Raeln pulled himself through the water to the best of his ability with only one arm and his legs to propel him. He knew it was far too slow, the water quickly darkening to the point that he could see nothing farther. At their rate, he would be out of air in a minute or two. He had learned how to swim with someone in tow at a young age—one more thing he could blame on Ilarra during her failed attempts to prove she was a better swimmer—but it was still slower than swimming by himself.
For his part, Yoska was helping considerably, struggling with one of his arms and both of his legs to contribute to Raeln’s efforts rather than hinder them. Injured or not, the man had a determination Raeln envied.
Suddenly Raeln felt the water shift and begin flowing away from the pool as he descended toward the bottom of the stone shaft. Dim light from plants that grew at the bottom of the spring showed him vague shapes, hinting at a larger space below. He swam toward that area, praying it might have an exit somewhere nearby.
Once he had cleared the shaft completely, a current snagged Raeln and seemed to hurl him northward. He lost his grip on Yoska immediately and tumbled out of control as he careened off of stone outcroppings he could not see in time to avoid or defend against. Pain flared through his shoulder, his knee, the side of his head, and then a hard impact against his chest knocked all of his breath out.
Dizziness began to overtake Raeln as he tried desperately to keep from gasping for air. He knew that was the surest way to drown, and for all his thoughts of finding the right place and time to die, this was not how he wanted to go, a mile below ground in a nearly frozen river. To his surprise Yoska swept past him, and Raeln grabbed the man and pulled him close with one arm to ensure they were not separated again.
Flailing, Raeln felt cold air on his hand before the water closed over it again. His lungs burning, he kicked as hard as he could and pulled himself and Yoska to the surface. The gap between the water and the roof of the smooth tunnel it flowed through was narrow, but contained a small space Raeln shoved his face into. He gasped for a quick breath of stale air as his body was raked across the uneven stones painfully. In his arm Yoska did the same, choking and wheezing during that second above water.
Then the river swept them down again, the icy water crashing over their heads and filling Raeln’s mouth before he could close it. He pulled Yoska close, trying not to lose his grip on the man as they slammed into the wall of the underground river when it turned abruptly. They spun about and Raeln quickly lost any sense of which direction was up.
With one last swirling rush, the bottom of the river came up at Raeln suddenly. He slid along it, sharp stones tearing into his back and arms as it washed him up onto some sort of beach, his face feeling as though it would freeze when the cold air hit his wet fur. Almost immediately the current began pulling him along the shallow muddy shore and back toward the depths.
Raeln flung his arm out and dug his long fingers and claws into the muck in an effort to prevent them from being washed back into the river. He could not get a good grip on anything, but it slowed them enough that he could roll over in the shallow water and drive his feet into the mud beneath them, halting all forward motion.
“Can you stand?” Raeln asked, but got no reply. The man was limp in his arm.
Swearing, Raeln shook his head in an effort to clear the mud and water from his eyes. He was nearly blind between the dark and the burning of silt, but he could vaguely make out a cavernous room around them, lit by what appeared to be daylight off to his right somewhere. He knelt in a waist-deep section of the rapidly moving river with Yoska hanging over his arm.
On’esquin was nowhere to be found.
Giving the room one more look around, Raeln saw the silt had built up an island of sorts in the middle of the chamber, on which he was kneeling. The river parted around this mound and flowed past him, foaming and crashing against the water-smoothed walls of the cave until it reached a large crack on the back end of the cavern, where it fell away in a sun-lit waterfall. He could not see sky in that direction, but he could recognize the glow of sunlight and that meant there was an entrance somewhere…and that they had been underground far longer than he had thought. Yoska’s estimates appeared to be more accurate than he had expected.
Raeln grunted as he pulled Yoska’s dead weight to his chest and stood in the strong current, trudging over to the small island carefully to keep from losing his balance. Soon the water covered only his feet. He finally stepped free of the water and muck and eased Yoska onto the relatively dry ground.
Shivering, Raeln shook his whole body to get rid of as much water as he could. He pulled the torn remnants of his bedroll from the shredded pack on his back and threw that over Yoska, knowing the man was likely freezing without a proper fur coat. Even a wet blanket would help a little against the steady wind that came through the cavern.
Raeln rubbed a little warmth into the gypsy’s arms and legs and then checked his breathing, finding it shallow but steady. Next, he checked the wound on the man’s side, finding that it bled slowly, the skin around it a dangerous purple. He would live for the moment, assuming Raeln could keep him from freezing. And, of course, assuming they were not trapped or about to be attacked by undead.
That last thought worried Raeln and he began looking around the cavern more carefully. He could make out shapes near the walls that had snagged on uneven outcroppings, though they could have been corpses or debris for all he could tell. Thankfully, none were moving that he could see.
Splashes from the south startled Raeln and he looked around, expecting an army of zombies to be floating toward him, but he saw nothing at first. Then the top of a bald green head, ears, and finally flattish face and tusks emerged from the water as On’esquin marched up the edge of the island as though he had walked the whole way on the bottom of the river.
“Now we know I cannot drown for sure,” the orc said, sitting down hard in the mud beside Yoska. Pulling various items from his pouches, including the rolled prophecies, he began wringing them out, one at a time. “We also know that age alone does not give me any newfound ability to swim. I will never understand how others stay on top of the water, instead of sinking.”
Reaching down, On’esquin touched Yoska’s forehead and frowned. “We will wait until he wakes,” On’esquin said, climbing back to his feet but leaving the parchments and other items that had been damaged by the water on the ground to dry. “Watch him. I will explore the rest of the cavern and see if I can determine how we can leave.”
Raeln nodded and On’esquin set off toward the lighted end of the cavern, walking right back into the water. Within seconds, the top of his head had disappeared below the foaming water, leaving no trace of his passing.
Returning his attention to Yoska, Raeln kept himself busy by checking the man’s fingers for signs that he was freezing and watching for any sudden increase in bleeding from his side. To Raeln’s surprise Yoska continued to improve, until nearly an hour later when he groaned loudly. The man was hardier than anyone Raeln had ever met to recover so easily from such a beating. Leaning over him, Raeln opened one of Yoska’s eyes to see if he was conscious.
“Is not the face I wished to wake and find,” muttered Yoska, pushing Raeln’s head away gently. “Dog breath is not good thing to wake up to, no? I had hoped to find one of my wives tending to me at best, or maybe my ancestors waiting to chide me for getting dead before my time. At worst, I had thought I would find Estin and his family worrying as they always did about their friends. I do not object to you helping…is just not what I’d expected.”
Sitting back as Yoska pulled himself to a seated position, Raeln struggled to remember where he had heard that name before. It was familiar, but he could not quite place it. He asked, “Who is Estin? Is that one of your family members?”
“No, no,” the man said, chuckling despite a grimace as he held his side. “Estin is…was…one of your kind. Was a good man with good family. Was shame to lose him to the dead men, but we all go in our time. We lost many there and he was just one. Still, many friends died in hope that he, his wife, and their children might live.”
The name finally leapt to the forefront of Raeln’s memories. He had heard it before, mentioned by Greth, his friend who had died trying to save Lantonne. That had been the name of the man Greth had been determined to find before he could return to his people. They had spent months searching for Estin and eventually left the wilds empty-handed. Perhaps if they had stayed there, Greth would still be alive.
A small world
, thought Raeln, closing his eyes sadly. At least Greth’s last task had been completed somehow and Estin had gotten home, even if it was only to die with the people he loved. Having been at Greth’s side when he had passed, Raeln could understand the merits of being with your loved ones to the very end, even if the scars of that night hurt him more than any he had suffered in battle.
Yoska quieted and checked his side again, his hand covered with blood when he pulled it away from the wound. Sighing, he pressed his palm to it again.
“Your family—wives, kin—if it’s within my power, I’ll get you back to them,” Raeln blurted out without thinking. “It’s the least I can do for your help. You could have left us, or worse.”
Laughing, Yoska patted Raeln’s hand and shook his head. “You mean well, but you threaten me without knowing it,” Yoska replied, grinning broadly. “I have not told others, but there is no one to go home to. Most of my kin died many months ago, before I came to live with the wilder folk. The few of us who had survived died before you arrived. Only my daughter and I remain of the clan, though we fight on opposite sides now. Is a cruel irony the ancestors watch, no?”
Lowering his head, Yoska pulled the battered copper cup into his lap and traced the symbols on it with his fingertip. “Do not talk of this with the magic green man,” he added a moment later, setting aside the cup and looking sincerely embarrassed. “Is a weakness among my people to mourn those who go before us. We avenge and we celebrate the lives they had, but we do not mourn. Those gone are waiting for our coming and is shameful to weep for them. Still, we are built to be with crowds….alone is not our way and is very difficult.”
Smiling and nodding his agreement, Raeln said, “We’ve all lost people, Yoska. Anyone surviving this war is haunted more than their fair share.”
“You have lost family too. I see it in your eyes, yes?”
“My mother, father, sister, and the person I loved.”
Yoska tapped his chin thoughtfully, studying Raeln. His eyes fell on the bracelet Raeln could not remove and smiled. “The northern lands use such things as a marking of marriage and once was our way too. Such a gift marks one who has been wed,” he noted and held up his hand before Raeln could reply. “I apologize. Is not my business who has been lost. As you say, we all are haunted by the ancestors’ spirits. Even now, I hear them prattling about revenge and what I must do to make them happy again. Will be many long nights of hearing my mama telling me how I have let her down, not that this is new thing.”
“You hear your dead speaking?”
“Is not so clear as that, but yes. My people are sometimes born with the gift to hear their ancestors boss them about. When we get back to daylight, mayhaps we ask your lost ones to speak to you, yes? Will be suitable reward for dragging these old bones through the water, I think. You may need to drink with me to learn, but I think I can teach with enough time, and time is not so much something we lack if we continue following green man, yes?”
“I would like that,” Raeln admitted, though he felt foolish for even going along with the man’s ramblings. Still, he had seen the dead walk, old gods rise to battle beside mankind, and an orc walk the bottom of a river. Who was he to question whether a nomad could call forth the words of the dead? It would be good to say good-bye to Greth properly, instead of watching his body go cold.
Lying down on his back, Yoska appeared to be forcing himself to relax and slow his breathing, applying firm pressure to his side. He soon closed his eyes to wait, though Raeln could see his chest rise and fall, reassuring him Yoska was not dying from his wounds—at least not yet.
The time passed very slowly and Raeln eventually settled into the mud, staring toward the faint light that he hoped would lead them out. That light faded gradually, but On’esquin did not show himself. As the daylight began to disappear, Raeln grew more worried, wondering if On’esquin had abandoned them. He had no desire to wait for the cavern to become completely dark, giving him precious little remaining time.