The Survivors

CHAPTER 9

The side of the beached ship tilted out just above the wet sand at the edge of the underground river. The smell of mineral water permeated the cool air, giving it a decidedly metallic tang.

“Grab the lamps,” Bradok said, peering out over the black water.

Rose unhooked the lamp at one end of the ship and brought it forward. As she climbed up next to Bradok, the light spilled over the side, illuminating a small beach of white sand a few feet away.

Bradok took the lamp and held it high, looking back over the ship. Beyond, on the far side, he could see the mist kicked up by a waterfall in the distance that he could hear but not see. Black water extended out from the little inlet where the ship had come to rest. A rushing river hurried on past into the impenetrable darkness.

“Well,” Much asked. “What do you see?”

“It’s a miracle we’re not all drowned,” Chisul said, wringing the water from his shirt.

“The good news is there’s a beach here that looks nice and dry,” Bradok said. “Let’s get everyone out.”

Chisul shot him a sour look then stomped to the rail. “Who elected you leader?” he grumbled.

“If you have a better suggestion,” Bradok said, “let’s hear it.”

Chisul didn’t answer, just jumped over the rail into calf-deep water and slogged his way up to the sand. One by one the survivors of Ironroot made their way out of the waterlogged ship and onto the cool, dry beach.

“We need to get everyone out of their wet garments and into dry clothes,” Tal said as he made his way onto dry land.

“There are a few cuts and bruises that will need your attention too, Doctor,” Much said as he limped away from the boat. Dark blood smeared the arm Much held cradled at his side.

When everyone was out and accounted for, Bradok flopped down on the soft sand. It felt good to stretch out flat again.

“We made it,” he said quietly. “We’re alive.”

There was a moment of silence all around. Everyone was thinking of Ironroot, what happened back there, whether anyone could still be alive after all the wholesale destruction.

Chisul thought of his father, wondering what had become of Silas. Kellik thought of his dead wife. Bradok was thinking of Sapphire, that last pleading look on his mother’s face before her life was extinguished.

The cool air of the cavern moved and swirled in response to the waterfall and the river. Bradok shivered as it riffled his wet shirt. Tal had been right; they’d all catch their deaths of cold if they didn’t get out of their soaked clothes and into something dry.

“We need to make a fire,” he said, forcing himself to stand. “Anyone with an axe, head back to the ship and cut some of it up for firewood. Start with the driest wood first.”

A groan rose up from the dwarves, but several of the stalwarts stood and made their way back to the ship.

“Everyone else, we need to get everyone into dry clothes. Men, make sure the women and children are taken care of first.”

He half expected another complaint from Chisul, but Silas’s son was one of the first to stand and begin stripping off his wet clothes. Beside him, two rough-looking dwarves named Vulnar and Jenner were also changing into the driest clothes they had as rapidly as they could. Bradok realized those two stuck pretty close to Chisul, and he wondered absently if they were all three friends. He hoped not; Chisul was already proving a troublemaker.

He pushed such thoughts from his mind and pulled off his wet clothes, leaving just his pants. Only some of the dwarves had gotten wet when the ship was breached, and it seemed there were enough dry garments to be shared and passed around.

The sound of axes on wood filled the air, and within ten minutes a modest fire was crackling and popping on the sand.

Bradok hung his wet items on a makeshift clothesline that the grandmotherly Isirah Anvil had strung between two stalagmites. Then he changed into other clothes from his pack. The fire had warmed the air nicely, and he started to feel like himself again. The trip through the bowels of Krynn in a boat was something he’d never forget, but dwarves as a rule are not fond of seafaring. It felt good to have dry land under his feet again.

“So where do we go from here?” Much’s voice rose from the far side of the fire.

“He’s right,” Kellik said, looking around. “We can’t stay here for very long. We’re almost out of food.”

“There might be some fish in the river,” the rough-looking Halum Ironband said helpfully.

“I think it’s clear what we have to do,” Chisul stated firmly. “We need to find our way out of here and get back to our people.”

“That could be the most dangerous thing to do,” the grizzled, one-eyed dwarf said.

“Dangerous if we succeed and dangerous if we don’t,” Isirah chimed in, clutching the youngest of her grandchildren to her side. “We weren’t made to feel very welcome back in Ironroot, and who knows how much of the place has survived? We could get lost and starve to death.”

“That isn’t going to happen,” Rose said. “Reorx didn’t lead us down here just to starve. He’ll guide us to safety; I feel it in my bones.”

“And how is he going to do that?” Chisul asked sarcastically. “Did he leave marks for us to follow or something?”

“How should I know?” Rose replied with a dazzling smile that was wasted on Chisul. “That’s why it’s called faith.”

Chisul rolled his eyes, but many of the other dwarves were nodding. Something Rose said tickled Bradok’s memory, though. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the strange brass device that had released the image of Reorx. Since then, Bradok hadn’t opened it; indeed, he had almost forgotten he possessed it. He wondered if it would even open again. But Rose had said that Reorx would provide for them, and she had given him the idea to try it again.

He put his hand on the hidden catch and pressed. The purple stone on top flared, and the lid swung open. The inside of the device was hollow except for a purple mist that swirled inside it like a miniature cloud.

Suddenly the mist began to pulse with light. Bradok threw his hands over his eyes but not before his vision swam with purple dots. When it cleared, all the eyes in the cavern were on him. From the top of the open device, another illusion sprang forth.

It was a tall, slender woman that might be the image of a human, but Bradok couldn’t really tell. She wore a fitted breastplate and an ornate helmet with a plume. The rest of her body was obscured by a long cloak. The cloak and the woman’s inky black hair moved and flowed in a wind that Bradok could not feel. In her right hand, she carried a short spear, and a white bandage covered her eyes.

“It’s a seer,” Isirah whispered in her wizened voice.

“A what?” Much asked with trepidation.

“A seer,” Isirah said louder. “They’re from the old stories, blind guides blessed with the gift of second sight.”

As if on cue, the seer raised her spear and pointed off into the darkness.

“I think Rose is right,” Bradok said, finding his voice at last. “We have more than just marks to follow; now we have a guide.”

“Hear, hear,” Rose said, sticking her tongue out at Chisul. “I guess I wasn’t so wrong after all.”

Chisul stared daggers at her but said nothing.

“Enough of this small talk,” Much said, standing up and rubbing his arm while staring worriedly at the female spirit-image that was slowly dissipating. “We’ve got a direction now, so let’s get the supplies unloaded and be about our business.”

Bradok, Much, Chisul, and the other men who weren’t cutting up the ship for firewood all formed a line and quickly emptied the ship of her cache of supplies. Silas had thought of everything but a rudder, it seemed. There were spare cloaks and water bags, wrapped oilcloth bundles of rations, two long poles with mountings for the glowlamps, a keg of long knives, and a keg of assorted tools.

By the time they were through hauling everything out, Rose and Tal had already begun handing out the gear. Kellik made sure each dwarf was armed with a knife. Perin was busy showing Hemmish and his brother Rijul how a glowlamp on a pole would attract fish when held over the river.

Several hours and a dozen fish later, Bradok lay on the sand, feeling better about his prospects than he had in days. The survivors of Ironroot were no longer a ragamuffin band of strangers; they had pulled together, and their hopes and spirits were high. He still wasn’t a believer, but it looked as though Reorx was looking out for them. Between the gear Silas left them and the strange compass, they should be able to make their way to safety.

The weariness of the past few hours coupled with his full belly pushed Bradok toward sleep. He lay on the sand, rolled in his thick cloak. Sleep should have come easily, but it kept eluding him. With a moment to reflect on everything that had transpired, the reality of his situation began to sink in.

Ironroot was truly gone.

His life as a jeweler and councilman was gone. His father and mother were both dead. The future lay before him like a vast, unmarked plain. It seemed like a whole world of opportunities stood before him, just waiting for him to decide which path to take. Just choose the right path … choose … the word kept echoing in his mind as he finally drifted off to sleep.

When Bradok awoke, the cheery orange light of the fire had died, leaving only the pale blue light of the lamps illuminating the cavern. In their unwavering glow, the cavern seemed somehow sinister, like an evil version of itself. He pushed such thoughts from his mind and rose carefully, so as not to wake anyone.

A few embers glowed among the coals of the fire, inviting him to feed them with fresh wood, which he did. In a few moments, he had a cheery little blaze going.

“That’s much better,” Rose said, materializing out of the semidarkness on the far side of the fire. “The glowlamps may burn for years without fuel, but their light has always made me feel as if a shadow was hanging over me.”

Bradok chuckled quietly. “I was thinking the same thing,” he admitted.

“Still,” she added, turning to look at one of the lamps hanging on the end of a pole that had been thrust into the sand, “I suppose we’d better get used to them. I suspect we have a long walk ahead of us.”

“I hope it isn’t too long,” he said, poking the fire with a stick. “We’ve only got food for a few days.”

“Then we’d better get moving soon,” Rose said.

He nodded, looking around at the still, sleeping forms. Many of the dwarves who had escaped Ironroot by boat were old, well past their prime, and there were close to a dozen children.

“And then there’s Lyra,” Bradok whispered to himself more than to Rose.

But Rose heard and, turning to look at the figure of the sleeping pregnant woman, nodded.

“She’s tougher than she looks,” she said. “She won’t hold us back.”

Bradok shrugged. Some of the others were beginning to wake. “But what do we do if she has her baby?” he asked quietly.

“Let Tal worry about that,” Rose said, nodding at her still-sleeping brother with a smile. “He’s good under pressure.”

“You both have the same surname …?” Bradok said, changing the subject, but letting the sentence hang more like a question.

When Rose smiled, as she did at that moment, it struck Bradok how attractive she was. She didn’t have the flawless lines and elegant features of some city girls Bradok had courted, but rather a more natural, earthy beauty, like deep mountain jade.

“I’m not married,” she said, lowering her voice too, the firelight burnishing a line across the hair that fell into her eyes. “Not to Tal or his brother … or anyone.”

If Bradok had just been told that the Mountain King wanted him to design his crown, he wouldn’t have been more pleased. The knowledge that Rose had a brother and not a husband made him feel like a schoolboy in love-giddy and light-headed.

If Rose noticed anything amiss, she gave no sign. Instead she pointed past the lamplight, where the image of the seer had pointed.

“Shouldn’t we get going?” she asked.

Bradok took out the compass and, holding it firmly, nodded.

“Then, for Reorx’s sake, let’s go,” Kellik said impatiently, striding into the firelight. He’d clearly overheard much of their conversation, and was shaking his head disapprovingly. “All the fish got et last night, so all we got are cold rations,” he added. “We ought to put a few miles under our feet before breakfast.”

Bradok would have rather eaten first, but Kellik was probably right. He had already passed by, leading his sons down to the river’s edge to fill their waterskins. Rose glanced over at Bradok and smiled, amused by the smith. Bradok shrugged.

“All right, walk first,” he said with a sigh. “Eat later. Everyone, wake up! Let’s go!”

Before the echo of his words had faded away, however, Chisul stood up and called out the same orders in a louder voice.

“All right everyone, we need to get moving,” Chisul said. “We don’t know how far we have to go, so we’d better get started. Pack up your gear and don’t forget to fill your waterskins.”

Bradok looked sheepishly at Rose, who was even more amused.

A flurry of activity followed, during which all the rest of the dwarves got up, stretched, and prepared for the journey ahead.

“He’s full of good ideas,” Bradok said in a low voice, sidling closer to Rose.

Rose grinned before her face turned serious. “I don’t much care for him, to be honest,” she said in a low voice. “He seems to need to be right all the time.”

Bradok frowned. The same thought had occurred to him. “He’s probably harmless,” he said.

“Probably,” she agreed, sounding unconvinced.

“Well, I better go make sure nobody needs any help,” he said, moving off reluctantly.

“You go,” Rose said, walking toward the water. “I’m ready. But there’s something I’d really like to do first.”

Wondering what she meant, Bradok made his way back to where he slept and packed up his gear. As he shouldered his worn traveling pack, he opened a small oilcloth with the remnants of the previous night’s fish inside. He took the fish and popped the remaining piece in his mouth. Bradok had never been much of a fish-eater, but not knowing what he’d be eating in the days ahead made the unseasoned bit of overcooked meat taste better than the finest steak.

As everyone began gathering around the lanterns, Bradok took his waterskin and strode to the river to fill it. To his surprise, he found Rose there, painting on the side of Silas’s barrel-boat in large, red letters.

REORX’S HAND.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I just figured she needed a name. She deserves to be remembered,” Rose said, patting the side of the ship. She stoppered her vial of paint and rinsed the brush in the river.

Bradok watched her as she climbed up the bank to join the others. Whatever dangers they encountered, he thought, he wouldn’t have passed up the journey for the world.

“I’ve never been this bored in all my born days,” Much grumbled three days later.

The seer compass had pointed them toward a fissure at the edge of the river, but for three straight days there had been no need to consult it further. The passage ran more or less straight and level with no forks or side passages or caverns along the way-just the same rough-walled passage. They’d kept up their march, by Much’s watch, ten hours out of every day. Bradok guessed they must have covered forty or fifty miles, but the unending hallway of rock made it seem like they were winding in circles.

The only bright spots were the frequent streams and pools that appeared along the way. They would issue out of cracks in the walls or the ceiling and run across their path, vanishing into similar fissures a few feet from where they appeared. The water tasted terrible; it was full of dissolved minerals and metals that left a sour taste in their mouths hours after drinking. Still, while their food supply diminished steadily, they had no trouble refilling their waterskins.

But they had finally run out of solid food, and the next day would be the first without. The adults exchanged worried glances as the children complained about their empty bellies. Bradok consulted the compass every few hours, but it offered no fresh hope.

On the second day without food, the adults began to grumble and the little children wept intermittently. Kellik and Bradok took turns carrying the exhausted Hemmish until their arms ached. Still, no one thought they should stop. Everyone, even the children, knew that food must lie ahead and that to stop meant death.

On the third day, the cavern lay silent except for the shuffle of weary boots on stone and the sounds of ragged breathing. No one spoke much, preferring to save their energy for the task at hand. The children could barely walk, keeping their progress slow. Some of the adults carried the younger ones, and Rose had her arm around the pregnant Lyra, helping to steady her faltering steps. When, gasping in pain, she finally collapsed, everyone sank to the floor of the fissure with a collective groan.

“Lyra can’t go any further,” Rose said after a moment.

“I’m about all done in, myself,” Much said wearily, leaning his head back against the rocky side of the passage.

“We shouldn’t rest here for long,” Chisul said, his voice raspy.

“I don’t think many of us have the strength to go on,” Perin said, his chubby face soaked with sweat. “I’m on my last legs.”

“Us too,” the grizzled Marl Anvil said. He sat with his wife slumped against him and his three grandchildren huddled close.

The pain in Bradok’s stomach seemed to disappear as he imagined what the old dwarf must be feeling, the fear that he might be forced to watch his precious ones starve to death. Without thinking about it, Bradok performed the act he’d done so many times over the past few days. He slipped his hand into his pocket and drew out the little compass. As before, there was not any change or alteration in its appearance; the blind seer still hovered there, pointing, unwavering, up the same passage.

“No,” he croaked, using his voice for the first time in hours. He gripped the compass tightly in his hand and stared intently at it. “We need food,” he commanded, “or we perish.”

Nothing happened. After a moment Chisul laughed, the sound echoing through the cavern.

“Maybe she thinks we’re not hungry enough yet,” he said.

“Maybe she means that there’s food up ahead, just a little farther,” Rose said hopefully.

“Let’s send those of us who can still walk up ahead a bit,” Chisul said. “If they find food, they can bring it back to the others. I’m willing to go.”

The survivors of Ironroot exchanged glances with one another, and several of them nodded in agreement.

“No, we should stick together,” Kellik said. “Deep caves like these can be dangerous places.”

More nods than before ran through the survivors.

“We need food,” Bradok said, “soon.”

“Ask her again,” Rose said, indicating the compass. “She’s a woman; maybe she’s changed her mind.”

Bradok looked down at the purple stone on top of the compass. “Please,” he said softly. “We can’t go on. We have to have some food. Please show us the way.”

He took a breath and pressed the little catch. The lid sprang open, and multicolored light bubbled up out of the little well inside, like liquid. After a moment the light flared brightly, jumping up into the air above the compass and resolving itself into a new image: that of Reorx’s warhammer.

The hammer hung in the air above the compass, rotating slowly as if spinning on the pommel of the handle. The image was at least two feet high, making it easy for everyone to see it. After a moment, it began to move, dropping down to hover on its side. The hammer spun lazily for a moment; then it snapped around, its handle pointing back down the passage like a compass needle.

“That’s the way we just came!” Chisul exclaimed. “We know there’s nothing back there. What’s the matter with that thing?”

Bradok ignored Chisul. Adrenaline flooded through his body, washing away the weariness and the aches of travel. He leaped to his feet excitedly, not taking his eyes off the pointing shaft of the warhammer’s handle.

“This way,” he said, launching himself back down the passage, back in the direction they had just traveled.

“There’s nothing that way,” Chisul called after him. “We know; we’ve already been there.”

“He’s right, lad,” Much said.

“No,” Bradok yelled back. “We must have missed something.”

Not looking to see if anyone followed him, Bradok ran with the image of the hammer leading him. His legs carried him as easily as if he’d just enjoyed days of rest and food. The sound of people gradually picking up and following him reached his ears, and he slowed a bit to allow them to catch up.

As he reached the little trickle of water where they’d last refilled their waterskins, the hammer jumped. Bradok skidded to a halt on the wet floor.

The handle was pointing straight at the side of the passage. He ran his free hand over the stone but could detect no fissures or openings, just the tiny crack at the base where the trickle of water disappeared.

“This is it?” Rose said, panting. She was the first to reach the spot after Bradok, with the others staggering behind her.

Bradok checked the compass, but the hammer’s handle hadn’t moved. He closed the lid, and the image of the hammer disappeared.

“Give me a hammer,” he said, stowing the compass back in his pocket.

“What for?” Vulnar said.

Bradok turned and grabbed the ragged dwarf by the front his shirt. “Just do it,” he said.

“Here ya go,” Kellik said, passing up a short warhammer from his place in the crowd.

Bradok took the weapon, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He swung it back over his shoulder then smashed its narrow steel head forward against the wall. A thunderous boom resounded through the passage and a spiderweb of cracks spread out from the point where the hammer struck the wall.

“It’s hollow!” Rose said, a radiant smile splitting her face. “There’s something back there.”

“I doubt it’s someone’s larder,” Chisul said, drawing his short sword. “We should be prepared for anything.”

“Yes, anything. It could be a way out!” said the ever-optimistic Rose.

Bradok ignored them all and swung the hammer again and again. On the third strike, the head of the hammer disappeared into the wall and a large chunk of rock fell away into the darkness beyond.