by D. M. Almond
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Logan felt as though he had been walking in circles for days. In reality, he knew it could only have been a couple hours since he and Bipp were forced to part ways. But his paranoia was kicking in hard. He was not sure if it was the lack of oxygen in these smaller tunnels or just the cramped feeling of rock closing in around him that set his mind racing. Tunnels like this did not exist in the expanse of New Fal, where the cavern soared high enough to fit entire mountain ranges and valleys.
After about an hour of walking, the rocky burrows began to close in so low he could reach up and feel the cold, damp ceiling. With each turn onto a new path, he hoped the tunnel would open back up, but instead the walls were closing in tighter and tighter the deeper he traveled.
At every fork he took out a lodestone, dangling it on a string, and went either north or east. Except for one split. That one went both directions, so he decided north trumped. He hoped.
That was hours ago and he had to admit that he might actually be lost, but he stubbornly pressed on, refusing to be defeated by some dark tunnels. He used the idea of Dudje to spurn him forward. He was really looking forward to seeing Bipp’s hometown and maybe even trying some of the scrum the gnome kept going on about.
Isn’t this just my luck? he wondered. Finally go and do something Morgana could be proud of and where does it get me? Exiled from the kingdom. Logan snorted. It would be the last time he made that mistake—literally, since he could never go back. Pangs of sorrow racked him, thinking on Riverbell, lost forever to him.
Just as well. The village has its fill of honor from Corbin anyhow. He chuckled. Not that his little brother’s good nature was a bad thing—quite the opposite—it was just that sometimes he could be a little blind in his willingness to do the right thing. And that had always irked Logan.
Ahead the channel split into four sections. One was too tiny for him to get in, so he did not bother considering it. The other three were all regular size, so he pulled the lodestone out and let it dangle. It circled slowly in the air before leaning in the direction of north, pointing him toward the path to his right.
As Logan made his way deeper into the new corridor, the walls really pressed in. There was only enough room left to raise his arms slightly, but that soon ended as the tunnel pinched to a narrow gap. He stopped to ponder his insanity at going any further. Surely he should backtrack and start over? Side-stepping through the tight opening, he squirmed ahead one slow step at a time, the walls so close together that his cheek rubbed against the jagged stone. Panic gripped him the deeper he went. His legs became wobbly and if the walls hadn’t been so tight he might have fallen over.
Before long he was barely able to inch along, forcing himself to keep moving out of the fear that should he stop, he would never have the courage to go again. Visions of his childhood gripped him, and he remembered the time he was stuck on the highest branch of a ract tree, unable to come down until his father climbed up and got him.
Logan whispered to himself, “Just keep on moving. Don’t think about the walls, just keep pushing forward.”
The tunnel floor gradually became soft, like the fur rug in front of Morgana’s fireplace. The feel of it settled his nerves a bit, taking the tension out of his legs. The crippling fear abated, and he began to shuffle along at a steady pace again.
Soon the walls opened back up into a regular-sized tunnel. The ceiling was still low enough to touch, but that sure as hell did not bother him anymore. The walls here were covered with a layer of light purple moss that drifted to a dull gray carpet over the floor of the passageway.
Never one to resist his own curiosity, Logan tentatively fingered some of the furry stuff. The moss was soft like velvet and let off an aroma similar to the lavender Miss Iva grew in her garden. The scent of it lingered intoxicatingly over his hand, and the wall sparkled where his finger had been. A circle of shimmering light worked its way from the spot, like the ripple of a pond, across the wall and spreading down the tunnel. One of the ripples hit a bump and split off into another and then another, radiating all the way down the corridor in shimmering luminescent circles. They were even on the ceiling and the floor, delightfully dancing in concentric patterns all around him.
The beauty of it all put Logan at ease with the world. He felt gleeful to walk along paths such as these. There was so much happiness to be found in life that he had never imagined before. Smiling, he playfully flicked the purple moss again while he worked his way through the tunnel, merrily whistling and thinking how much he looked forward to telling Bipp about this wonderful place. Life was so awe-inspiring and blessed. How could anyone’s heart not be filled with love after seeing the beauty of Vanidriell? He wondered why he had ever been miserable in Riverbell, as it was probably the most perfect place to live in all of New Fal.
Even as Logan lay down to take a nap in the cozy, soft, loving embrace of the poisonous moss, and the reality that the bumps on the floor were actually the decomposed carcasses of other creatures that had made the same mistake of wandering into this tunnel became clear, and even after he realized he would surely die here in the plant’s dangerous trap of spores, even then…Logan Walker could still not help but smile and snuggle in for his nap.
