I felt like I was in the river again, being swept along with no control. My heart was beating about as fast as it had in the river too. I’m not a revolutionary, Mark. The closest I ever came to being in a fight was the time you and I wrestled over who was gonna bat first in Wiffle ball. That doesn’t exactly qualify me to lead a revolution.
“Look,” I said, trying hard not to let my voice crack. “I feel bad for these people and all, but I’m not up to this. You say I’m a Traveler? Fine, whatever. But up until two days ago I had no idea any of this even existed! How can I suddenly lead a revolution?”
“But you must,” said Alder seriously. “The Milago believe that you will take over for Press.”
“Then go get Uncle Press!” I shouted. Alder then looked down at the ground. Obviously something was wrong.
“Where is Press now?” she demanded.
Alder kept his eyes on the ground and said, “He is being held in the Bedoowan fortress. Kagan has sentenced him to death. He will be executed tomorrow at the equinox.”
Oh, man! Uncle Press was going to die! Could things get any worse? Loor spun away from Alder and picked up a rock. With a roar of anger, she reached back and threw it across the river. It was like she was channeling her anger and frustration into this one, mighty throw. She stormed toward me like an enraged bull. I took a few steps back, expecting her to take a swing at me. But she didn’t. Instead she stuck her nose in my face and seethed. “I do not understand why Press believes in you. You are a coward, you are weak, and you do not care for anyone but yourself. But you are a Traveler, and you will begin to act like one. It is time you saw the truth,” and with that she gave me a shove backward. I had to pinwheel my arms to keep from falling over.
Alder said meekly, “You know I cannot go with you.”
“I know,” answered Loor. “Meet us after dark.”
She gave me another shove and walked off. I didn’t know what else to do, so I followed her. We didn’t say much on our walk back to the Milago village and it gave me a chance to digest all that I had just learned. I guess that Travelers are some kind of cosmic do-gooders. That’s very noble and all, but I didn’t volunteer for this particular honor. Just the opposite. I didn’t want any part of it. Everyone kept telling me that I was a Traveler and that I had a responsibility, but who the heck made me a Traveler? I don’t remember signing up. Maybe it’s like the army where you get drafted. But if I were the guy in charge of drafting Travelers, I sure as heck wouldn’t pick somebody like me! They should have picked a Navy SEAL or a SWAT guy or better still, one of those WWF muscle heads. They shouldn’t have picked a fourteen-year-old gym rat. Even if I wanted to help the Milago, the second I opened my mouth they’d know I was a fraud. No, the best thing I could do was stick to Plan A, and that was to get to the flume and get out of here, ASAP.
There was one thing that bothered me though. Uncle Press was in trouble. No, worse. He was going to die the next day. But what could I do? If I went after him, Kagan’s knights would cut me to ribbons and we’d both be dead. I was in a horrible situation.
When Loor and I got back to the village we were greeted by Osa, who looked at us with concern. My guess is she could tell that things were going badly. Before Osa could ask what had happened, Loor said, “He must see the mines.”
Osa didn’t ask why, she just looked at her daughter and gave a weary sigh.
“Come with me, Pendragon,” said Osa and started to walk off.
“What if I don’t want to see the mines?” I asked, because I didn’t.
Osa looked at me with these intense, piercing eyes. She wasn’t scolding me. She wasn’t trying to intimidate me either. This is hard to describe, but the look she gave me was one of absolute certainty. The look said: “You will come and see the mines because that is what you must do.” Maybe it was a kind of hypnotism, but the instant she looked at me, I knew I had no choice. So I followed her. Weird, huh?
Loor didn’t come with us and Osa didn’t invite her. It was just the two of us and that was fine by me. As we walked through the Milago village, I started to notice something I hadn’t seen before. Whenever we passed one of the Milago, they would give me a quick glance. We’d make eye contact and then they’d quickly look to the ground and continue on their way. It was weird. It was like they were watching me, but afraid to acknowledge that I was there. Up until now, I thought they didn’t even know I existed. Nobody talked to anyone else and they certainly didn’t talk to me. That is, of course, except for Figgis. He was the only Milago who spoke to me. Everybody else kept to themselves. Yet here they were, checking me out. I was betting these villagers were looking at me and thinking: “How can this be the guy who’s going to lead our revolution? He’s a wussy kid!” And they were right.
I followed Osa back to the path that led to the ocean. We walked a few yards into the woods and I saw that there was another, smaller path that led off to the right. This is the path we took and it led us to a clearing where there was a large foundation made of stone. It looked much like the stage in the center of the village where the Transfer ceremony took place, but there was no wooden platform covering it. There was a huge wooden frame built over the foundation with a large pulley attached. A thick rope looped over the pulley and dropped down into the hole. Two burly men were hauling on the rope, bringing up something from below. The setup kind of reminded me of one of those old-fashioned wishing wells where the bucket would be dropped down on a rope and then hoisted out with water. But in this case, they weren’t hoisting up water, they were hoisting up glaze. The two men brought the large basket to the surface, grabbed it, and emptied it onto the ground. A few craggy glaze stones tumbled out. The two looked at each other and sighed. Apparently this wasn’t a very good haul. I remembered that they had to bring out enough glaze to balance with the wife of the man who was killed the day before. They added the new stones to a larger pile next to the foundation. There wasn’t much there. If they didn’t bring up more glaze, the poor woman would join her husband at the bottom of the pit. A cold chill went up my spine.
Osa walked to the foundation, sat down, and swung her legs over the side. “Be careful,” she commanded. And with that, she lowered herself over the side. Where was she going? Did she jump? I walked up to the edge, looked down, and saw that there was a ladder attached to the side. Osa was climbing down into what looked like a bottomless pit. In no time she disappeared into the gloom. I looked over at the two miners. Sure enough, they were looking at me. But the second we made eye contact, they looked away and went back to work. I’m not sure what was creepier: Knowing that everyone was checking me out, or climbing down a rickety ladder into the dark unknown.
“Now, Pendragon!” echoed Osa’s voice from below.
I reached over the side and tugged on the ladder to make sure it was sturdy. I swung my legs over, grabbed the ladder and started down. It was a good thing the pit was dark, because if I could have seen all the way to the bottom, I’m not sure I would have had the guts to climb down. The ladder itself was crudely made from saplings lashed together, but it was strong. After climbing down several feet, I found that the foot of the ladder rested on a stone ledge. But this wasn’t the bottom. The top of another ladder was leaning on the ledge next to this one and since Osa wasn’t there, I figured I had to climb down it as well. In all, there were fifteen ladders. Unbelievable. This pit was deep. Every third ledge had a tunnel that led horizontally away from the pit. I figured that these were abandoned sections of the mine. Probably when the glaze ran out on each level, they would tunnel deeper and deeper and deeper.
Finally I reached the bottom, where Osa stood waiting for me. There was light down here too. Small candles were everywhere. It wasn’t exactly bright, but once my eyes adjusted, I could see just fine. There was one tunnel leading away from the pit, and that’s where Osa went. I followed her obediently. The tunnel was carved out of the rock; I could stand up straight, but Osa had to crouch down a bit. It was a good thing I wasn’t claustrophobic
.
“The main shaft was built generations ago,” she explained. “But when they discovered a rich vein of glaze at this level, the miners decided to do things differently.”
“What did they do?” I asked.
Osa didn’t have to answer. After a few more yards the tunnel emptied out into a humongous cavern. The ceiling must have been thirty feet high. It was spectacular. Leading off from the cavern were many other tunnels. It was like we were at the center of a wagon wheel and the tunnels, like spokes, led out from the center in all directions. Down each tunnel was a set of miniature tracks. I had seen pictures of gold mines before and I figured these tracks were for the ore cars.
“Once it was discovered that this was the level to find glaze, the tunneling started to spread out in all directions,” she explained. “There are miles and miles of tunnels. It is so complex that miners have lost their way and wandered for days.”
I had to admit it was pretty impressive, especially because these guys did all of the work by hand. We stood to the side of the cavern and watched the activity. There were no powerful mining machines here, just the strong backs of Milago miners. Some were pushing carts full of dirt, others emptied the carts in the center of the cavern and sifted it for bits of glaze. I also heard the distant sound of pickaxes ringing against stone as the miners labored to stretch the tunnels in their search for more glaze.
“The miners work day and night,” Osa explained. “It is the only way they can possibly meet Kagan’s unreasonable demands.”
She reached down and picked up one of the miners’ tools. It was a metal pickax with a wooden handle. “These tools are forbidden on the surface because they are made of metal,” she told me. “The penalty for using a metal tool on the surface is death.”
Now that she mentioned it, I didn’t remember seeing anything made of metal on the surface. All the tools that were used above were made from wood or from stone. It was like the Bedoowan were trying to keep the Milago back in the stone age, except for when it came to getting their precious glaze, of course.
I began to notice that there was an odd smell to the mine. It wasn’t a horrible smell, in fact it was kind of sweet. “What is that smell?” I asked.
Osa didn’t answer, but motioned for me to follow her. We walked across the large cavern, stepping across the railroad tracks. As we approached the far side I began to make out something that made me shudder. I hadn’t seen it before because the light was so dim, but now that we were here I could see things plainly. To be honest, I wished I still couldn’t see, but I did. Lying on the floor of the cavern were dozens of miners. They looked horrible. Some moaned in pain, others just sat there with blank looks.
“They look sick,” I said.
“They are,” came the sad reply. “The smell is a gas that is released when the glaze is separated from the rock. It is a poison that slowly destroys your ability to breathe.”
“We’re breathing toxic fumes?” I asked, ready to bolt back to the ladders.
“Do not worry,” she said calmly. “You must breathe it for years for it to be of concern.”
I looked at the sick miners and said, “These guys have been breathing it for years?”
Osa nodded sadly. “It is a painful death.”
“Why don’t they go up into the fresh air?” I asked with horror.
“They have no strength left,” was the grim answer. “These poor souls are in the final stages of the disease. They will die here.”
I took a few steps back from the sick miners. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was afraid I might catch this nasty disease from them. Suddenly the huge cavern didn’t seem so huge anymore. The walls felt like they were closing in and I wanted out of there in a bad way. Maybe I had a touch of claustrophobia after all.
“Why did you have to show me this?” I demanded to know.
“Because it is very important that you understand how desperate the situation is for the Milago,” Osa said.
I wanted to scream. Osa was setting me up. She was showing me how bad these guys had it so I’d feel sorry for them and agree to lead their revolution. But why? Osa didn’t seem like a fool. She could see that I wasn’t the kind of guy who could lead a revolution. Her daughter figured it out pretty quick. Why wasn’t Osa with the program? I didn’t want to argue here in front of these poor miners, so I headed for the tunnel that led to the ladders.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Home!” was my simple reply. I hurried across the cavern, hopping over the railroad tracks and dodging the ore cars. Then just as I was about to enter the tunnel that led to the ladders, somebody ran in front of me. It was Figgis. But this time he didn’t stop to try and sell me something. He was in a hurry and I’m not even sure he knew it was me who he cut off. I watched the little guy run down the tunnel toward the ladders and was about to follow him when I felt the ground start to shudder. Uh-oh, was this an earthquake? Or a cave-in? A second later there was a huge explosion! I spun to look where the sound came from and saw black smoke billowing out from one of the tunnels. Many of the miners were looking at the smoking tunnel with confusion.
Now, I’m no expert, but these guys have been doing this mining thing for a long time. Surely they had been through an explosion like this before. You’d think that they would have instantly kicked into emergency gear and either evacuated the mine or started damage control. There could be miners trapped in there who needed to be rescued. But that’s not what happened. The miners just looked to each other with a mixture of fear and confusion. It was like they didn’t know what to do.
Finally Osa called out, “Are there men in there?”
One of the miners shouted out, “Rellin!” This seemed to wake the others up. They quickly came to their senses and headed for the smoking tunnel to rescue their leader. One of the miners tied a rope around his waist, boldly fought the smoke and entered the tunnel. Another few miners held the other end of the rope. I guess the idea was that if he passed out, they could drag him back to safety. Brave guy.
The ground didn’t shake again. Whatever damage the explosion caused was only in that one tunnel. I didn’t feel I was in any danger and I wanted to stay and see if Rellin was okay.
“How often do they have explosions like that?” I asked. Osa kept staring at the smoking tunnel and then said something I never expected to hear.
“What is an explosion?” she asked.
Huh? How could she not know what an explosion was? This woman knew everything there was to know. It couldn’t have been a language thing because Travelers understood all languages.
“You know,” I continued. “Explosion. That big bang. From dynamite or something.”
Osa looked at me with confusion and said, “I have never seen anything like that happen here, nor in my home territory. You are saying that loud noise caused the damage? Like lightning?”
This was deeply weird. Though maybe it explained why the miners reacted the way they did. They probably had no idea what happened either. But then what had caused the explosion? Maybe they tapped into some underground gas pocket.
Before we could talk more about it, the miners holding the rope began to frantically pull on their end. Other miners gathered to watch with concern. They stared into the smoky tunnel, waiting to see what came out. After a few seconds, the miner on the other end emerged from the smoke and in his arms…was Rellin. The chief miner was full of black soot and there were traces of blood around his forehead, but he was okay. Dazed, but okay. He was helped to sit down and brought a leather skin full of water to drink. Rellin took a long drink, swished it in his mouth, and spit.
Then an odd thing happened. Rellin looked up at the other miners, gazing at each one in turn, and began to laugh. The other miners didn’t know what to make of this. Maybe the total relief from his brush with death came out in nervous laughter. Or maybe he was crazy. I sure didn’t know and from the confused looks of the miners, they didn’t know either. I have to admit, it was kind of creepy. I
think Osa felt the same way because she put a hand on my shoulder and said, “We should go to the surface.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I was down that tunnel and up those ladders in an instant. As I climbed, I looked up at the circle of blue sky that grew larger and larger the higher I got. It was the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel and I couldn’t get to it fast enough. When I poked my head out into the fresh air, I took a deep breath and promised myself that I would never go down in that hell hole again. One of the miners who hoisted up the basket of glaze was leaning against the wooden frame of the pulley system, watching me. The other miner was gone.
Then I sensed something strange. For some reason the miner didn’t turn away after we made eye contact. He kept on staring at me.
Osa poked up out of the hole, jumped onto the ground, and said, “Tell me more about this thing you call…explosion.”
Before I could answer, Osa’s attention was caught by something behind me. I turned to look and saw the miner who had been staring at me. Osa walked past me with her eyes fixed on the man. He just stood there, still looking at me with a dumb expression on his face. Osa walked right up to him, stared at him for a moment more, then quickly spun back toward me and shouted, “Pendragon, run!”
“Huh?”
Before Osa could say another word, the miner toppled over and fell at her feet. My eyes fixed on the wooden arrow that was sticking out of his back. Yeah, the guy was dead. That wasn’t a dumb look on his face, it was a dead look. I had never seen a dead man before. I couldn’t move. Osa ran to me, grabbed my hand, and started to drag me toward the forest. We had only gone a few steps when four of Kagan’s knights leaped out in front of us. Now I knew what had happened to the miner.
“We’ve come for the boy,” they announced. There was no mistaking it this time. Unlike the knight named Alder who I mistook for an enemy back by the river, these guys were not on our side. They carried clublike weapons and, judging from the poor dead miner with the arrow sticking out of his back, they wouldn’t hesitate to use them for whatever mayhem they thought fit.
The Merchant of Death tpa-1 Page 13
