“But that’s not much of a reason to turn back now,” offered Clayton. “If we got no fire, we don’t have much hope of making it back anyway.”
Cedric spoke up: “I say we just follow this wall until we find a getting-out place, or until we just can’t follow it no farther.”
They all agreed to Cedric’s plan. If they found a way out of the lake and they could light their torches, the mission would go on. Otherwise, they would try to make their way back to the Corenwalder camp, one way or another.
So they continued their unlikely journey, half-swimming, feeling their way along a limestone wall in perfect darkness, calling to one another at frequent intervals to ensure that no one got separated from the party.
* * *
It was difficult to gauge time in the cave, where time was not measured by the movement of sun or stars, but by the nearly constant drip … drip … drip that gave shape to everything in the world beneath the world. The burning of torches had given the miner-scouts a rough idea of the time they had spent in the cave, but they had no idea how long they had been creeping along the rock wall in the darkness. It might have been a couple of hours. It might have been shorter or, for that matter, much longer.
Aidan was famished, growing weaker by the minute. It wasn’t only hunger and fatigue that drained him but the darkness itself, which seemed determined to swallow every spark of hope he could generate. His hands had grown soft from soaking in the water; the abrasive stone was painful to his fingertips. His helmet—or, more particularly, the tinderbox underneath his helmet—had grown especially irksome. He had even managed to swim blisters on his feet, the result of swimming in boots.
The whole group had grown sullen. The darkness had obviously done its work on the miner-scouts too. It seemed an hour since anyone had spoken a word. Then, up at the front of the line, Gustus bellowed in pain, “Aaaargh! My knee!” In the darkness, the travelers all piled into one another, unaware that their leader had stopped, lodged against an outcropping of stone just below the water’s surface.
The old miner was more surprised than hurt by the collision, and he forgot all about the pain in his knee when he realized that the ledge became a gently sloping shelf rising out of the water and offering a dry surface to stand on. The whole party scrambled out of the water, rejoicing to be on dry land.
“Tinderboxes!” whooped Gustus. And before Aidan could even get his helmet off, he heard the tchk … tchk … tchk of flint on steel.
“Shake a torch dry!” ordered Gustus, as he continued clicking away with the flint. The flying sparks were a welcome sight to eyes accustomed to total darkness. The tinder caught, then the fat lighter, and as Gustus scooped the burning splinter into Cedric’s torch, the miners dared to hope that their mission might be completed after all. Nestled in the still-damp fibers of the cane torch, the flame guttered and smoked, and Aidan felt his heart in his throat. But the pine pitch embedded in the stringy cane innards popped to light, and a little halo of light revealed that the stone they stood on was more than only a little shelf but a broad passageway where all six could walk abreast if they chose.
As Gustus was lighting a second torch, Arliss gave them the best news they had heard in many hours: The passage led south, back toward the Pyrthen camp. Clayton clasped Arliss in a bear hug that lifted him off the ground: “Hurrah for the miner’s head!” he whooped.
Energized by their improved prospects, and also worried that their torches wouldn’t last, they made their way down the passage at a brisk pace, almost at a trot.
“How much fire we got left?” asked Ernest, who had long since recovered from his cramp.
“Let’s see …” said Gustus, stroking his beard. “We started with twenty pair. That was the seventh pair that you and Clayton lost in the water. These are the eighth pair. Two more pair after these, and we turn it around.”
“Step it up, boys,” called Arliss. “No time to waste!”
They were almost running now down the broad corridor, and they sang their high-spirited caving song:
Oh, the miners brave of Greasy Cave,
Came out the other side.
They braved the gloom, they challenged doom,
They made an end to Pyrthen pride.
Fol de rol de rol de fol de rol de rol
De fol de rol de fiddely fol de rol.
The ninth pair of torches was burning when Arliss noticed something odd on the ceiling above them. It looked like a twisted mass of gigantic snakes spiraling out thirty feet or more, branching and intertwining. Arliss nudged Aidan and pointed upward. “Tree roots,” he observed. “We must be getting near the surface.”
Cedric looked up too. “That’s not a little tree either,” he observed. “Look at the size of those roots.”
Aidan stopped short. “We’re in the middle of a plain. There aren’t many trees.”
“Not that size anyway,” offered Arliss.
“There are a few big pine trees and a few big cedars.”
Gustus craned his neck to study the root system. “I’ve tunneled under many a pine tree. Those aren’t pine roots. Not cedar either. That’s a hardwood.”
“A hardwood!” shouted Arliss excitedly. “There ain’t but one big hardwood within eyeshot of camp. That’s the live oak the giant used to stand by every afternoon.”
“So we’re …” Aidan began.
“We’re standing underneath the Pyrthen camp!” shouted Gustus. “We’re almost there!”
“And not a minute too soon,” observed Clayton as the torch in his hand guttered out. They lit a tenth pair of torches—their last before they would have to turn back— and pressed on.
Five minutes later, the passageway narrowed to a tight crevice. Gustus held his torch to the crevice and tried to peer through. He looked down at his broad chest and shook his head. He turned sideways and leaned into the crack. He groaned and pushed with his legs, but it was clear to everyone that there was no use.
“You’d have to be an eel to get through that hole,” he sighed dejectedly. “We’ve come so far.” His voice cracked with emotion. He buried his head in his hands. “So far …”
Aidan stepped up to the crevice. “Sir?” he asked. “Gustus? Mind if I give it a try?”
Gustus looked up. His wet eyes glistened in the torchlight. “Sure, son,” he answered, trying to smile. “That’s why we brought you, isn’t it? To squeeze into spots where old fat miners can’t go.”
Aidan sidled into the crack, a torch in his lead hand, his pack swung around to his trailing shoulder. It was a tight fit. It grew tighter as he progressed through the crevice. As the walls closed in, he could feel panic rising in his gorge. He heard Arliss’s voice behind him: “If you’re stuck, breathe out. Don’t hold your breath.”
It went against his instincts, but Aidan did as Arliss said; Arliss did, after all, have the miner’s head. He blew out steadily and felt his chest contract just enough to dislodge him. Then, before he realized what had happened, he popped through to the other side. To his surprise, Arliss was right behind him.
“Thought I’d have a look too,” Arliss explained.
“How in the world did you get through?” asked Aidan, for though Arliss was the skinniest of the miners, he was still bigger than Aidan.
“One more bite of hardtack, and I couldn’t have made it,” grinned Arliss.
Where they stood, the cave broadened again. They were facing due west.
“Do you smell that?” asked Arliss. Since they had gone underground, they had smelled nothing but that damp, earthy smell. Now, for the first time, they smelled something else, and this aroma was unmistakable. It was the sharp, sweet, smoky smell that drifted over when the Pyrthens fired their thunder-tubes.
From the other side of the crevice came the voice of Gustus. “Arliss? Aidan? What do you see?”
Arliss called back through the crack, “I think we’ve made it! We can smell the smoke of the Pyrthen thunder-tubes, and we have a broad tunnel leading west.” Aidan and Arl
iss heard the sounds of celebration on the other side of the crevice. But the celebration quickly subsided, and the miner-scouts were talking business again.
“Fresh torch!” called Cedric, and Aidan noticed that his own torch was getting close to the end too. That would be the eleventh pair—the end of the road.
Gustus’s voice came calling through the crevice. “Come on back, boys!”
Arliss looked at Aidan in horror. To have come so close just to turn around!
They heard Gustus speaking to his comrades. He had shaken off the gloom he felt when he had gotten stuck at the mouth of the crevice. “Limestone’s soft. And it breaks off in pretty big chunks. We should be able to cut a path big enough for a troop of lightly armed soldiers in a matter of hours.
“But not now,” he continued. “Fire’s half gone. We got to get back. Boys!” he shouted. “You coming or not?”
Aidan and Arliss didn’t answer. They heard the voice of Clayton. “Seems a shame not to let them look around a few minutes. They’re that close.”
Gustus was firm. “No. From the start I said we’d turn around when we lit the eleventh pair of torches, even if we could smell the Pyrthens. This part of the mission is over. We found the passage. But what good does that do if we don’t get back to camp with the news?”
Aidan and Arliss pressed their ears to the crack, straining to hear every word. “Tomorrow,” continued Gustus, “we come back with a whole troop of soldiers and as many torches as they can carry. Aidan! Arliss!” he bellowed, “you’re about to get left!”
“I’m not going back,” whispered Aidan. Arliss stared at him. “I’m going to see the Pyrthen end of this cave with my own eyes. Are you with me?”
Arliss was obviously torn. He wanted to continue the mission as badly as Aidan did. But he had never disobeyed Gustus. “He’s my foreman. And he’s the best foreman that ever wore a miner’s helmet.”
“You’re not a miner anymore, Arliss. You’re a scout. If they’re going to the camp and coming back here, they don’t need our help. They know the way now.”
“But I didn’t bring torches or tinder,” whispered Arliss, but he was only making excuses now.
“I’ve got two torches and a tinderbox. That leaves the rest of the company with two tinderboxes and more than enough torches.”
“Arliss!” came Gustus’s voice, angry now.
“Here’s the thing,” whispered Aidan, “they can’t get back here with a troop of soldiers until sometime tomorrow, maybe even the next day. If the Pyrthens fire up those thunder-tubes again, there may not be a tomorrow for the Corenwalder army. In the meantime, there’s a tiny little chance that we can do some good on this end.”
“Arliss! Aidan!” Gustus was furious now.
“I’m sorry, sir,” called Arliss into the crack. “We aren’t coming back.”
“I ain’t asking, Arliss! I’m giving you an order!”
But Aidan and Arliss had already started making their way down the passage toward the Pyrthen camp.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Powder and Dust
As Aidan and Arliss moved westward along the edge of another underground pool, the smell of the thunder-tubes grew stronger. They hadn’t gone far when Aidan saw up ahead a patch of gray, hovering high in the middle distance. Arliss saw it, too, and as they moved closer, they glimpsed a twinkle of light and realized they were seeing a sliver of the night sky.
“We’ve made it through,” Arliss gasped. “We’ve made it through!”
“Shhhh!” hissed Aidan. He was as eager as Arliss, but that glimpse of sky reminded him that they were very close to the world where Pyrthens stalked, and he had no desire to attract their attention.
They crept closer to the entrance, through a narrow neck that opened into a small chamber. The floor of the chamber sloped up to a jagged hole, about six feet across, that opened up to the starlit heavens.
Aidan and Arliss stood gazing at the sky. It had only been a few hours since they had last seen it, but in that short span there had been many moments when they had doubted they would ever see the sky again.
“What next?” whispered Aidan.
Arliss was a few feet away, just out of the torchlight, looking at something that Aidan couldn’t make out in the darkness.
“Pssst!” whispered Arliss. “Bring the torch.”
When Aidan got closer with the torch, he saw what Arliss was looking at: dozens of barrels stacked against the cave wall.
“So the Pyrthens are using the cave as a storeroom,” whispered Aidan. “Just like Harlan’s family did. Good place for it, I guess. Nice and cool. What are these, ale barrels?”
“That’s not ale we’re smelling,” Arliss remarked. He pointed at the ground near one of the barrels, where a little black spot stood in stark contrast to the white clay. “What you suppose that is?”
Aidan swung the torch in the direction of the spot where Arliss pointed. As he did, a bit of torch pitch popped and sent a shower of orange sparks in all directions.
Ka-poppp!
The little black spot on the ground exploded in a blaze of white light that blinded Aidan and Arliss and threw up a plume of white smoke that enveloped them in the sweet, acrid smell they knew from the Pyrthen thunder-tubes. Aidan’s ears rang. He could see nothing but bright spots of color swirling in front of him.
When the thud of heavy boots echoed in the cave entrance, Aidan barely had the presence of mind to react. He snatched off his helmet and put it over the torch to kill the flame. Then he grabbed Arliss, who hadn’t moved since the fire flash, and pulled him behind a barrel.
A Pyrthen soldier, fully uniformed and armed, burst through the cave entrance bearing a flaming torch. “Who’s there?” he growled, scanning the chamber. But his eyes weren’t adjusted to the profound darkness, and he didn’t see the two Corenwalders who peered at him from behind the barrel.
The torchbearer was followed almost immediately by a second soldier, who pulled off his own helmet and killed the torch flame, just as Aidan had his own.
“Hey,” began the first soldier, “what’s the big …”
“Idiot!” snapped the second soldier, cutting him short. “You know not to come in here with a flame!”
“But I heard a pop, and I smelled smoke, and I …”
“If you touch off that flame powder, we’ll hear a pop like the world has never heard before!” He pointed at the barrels stacked along the wall. “That’s enough flame powder for enough cannon shots to conquer this pitiful little country ten times over. One little spark is enough to set the whole thing off.”
“I just thought …” began the first soldier. He was shaking now, terrified at the thought of what his carelessness might have led to.
“We’ve been guarding this cave entrance all night,” said the second soldier. “There’s nobody in here.” He pointed out the cave entrance. “Look, it’s getting light out. Our watch is over. It’ll be less than an hour before the cannon fire begins again. Let’s try to get some rest.”
The Pyrthens heaved themselves out of the cave, leaving Aidan and Arliss in the darkness. “Flame powder?” whispered Arliss. “What’s flame powder?”
“It must be what makes the thunder-tubes boom,” answered Aidan. He looked in awe at the stacked barrels. “And that’s tons of it.”
Arliss thought back to the little explosion that had so stunned them minutes before. “How much flame powder made that flash a minute ago?”
“It would fit into the palm of your hand,” said Aidan.
“Then that’s enough flame powder to …” Arliss shivered to think about what that much powder could do.
Aidan finished his sentence: “Enough to put an end to Corenwald.” The boys sat glumly in the dim light that made its way in from the brightening sky outside.
A strange light was visible in Aidan’s eyes, even in the dimness of the cave. He reached into his pack and pulled out the tinderbox. “It’s also enough to put an end to an invading army!” Befor
e Arliss knew what was happening, he heard the tchk … tchk … tchk … tchk … tchk … of Aidan madly striking flint on steel. Sparks were flying at the dry tinder.
“Hold on there, big boy!” whispered Arliss as he snatched up the tinder. “Let’s think on this a minute. I ain’t opposed to blowing up the Pyrthens, but if we can do it without blowing up our own selves, I’d rather do it that way.”
“What do you suggest then?” asked Aidan, his eyes still flashing.
“You’re a farm boy, right?” asked Arliss.
“Yes,” answered Aidan, “what about it?”
“You ever do a straight burn?”
“Sure. Every winter.”
“I saw a farmer near Greasy Cave do it once. He made a narrow little line of fire go straight from one end of the field to the other. I never knew how he did it.”
“It’s not hard,” said Aidan. “You just pour a line of turpentine where you want fire to go, put a flame to it, and there it goes.”
“I was just wondering, could we do a straight burn that runs from back there somewhere”—Arliss pointed in the direction they had come from—“maybe that little pool—to these barrels? We could pour a line of flame powder instead of turpentine, put fire to it at the far end, and be a long way off when the barrels boom.”
Aidan grinned and pounded Arliss on the back. “Arliss, you’re a genius.”
Arliss tapped his helmet.
“I know,” said Aidan. “It’s the miner’s head.”
“Our best bet is to get into that pool if we can,” remarked Arliss. “I don’t know what kind of fire we’re about to let loose, but I doubt even flame powder can burn water.”
“Good plan,” agreed Aidan. “The Pyrthen guards said they’d start firing in an hour. We better move fast.”
Enough daylight found its way in for the boys to work. The seal was broken on one of the barrels, and they managed to tip it over. The powder fuse would lead there. Using their helmets for scoops, they poured a thick rope of powder along the cave floor as far as the squeeze that served as the cavern’s back door.
The Bark of the Bog Owl Page 17
