Riddle in Stone (The Riddle in Stone Series - Book One) (24 page)

Do you remember the tale of Sir Loran? Remember how he followed the River Gullion out of the Red Mountains?

Yeah, but that story was probably a lie too.

The darkness deepened around them. Edmund could barely see Pond Scum an arm’s length away, humming to himself. Pretty soon, if they wanted to see, they’d have to start burning the scraps of wood that he collected or light a torch. Pond Scum yawned.

River gate . . .

Maybe it’s nearby.

Maybe . . .

“I can’t wait to get home,” Edmund muttered to the growing shadows.

Pond Scum yawned again. “Me, I’m just happy to be out of the damn pit.”

“You don’t want to go home?” Edmund asked, surprised. “Don’t you have family?”

“Family? Sure. I was married before I was brought here.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, we had two terrific kids . . . and one I really didn’t care for.”

Pond Scum appeared to be serious.

“You did? Why . . . why haven’t you mentioned them before? Don’t you miss them?”

“Miss them? Sure. But I have my memories of all the good times we had. That’s all I really need.”

“It doesn’t particularly sound like you are too anxious to get back to them.”

“Filth, you might find that you can’t go back. I mean, what you remember, what your home means to you, may only exist in the past, or in your mind. That’s why I don’t have any real desire to return. I just want to live the rest of my life as well as I can.”

Pond Scum strained to stifle a yawn.

“Besides, my wife is probably remarried. The kids have all grown up and gone on with their lives. I wouldn’t want to complicate things. They’re over me by now. I want them to be happy and cherish what we had and to nurture what they have now, whatever that is.”

You might want to think about what he just said. He isn’t as stupid as he lets on.

Pond Scum rolled over on his back.

“If you don’t mind, I’m a bit bushed, all the excitement and everything. I’m going to sleep the sleep of the dead. Wake me up when breakfast is ready.” He yawned louder. “Thanks again, Filth.”

“Call me Edmund,” Edmund replied. “And yeah, I’m exhausted, too. It’s been a day I’d rather put behind us.”

“Edmund, eh? I thought you would be a Henry or maybe an Arthur. But Edmund suits you.” Pond Scum stretched out. “Call me Pond. It’s better than my real name. Besides, it’s who I am now. Good night, Edmund.”

“Good night, Pond.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your eye?” Pond asked again.

Edmund hissed. “Yes.”

“It’ll make you feel better.”

“Shhh! Be quiet. Your voice carries. They’ll be able to hear you in every passage for a quarter mile around.”

“Sorry.”

“And stop b-b-banging your sword into everything. You might as well hit the wall with a hammer and announce where we are.”

“Sorry. I’m kind of new at this adventuring stuff. I’m a merchant by training, you understand. Textiles and the like—”

“Shhh!”

They were in a series of abandoned mine shafts far from any of the passages Edmund had previously searched. He was so far from the main tunnels he doubted that he could find his way back, even if he wanted to.

He examined the wall of collapsed stone in front of them.

There is no way you can get through that.

No, but maybe I should climb up and explore the hole in the ceiling. It seems to connect with another fissure.

Don’t be stupid. Follow the mines. They have to go somewhere. Natural caves go on forever. But mines have to have an exit.

Edmund touched a beam supporting the mine’s ceiling. The wood crumbled and toppled to the ground just as Edmund leapt out of the way. The echoing clatter rolled through the passages around them.

“Hopefully nobody heard that,” Pond said.

“Even if they did,” Edmund replied, “they wouldn’t pay much attention. There are cave-ins all of the time around here. That’s why I’m reluctant to take any of these tunnels.”

He swept his torch across a wall of silver cobwebs blocking another opening. The webs sizzled and disappeared in a great puff of grey smoke, revealing a passage heading steeply downward into darkness.

I don’t like the looks of that decline. Coming back up will be difficult, if not impossible.

Rivers are likely to be lower than higher. You should head lower.

Edmund listened again. There was flowing water somewhere nearby. But the constant echoes made it difficult to pinpoint exactly where it was.

The black smoke from his torch wafted into Edmund’s face, making him cough.

He hated torches. They gave off too much light and their oily smoke left a scent trail that a blind man could follow for hours. Further, he couldn’t simply turn off a torch like a lantern. There was no hiding with a burning torch. However, they were out of oil and they needed light.

Edmund took a few steps into a passage to their left and reconsidered his options.

“Why did you stop?” Pond whispered.

“I’m trying to determine which way to go,” Edmund said, annoyed.

“The water sounds like it’s coming from up ahead.”

“It isn’t about sound,” Edmund said with forced patience. “The echoes are coming from all directions. What I’m trying to ascertain is if any of these p-passages were created by water.”

“Why?”

“Please, just, just stop talking for a moment. I need to think.”

The echoing of their voices settled into the surrounding stone. Edmund pondered his options. Pond tapped on his shoulder.

“I hear it again,” Pond whispered. “It’s closer this time.”

“As I said before, it’s just echoes. Rocks fall. Passages collapse. Dripping water hitting st-st-stone sounds like a hammer or people running. You’ll get used to it. Now please, just give me a moment to think.”

He listened at each dark passage. The sound of rushing water continued unabated in all three.

“I think you may be right,” Edmund said.

“I am?” Pond replied, surprised.

“Maybe. At any rate, let’s try the way you suggested. We can always double back again if it turns out to be another dead end.”

Hunched over so that their heads wouldn’t hit the low ceiling, they stalked down a passage that angled to the right.

“What’s this on the wall?” Pond asked, pointing to a four-foot streak of discoloration in the crumbling stone.

Edmund glanced at it.

“It’s gold.”

“Gold? Why would they close these mines if there is still gold here?”

That’s actually a good question.

“It’s like throwing money—”

“Pond,” Edmund began sternly, “please . . . hush.”

Putting his finger over his lips, Pond winked.

They continued down the passage in silence for several minutes.

“Ah!” Pond said. “I can feel the moisture in the air. Good choice.”

“Perhaps.”

A few minutes later, they came to a ledge overlooking a square cavern that appeared to be an abandoned quarry. Water, falling from countless openings in the walls, poured into a clear lake glistening in the red light of their crackling torch. Reflections wavered across the cavern’s walls.

“Well, it isn’t a river,” Edmund said. “But maybe there is a tributary that leads away from here that we can follow. Hold this while I climb down. Then drop it when I reach the bottom.” Edmund handed Pond the torch.

“What? Down there?” Pond looked over the edge again, aghast. “It’s a thirty-foot drop!”

“It’s only twenty feet, if that.”

“Are you sure?”

“You can do it. Just watch me.”

Edmund swung himself over the ledge, lowered himself, and then let go, landing in waist-high water. The splash resounded throughout the cavern.

“All right,” Edmund called up. “Now you try.”

Pond looked doubtful. “Is it deep?”

“Trust me. If you can survive the pits all this time, you can do this. Just drop the torch to me first.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! J-j-just, just come on down like I did. Lower yourself and then let go. You can do it.”

Pond still didn’t seem convinced. But he dropped the torch into Edmund’s waiting hands and grabbed onto the ledge.

“Okay,” Pond said, grimacing as he lowered himself. “Here I go!”

He didn’t move.

Edmund watched him hang there, clinging to the side of the cavern.

“Come on!” he called up. “It’s a ten foot drop, if that.”

“You said it was twenty!”

“Twenty, ten . . . same thing. You’ll be landing in water either way.”

“Are you sure I won’t kill myself?”

“No,” Edmund replied. “But you can’t hang there forever. You might as well just drop and take your chances!”

“Okay.” Pond muttered something that might have been a prayer. “Here I—”

He let go and plummeted like a rock, landing next to Edmund.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, looking back up at the ledge, water dripping from his nose. “I did it!”

“See,” Edmund said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll make an adventurer out of you yet.”

They waded toward dry land.

“Did you see that?” Pond asked.

“Yup.”

“I jumped forty feet into a pool of water!”

“Forty feet?” Edmund repeated.

“At least!”

Edmund snorted. “I’m sure it was at least fifty.”

“Really?”

“No. Stick with forty. People will believe that.”

They waded to a pile of rocks leading up to the shore.

“So do you think this lake leads anywhere? Do you think it leads outside?”

“Probably not.”

“Why?”

“N-n-notice the temperature of the water?” Edmund said, scrambling up the embankment. “It isn’t freezing. I’m guessing that most of these streams don’t come from the outside.” He motioned to the numerous waterfalls tumbling down the quarry’s walls. “Some of them might even be heated by volcanic forces, which would be interesting to find. We’d certainly be warmer than we are now.”

“It feels wonderful. Maybe we could take a bath, a real bath, you know?”

“That wouldn’t be a good—”

An immense splash erupted near where they had dropped into the lake. Weapons ready, Edmund and Pond whirled around as an enormous figure stood up in the water.

“Turd!” Edmund exclaimed.

“I told you somebody was following us,” Pond said. “I knew I wasn’t crazy!”

Turd’s massive form strode toward them, thinner than he was before, but his shoulders and arms were still round with muscles. “My name is Barnatol,” he said in a commanding voice. “Prince of the Hildorim.”

“You’ll always be Turd to me,” Edmund sneered.

Turd snarled. Then he noticed their swords. He hesitated, water lapping at his knees. “Weapons? You’ve got weapons? Give me one. We can fight our way out of here. I know the way back to the city!”

“Give you a weapon?” Edmund said in disbelief. “After what you did to me?”

“What did I do?”

“‘There he is!’” Edmund mimicked. “‘Get him!’”

“I did what I had to do,” Turd shouted, his voice thundering throughout the quarry. “Anybody would have done the same.”

“He didn’t,” Edmund shouted back, jabbing a thumb at Pond.

“That’s true.” Pond nodded, smiling.

“They already knew you were there,” Turd said, taking a step forward.

Edmund pointed his sword at him.

Turd halted.

“I needed to get away! I needed to distract them. They already knew you were there. I was just taking advantage of the commotion!”

“Then why didn’t you just run? Why draw attention to yourself? Why get me caught?”

“Give me one of the weapons,” Turd repeated. “We can fight our way out of here. I can wield a blade better than Scum can, you know that.”

Edmund shook his head. “No. I can’t trust you.”

“You can trust that I want to get out,” Turd said. “And I have a better chance with you than without you. Together we—”

“No!”

With him, we’d have a better chance of fighting our way out of here.

He’d turn me in to Kravel in exchange for his own freedom. He’s probably working for them right now.

They stared at each other—Edmund high up on the rocky bank, Turd below, still in the crystal clear water.

“Damn it, Filth!” Turd said. “Give me a weapon and I’ll leave if you don’t want my help.”

“You can leave without the weapon.”

Turd’s fists tightened. The veins in his thick neck reddened. “Then give me food. You aren’t starving. That’s plain. Give me something to eat, and I’ll leave you be.”

Edmund laughed. “There’s food all around you. You’re just too stupid to realize it.”

Turd opened his mouth, eyes narrowing. Then they suddenly widened. Screaming, he jerked his leg out of the water. Blood was flowing freely from his calf. Dozens of crimson lights began pulsating in the lake around him. He screamed again.

“They’re called Carnlokë,” Edmund said. “You might know them as Red Jaws.”

Diving for the shore, Turd heaved himself up on the rocks at Edmund’s feet. Three translucent fish a foot long clung to him like leeches, burrowing deeper into his flesh, an organ above their jaws flashing scarlet with each bite. He ripped them from his legs and cast them back into the water.

“You just threw away your dinner,” Edmund said, his sword still pointed at Turd. “You must not be very hungry.”

Turd pressed down on the gashes in his calves. Blood spurted through his fingers. “You miserable . . . ” he said, looking up at Edmund.

“Like I said, food is—”

There was running.

Two goblins with fishing poles were fleeing into a nearby passage. Then Pond cried out. One of Turd’s big hands had thrown him to the ground. The other snatched his sword away. Turd put the curved blade against Pond Scum’s throat as he lay on the rocks. In the water, red lights swarmed.

“Give me food,” Turd demanded.

“Does it look like we have food?” Edmund replied, gesturing to the rags around his waist. “Where would we keep it?”

Turd trembled with fury and frustration.

“We have to get out of here,” Edmund said to him. “They’re going to raise the alarm.”

Turd studied the passage up which the goblins had run.

“If you want food,” Edmund continued, “you have to steal it from the guards. Or fish. There are also rats. But I’m not going to help you. Not after what you did. Now let Pond go!”

Turd heaved himself to his feet, his sword pointing at Edmund, Edmund’s sword pointing at him. “You’re a fool, magic user or not. You’re a fool and you’ll die here. You need me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’d rather have this?” He kicked Pond in the head. Pond shouted.

“Absolutely. And if you kick him again, you’ll die here as well.”

For several moments, they stared at each other. Then they heard goblins yelling for help. Hobbling, Turd retreated to one of the side tunnels.

“You’re a fool, Filth. I hope they cut out your other eye and leave you to wander around down here until you starve.”

With that, he disappeared into the darkness.

This isn’t the last you’ve seen of him.

Who cares? Without food he’s done for.

Edmund helped Pond to his feet.

“He always was a pleasant fellow,” Pond said, rubbing the side of his head.

“Come on. We have to get out of here.” Edmund led Pond back to the cavern walls. “Climb up there. To that opening. See it?”

Pond balked at the height. “I can’t.”

“You have to. They’re coming!”

Studying the wall, Pond shook his head.

“Please,” Edmund said. “Trust me. We have no choice.”

Nodding, Pond sized up the wall again. “Okay. What do I do?”

With Edmund instructing him where to put his hands and feet, Pond hauled himself onto a narrow shelf high above the lake. Tossing the fluttering torch by the tunnel Turd fled down, Edmund scurried up the wall like a spider.

“Why did you—?” Pond began, pointing to the still burning torch.

“Shhh! Back up and lay flat. No talking.”

Seconds later, the clanking of armor raced toward the cavern.

“There!” A goblin shouted below them. “Go get more reinforcements. Tell them what you told me. Tell Kravel. Follow the blood!”

Shouts and footfalls echoed in several directions. Then the cavern fell quiet.

“Let’s go,” Edmund whispered to Pond. “We have to get away from here before Kravel shows up.”