by Sever Bronny
Letting Go
Augum refused to lose her too. Not Leera, please not her. If it happened, he might as well let the dark waters take him.
Suddenly he saw a pale light flash briefly below. He immediately dove, kicking harder than his body would usually permit. His arms waved and clawed at the darkness before him, until latching onto a soft body. He pulled and rose through the black waters, finally breaking the surface.
“Leera!” but she did not respond. He held her with one arm while thrashing with the other, praying for ground, the darkness a relentless obstacle. “Please, Leera,” he gargled, “not you too! Not you too—!”
He dragged her onto dry ground and immediately began beating on her chest and slapping her cheek. There was something he was supposed to do, something Sir Westwood had tried teaching him once, but he couldn’t remember in his frantic state!
He had her robes in his fists and was shaking her now. “Leera! Please, wake up! LEERA—!” but she lay completely still. For a moment he just gaped stupidly, disbelieving what was happening. This wasn’t real, he kept telling himself. It was a bad dream. He must have died in that water. This wasn’t real …
He gently gathered her close, feeling a tingling numbness that gathered around his shattered heart. “Please, not you too …” He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her like he should have the first time, saying goodbye in his mind.
Suddenly she sputtered a cough and shuddered to life.
“Leera, I don’t believe it—!”
She regurgitated water all over him again and again. He didn’t care in the least, heart bursting with sheer joy. He rolled her onto her side and helped her through it, all the while thanking the Unnameables, the fates, and any and every force known to a commoner.
“It’s a miracle,” he mumbled when her spasms subsided. He embraced her tenderly.
She moaned and limply placed her arms around him, squeezing ever so gently. “Aug …”
“I thought I lost you,” he whispered, rocking her slightly. “I thought I lost you …”
“I’m still here …” Then she snorted a gurgling laugh. “You kissed me … and I woke up …”
He chuckled a laugh bordering on a cry. “I did, didn’t I?” and they laughed together, allowing their spent bodies that moment of blissful amusement.
Then they held each other in silence, recuperating from the trauma of it all, until a distant horn sounded. Augum suddenly remembered where he had heard that sound—it had to be another giant bull-horned demon loosed from the spawnery …
“Your father is up there,” Leera said. “What do we do?”
Should they risk trying to get the orb? It seemed stupidly foolish now, especially after almost losing Leera. For once, he felt completely all right with the idea of not pushing his luck.
“We have the Agonex. We’re alive. I say we get the hell out of here.”
Leera smiled. “I’m so glad you said that.”
He wanted to mention getting out of these labyrinthine tunnels without food or the Orb of Orion would probably be next to impossible, but chose to stay silent and helped her stand instead.
“Shyneo,” the pair chorused as the ground rumbled above. Their palms lit up a large and wet cavern. In the center, a thinning spout of water fell twenty feet into a dark pool.
“There.” Augum ran to an area that seemed to have suffered a rockslide and began climbing. It was a hard slog because trickling water from above made it slippery and squishy.
“Careful with your light,” Leera said, dimming hers.
Augum waited to do the same until they were free of the debris. He barely noticed he was shivering. It was the vibrancy and panic of the moment that made him not care, but he knew there would be a price to pay later, for him and for her.
He finally found a perch and hauled himself up before helping Leera. The sound of arcane battle rose above the din of the wind. The ground shook periodically, dropping a loose stone from the ceiling. Murky water moved past their ankles like a shallow stream.
“Come on.” Augum felt for the arcane ether, the subtle pull that would take him and Leera back to Bridget and Garryk, but had a hard time concentrating. The spell was fickle, he knew, and required concentration and stillness, none of which was present in this moment.
“I can’t feel it,” he said. “You try.”
Leera paused. A moment later, she grabbed his hand. “It’s this way,” and the pair ran together. Holding her hand made everything feel so simple and brought a thrilling elation to his heart. He curled his fingers around hers and allowed her to lead.
The ground rumbled and there was a distant piercing cry, followed by a tortured rattling that slowed to silence. Augum and Leera exchanged a look—Nefra had fallen. He wondered if Peyas was still back there somewhere, fighting a losing battle.
They pressed on, winding through the underground labyrinth, hands lit.
“Should be right up ahead here,” Leera said.
The tunnels all looked the same to Augum. If it wasn’t for Object Track …
They turned the corner and descended the steps.
“You made it!” Bridget ran to give them each a hug.
Garryk sat against the wall. “Glad you made it back.”
“Didn’t get the orb though,” Leera replied.
Bridget returned to dabbing a moist cloth to Garryk’s forehead. “You didn’t get the orb?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out,” Leera replied, wringing out her robes.
“We’re going to die down here,” Garryk blurted.
“I don’t want to hear talk like that,” Bridget said.
“We should go,” Augum said. “Peyas told me we can follow the wind to get out.” But how to make it with Garryk?
“I’m not going,” Garryk said. “You don’t understand, they think I’m a traitor. You already know what they do to a traitor’s family. You have to take me back.” His voice turned desperate. “I’m too weak to make the journey and you know it. I’m exhausted and hungry. I’ll tell them I tried to attack you and you ran off. I’ll tell them … something. Just please, I can’t go with you, it’ll … it’ll kill me … it’ll kill my family.” He sniffed. “I want my spectacles. I can’t see …”
Bridget kneeled before the wretched boy and took his hands in her own, voice a whisper. “Garryk, they’ll torture you—”
“—we’ll all die if you try to drag me along. You don’t know the kind of cave system this is. It’s absolutely impossible for someone in my condition. Besides, they probably won’t kill me. I know it because I can serve them with my book smarts. I can be of use … I can …”
The trio exchanged a knowing look.
An idea occurred to Augum. “If we did leave him to be found, why can’t he just tell them what he knows?”
“Aug—” Leera tried to say.
“No, think about it. So what if they discover the recipe is destroyed, or that they find out we have the Agonex? What difference does it make? Garryk will live at least. He can say he spied on us the whole way, fully intending to report what we’ve been doing.”
Leera pointed at Garryk. “But he knows where we’ve been staying—”
“No he doesn’t,” Bridget said slowly, turning to Garryk, still holding his hand. “Do you?”
Garryk shook his head. “I don’t. You’ve never mentioned it. And don’t say it now.”
Bridget sighed. “It’s a big risk. They might … they might kill you anyway.”
“I’ll take the risk. Look at me, I’d die on the trek. Allow me to be found. I’ll … I’ll minimize the damage.”
Bridget closed her eyes but eventually gave a single nod.
Garryk released a relieved breath. “I promise I’ll say as little as I can.” He squeezed Bridget’s hand. “It’s really what I want. I will not let my family suffer. You have to understand.”
“I do,” Bridget whispered, standing and letting go. “I really do.”
“Thank
you for saving my life.” He glanced at each of them with eyes that were unable to focus without spectacles. “Thank you all for fighting for the kingdom.”
The Bottom
They had left Garryk in a meeting of corridors nearby, a spot they determined yielded the highest chance of him being found. They could hear the last rumbling of battle as they bid him good luck, with hopes of seeing each other again in good spirits, in a time without war.
Sometime later, the trio stopped before three tunnels, palms lit.
“So which one?” Leera asked.
Augum stood before each of the gaping maws. “Wind is strongest from this one.”
They resumed the trek. The tunnel began a steady descent.
Augum noticed how waterlogged the rucksack was on Leera’s shoulder. “Let me take a turn.”
“Thanks but no. I’m a saddler’s daughter.”
Quiet hours passed in the dark tunnels. Trying to ignore his shivering bones, Augum occupied his mind with thoughts about what had transpired.
“Don’t think there was a copy of that recipe, do you?” he asked.
“Let’s hope not,” Bridget said, navigating around an ancient boulder.
Leera hopped over the same boulder. “And if there was?”
Augum flashed her a smirk. “Then we’d just have to destroy that one too.”
Leera snorted. “I’d rather be torn apart by a walker than come back.”
“No you wouldn’t.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t.”
“At least I got to see Temper get slapped by a horse thing. And you got to re-arrange Robin’s stupid face.”
“Please, you two,” Bridget said, extinguishing her palm and stopping to rest. “Enough is enough. We’re in great danger here. Let’s stay focused.”
Leera crinkled her nose. “I suppose you’re right.” She stared off into the darkness ahead, voice strangely grim. “The Fates might not be done with us yet. Maybe none of us are getting out of here alive. We’re hungry and lost in some ancient cave system.” She turned to Augum. He noticed the rings under her eyes, the scratches on her freckled face, the tangles in her muddy hair. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m just glad that I’m not here alone, that I’m here with you and Bridget. If I’m to go …”
For a moment, he thought she was going to kiss him again. He was about to take the initiative and lean in when she let go, giving Bridget a nervous glance.
But Bridget only flashed an exasperated smile. “You two …”
“What?” Leera said.
“Nothing.”
They journeyed on for another few hours through tunnel after winding tunnel, pacing through caverns and crawling under low-hanging ceilings. Augum and Leera’s clothes slowly dried. Surprisingly, the further and lower they went, the warmer it became. At the same time, the cave seemed to devolve, becoming a hodgepodge of sharp rock and tight squeezes.
At last, they stopped by an underground stream. Augum refilled the waterskin, trying to ignore the cavernous empty feeling in his stomach and the throbbing ache in his bones. He noticed something soft growing on the walls. “There’s moss here. Think it’s edible?” At this point, he’d start eating rock.
Leera finished laying her moist coat on the ground and shrugged. “I don’t know …”
He tore the moss off and took a nibble.
“How is it?” she asked absently.
“Has an … earthy taste to it, like unwashed artichoke.”
“Well I’ll start eating my coat if I don’t have something.” She snatched it from him, taking a larger bite, made a face, and handed it back. “Ugh, worse than turnip.”
Bridget tried some and immediately spit it out. “We should get some sleep.” She got comfortable and extinguished her palm.
“The Fates know how long it’s been since we last had some,” Leera chimed in.
“Since when did you start swearing by the Fates?” he asked in the darkness.
“Since you survived that fall. Since you brought me back to life with a kiss just like in those stories, like some handsome knight with his fair maiden—”
“—before you vomited all over me.”
They laughed despite the crassness of his comment.
“Go to sleep, Augum Stone,” she said at last.
“You two are adorable,” Bridget said with a barely audible sigh.
He extinguished and tried to get comfortable. “Bridge?”
“Hmm?”
“You all right?”
“I’m just worried about Garryk.”
“He’ll be fine,” Leera said in sleep tones. “Tough little wart.”
“Please don’t call him that.”
“Just a joke, Bridge, just a joke …”
Augum’s lids quickly grew heavy as the exhaustion of the entire ordeal dragged him into a deep and dreamless sleep.
He startled awake what must have been many hours later, stomach aching with emptiness. It was dark and quiet except for the trickle of the underground stream and the gentlest breeze.
He sat up. “Shyneo.” His hand flared to life. The light was weaker than usual, and it slowly throbbed to the rhythm of his heart, as it did every time his energies were low. Leera slept beside him, face nuzzled up against his robe. He gently moved a lock of muddy hair from her forehead and rested it by her ear. He watched her snooze quietly, wondering if they'd find a way out of there.
Bridget slept nearby, curled up into a ball. He watched her steady breathing, listening to the darkness.
It was a miracle they had made it this far. He lay there for a while longer before gently waking the girls, telling them they should get going.
“I’m going to gather more moss,” he said as they came to. “Might be the only thing we have to eat down here, and it’s better than nothing.”
There were three kinds of mosses—orange, green and black. The green he had tried and disliked, the black tasted bitter, while the orange tasted mildly sweet. He recalled Sir Westwood saying to use that as a measure of edibility, and chose the orange one, gathering an armful.
“Better than the one that tasted like turnip,” Leera said after taking a bite. “Still tastes like moss though.”
“It’s either that or we start eating our boots like sailors stranded on ice.” He had read harrowing tales in one of Sir Westwood’s books, of square-sailed ships going for months without food, and the sailors resorting to eating leather, rope and wood chips. There was even a story involving cannibalism.
“Bet the boots would taste better,” Leera said, finishing the moss. “You might as well hand me another.”
They ate their fill and moved on.
* * *
Uncountable days passed as they descended further and further, feeding on nothing but orange moss and stream water, slowly weakening. They followed the gentlest of breezes, hoping it would lead them to safety. They conserved energy by talking little, refusing to practice arcanery, and sleeping tightly together like puppies. Eventually, deep underground, the caves grew so warm the trio took turns carrying Bridget and Leera’s coats, along with their one and only rucksack containing their worldly goods.
They passed through gaping echoing caverns; squeezed through tight spaces that provoked anxiety in each of them; swam across mirror ponds; skirted bottomless pits; and descended cliffs that callused their hands. The cliffs were hardest on Bridget, who possessed a crippling fear of heights. Cliffs aside, she already had the toughest time adjusting to the constant quiet, the impossibly dense darkness, the primordial nature of the cave. She would often stop, refuse to voice aloud what was the matter, and simply shake with fear. Sometimes these strange fits would last for hours. Augum and Leera would sit patiently by, encouraging her to take her time and drink lots of water, but her fears had a strong grip. “I don’t belong down here,” she would mumble, holding herself. “This isn’t right. We’re descending to hell …”
No matter what Augum and Leera told her, it did no good. She woul
d panic and return to that state every few hours. Then she would calm down and they could continue. The very prospect of negotiating a cliff would turn into an hour-long argument, not that it was easy anyway without rope. Descending into sheer darkness and not knowing if there was a drop-off just below was a harrowing thing, even for Augum and Leera. But that wasn’t the only danger—Bridget’s flailing sent rocks falling. One had almost knocked Augum out. He and Leera used Shield often after that. Then there was the time Bridget slipped. Augum and Leera were ready for such an eventuality though and caught her with Telekinesis, as they had once before at Evergray Tower, though it cost them greatly in arcane energy and over all endurance, something they could barely afford with such little nourishment.
At long last, at some unknown remote depth, they came upon a different kind of structure—a vast room of nothing but faceted crystals. It gave off every color of the rainbow with their light and stole their voices. The place was hot and damp, making them sweat profusely.
“This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Leera whispered.
“I don’t like it,” Bridget said, trying not to touch anything. “It’s too hot. Dangerously hot. We have to get out of here.”
Leera sighed. “We are getting out of here, Bridge. The wind says we have to go through it though. Don’t worry so much.”
“Don’t worry? Don’t worry? We’re as thin as sticks; we haven’t had a proper meal in … in who knows how many days now; we don’t have a way of getting back to Mrs. Stone; the moss is getting harder and harder to find down here; Garryk could be getting tortured as we speak—I knew we shouldn’t have left him behind! And we’re lost in some ancient super cave that probably leads straight to hell. And you’re saying … you’re saying not to worry?” She was panting at the end. Even raising her voice seemed to exhaust her.
Leera just stood there with a sorrowful expression.
“You’re being a touch harsh, Bridge,” Augum said. She might have been right on some points, but he didn’t want them wasting precious energy arguing.
Bridget plopped to the ground, extinguished her palm, and closed her eyes. “I’m sick of eating moss, I’m sick of being in the dark all the time, and I’m sick of … I’m sick of this endless cave.”
