Ширли Мерфи - The Castle Оf Hape. Caves Оf Fire Аnd Ice. The Joining Оf Тhe Stone

And Meatha began to think privately, If we bred a child, a child that could be hidden safe from Kish and from the dark forces, a child to wield the stone long after we are dead, a child—Lobon’s child . . . a child who would keep safe the forces of light . . .

She began to waver in her resolve. She wanted Lobon, she wanted to be one with him. She turned away from him again and again, biting back tears.

“Meatha?”

She could not look at him directly. Her hands shook. His presence, his powers, drew her like a creature in a snare. He moved toward her.

Feldyn growled. Crieba stepped between them, snarling.

He dropped his hand and stepped back. He stared down at Crieba’s cold eyes, and sense returned to him. “I will try to find a way out,” he said flatly. “A way back through the cave.” And he left them.

*

Well before dawn, Michennann spoke silently but so urgently that Meatha jerked upright. She thought the mare was again at the gate, but saw only emptiness beyond the bars. Cammett has died. She is lying twisted in the traces that bound her. But her spirit is free now, free. Meatha understood then that Michennann spoke from the valley above. The mare’s terrible sadness tore at her, Michennann’s terrible hatred of the warrior queen.

When she looked up and saw that Lobon was not in the cave, it took her a minute to remember that he was not simply getting a drink of water. Had he found a way out? Oh, he would not go without her. She felt a moment of panic, and then she reached out to him, searching, afraid to hope that there was another entrance to this cave. How could there be? The dragon would never have locked them here if they could escape.

She felt his presence, as warm and close as if he knelt beside her; Saw his face in a sudden vision and had to smile, so smeared with dirt was he, his cheeks and nose, his hands—his hands were bleeding, the nails torn where he clutched a stone. He had been digging in the cave wall. As she watched, he thrust his arm through the small hole he had made, she felt him reach into empty space, sensed now the narrow tunnel beyond. It was blocked, he told her, a wall of dirt and stone. And the earth charred as if the fire ogres had built it. Come, Meatha, quickly. Help Feldyn if you can while I dig it out so we can get through.

She wrapped the wolves’ chains around their necks as best she could. Crieba pushed ahead. Feldyn came slowly, hobbling, caught in the pain of his wounds. She could sense Lobon’s tension, was linked with Lobon and the wolves in careful blocking to prevent discovery by the warrior queen.

Meatha and the wolves were soon past the trickle of water in the inner tunnel, could hear Lobon digging now. Then suddenly they felt Kish’s presence somewhere out in the abyss. They pushed on faster, Feldyn ignoring his pain. The dark wolf pressed against her to hurry her. Then Kish was at the gate, they could hear her opening it. They felt her alarm, then her sharp, angry cry echoed down the tunnel. “Gone! They are gone! Bring swords, bring—hurry, you stupid beasts!”

They sensed her searching the cave, then pushing deeper in, sensed fire ogres shuffling behind her covering the ground too quickly. Soon behind them the tunnel began to grow red, and they knew that the ogres had pushed past Kish in their predatory and mindless quest.

They came on Lobon suddenly, pulling rocks away from a small ragged hole in the stone and earthen walls. He pushed Meatha through, Crieba leaped after her, then Lobon lifted Feldyn, for the dark wolf could not jump. Meatha took Feldyn’s shoulders, heavy as lead, and at last they got him through. He stood on unsteady legs, then moved ahead again as the fiery light behind them increased.

They hurried, pressed against one another in the narrow space. Soon behind them they heard rock being torn away from the hole, heard the bulky ogres pushing through. Lobon picked Feldyn up, and they ran. But the dark wolf weighed heavy, Meatha could feel Lobon tire, feel the throbbing pain in his shoulder and arm. “Let me take part of his weight,” she whispered. Feldyn snarled in protest, then was still.

With Feldyn’s forelegs on Meatha’s shoulders and Lobon carrying his rear, they moved faster though clumsily in what, in other circumstances, would have been a ludicrous scene, but was now too desperate to be funny. And even with their increased speed, Kish and the ogres were gaining. At another turning in the tunnel, when fire flared close behind, Feldyn leaped free in spite of his hurt leg and stood beside Crieba facing the advancing fire ogres. Kish pushed forward between them, her bow taut. “You will go no farther . . .” But the wolves leaped and tore at her so she dropped her bow; her knife flashed; Lobon struck an ogre with a rock, struck again, was past it and on the warrior queen as she slashed at Crieba; it was then they saw the fissure, a small crevice in the rock that seemed to go some distance. Lobon’s thought flashed at Meatha. Get in there! Take Feldyn! It’s too small for ogres! More fire ogres were pushing up the tunnel from the cave. Meatha balked. Lobon grabbed her and pushed her into the crevice as Crieba leaped at Kish.

“I won’t leave you, I—”

“Take Feldyn, he—” And Lobon twisted away to face the warrior queen and ogres. Feldyn snarled at Meatha and pushed her into the crevice, crowded in after her, pressing her on. Behind them the battle was fierce.

When she paused, Feldyn snarled and leaped at her. She went on at last, kept pushing in, the space so tight in places she had to squeeze. She could feel Feldyn’s pain sharply as he pushed through. The sounds of battle echoed behind them; then suddenly there was the sound of falling rocks. What had happened? She could make no picture come. Ahead she saw flame and thought fire ogres were there, too, then saw it was molten lava far below, that they had come through the tunnel to a ledge high along the side of a cavern. Where was Lobon? What was happening?

At last Crieba appeared, and Lobon behind him; and she went weak with relief.

“The tunnel was filled with ogres,” he panted.

“That noise, like falling rocks . . . ?”

“I pulled boulders down to block the tunnel. There were too many, we couldn’t fight them.” She felt his shame at having fled. She touched his cheek, and he put his arms around her. They clung together, let their need for solace take them for a moment, her face pressed into the leather of his tunic, the wolf bell hurting her ribs; and suddenly they were caught in a vision of a city on fire, men balding among burning buildings, then of winged ones above leaping through red, smoky sky—winged ones carrying dark riders, Kubalese riders; then the winged ones began deliberately to fall, smashing to earth, their riders under them. They Saw for an instant the whole of Ere torn with warring; then Meatha pulled away from Lobon, ceased to touch the bell, and the vision was gone. He let out his breath.

“They were fighting on the border of Carriol,” he said with fury. “Carriol’s armies are driven back to the border.” He had never cared, before, about Carriol. Not as he now cared.

They found a way leading downward, and only when they reached the floor of the cavern did they stop to rest. They could sense nothing following them. The air seemed fresher to their left, and they saw an opening in the far wall. They crossed to it, ducked low beneath stone, then stood staring upward with drawn breath.

Far above them in the roof of the cavern shone a jagged hole with a patch of sky beyond, sky gray with storm. As they watched, clouds blew across swept by fast winds. “There was a hole like that in another cavern,” Meatha said, “where I first met Anchorstar.” But this opening was so very distant.