by Barb Hendee
Wynn drove the wagon down the pass for three more days before they completed traveling through the foothills and reached the base of the mountains. Her heart was heavy, and all along the way she’d never stopped looking for hints or clues to the elusive entrance Ore-Locks had placed in her mind.
If only it existed. If only she could find it.
Tonight, Shade lay beside her on the bench, and Chane and Ore-Locks sat in the back on opposite sides of the wagon bed, both looking forward. The base of the range’s first ridge loomed above them. In the night, Wynn could not see all the way to their tops, but Chane pointed ahead.
“The end of the pass,” he said. “We may have to leave the wagon behind.”
Wynn squinted, but he could see so much better in the dark than she could, at least from a distance. She’d known this moment was coming. They couldn’t take a wagon into the range, and, eventually, they might even have to abandon the horses. She knew firsthand the dangers of bringing horses onto narrow cliffs.
“Pull up over there,” Chane said, now pointing off to the left.
She sighed and pulled the wagon over. Chane jumped down to unharness the mare and the gelding. They would serve as packhorses now. Both were calm and gentle, and she hated the thought of eventually leaving them in the wilderness. She’d face that task when it arrived, as she had faced so many unpleasant tasks to get this far.
While Chane worked on the harness, Wynn climbed in the back with Shade to take down their makeshift tents, folding the canvas up with their blankets. If she packed things properly, the horses could still carry all the supplies that remained.
“Wynn . . . ?” Ore-Locks called from somewhere.
She could not see him.
“Wynn, come up!”
He rarely used her name, and she’d never heard him sound quite so agitated—or perhaps animated. Looking around, she spotted him to her right, partway up the base of the mountain.
“What is he doing?” Chane asked.
Shade rumbled softly.
Wynn jumped from the wagon’s back and scrambled upward after Ore-Locks. Chane rasped something after her, but she couldn’t make it out. She was too busy climbing as quickly as possible, sending small stones downward with her feet. Shade dashed up after her, and then she heard Chane cursing, as he only had the horses partway unharnessed and couldn’t leave them in a tangled state.
“What?” she panted upon reaching Ore-Locks. “What is it?”
“Look,” he said.
Pulling a cold lamp crystal from her pocket, she rubbed it and held it out. The light illuminated fragments of what appeared to be cut stone lying against the slope.
Wynn’s heart began pounding from more than exertion.
“What are you doing?” Chane asked, coming up behind them. “I had to leave both horses loose down there!”
Wynn leaned slightly forward holding out the crystal. “These stones aren’t natural.”
“There,” Ore-Locks said, moving up and to the left. “More of them.”
Shade rumbled again, and Chane now appeared more unsettled than angry. Ore-Locks climbed further with surprising speed.
“And here,” he said, pointing.
Wynn hurried after him, spotting more fragments of cut stone along the way. Soon the fragments became slightly larger, and then . . .
She glanced back and saw the pattern. It might never have been noticed if she hadn’t first spotted them one by one along the way. There were two lines of those barely noticeable stones with open ground in between, as if . . .
“A path,” she whispered, willing herself not to hope too much. “Are we walking an ancient path?”
Ore-Locks didn’t answer. By the crystal’s light, his eyes were wide and intense as he scanned the slope. He went onward and upward, and Wynn hurried after, barely aware that Chane and Shade came behind.
“I left the horses loose,” Chane repeated.
“Then go down and tie them up,” she said without looking back.
She didn’t hear him turn back as she kept climbing after Ore-Locks.
The path began to curve and snake. Occasionally Wynn lost sight of any stones with telltale signs that they weren’t natural. Ore-Locks would wave her and the others to a stop and begin clambering over the slope, searching. Again and again, he finally straightened up and waved Wynn onward. Soon they were passing through wind-bent trees, jagged outcrops, and rougher terrain. Pauses became longer, but Ore-Locks always continued.
“How far will we climb?” Chane asked.
Again, Wynn didn’t look back. “To the end.”
Shade growled, but kept on as they made their way out onto the crumbled base of a cliff. It was covered in heavy brush that had grown so tall it reached above Chane’s head. Ore-Locks stopped, his gaze searching the rocky ground and the sheer rise of rock above them.
“I’ve lost the path,” he said. “It just leads into the brush.”
“It must go farther,” Wynn returned, peering around at the heavy brush covering the cliff’s base. “It wouldn’t just stop here unless . . .”
She whirled around but pointed into the brush. “Shade, search! See what is behind there.”
Shade’s ears flattened.
Wynn didn’t understand her reluctance, but as back in the foothills, neither did the dog refuse. She trotted to the thick brush, sniffing at its scraggly branches. Ore-Locks went to try to bend some of it out of Shade’s way and looked to Chane.
“Help me.”
Chane strode over, and with one final pause, dropped down to grip handfuls of the thick brush, bending it aside so Shade might crawl through.
“I do not know what you expect to find,” he rasped. “We are wasting more time.”
Wynn ignored him.
Shade crawled through the underbrush toward where the cliff’s face must meet the slope behind the brush. Unable to stop herself, Wynn closed the crystal in her hand and dropped to all fours to follow Shade.
“What are you doing?” Chane asked in alarm, almost letting go of his branches.
Wynn scrambled in before he could stop her, keeping her eyes on Shade’s tail . . . until she realized Shade should’ve reached the wall of the cliff by now. She raised the crystal, but all she could see was Shade’s haunches.
“What do you see?”
—Dark—
Darkness, and that was all? Shade wormed into the brittle branches to one side, and a strange, soft shift of stale air blew over Wynn. She crawled into the space Shade had left and found herself in a barren area beyond the brush. Wynn held up the crystal again.
Light shone upon a stone archway directly above her. She stood and her head almost touched the top. Shade stood beside her, and Wynn turned around, holding the crystal forward.
Wynn almost couldn’t believe what she saw. They were in the mouth of a tunnel, and every stone in the walls was perfectly set without a trace of mortar.
A short while later, Chane crawled into the tunnel after Wynn—with a knot in his stomach. In addition to his packs, he now carried heavy burdens of water, three blankets, and their remaining food supplies. They had abandoned the wagon and their travel chest, and let both horses go.
During the busy moments of final packing, when no one was looking, he had gulped down the last of the red-black life in his final brown bottle. After a moment’s hesitation, he also took another dose of the violet concoction as well.
Shade was now leading the way, and Ore-Locks brought up the rear. But once through, Chane could not stand fully erect and had to hunch in the tunnel.
“It was foolish to abandon the horses and trust this passage to take us through,” he said. “We do not know where it leads.”
Wynn turned her head and gave him a resolute look he had come to know well. She carried her staff in one hand and her cold lamp crystal in the other.
“Ore-Locks says it is common for his people to build a back way out of their seatts,” she said. “Though this one would be much longer than any he’
s heard of. Why else would this tunnel be here in the middle of nowhere?” She turned back around. “No, this tunnel has to lead to somewhere else.”
The knot in Chane’s stomach tightened, as he could not fault her reasoning. Why else would the dwarves build a tunnel that led to the foot of the Slip-Tooth Pass?
Wynn pressed on behind Shade, and Chane began to wonder how long he could walk stooped over like this. Then an opening appeared ahead in the light of Wynn’s crystal, and they all emerged into a large, open area.
“What in the . . . ?” Wynn began, and she quickly pulled out the spare cold lamp crystal, warmed it, and handed it to him.
Chane held up his to match hers and he saw openings in the walls at ground level. The knot in his stomach eased slightly. As his light shone on Wynn’s face, he could see doubt and even fear in her eyes. This was clearly not what she’d expected to find.
“Ore-Locks?” she said, her voice wavering. “What is this?”
The dwarf stepped around her. “I do not know. It looks similar to the entrance chamber at Cheku’ûn Station, in my seatt, but . . .”
Ore-Locks pointed up.
Chane followed his finger to see large dead crystals embedded high on the walls. In his mind’s eye, he envisioned the rushing, busy entrance caverns that he and Wynn had visited at Dhredze Seatt, with glowing orange crystals offering warmth and light. Vending booths had filled the cavern air with the scent of sausages, smoke, and livestock amid the sounds of dwarves in avid barter.
Yes, he could see the similarities in this lifeless place, but it was somewhat smaller than the market cavern he had visited. Had they simply wandered into the remains of an old settlement? Perhaps they could still go back and he could catch the horses.
Wynn headed at a fast clip for a large archway at the chamber’s far side. Chane and the others were forced to quickstep to catch her. In spite of himself, Chane began to wonder what they had found here.
Holding his crystal high as they passed through a short tunnel to the next cavern, he immediately spotted the large tunnel beyond. Three lanes of grooved tracks stretched into the dark passage. At the tracks’ near ends were triple platforms. But what troubled him more was the sight of long-dead trams at all three docks. Whatever happened here, all trams that once served this unknown route had arrived and been left abandoned.
Did any of the trams still function? If so, he hated this prospect even more, for that would hasten Wynn’s rush toward whatever lay at the route’s end. He was losing any remnants of control here, with no way to stop her. If he openly argued now, she might realize his true intention and dismiss him.
Shade glanced up at Chane and rumbled, as if this was all his fault, as if he should have somehow prevented it.
Perhaps he should have.
“Come look at this,” Wynn said quietly, standing beside the far end car of one tram.
Chane joined her and found her studying a cylindrical, dead crystal about the size of his torso. It was secured at the front of what had once been some form of engine to push and pull the tram.
“Do you remember?” she asked.
Of course he did. How could he possibly forget the sight of these crystals bursting into light and then the tram lurching until it raced down the tracks? The determination on Wynn’s face was increasing by the moment. This must be so much more than she had hoped to find.
“Ore-Locks,” she called. “Can you make these work?”
The dwarf was examining a long-decayed car. “I have no knowledge of such engineering, but even if I could, the tram cars are not sound.” Then he looked ahead down the tram’s tunnel. “I think I may see . . . wait here. I will be back.”
Before anyone could speak, he trotted off at a fast pace.
“What is he doing now?” Chane asked.
Wynn just gazed down at the tram’s crystal. “I wish we could make one of these work. Imagine how quickly we’d make it under and across the range.”
But that was the crux—the trams did not, would not work.
“Can you not turn back?” he said suddenly, unable to stop himself. “Have you not tried hard enough, suffered enough, only to walk into dangers we cannot even guess?”
Wynn blinked in surprise. “Turn back? Chane, you don’t really want to . . . ?” She trailed off, as if struggling for words. “You know we can’t fail. You’re with me here, aren’t you?”
Chane hesitated, glancing aside, and he found Shade watching them both.
“Always,” he answered.
He could see Wynn about to press him further, but Ore-Locks came trotting back, no longer carrying his iron staff.
“What did you find?” Wynn asked.
“Give me a moment, and I will show you.”
To Chane’s surprise, the dwarf leaned over and used his broad hands to bend the brackets holding down the crystal engine. Both brackets broke easily, and he lifted the heavy crystal off its base.
“Follow me,” he said, trotting off again.
With little choice, they hurried after him. He led them a short way down the tracks to find two good-sized carts made of solid metal. Wynn walked quickly to the one farthest down the tracks.
Its platform was thick, but a large metal “box” with high sides had been attached on the top, as if the cart had once been used to transport materials for short distances. Ore-Locks’s staff was already stowed inside. A bare section of the platform at the back sported a two-man pump.
Wynn looked to the large crystal in Ore-Locks’s arms. “Do you think you can—?”
“No, I cannot make the crystal drive us, but this crystal may still absorb and reflect the power of another.”
Chane did not follow the dwarf’s intention. He watched as Ore-Locks laid the large crystal on a bare section of the platform at the cart’s front, and then lashed it in place with a length of rope from his sack.
“What are you planning to do?” Chane asked.
Ore-Locks reached out to Wynn. “Give me your crystal.”
With some hesitation, she passed it off to him.
“Step back,” he said.
Ore-Locks looked away from the engine crystal and touched it with Wynn’s cold lamp crystal.
Light instantly exploded from the front of the cart, illuminating a good distance down the track. Chane put his hand up to shield his eyes, and he pushed Wynn behind the cart, out of the engine crystal’s sightline.
“Your sage’s crystal does not provide enough light for safe travel with speed,” Ore-Locks said. “The larger crystal can amplify its light, with the cart’s box shielding us in back from too much glare.”
“Good,” Wynn said, nodding. “Chane, can you pump this cart?”
He could, but his despair began growing again.
“We will take shifts,” Ore-Locks said.
His sudden willingness to work together only irritated Chane. The dwarf was nothing if not single-minded.
“Shade, up,” Wynn said, tossing her pack into the walled box and climbing onto the platform. “Chane, we can put your packs and our supplies here in the box.”
With one final, accusing glance at Chane, Shade jumped aboard after Wynn. Chane began passing blankets and water to Wynn. Every action, every movement, felt wrong, and as Shade blamed him, he could not help but blame Ore-Locks.
Wynn had both a route and means of transport beneath the range.
Nothing would make her turn back now.
Sau’ilahk had come to depend more and more on the elves who followed Wynn. No one in their group was able to sense his presence, yet they had their own method of tracking that had proven more than adequate so far.
Although he longed to feed on them, he had come to view their presence as necessary. They served him unwittingly, and he never needed to risk exposure. In the foothills with all the outcrops, trees, and brush, it was never difficult for him to hide close to them and listen without being detected. But his confidence in their abilities fell apart as they dismounted their horses and stood besi
de Wynn’s empty, abandoned wagon.
Chuillyon picked up an empty harness, his face filling with confusion.
“You saw nothing?” he asked Hannâschi.
“No.” She shook her head, equally troubled. “When I arrived, they were gone. Their horses were still here, set loose. All their belongings but the chest and tents are missing, and I could find no sign of the journeyor or her companions.”
Sau’ilahk longed to kill them all right now. How could they let Wynn slip away?
Tall Shâodh approached the slope, his dirty cloak swinging over the top of his boots.
“It is clear they entered the mountains,” he said, and turned about. “Will we do the same?”
His tone was almost challenging.
“Of course,” Chuillyon answered. “Can you sense for their life shadows again?”
Sau’ilahk had become familiar with the abilities of these elves. He was not surprised when Shâodh turned to face the slope and closed his eyes, chanting softly under his breath. He stood there for long moments, and then raised one slender hand.
“There,” he said quietly, pointing upslope and to the right.
It seemed Shâodh could sense the lingering tendrils of life and was capable of separating people from wildlife. At least he was doing something.
Sau’ilahk remained hidden behind an outcrop near the bottom of the pass as he watched all three elves begin to climb. It felt too long before he heard Hannâschi’s voice echo down the slope.
“Look, Domin! A path.”
He longed to blink up beside them, but there was little cover where they stood. Soon they started off again, snaking and curving up the mountain until he lost sight of them.
Sau’ilahk allowed himself to fall slightly dormant, to dematerialize and blink up the mountain. At first, he could not see them, but he heard voices again. He drifted ever so cautiously around the sharp slant of a sheer cliff face.
The last of the three elves was disappearing into the brush at the base of the cliff wall.
When they did not come out, anxiety began to trickle through Sau’ilahk. Rather than blink into the unknown, he drifted nearer, slowly following where he had seen the elves vanish. Within moments, he found himself looking out of a tunnel into a vast cavern with dead crystals lining the upper walls.
