Барб Хенди - Of Truth and Beasts

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 beside 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 .