The Survivors (15 page)

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.

A
blast of sweet air burst over Bradok as he wrenched the hammer free from the hole in the wall. He hadn’t realized how stale the air in the fissure had become. The air issuing from the black hole bore a vaguely spicy smell, reminding him of the spice rack Sapphire always had in the kitchen when he was growing up.

“I know that smell,” Halum Ironband said.

Halum reminded Bradok of the kind of dwarf one might find in the seediest tavern in the lowest hall in Ironroot. His clothes were all dark and well worn, and his face bore the markings of many scrapes and brawls. When he smiled, Halum showed at least three gold teeth and the stained gums of a blackroot user.

The rough dwarf leaned toward the hole and sniffed the air like a chef savoring a fine wine. “Peppertops,” he concluded after a moment.

“Is that food?” little Graylin Anvil asked his grandfather.

Marl Anvil grinned his gap-toothed smile and nodded.

Bradok hefted the hammer and struck the wall as hard as he could. That time a large slab of rock exploded inward, leaving a passage almost wide enough for him to squeeze through. Two more hard hits doubled the size of the opening.

“Bring up the lantern,” Bradok called, squinting in an attempt to make out anything in the blackness beyond the opening.

One of the blue lanterns materialized, being passed down the passage on the end of its pole. When Bradok got it, he stuck it into the hole as far as the pole would reach.

A large chamber lay beyond, full of stalactites and stalagmites and joined columns of rock. The air felt drier and fresher than the air in the long, rough passage they’d been using. All along the bases of the stalagmites and around every column, Bradok could see that mushrooms were growing. Tall, speckled peppertops rose on thick, meaty stalks, while short, broad-topped honey mushrooms clustered beneath them. Bradok had never favored mushrooms as most others of his race sometimes did, but as hungry as he was, they looked every bit as delicious as a banquet.

“Well,” someone demanded. “What do you see?”

Bradok’s face split into a wide grin, and he felt a relief he hadn’t known in almost a week. “Mushrooms,” he said. “Enough for us all and then some.”

Everyone rushed for the hole at once, as if they had all been launched from a siege engine. Bradok barely had time to throw himself through the gap before a crush of bodies clogged it.

“Easy, easy,” he shouted, pushing himself to his feet. “There’s plenty here and a few minutes’ more wait won’t kill anyone.”

Kellik and Vulnar had their heads half poked through the hole. From beyond, Bradok heard the sound of a whistle being blown and Chisul’s muffled voice giving orders. Soon the bodies blocking the hole withdrew and a more ordered stream of dwarves began to enter.

The first ones through went straight for the nearest mushrooms, eagerly tearing off their tops in chunks and stuffing them in their mouths. Little Jade Bronzecap, Lyra’s
daughter stuffed a piece of peppertop in her mouth and stood, fanning her tongue after swallowing. Bradok laughed, and her mother passed her a bit of honey mushroom to blunt the spicy taste.

“Don’t eat too much or too fast,” Tal advised, stepping through the hole. “You’re too hungry. You’ll make yourselves sick.”

The part of the cave visible in the lantern light filled rapidly with eating dwarves, so Bradok held the light up and began to edge back into the cavern. The place didn’t appear too large, but he still could barely see the far side in the blue light. As Perin brought the second light through the hole, Bradok moved back, swinging his light around in an effort to better inspect the back wall. There appeared to be a recess in the back, but he couldn’t tell if it was just a side chamber or some kind of exit.

His stomach rumbled and Bradok remembered how hungry he was too. He stooped down to pick the top off a honey mushroom. As the saucer-sized top came free with a tiny snap, Bradok’s eyes focused on a strangely discolored rock behind the mushroom patch. He stared, trying to see better. A moment later his heart jumped up into his throat and he leaped backward with a strangled cry.