Riverwind the Plainsman

by Paul B. Thompson

  “Many years,” she replied. “Before Mors enlisted me, I was a food fetcher in a tin mine. My job was to run up and down the mine tunnels, bringing food to the diggers. Before that, I worked for Rhed the mason, stamping out tiles and feeding them to the baking kiln.”

  “That sounds like hard work for a girl,” Riverwind said.

  Clink. Di An wedged a hook into some rocks and hauled herself hand over hand up the chain. “I began my job with Rhed when I was one hundred and forty-seven.”

  A sharp downdraft flattened the climbers against the wall. Then, like a giant exhaling a breath, the wind rushed back up the shaft, whipping Riverwind’s hair into his face.

  “Will that continue?” yelled Catchflea, ten feet below Riverwind.

  “Could get worse,” Di An replied.

  “What?”

  “Could get worse!” Riverwind shouted.

  “Will there be any warning?” the old man asked.

  “You can hear the hard blows coming down the shaft, but it’s the updrafts that are most dangerous,” said Di An. Poor Catchflea couldn’t hear her. Di An leaned out on one arm and shouted, “You can hear the hard blows—”

  Her hook broke off the rock she was anchored to. Di An fell backward. Riverwind braced himself and snatched the trailing length of her chain. The impact the elf girl made when she reached the end of her chain almost jerked Riverwind from the wall, but he slowly raised his arm, bringing Di An back to the rock wall very near Catchflea.

  “You are well, yes?” he asked.

  Riverwind pulled her up to him. The chain was fastened to a copper belt that encircled her waist. He asked if she’d hurt anything in the fall. “Nothing,” she assured him. “Let’s go.” He smiled at her bravery. She climbed on, using Riverwind’s shoulder and the top of his head as stepping stones. She reeled in her dangling hook and started all over again.

  They climbed for more than an hour, ascending two hundred feet. In one way the darkness was an asset to the inexperienced Que-Shu men. If they’d been able to see how high they’d gone, vertigo might have paralyzed them both.

  A broad ledge greeted them and all three gratefully rolled onto level rock. At their backs was a smooth-walled tunnel, slanting off into the darkness. Di An indicated that their route was on the other side of the shaft, a much smaller tunnel they would reach by inching around the ledge.

  “What’s wrong with this way?” Riverwind said, jerking a thumb at the wide, round passage.

  “I saw three barren children die trying to go that way. They went in, chained together, and in less than a hundred heartbeats came tumbling out, blown by the wind like dust.” She glanced down the vertical shaft. “It is a long drop.”

  Her lamp was burning low. The wick sputtered and wavered, unable to draw any fuel from the copper reservoir. Riverwind got out his lamp and lit it from Di An’s, which he then blew out.

  Riverwind took the lead, as he was the strongest, on the narrow ledge that ran around the shaft to the tunnel Di An had indicated. The wall bulged outward over the ledge, making it devilishly hard to keep a grip. More than a few times Riverwind’s hook slipped off the dark, gritty stone. Di An inched along behind him. A chain was hooked to the copper belts all three wore. Catchflea waited until the chain from Di An to him grew taut.

  “Come on,” she said.

  “I can’t do it,” he said weakly.

  “Why not?”

  “My arms are not strong enough to hold me up.”

  “You climbed well enough to get here,” said the elf girl.

  “Using my feet and legs, yes.” Catchflea pushed his ragged sleeves up, displaying his bony arms. “See? I’ll not make it.”

  “You’ve got to try,” Riverwind called from his advanced position. “We’ll help.” So saying, he doubled back on his arduous trail, pushing Di An back to the original ledge. They switched their chain linking around so that Catchflea was in the middle. “We’ll keep the chain short and tight for you,” Riverwind said. “That will hold you to the wall. Then hold on as best you can.”

  The old man wasn’t happy, but he could hardly stay where he was. Di An took charge of the lamp so Riverwind could use both hands in climbing. The tall plainsman led off again with Catchflea in close tow.

  The passage they wanted was nearly halfway around the shaft, about twenty yards along the slippery ledge. They were making fair progress when Riverwind’s right hand slipped. He waved frantically to recover his balance, digging in with the hook in his left hand. The taut chain snapped at the soothsayer, whose grip was never good, and Catchflea dropped off the ledge. Di An promptly drove her grappling hook through the links of her chain into the wall and braced herself. Catchflea hit the bottom of his chain. This time Riverwind wasn’t braced to keep his place. He fell backward off the ledge, leaving little Di An to anchor.

  The chain snapped out straight, crushing the copper belt against Riverwind’s ribs. His breath was driven out, and the grappling hook shot from his fingers. It vanished in the black shaft. It fell so far he never heard it hit bottom.

  Di An was in a terrible position. She couldn’t pull either man to safety, much less both. She couldn’t even move for fear of losing her grip; and her belt was being hauled low on her thin hips. Catchflea dangled in midair five feet below her, and Riverwind five feet lower.

  “What can I do?” she said, terror and the strain tightening her voice to a squeak.

  “The wall looks rough here,” Riverwind said. “I’m going to try and get a grip on it.” He shifted his weight to make himself and Catchflea swing. On his third try, he slammed into the wall. He heard Catchflea hit the rock.

  “You all right, old man?”

  “No! But get on with what you’re doing, yes?” Riverwind found niches for his fingers and toes. He climbed sideways, rising and crabbing to his right. He drew even with Catchflea’s feet, pressed against a smooth spot on the wall.

  “Is the rest of the rock around as smooth as this?” Riverwind grunted.

  “Yes—I’ve nothing to grip at all,” the old man said.

  Riverwind called to Di An and explained he couldn’t go higher from where he was. “I’ll have to go back to the ledge,” he said.

  “Hurry,” was all she managed to say.

  He clung to the wall like a fly, moving when a good toehold caught his eye. He thanked the gods Di An had taken over as lamp bearer. Scaling this deadly surface encumbered by the light would have been impossible for him.

  “Riverwind!” Di An said sharply. “How far are you from the ledge?”

  “It’s just out of reach.”

  “Then reach it quickly! The links in my chain are opening!”

  The weight of two men on the iron ring was too much, and the pinched link was spreading. Di An could only watch helplessly as the gap grew wider and wider. “Hurry, giant! Hurry!”

  Riverwind had no place to put his right foot. His left foot was firmly planted in a dished-out spot, but his right was unsupported. He stretched his right arm, digging at the gray rock with blunt fingernails, trying to scratch out a hold. Finally, the plainsman bent back on his left knee and sprang for the ledge. Just as his hand clamped on the rim, the link gave way. Catchflea fell, yelling and crying. In the half-second he had to spare, Riverwind hoisted himself onto the ledge and grasped the chain in both hands. He was nearly jerked over by Catchflea’s weight, but he dug in his heels and hauled the old soothsayer to safety.

  Catchflea kissed the level stone of the ledge and wept with relief at his salvation. “Thank you, merciful gods,” he said.

  They were safe, but now Di An was marooned. Without a safety chain, she moved nimbly back along the rim, hopping the last two feet into Riverwind’s arms.

  “I’ve got to rest,” Catchflea said. “My insides are still swimming like salmon in a rocky stream.”

  “Mine, too,” Riverwind admitted.

  Without his hook, and with the chain broken, there was no question of proceeding Di An’s way. The only option open w
as the wide, smooth tunnel, the same one that had cost the lives of three of Di An’s comrades.

  After a short rest, they continued. The passage was a good eight feet in diameter, so Riverwind had no trouble with headroom. The floor sloped gently upward, and progress was easy. Di An drifted to the rear, always keeping behind Catchflea. The windblast tunnel frightened her. To help take her mind off this danger, the old man began teaching her the Common language. This would help her survive in the upper world. Catchflea found she was an apt pupil.

  “I wonder how the walls got to be so smooth,” Riverwind said. The lamp picked up thousands of grains of mica, making the tunnel glitter like a wall of diamonds. “There’s no sign of water. The rock is dry.”

  “Wind can wear down stone, yes?” the old man replied. “Sand can smooth out the roughest path if propelled by a strong enough breeze.”

  “Where does the wind come from, Di An?” She didn’t answer, so Riverwind repeated his question.

  “The surface.” She peeked around Catchflea’s narrow waist. “I hear there are great winds on the surface, where the sky is not fettered by stone walls.”

  “True enough.” Riverwind smiled at her description. “There must be a considerable opening in the ground for all that wind to come in.”

  “A cave?” suggested Catchflea.

  “At least. I was thinking of something much larger, like a crater or some sort of sunken pit. Wind can swirl around a hole like that and be swallowed.”

  The angle of the slope increased, and it became harder to keep footing on the smooth floor. Banged knees and skinned palms became common. Finally, a small plateau leveled out the tunnel, and the three travelers stopped to rest.

  “Maybe it runs all the way to the surface,” Riverwind observed. He squinted ahead into the gloom.

  “That would be good,” Catchflea mumbled. He was almost asleep.

  Riverwind downed a swallow of bitter Hestite water and said, “I’m going to scout ahead. Stay with the old fellow.”

  “Don’t go far,” Di An warned. “It is death to become lost here.”

  “Not to worry.” He left his shoulder pouch and went on with only the oil lamp. The ruddy sphere of light diminished as Riverwind climbed the sloping tunnel.

  Di An watched until even the glow of the lamp was gone, then she sighed. She laid her head against Catchflea’s shoulder. The soothsayer said in a drowsy voice, “An admirable fellow, yes?”

  She started. “Yes.”

  “Riverwind is pledged heart and soul to another; you should keep that in mind.”

  Di An shrugged. She lowered her head to Catchflea’s tattered shirt again.

  Riverwind found that the wind passage suddenly forked into three directions, only a few hundred yards from where Di An and Catchflea rested. One branch continued almost straight up; another dived sharply down from Riverwind’s feet. The third slanted up at a more gradual angle. Ease of travel alone was reason enough to take that route.

  The old man and the elf girl were sound asleep when the young plainsman returned. He woke them. With clumsy movements and sleepy eyes, Di An and Catchflea rose and followed Riverwind. They obediently trailed him into the left branch of the tunnel. Then a sound filled the passage, a sound like the distant call of a ram’s horn.

  Di An’s sleepiness vanished. “The wind!” she cried. “May the gods help us!”

  “What’ll we do?” exclaimed Catchflea.

  “Grab hold—take hold of each other! It’s our only chance!” Riverwind shouted.

  The booming sound grew louder. A puff of dust swirled around the trio, now huddled in a heap on the tunnel floor. A wall of wind, invisible and roaring, hit them like a hammer. Despite their combined weight, the wind got under them and pushed them down the tunnel.

  Over and over they went, bump, bang, slam—screaming and praying and shouting warnings to each other as they tumbled. Once they were lifted completely off the floor and flew a few feet. Then they were back at the branching of the tunnels. They rolled into the open mouth of the downward slanting shaft.

  This tunnel was short, and Riverwind’s stomach lurched as their bouncing ride through the tunnel gave way to a drop through open air. The force of their plunge tore their grips apart, and Riverwind found himself alone, falling through a depthless void.

  Chapter 14

  Topaz Falls

  After a timeless drop through the air, they hit water. Riverwind sank a long way before he could kick back to the surface. He broke the top of the water. By the dim illumination in the cave he saw Di An floundering. He swam to her in a few powerful strokes and seized her by the collar of her copper mesh blouse. She spat and snorted ferociously, flailing her arms to keep herself afloat. All she succeeded in doing was hitting Riverwind in the eye.

  “Be still!” he said. “I have you!”

  “Halloo!” Catchflea called. Riverwind spied his friend on a rocky little island a score of yards away. He kick-paddled toward him, holding Di An up with his right arm. He deposited the wretched elf girl on the island and crawled out himself. Di An coughed and sneezed the water from her lungs.

  Catchflea patted her back consolingly.

  “That’s odd.” Catchflea said. “We can see.”

  Riverwind shook his head, flinging droplets from his sodden hair. “Yes,” the plainsman said. “But where’s the light?”

  “Ah, over here.” Catchflea leaned back and rubbed his hand against the pinnacle of rock that jutted up from the center of the island. What resembled green moss came off on his hand and glowed faintly. The cave they had fallen into was coated with luminous green moss.

  “Curious, yes, how this could grow so far from the sun, yet make its own light,” Catchflea said. He gave a tentative lick at the smear of green on his fingers and immediately spat. “Ock! Oh well, I had hoped it might taste good.”

  As their hearts resumed normal rhythm, they sat with their backs to the pinnacle and surveyed the watery grotto. It was a big, irregular cavern, full of razor-sharp stalactites. The water was an odd golden color. Somewhere off to Di An’s left, a muted roar told of falling water.

  Catchflea stood and stretched. When he did, there was a brittle snapping sound and his clothing broke in several places. “Merciful gods!” he said. “What is this?”

  Riverwind carefully bent his right elbow. His usually supple deerskins felt stiff and brittle. He bent his arm farther, and the elbow of his shirt split open with a glassy cracking sound.

  Di An flexed her legs and a shower of bright crystalline powder fell around her feet. She stooped to examine it.

  “Topaz,” she said, showing the crystals to the men. “The water leaves behind topaz when it dries.”

  “Our clothing has been turned to stone!” Catchflea said wonderingly. His beard had gotten doused, too. He touched his beard experimentally. Sure enough, it was stiff with newly formed crystals.

  “What shall I do? If I nod my head, my beard will break off!” he said.

  Riverwind touched his own glassy hair. “Then disagree with everything,” he said. “And only shake your head.”

  Most of their possessions had absorbed the topaz water and were slowly hardening. Both men’s moccasins cracked. Every bend sent a shower of powder to the ground.

  “If this continues, we shall soon be naked,” Riverwind said. His boiled leather armor, being waterproof, was not affected, nor was the short mail skirt he wore beneath his buckskins.

  It was obvious they couldn’t remain on the little island forever. In some places the water lapped at the sheer cave wall; in other locations a strip of moss-covered “beach” could be seen. Riverwind suggested they make for the beach across the lake, toward the sound of the falls.

  Di An shrank from the notion. “I cannot swim,” she said faintly.

  “I’ll carry you on my back,” Riverwind offered.

  He swam slowly away from the island, doing a gentle breast stroke. Di An hung on tensely, straining to keep her face as high above the water as sh
e could. Catchflea showed surprising ability as a swimmer, kicking ahead and making the beach ahead of Riverwind and his passenger.

  The rumble of the falls was louder. A thin crack in the wall proved the way out. It was a tight fit, but the walls were so thickly coated with moss, they were able to slide through. Upon emerging in the next cavern, all three of them were smeared with faintly glowing green paste.

  “You look like a ghost!” Catchflea said to Riverwind.

  “And you look like a wilted fern, old man.” Riverwind grinned and flung drops of moss sap from his fingers.

  Di An pushed past them and headed for the sound of the falls. The cave was cluttered with boulders and rounded mineral deposits that suggested melted blocks of ice or softened lumps of butter. Still gooey and glowing, Riverwind and Catchflea followed her.

  Around a bend they came face to face with the falls. They all halted, stunned by the majestic beauty.

  The falls were in a high conical cavern, five hundred feet from floor to ceiling. They issued from the apex of the cone and plummeted with feathers of wild spray two hundred feet to a ledge that jutted into their path. The water flowed horizontally for some five feet, then plunged off the edge of the ledge another three hundred feet to the floor. At the bottom of the falls, where the three travelers stood, was a pool of churning froth, colored golden brown. Where centuries of crystal-laden water had splashed on the walls, thick brown deposits of topaz, probably dozens of feet thick, now hung. The walls were studded with faceted gems.

  “There! Do you see?” Di An pointed her long finger high in the air. By the ledge three hundred feet above them was a dark, circular opening.

  “What is it?” asked Catchflea.

  “The tunnel we tried to take in the Well of Wind would’ve brought us there,” Di An said. “That’s our way out.”

  The cavern wall seemed to present no great obstacle. The rugged face had plenty of hand- and footholds. It was decided that Di An would scale the wall and, once she reached the tunnel entrance, she would let down a chain for the heavier, less agile men to climb.