D. MacHale - Raven Rise

He quickly set to work, kneeling down and unreeling the coil. The rope was dry, which was why it burned so easily. It also made it easy to snap off a length. Alder measured out four six-foot lengths. He had no idea how long it would take for six feet of fuse to burn. He wanted enough time to get out and away from the mine, but didn’t want the fuses to burn for so long that somebody might find them and put them out.

Even with the fuses, Alder wasn’t entirely convinced that this tactic would ensure his safety. Sure, he felt confident that he could get out of the mine and the armory building before the boom, but how far would he have to run in order not to be killed when the vast stores of tak exploded? Which direction should he go? He could easily be running to a spot that was directly over a thick, underground vein of tak.

He decided not to worry about it. What else could he do? He took three of the lengths of rope and buried one end of each in the soft tak stacked along the walls. He put two across from each other in the tunnel, and the third a few yards deeper into the dark. The last he saved for the mine car that was sitting on the track in front of him. The car was loaded with newly mined tak, ready to be molded into bricks. He jammed one end of the fuse into the clay. He was ready. He took one quick look around and actually chuckled.

“This will be dramatic,” he said to himself.

Without hesitating for another second, he took the metal loop, held it against the other end of the rope leading to the tak in the mine car, and squeezed. Sparks sprayed, igniting the fuse. The clock was ticking. He gave the mine car a shove, sending it rolling deeper into the shaft. Turning quickly, he ran back to the other three fuses, igniting each. Soon, all four ropes were burning. It was time to be somewhere else.

Alder sprinted back toward the mouth of the mine tunnel while calculating his best route of escape. Where would it be safe? He had no idea. All he could do was get as far away from the mine as possible and hope the vein of tak didn’t spread too far. He feared that miners might still be down in the tunnel. He feared that the explosion would do serious damage to the Milago village. He feared for the potential loss of life. But his fear for what Denduron had become, and its future, was greater. He knew he had done the right thing. The only thing. His next challenge was to survive long enough to warn the other Travelers that Saint Dane was back in the hunt. He was nearly at the end of the tunnel…

When he saw that he wasn’t alone. Graviot stood at the mouth of the mine, along with four other Bedoowan knights. Alder pulled up short, his hope of survival quickly evaporating.

“What has happened to you, Alder?” Graviot asked sadly. “Have you lost your senses?”

Alder didn’t answer. He had to buy time. Did the knights know that fuses were burning a hundred yards into the tunnel?

“You are right,” Alder said, trying to sound troubled. “I do not know what has come over me. Perhaps I fear war more than I ever imagined. I believe I should throw myself on the mercy of King Rellin.”

“What is that smell?” Graviot asked quizzically.

All five knights went on alert. If they didn’t realize a fuse was burning, they would soon. Alder didn’t make the first move. He would leave that to the other knights.

“There is a fire in the mine!” one of the knights shouted, horrified.

“What have you done?” Graviot exclaimed.

All five knights took off running into the mine. Alder had a brief thought that these were good men. Their first thought wasn’t to save themselves, it was to put out the fire. He respected them for that.

But it didn’t stop him from taking them apart. The knights weren’t as experienced as Alder. Alder flung himself sideways at the first two, knocking them back. He kept moving, rolling off them and unleashing a barrage of punches and kicks to keep the others back. Graviot struggled to crawl deeper into the mine, but Alder was on him before he could stand. He lifted the young knight into the air, spun, and flung him toward the others. His strength was impossible. He was possessed. He knew the future of Halla might be decided by this one, brutal fight. There was no way he could keep all five back for long; he could only hope that it would be long enough.

One of the knights charged him. Alder turned his back to the knight and drove his arms forward, making an impossible target. The knight bounced off him as Alder spun and nailed him with a roundhouse kick to the jaw. It was the last kick he would throw.

He felt a sharp blow to the back of his head and fell forward. The world began to spin. He knew he had been hit by something harder than a fist or a foot. Where had the weapon come from? The knights weren’t armed. Alder hit the dirt floor and rolled onto his back. He was losing consciousness. He looked up to see if the knights were sprinting into the tunnel. They weren’t. He hoped to see a white flash that would signal the beginning of the end of the tak mine. He didn’t. What he saw instead was a sixth man standing in the center of the tunnel-a miner. In one hand he held a pickax used for digging through rock. At least Alder knew what had hit him. It was what the miner had in his other hand that crushed Alder.

The miner held four three-foot lengths of partially burned rope. There would be no explosion. The tak was safe. The war would begin.

Alder’s eyes opened cautiously. Where was he? His head hurt, no big surprise. Getting hit with a pickax will do that. He squinted against a bright light that shone directly into his eyes. Though it hurt to move, he held his hand up to shield the light. As his focus sharpened, he saw that the light was blasting in through a small window halfway up the wall. A closer look told him the truth. Across the window were bars. Prison bars. He was being held captive. He wasn’t surprised. He tried to destroy the mine, the village, and Rellin’s aspirations for conquering Denduron. Of course they threw him in jail. The only surprise was that they hadn’t executed him before he had the chance to wake up.

He was alone in the cell, lying on the floor. He took a breath and coughed. It was a dirt floor and he had sucked in a lungful. He wiped his mouth…and saw his ring. His Traveler ring. Alder brightened. There was still a chance. He could contact Pendragon through the ring. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? If he could get a message to Pendragon and let him know what was going on, the lead Traveler might take up the fight. He could come back to Denduron. With Siry. And Loor. They could take up the fight for Denduron once again, but that couldn’t be unless they knew what had happened. But how? He had no paper to write a message and didn’t think the guards would give him any. No, he had to send a sign. Something. Anything that would make Pendragon think. He stared at the ring, desperate for an idea.

The answer was right in front of his eyes. Literally. Alder’s sleeve was covered with blood. He wasn’t sure if it was his own blood, or from one of the other knights. It didn’t matter. His sleeve was soaked. The blood was already drying and turning brown. It looked as if someone had been seriously injured. It was exactly what he needed.

Alder was dizzy. He had to force himself to focus. He reached out, grabbed his sleeve with his other hand, and pulled, trying to rip off a bloody piece of fabric. He didn’t have the strength. He brought the bloody sleeve to his mouth and bit, gnawing at the fabric, tasting the blood. After several minutes of chewing on the grisly material, he finally tore a small hole. It was plenty. Once the tear started, he was able to rip it farther and eventually pull off a piece of fabric about six inches long. It was perfect. Alder rolled the gruesome swatch of fabric into a tube, took off his ring, and placed it on the ground next to his face. He didn’t care if a guard saw what was about to happen. There was nothing he could do to hide the show of light and music.