Барб Хенди - Of Truth and Beasts

As his words sank in, Wynn swallowed hard and looked at Chane.

Chane tried not to grimace as Ore-Locks took hold of his wrist and stepped into—through—the cave-in. He had only an instant to panic before the light from the engine crystal vanished and he found himself in total darkness. He was not afraid, not exactly.

He did not fear enclosed places, but even for an undead, the prospect of passing through stones, through earth, was overwhelming. He felt crushing pressure, the cold, and an odd sense of suffocating all at once. He did not need to breathe, but the lack of air, feeling trapped and immobile, enveloped him. Pressure seemed to build until it felt as if it might crush his bones.

All Ore-Locks needed to do was let go and leave Chane buried in a grave of stone.

Chane tried to shout, but could not open his mouth.

Pressure suddenly released. Chane inhaled stale air out of fear alone and collapsed onto all fours, feeling the edge of one track groove under his left hand.

“It will pass,” Ore-Locks said coldly.

Chane remained on all fours, trembling a few moments longer. Turning his head, he looked back at what he had passed through. This side of the cave-in was looser, sloping further down the tunnel than on the other side. A part of him became determined to dig his way back to Wynn—as he had no intention of passing through stone again with Ore-Locks. Another part was reluctant to do anything that might allow her to continue.

“Get up,” Ore-Locks said.

Chane had never cared for Ore-Locks one way or another, but a flash of true hatred grew as he rose to his feet. What would happen if Ore-Locks simply disappeared? Could Chane convince Wynn that the stonewalker had left them and gone ahead on his own? Without Ore-Locks’s meddling, perhaps Chane could coerce Wynn away from this place ... perhaps.

Ore-Locks met his gaze. Chane saw the reverse possibility, as it had come to him in that moment within stone. He might be the one to simply vanish, leaving Ore-Locks alone with Wynn and Shade.

Ore-Locks might be stronger, but Chane was not easy to kill. The dwarf would learn that the hard way if he tried anything.

A silent, cold moment stretched on, until something lying on the tunnel floor beyond Ore-Locks’s large boots caught Chane’s eye.

“What is that?” he asked before thinking.

Ore-Locks half turned, holding up Wynn’s crystal. “There are more ... many more.”

A skeleton of stout bones lay across the tracks, covered in the decayed and hardened remains of leather armor. Shadows of others stretched on down the tunnel, as if dwarves had tried to escape this way, only to reach the cave-in before death caught them.

Chane stepped wide around Ore-Locks to crouch over the first bones. He touched a calcified forearm and scraped it with his fingernail. Black and brittle coating flaked away, as if this dwarf had died by fire. When he looked up, patches of the walls were dark and marred, as well.

They were much closer to a destination than Chane had realized. With so many remains along the tunnel, they must be very near a settlement ... or a seatt.

“And you want to bring Wynn in here?” he challenged, rising.

As with so many times before, any emotion on Ore-Locks’s face faded, and he became unreadable.

“She will not turn back,” he said quietly. “Nothing you do can force her.”

Yes, and that suited Ore-Locks perfectly.

“What is it you want down there?” Chane asked, fighting the urge to grip his sword’s hilt.

Ore-Locks turned toward the loose rubble. “It will take less time if we both dig. We should start as high up as possible to avoid rubble sliding, but be mindful of another collapse from above.” He paused, and his voice grew even quieter. “I do not know what we will find in that seatt ... but she may well need us both.”

Chane stood stiff. Without Ore-Locks, he could not pass through stone and would be forced to dig his way back to Wynn by himself. Once a path was opened, no matter by whom, Wynn would continue on. Perhaps she would need Ore-Locks down there. Chane hated that thought but could not ignore it. He looked up the sloping cave-in to the tunnel’s high ceiling.

“Near the top.”

Wynn heard scraping sounds long before she saw stones tremble amid the rubble. She had unpacked the cart and sat on its forward corner with Shade at her feet, wondering how Chane and Ore-Locks fared on the other side.

She wished she could somehow convince Shade that retreat was not an option. With undeads like Welstiel and Sau’ilahk willing to murder to find these orbs, the few like Wynn, who knew the truth, could not stop, no matter the cost.

Shade whined and put her nose against Wynn’s hand but didn’t pass any memories or words. Perhaps she had nothing to say.

“Wynn, move back.”

Wynn stood up at Chane’s barely audible rasp coming from the rubble. She quickly backed along the cart’s side, calling Shade along.

A bulge broke in the cave-in. Stones and earth tumbled down. Chane’s dirt-caked hands began carefully pushing out more debris until he squirmed through an opening and slid downward on his stomach. He stood up before her, filthy from head to toe.

Wynn saw no victory in his faintly brown eyes.

“Start passing me the supplies,” he said. “I will bring you two through last.”

Wynn noticed his right hand was bleeding, black fluid turning dirt into dark mud stains on his fingers. Regardless of his doubts on this journey, he always managed to get her through to the other side.

Wynn held out her sun crystal staff and one of the packs, and he took them.

Sau’ilahk waited down the tunnel until Chane pulled Wynn and Shade through the cave-in. He managed to remain patient only long enough for safety, and then blinked himself through. He was too eager to learn what lay ahead beyond the cave-in, and drifted forward at a distance behind Wynn heading farther along the tunnel. The sight of dwarven bones along the way filled Sau’ilahk with hope.

Large, dead crystals in the walls grew closer and closer to each other, and the skeletal remains grew more numerous, until he saw one dwarf piled on top another. In places, rubble partially filled the tunnel, half burying some remains. Finally, he grew rash and closed the distance enough to hear the faint voices of his quarry.

Sau’ilahk froze when he spotted Wynn ahead, and quickly pulled back. The last thing he needed was for the dog to sense him.

“We’re close to the seatt, aren’t we?” Wynn asked.

She sounded distraught, and Sau’ilahk wondered if all the bones upset her. These dwarves had died long, long ago, and her feeble pity was wasted.

“Yes, we must be,” Ore-Locks answered.

Sau’ilahk swelled with relief. Yes , he agreed so vehemently that he could no longer wait. He slipped to the tunnel’s other side, looking ahead around its gradual curve, and let himself fall into dormancy. As he winked out of existence, he held that glimpse of the tunnel’s distance in his consciousness, though he was as blind as Wynn regarding what lay ahead.

He rematerialized somewhere beyond her and rushed on before the dog might sense him. Quickly enough, he found himself inside what must have been the tram station at the tunnel’s far end. Of course, there were no trams here; they had all been abandoned centuries ago at the range’s northern side. He briefly looked at the empty, grime-coated stone platforms before seeking an exit.

Rather than the multiple tunnels leading from the stations at Dhredze Seatt, here only one huge archway led Sau’ilahk into another tunnel straight ahead.

Chuillyon’s arms felt like lead as he pumped the handle. After so many days of powering this dwarven cart, every muscle in his body hurt. His thoughts kept drifting back to his days of travels with Cinder-Shard.