern, and we shall be ready.”
A moment later Kehler resealed the fuel tin and hoisted his pack to his back. “Into the netherworld, my friend.” He went to thank their guide, but the man was rolled in a blanket and already snoring.
They descended along the path to the cave mouth. At this elevation and among such massive trees the underwood was very sparse, and the earth was often carpeted in mosses. Hayes felt as though they were leaving a soft, green world for one hard, gray, and lifeless, for very little lived out of sight of the sun. He could not help feeling that the darkness emanated from this opening into the earth, exhaled like a dark breath each night. He didn’t really want to go on, and hesitated at the very lip of the cave.
Kehler looked over at him. “It will be the discovery of a lifetime,” he said simply. “And we shall write an account of it that will be seen by every reading man, woman, and child in all the nations around the Entide Sea. You will not want for money ever again, Hayes, I can assure you.”
“It would come down to money,” Hayes said peevishly. “Lead on, Kehler, I’m dreadfully tired of hiding from my creditors.”
Kehler gave him a hint of a concerned smile, and went resolutely into the mouth of the cave. The lantern illuminated a floor of dried mud, caked and flaking, and convoluted walls worn by years of water erosion, now broken here and there and not so smooth as they were.
“You’re sure this cave is . . . solid,” Hayes said, his voice echoing in the small entrance chamber.
“There are some areas of breakdown marked on the survey, but for the most part the cave is utterly solid and not to be worried about. I can’t believe you didn’t read the pamphlet, Hayes.”
“You read most of it to me,” he reminded his friend.
Some enterprising individual in Castlebough had published a small pamphlet on the cave, and though its aim was to draw visitors out to see this natural wonder, there was some useful information as well. But even so, Hayes was not convinced that a survey and the information contained in some hack’s pamphlet could really be considered adequate preparation for their expedition. But Kehler absolutely refused to take a local guide other than the man who brought them to the entrance. Whatever it was he hoped to find, Kehler was to be certain that he shared it with no one
but Hayes—and Hayes was not sure that he would have been included if Kehler had felt he could have undertaken the matter alone. But apparently even the driven Kehler was not willing to go into the bowels of the earth on his own.
“You promised to tell me what you had learned once we were underground,” Hayes said as they made their way into a narrowing passage.
“When we stop to rest,” Kehler said. “You will not be disappointed, Samual.”
No, but I will likely be too far along to turn back if I am.
The passage was high, disappearing from the lamplight at a dozen feet and varied in width as they went from three yards to places where the two could not walk abreast. The walls were uneven, appearing almost fluted in places, as though over the great expanse of geological time water had run here at different levels, and slowly eaten away at the softer whitestone so that the surfaces were uneven. The cave twisted unexpectedly, and then began to descend so that they were soon climbing down drops of four and five feet, like erratic stairs.
They went on like this for an hour or more, Kehler leading the way and holding the lantern for Hayes. They were young and hale, and even Hayes soon forgot his fears and began to enjoy meeting the challenge. They heard no sound but their own breathing and the scrape of their feet over stone, the sound of the packs rubbing against the walls of the cave as they squeezed through some narrower part. And then Kehler stopped, holding up his hand, obviously listening.
“Do you hear water running?”
Hayes listened. “There is something. . . . It must be water. Does your survey show it?”
“Yes, but I did not think to come upon it so soon. We are making better time than I guessed.”
Heartened by this, they pushed on, hurrying where the cave would allow it. At one point the passage narrowed at its bottom, forcing them to climb higher, bridging their arms and legs to either side and picking their footholds with care. An hour later they were able to take to the floor again, but they had been slowed appreciably by this section.
The air changed, becoming suddenly damp and a bit refreshing, for they had been working hard and were both hot and sweating. In another twenty minutes they came to the lip of a drop, and there at the bottom lay a pool of water fed by a small falls. The water swirled in a swift whirlpool and then plunged down into the cave, sounding unnaturally loud in the hard world of stone.
Kehler handed the lamp to Hayes and peeled off his pack, setting it down with a theatrical groan. “I think we can easily climb down, but we should lower the lantern and the packs separately.” He dug out one of their ropes, flaking it down onto the rock, and formed a loop at its midpoint. “When I get down, throw me the end, then tie the lantern to the loop. Feed it out to me, and I will endeavor to keep it clear of the rocks.”
Carefully, but apparently without trepidation, Kehler climbed the thirteen or fourteen feet down to the edge of the pool.
“All right,” he said, and Hayes threw him the other end.
The lantern was lowered down without mishap, and then the packs, one at a time. Hayes followed his friend, though with less confidence. Kehler held the lantern high and gave his friend instructions as to the best footholds. In a moment they were both standing beside the small pool, their relieved laughter echoing with the water sounds.
“Where does this go?” Hayes asked, waving a hand at the passage from which the water flowed.
“It goes a few hundred yards, and then chokes off, I think. Only a hole big enough for the stream.”
They both drank and then sat for a moment. The chamber they were in was almost perfectly circular, rising fairly evenly to a dome overhead.
“It is remarkable, isn’t it?” Hayes said, surprised by his reaction to the place.
Kehler agreed. “But we haven’t come anywhere near the true wonders of the cave. There are chambers decorated with stalactites and curtains and flowing moonstone. There is a falls almost a hundred feet high and even a small lake, or so the survey shows.”
“How far have we descended?”
“I don’t think we’ve gone down a hundred feet yet, which leaves quite a lot of cave below us, for we started about three thousand feet above Blue Hawk Lake, which lies at the cave’s bottom. Unfortunately we will have to climb up again, for the entrances at the lake are under water until the dry summer months.”
They sat quietly, watching the water swirl into the pool, a bit awed by what nature had carved around them.
Kehler filled the lamp again, checking his watch. “We may have to kill the flame when we stop to sleep,” he said. “I’m not sure we have enough fuel to keep it alive for the entire time otherwise.”
“But we have candles,” Hayes said.
“Yes, though I hope we’ll not need them. A lamp is so much more convenient and casts much more light. Imagine trying to keep a candle alight and make good time in here?”
There was a moment’s silence, and perhaps sensing that Hayes was again about to ask the purpose of their expedition, Kehler jumped up and hefted his pack into place.
“Take the lantern and the lead, Hayes. I will follow blindly for a while.”
They followed the course of the water, which ran swiftly down, its voice echoing in the dark tunnel. Where the passage narrowed, and there was no dry footing, they at first tried to keep their boots dry, climbing up and bridging again, but soon enough they had both slipped in one place or another and after that they simply plunged into the water, accepting the ruination of their footwear.
In half an hour they came to a short drop where the water course deviated into a fissure in the floor which left only a little room on one side where they might pass. They went carefully by this opening, afraid to slip into it, both imagining being swept down into a dark, water-filled tunnel devoid of both light and air.
“I did not care much for that!” Hayes said, slumping up against the cave wall once they were past.
“Nor did I. Fortunately we have clear sailing now for a while.” Kehler filled their single water bottle here, and then they set off again.
“In a little over an hour we should reach a splitting of the way,” Kehler said. “We can go either left or right, for both ways join again. After that, I think we will be an hour from the great junction where four passages meet. Can you go on till then? Are you game?”
Hayes thought he was. Kehler took the lead now, pushing on as though driven to complete their journey that very night, though it looked more likely that they would require two days or even a bit more. It all depended on their ease of going. The passage was presently running along quite evenly, and they were making excellent time though that could quickly change. The next time they stopped, Hayes wanted to have a look at the survey. His memory of it was getting muddled already.
Hayes was not quite certain how he had gotten drawn into this, aside from the obvious reasons: money and bloody curiosity. He felt like he had betrayed Erasmus, slipping away without a word, but Kehler had insisted.
“It will be the discovery of our lifetime,” Kehler had said, his eyes almost shining with his excitement. “And your name will be attached to it forever.” Kehler realized how much his pride had been damaged by his fall in society. Erasmus will never forgive me, he thought. I do not know exactly what Kehler expects to find, but with the similarities between his interests and Erasmus’, I have little doubt that Erasmus will wish he were with us. And there was also Erasmus’ stated concern: that Kehler was pursuing matters that could be dangerous to him—matters that Hayes was pursuing as well.
The roof of the passage had begun to dip, forcing Hayes and Kehler to crouch as they went. But soon their packs were dragging on the rock, and they were forced to their knees. Packs were shed with some difficulty, and they proceeded, pushing the packs ahead as they went. The ceiling continued to drop until they were slithering along on their bellies, though the width of their tunnel remained six or seven fee
t.
“I hope it is not all like this,” Hayes said, “or we shall be in here forever.”
Ahead of him Kehler cursed. “Yes, I would say our pace has slowed to the proverbial crawl. Flames! I shall have no knees left at this rate!”
Hayes laughed, the sound echoing oddly in the darkness. They crawled on, saving their breath for their effort, though that did not stop an occasional curse. Hayes began to think of the tons of rock above him, and the tunnel seemed to press down, as though the roof of the cave were bending under the immeasurable weight. He struggled with a growing panic. What if the tunnel became smaller yet? What if they became trapped, unable to move? The thought caused him such anguish that he pushed it from his mind.
Concentrate on moving forward, he encouraged himself. He fought to lift his pack over an edge that snagged it, shoved it on in frustration, and then crawled after. He was not getting much light from the lantern, and Kehler, who could see perfectly, no doubt, was getting farther and farther ahead. At this rate Hayes thought he would soon be in complete darkness. To make matters worse, he was certain the tunnel was narrowing. And he had to struggle with his panic again.
He did not know how long they proceeded in this fashion, but it seemed hours. Hayes felt that his existence was shrinking as the tunnel became smaller. He was reduced to a crawling beast, fighting his fears, pushing his pack a foot, then dragging himself forward, pushing his pack . . . again and again.
And then the light appeared to grow; he thrust his pack through a hole into an open area and light flooded in. Hayes squeezed through and lay catching his breath. Kehler was sitting with his back against the rock wall, and he tried to smile.
“Do you know the hour? I have managed to smash my timepiece.”
