neetha Napew - The Time Of The Transferance

A cool, slightly damp breeze emerged from beneath a rocky ledge.

“There’s got to be a cave down there. Pretty big one, too, judging from the strength of the wind coming out. Maybe we can’t lose them up here, but I think they’ll be less likely to come looking for us below, even if they’re lucky enough to find this opening.” He started scanning the forest floor. “Find something we can make torches out of.”

There was plenty of dried moss. Wrapped around branches, these made serviceable faggots.

“How do we light them?” Weegee had already searched her clothing. “I don’t have any flints with me. Can you sing a fire spell?”

“No, but I’ve got these.” He fumbled in his pack. Sure enough, he had four matches left of the box he’d been carrying when Clothahump had first yanked him into this world. Saying a silent prayer, he struck the first alight. He was greatly relieved when the moss on the first torch caught instantly.

Weegee was wide-eyed. “If not magic, what do you call that?”

“Matches. I’ll explain later.” He touched the lit torch to the others. “Come on. If I fit, everyone’ll fit.”

Cautious stepped in front of him. “My eyes are better in the dark than anyone else’s here, you bet. I go first. You follow, Jon-Tom, stay close to my tail. Maybe if I fall in big hole, you got something to grab. If not, I warn you before I bounce.” He grinned, clapped the man on the shoulder, then turned and ducked lithely beneath the ledge. Jon-Tom followed as Mudge and Weegee brought up the rear.

The cave sloped steadily downward, a claustrophobic tube. Jon-Tom began to wonder if this had been such a bright idea. His palms were rubbing raw on the slick, unyielding limestone.

Without warning the ceiling rose and everyone was able to stand. Torches revealed a graveled path leading steadily onward.

Weegee surveyed the dark tunnel ahead. “Isn’t this far enough? I’m not very fond of deep places.”

“Are you fond o’ bein’ slowly skinned alive?” Mudge nodded back the way they’d come. “If they do find the openin’ they’re liable to hear our voices or see the light from these torches. The farther we go the safer we’ll be.”

Cautious had advanced several yards in front of his companions. “Opens up more, I think.”

“Let’s go on.” Jon-Tom followed the raccoon. He’d always liked caves.

Roughly a hundred feet beneath the forested surface the floor of the tunnel leveled out and their torches illuminated a subterranean world of baroque loveliness. Except for rock that had fallen from the ceiling the surface they were walking on was smooth and firm, having been scoured clean ages ago by a now vanished underground river. Water dripped from stalactites into shallow rimstone pools.

“A live cave.” Jon-Tom held his torch close to one pristine limestone soda straw. “Still growing.”

“Strange places, caves. Tis better to stay out of ‘em.” Mudge was studying the floor, looking for tracks. “One never knows wot sort o’ evil spirits lurk in their depths. O’ course in this case, we already know the nature o’ the evil spirits lurkin’ about above.”

The torches were holding out well, burning slowly and steadily, and the extensive winding chamber showed no sign of diminishing in size. Jon-Tom allowed Cautious to lead on. The farther they got from Sasheem and Kamaulk and the rest of their murderous ilk the safer he’d feel. Eventually they’d find a convenient stopping place, extinguish all of their torches, and rest.

Unless they discovered the entrance to the cavern the pirates would have to give up. Not even Sasheem and Kamaulk’s exhortations could keep the crew roaming a trackless forest for days on end. Even if they did discover the cavity beneath the ledge they probably wouldn’t enter, since the brigands tended to be more superstitious even than Mudge. Eventually the practical Kamaulk would have to admit he’d been outwitted again. His crew would mollify him by assuring him it was no crime to be fooled by a magician.

The beauty surrounding them tended to take their minds off their distant pursuers. A cluster of stalagmites rose fifteen feet from the floor, gleaming beneath their coats of pure white calcite. Frozen flowstone waves clung like draperies from the walls and gave off charming musical tones when Mudge tapped them with his claws. Iron oxide stained several draperies, giving them the appearance of huge slabs of bacon. Miniature travertine dams held back the drip water.

Long thin stalactites called soda straws hung from the ceiling, each with its bead of lime-saturated water dangling from the tip. One chamber was filled with helictites, twisted stalagtites that grew every which way in defiance of gravity. There were cave pearls and fried eggs and a whole phantasmagoria of wondrous speleotherms to admire. Jon-Tom identified stalactites and stalagmites that had grown together over the eons to form columns, tiny pale troglodytes that had to be cave crickets, long snaky wires....

Long snaky wires?

Hands shaking, he bent over and held his torch close to the motionless cable. The insulation was frayed and disintegrating but there was no mistaking what it was.

Weegee leaned over his shoulder, her musk strong in the still air of the cavern. “What the devil is it?” Ignoring her, he began tracing the cable along the ground. She looked over at Mudge. “What’s wrong? Why doesn’t he answer?”

Mudge bent low over the frayed cable, plucked a bit of torn insulation and smelled of it. His eyes were on his tall friend’s back. “I’ve an idea. ‘Tis insane, but no more insane than many things e anI ‘ave encountered in our travels together. Whether it bodes good or ill only the fates can say, those interferin’ blabbermouths.”

Jon-Tom was examining the narrow cleft in the wall from which the cable emerged. By turning sideways he could just squeeze through. Several minutes passed before his companions were drawn by a shout from beyond. Clothahump couldn’t have followed, but Cautious and the two otters slipped easily through the gap.

They came out in another decorated chamber seemingly no different from the one they had left. The cable continued to snake along the floor until it terminated in a square metal box. Another cable in somewhat better condition emerged from the other side of the container. Jon-Tom was studying it closely as his three companions gathered around.

“What is it?” Cautious inquired.

By way of reply Jon-Tom flipped open the box’s lid. A large plastic switch stared back at him. Hardly daring to hope, he turned it to the right. The primitive wiring not only still worked, it was connected to an as yet undiscovered power source. Mudge and Weegee jumped involuntarily as powerful argon lamps came to life and illuminated much of the chamber in which they stood. Cautious made protective signs in front of his body.

“No jokes this time, mate. Where ‘ave you brought us?”

“I don’t know. I sure as hell don’t know, Mudge.”

Quickly overcoming his initial surprise, Cautious had wandered over to stare at one of the high intensity lamps. “Strongest glow-bulb spell I ever see.”

“Don’t touch it,” Jon-Tom warned him. “They look old and I bet they get real hot real quick. This whole setup’s at least forty or fifty years old.”

“So where do we go from ‘ere, mate?”

“One of two ways, Mudge. Either we go back the way we came or we follow the cable and lights the other way and see if they lead to a dream come true.”

“I’d rather they led to a decent eatin’ place, but I think I’d settle for a dream come true. I sure as ‘ell ain’t going back up yet. Weegee?”

“If you trust Jon-Tom that much, how can I do less?”