by Colin Taber
It took a while before the opening began to get noticeably closer, yet eventually it did. As they closed the distance, they talked, and Matraia became more vocal despite her exhaustion, as if reacting to the strengthening sunlight. “The stream is just a trickle here... do you see it?”
The observation was true. The stream that had gifted them strength and healing ran only a pace wide and barely ankle deep.
Anton said, “There were plenty of other runs of water that joined it on the way through the long dark, where water leaked from the ceiling or gushed from cracks in the wall. In truth, I’ll be sad to leave it behind. It has been not just a source of fresh water, but reassuring.”
Sef agreed. “I can still feel the helpful pulse emanating from it, whether it was meant to aid us or not.”
Matraia agreed. “It must carry a residue of Dorloth’s power. I wonder what we will find outside... hopefully a road down into the forest?”
The Outleaguer asked, “Do you think we’ve come that far?”
“Who can tell? I’ve no idea how long we’ve been under the mountain, whether it’s been two days or six.”
Sef added, “I think we have come a fair way, but perhaps not far enough to cross the mountain wall. We might be through the worst of it, but I don’t think we’ll be finding forest just yet.”
They walked on, the opening growing lighter, setting their eyes to squint and water.
-
The tunnel opening levelled off enough for the stream to meander back and forth across the dirt-heavy road. Sef, Anton and Matraia crossed the last of their subterranean passage with quickening steps, until together they all sighed with a mix of relief and elation as they came into the sunlight.
Ahead of them spread the road, with a rising, steep hillside of snow-capped rock on one side – the stream’s side – and a sheer drop-away on the other. They were still high up in the mountain, a place bare aside from rock, snow and tufts of alpine grasses.
The road was carved from the mountainside. In places the rock had slipped over the past age, sending great piles of rubble to cover part of its way as well as sprawl across to bury the entry to a neighbouring tunnel. The healing waters of the stream were sourced at the base of the rubble, yet it was the view to the other side that drew their eyes.
Beyond the edge of the road, part of which seemed to have fallen away over time, a great vista opened up into a grand view as a series of high vales spread before them, meandering down to the distant wooded lowlands.
Kalraith.
Matraia could only sigh with longing to see it. Beside her, Sef and Anton both stood frozen in awe.
Despite the haze of distance and the way the mountains behind and ahead of them still hid much of the view, the travellers could not help but be touched by the spectacle. It wasn’t just stunning, but beautiful.
They could see a series of wide vales beyond the mountains, nursed by smaller ridges and rugged foothills. These valleys spread, cloaked in thick forests, some marked by deep lakes and the dark lines of rivers. The vales were large, sided by the ridges running out from the long and curving mountain wall of the Varm Carga. The valleys lay open on their far sides to an even wider basin of woodlands beyond.
There, that yawning green land spread open, marked only by occasional hills, all of it seeming like a vast wilderness. The size of it was hard to even guess at, as it quickly faded to blue in a haze of distance, its expanse haunted in places by rising mist.
This was a land of not just woodland and water, but Life.
Anton finally spoke, his voice soft, “Matraia, that larger basin, is that Kalraith?”
“Yes, but I think most of what you can see is not the Core of our land. Not where Quersic Quor is.”
Sef put a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun shining down between gaps in the cloud cover. “It looks like a wild woodland. I see no signs of towns, cities, nor fields. Not a thing.”
She answered him, “They are there, but too far away to see. We do not farm like your people do. Our fields, for want of a better name, are vertical, not horizontal across the ground. They are great trees we have cultivated, with branches at different levels growing different foods, based on how much light and free air they need.”
“Vertical?” Sef queried, surprised by the concept.
“It is easier for us to harvest them that way, but also saves on space.”
Anton nodded, intrigued. “And, I suppose, from above or from a distance, that makes them look the same as other forested areas.”
She agreed with a smile. “Despite not being where Quersic Quor or the Core are, that is where most of our people now live.”
In one distant eastern section, the shadow of a cloud moved along the green land, causing the mist to fade, showing where a ridge of lower mountains cut into the basin. The woodlands further on were indistinct with distance, but a darker patch looked like a great lake or body of water cut into the greenery. Matraia pointed and said, “There, that’s the separating ridge between the two main basins of Kalraith, and that water, if you can see it, is where Quersic Quor stands.”
As she spoke, a white-blue light flared down there, barely visible over such a long way.
Anton gasped, “That’s celestial power!”
Matraia nodded.
“It must be very strong to be seen from such a distance.”
The birdwoman agreed. “It is Dorloth. Her presence is such a divine focus now that she sheds raw energy that roves around Quersic Quor. You will see it for yourselves soon enough.”
Sef glanced at Anton in wonder, but to his surprise, he could even see the reflection of the white-blue light in his friend’s eyes. With a gasp, he said, “How can it be so strong?”
“Long ago, she should have been elevated to the celestial to join the Divine Covenant and take her place alongside the other gods, but she resists. She wishes to stay here and watch over us.” Matraia held up her hand in front of her, turning to show both the men, as she said, “See, the light is strong enough, even at this distance, to leave a shadow.” And it did, leaving a faint silhouette of her fingers clear on her clothing.
Anton looked behind them. They were all casting dim shadows across the ground as they were bathed in the light. He craned his neck back and gazed higher, observing the mountainside above the tunnel entrance, cloaked in snow, and from where the stream came as melt water, born of snow that spent the day and night soaking up the divine radiance of Dorloth.
He knew this was how the stream’s flow had renewed their strength; it was simply Dorloth’s shed power.
The Outleaguer turned back in wonder to face distant Quersic Quor. Of course, he could see little, only the white-blue light that shimmered and pulsed, yet that was enough. Juvela might be a god, but she was newly awakened, whereas Dorloth had accumulated power on a whole other scale over a thousand years. Just standing there, Anton knew that what sparkled in the far distance was the same kind of divine might as the Church of Baimiopia’s Krienta, although what glowed before him still remained anchored in the mortal world.
His studies had taught him much about the celestial and the gods, but to stand before such a sight, even if only half-glimpsed and so far away, filled him with awe.
They took in the view for a few moments more, until a mist rose over the woods to dull the glow, then their gazes started to drift.
Eventually, they turned back to the road ahead, a road they still had to travel.
The roadway ran on, spills of snow-covered rubble occasionally tumbled across its width, but the way ahead was mostly clear before disappearing into the dark and wide mouth of another pair of tunnels.
Sef cursed, “By the Pits!”
Matraia said, “Don’t worry; I think we’ve been through the worst of it and have crossed under the mountain-wall.” She began to walk forward. “Come, let us get started.”
Sef and Anton followed, for they could see what she meant. While the forest down below looked distant, the way it came into view j
ust beyond those last mountains suggested the rugged terrain must fall steeply away. If they’d just completed a crossing that had taken two, three or four days, then what remained via the tunnel might only be for another day, or at most, two.
Sef pondered the thought. “You know, if we’re that close, the easiest route, as in flattest, may be the tunnel, but I can’t help but wonder if the mountainside might be safer for us?”
“You mean without the vermin?” Anton queried.
“Yes.”
“But we’re up in the mountains, so we’d be subject to the gargoyles, at least for the coming night.”
The big Flet nodded. “And we’re probably a lot closer to their lair.”
Instinctively, they all began to scan the skies as they continued along the road and away from the tunnel behind them.
Sef added, “You’re right. Let’s keep going.”
They continued on their way, walking through snow and past spills of rubble from old rock falls and ancient landslips. In more than one place, parts of the roadway had slumped down the mountainside, yet they were able to continue.
Anton noticed another melt-water stream alongside the road. This one flowed down, working its way around landslips and rubble as it headed towards the tunnel ahead. The flow was fed from the snow on the slope that rose to their side.
After a while, content to maintain an easy quiet as they marched on, Sef turned and looked back the way they had come. He quickly froze.
Matraia and Anton noticed and stopped, also turning around.
Sef hissed, “By the gods!”
Behind them, high up the slope that rose over the tunnel they had just left, set back and near the top of the mountain peak, stood a crooked tower.
They were undeniably in view of its dark windows.
The way was watched!
Sef looked at Anton and Matraia, checking each over in a glance. The whites and greys they had been wearing were now torn, shed, and stained by the dust and dirt of their tunnel passage. He said, “Between the tracks we’re leaving in the snow and what we’re wearing, we must be easy to spot.”
Anton turned back to the road. “We need to keep moving. We’re already halfway to the next tunnel. Maybe they haven’t seen us yet, but even if they have, they can’t get down to us quickly.”
Matraia agreed. “If they have seen us, the danger will come after sunset, when they send gargoyles. In that case, neither of us will like the tunnel ahead – us because of the dark, them because of its confines.”
They began walking again, each moving to cover what they could of themselves in the grey and white scraps of clothing they had.
Sef said, “Let’s just get there and then get as far through as we can. We will have to be extremely vigilant and assume we’ve been seen.”
They agreed and kept going.
One step became two, two became four, and then a dozen had passed. By the time they had moved a score more paces, they began to hope that maybe they had not been noticed.
And then a horn sounded.
It sounded loud and clear, across not only the ridge but what seemed the whole of the Varm Carga, as a series of echoes bounced back to them again and again.
The sound, deep and strong, reverberated to fill the world.
Without a word they started to run.
Sef led them in their sprint, crying, “Go!”
The tunnel wasn’t far away now, its dark opening waiting for them.
The horn echoed around them, bouncing off hard stone.
All three moved quickly, setting a pace the snow should have denied, but they were desperate. They knew they were running for their very lives.
With the dark tunnel ahead, they had no hint of what might lay in wait.
Sef cried, “Get a blade out!” He already had a knife in hand, as they neared the opening.
The echoes of the horn’s call began to fade.
The three travellers ran headlong into the tunnel’s darkness.
They continued on, the daylight at their back, soon losing sight of the what lay in front of them, giving themselves to the gloom. Thankfully, the roadway followed a gentle descent, taking them downhill.
The stream of melt-water along the roadside also followed them in. The flow was now wider and deeper, bigger than what the other tunnel had hosted. Just inside the entrance, it was joined by another series of flows that tumbled loud and heavily, leaking down from the ceiling to form waterfalls that splashed and roared.
Having been outside in the sunlight, it didn’t take long before the shadowed world before them stole their vision away. Each step brought them back into a deepening darkness they thought they had left behind them. Their eyes slowly adjusted, but not fast enough, as they hurried on. Soon, as the last trace of light faded, they began to slow their pace. Now, they were not just in danger of running headlong into rubble or tripping up and doing some real damage to themselves, they were also breathless again.
Above the roar of falling water, Anton gasped, “We better stop.” As they jogged on.
Sef agreed from a few steps behind, but the big Flet was focussed on trying to pull his thoughts together to seek Juvela’s aid in gifting them light.
His friend continued, “We’re going to get ourselves killed...” and then his voice dropped in the darkness as he fell through an unseen hole in the tunnel’s floor.
Anton’s fading voice returned a heartbeat later as a yell of surprise.
Sef heard him tumble as he brought his own run to a stop. But it was too late. Within a few steps, he also found nothing beneath his feet.
Quietly, he also fell, finding himself sliding down an angled piece of roadway that had collapsed into whatever lay below.
He soon found himself crashing into a rushing flow of chilled water. The roar of it echoed, exaggerated by the confines of the tunnel or cave he found himself in.
“Sef!” cried Anton from ahead as he floundered in the speeding water.
A cry rang out behind him, followed by a splash when Matraia followed them.
Sef could feel the bottom, a smooth stone surface, so he tried to gain control of his passage in what was now complete darkness. His efforts slowed him a little, allowing the birdwoman to bump into him.
She gasped, “Sef?”
He grabbed at her, as she did him, serving him a mouthful of feathers as they fumbled in the dark. Finally, they steadied themselves, shoulder-to-shoulder, and he said, “Don’t panic, it’s not that deep.” And it wasn’t, only a few paces, but the chaos of their unexpected arrival and the darkness fed their fears.
She answered, “Yes, I can feel the bottom.”
They were already being dragged along by the flow at a fair pace.
“Sef!” Anton cried again, his voice on the edge of panic amidst the drain’s roar, for the Outleaguer who couldn’t swim began to give into his own fears. He was already growing distant, caught by the flow and being sped away.
In absolute darkness, immersed in the flow, Sef and Matraia also picked up speed as the turbulent water splashed up and around them, and dragged them along.
Sef said to Matraia, “We must be in a drain.”
“We need to get out before the drain either spouts us from the mountainside or we get dumped somewhere we cannot escape.”
Again the water splashed around, lively and cold. They were slammed against a buckled side wall, where a pile of rubble formed a temporary bottleneck and forced the flow to grow deeper. They both went under briefly at this point, before being sucked through and sent shooting down a steeper run that gave them real speed.
From ahead, Anton sounded out again, “Sef, Matraia, can you hear me?”
Sef called in answer, “Anton, we’re behind you!”
“I can’t see anything. I don’t know where we’re going, but it seems only to be getting faster.”
Sef cried, “We need to get free before we hit a dead end with no air or a chute that expels us from the mountainside. Have you seen anything or foun
d anything you can grab onto?”
“Nothing... just the odd bit of rubble that blocks the flow. They come up from out of the dark, so I don’t know they’re here until I’m getting battered by them and dragged past.”
Sef called, “Just do what you can to slow yourself. We can’t be that far behind you.” He cursed under his breath.
“We need some light. You summoned some before, try now. Otherwise we’re going to end up with broken bones.”
Matraia seemed to have calmed herself. “He’s right. We need light or we’re going to get battered to death.”
Sef nodded, a pointless thing in the dark, but his mind was elsewhere as he tried to concentrate and call back the light blessing they’d used before. This time they needed a glow with a wider spread.
He begged... please Juvela, we need light to keep us safe!
Ahead, Anton cried out from the darkness, the call one of surprise and pain. Amidst the roar of the rushing water, they could hear a deepening of the turbulence.
A rising green glow began to illuminate the space around Matraia and Sef. This time it came a little brighter, but also wider, expanding to light the area beyond its previous range.
They were in a smaller tunnel than the roadway, a space only four paces wide and four high, a shaft built solely to act as a drain. Dark openings on one side of the ceiling regularly flashed by, water running down from them adding to the turbulence.
Matraia called out, her voice growing in strength, as the light fed her confidence, “Anton, can you see the light?”
No answer came.
Sef warned, “Whatever he hit is coming up.” As he spoke, they heard Anton ahead, but his voice came as a series of unintelligible gasps as he struggled to get his head above water.
With light around them, they could see the water ahead grow rough, the flow interrupted on the right hand side where a large pile of rubble intruded, both from a buckled wall and collapsed ceiling, making the drain’s flow froth white and angry. Looking at it, Sef assumed Anton had hit the rubble in the dark and had then been dragged under before being again shot downstream.
They neared the rubble, managing to keep their heads above water as they were whisked along. Carefully, they used their legs to keep clear of the rock outcrop as the current pulled them into the churning chaos.
