Shadows in the Cave (24 page)

Tsola sat beside her great-grandson, kissed his cheek, and held him. She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I fear I will never see any of you again.”

She added, in his mind and Oghi’s,
Except with the eye of the spirit
.

“Now,” she said, “gaze into the eyes of the Great Dusky Owl. Look, and look, and look, until you are there.”

Each man entered into the suns of the great eyes, painted burning gold, with tinges of orange and black portals in their centers—the doors to life and death.

The eyes blinked.

Aku jumped and nearly fell. Then he realized he was squatted on a low, thick branch of a cedar. On the next branch, directly in front them all, perched a great dusky owl the size of a man. Earthly great dusky owls hunted and killed birds twice their size, but there were no mortal birds as big as Tsi-Li.

Oghi spoke formally. “Greetings, guardian of the pathway to death.”

“To death and to life,” answered Tsi-Li, “and bearer of the knowledge of life and death.” He had a voice like the roar of distant river rapids.

He clicked his head so that his eyes pierced Aku directly. “I am told you are my great-grandson. I am glad to see you. I would say welcome, but it is painful to welcome a young man to the house of death.”

Aku said, “I am honored to meet you, Grandfather.” He looked around nervously. The Tree of Life and Death was enormous. An entire village could have nestled in its shade. Aku wondered how many creatures lived in it, not only birds but crawling things. Or did none live here, because it was the portal to death?

Oghi addressed Tsi-Li formally again. “Great Owl, Master
of Life and Death, we seek to enter the Darkening Land to rescue someone we love.”

Tsi-Li nodded his great head. “I know your mission, and I see what is in your hearts.” His head snapped from Oghi to Aku to Shonan to Yah-Su. “Oghi the sea turtle, you are worthy to enter. I say nothing of your fate.” He sized up the other three. “Grandson, Yah-Su the buffalo man, Red Chief Shonan, I give you permission to enter, and along with the permission comes a warning. No one who enters returns alive.

“I can tell you that the world of darkness is as vast as the world lighted by the sun and moon. You live on Turtle Island, and Earth has seven such islands of land, some larger than this one. The Darkening Land extends under every island, and under all the seas. In a hundred human life spans, you could never walk all of its halls. If you find the person you seek, it will be through wisdom.”

Tsi-Li waited, clicking his head from man to man, as if to see whether he was being understood.

“Your challenge, what you must do to pass back onto the earth, is to understand life and death. No seeker has yet understood. You have very little chance to come back to the land of sunlight. I am sorry even to let you attempt such a mission.”

Tsi-Li looked at each man. Aku wanted to see compassion in his eyes, but what was really there? He couldn’t tell. Something beyond mortal understanding.

“Questions?”

Aku made himself bold and said, “Who guards the other six entrances to the Darkening Land?”

“I do.” Perhaps amusement flicked in his owl eyes. “We Immortals have powers denied to mortals.” He barged on. “You have lamps?”

“Yes, Great Owl,” said Oghi, “scores of them.” Tsola
had told them to fill horns with animal fat and carry fire-starting materials.

“You know that this land will be a darkness you cannot fathom?”

“Yes,” said Aku. It must be a cave.

“The most immense cave you can imagine,” said Tsi-Li. “All the seas of the world could pour into the caves of the Darkening Land and not fill them.”

Aku hated it when someone read his mind.

“I have a gift for you,” said Tsi-Li. “I have never made a gift to a seeker until now, but you are the progeny of a woman who aroused passion in me, in fact love.”

To Aku, the Great Owl’s eyes looked incapable of any feeling, let alone tender ones.

With his beak he dropped four small bags to the ground. “These are chestnuts, roasted, ground, and mixed with honey, one for each of you. They will help you live longer.”

The Great Owl spread his wings, floated a few feet to the ground without a flutter, and stood among the huge, knobby roots of the Tree of Life and Death. The four climbed down beside him.

“We begin then.”

He put his beak to a hole in the ground no bigger than a thumb and called, “
Hoo hoodoo hoo hoo, hoo hoodoo hoo hoo, hoo hoodoo hoo hoo
.”

Aku wondered whether the number of calls, three, was significant.

The Great Owl turned his sun eyes to Aku. “Grandson, I’m glad to have made your acquaintance, even briefly.” And he flapped upward.

Downward, a voice squeaked. “Come on,” it said. They looked that direction. A pink nose poked out of a tiny hole. “Come on.”

Four human beings looked at the hole and asked themselves,
How?

“Just come!” squealed the creature below. The sound was as far as anything could get from the big, sonorous voice of Tsi-Li.

“
How?
” shouted Shonan.

“Just come!” squawked the voice.

Aku hurried to convert himself into an owl. He wanted to be able to see below the surface of the earth.

As a joke, Shonan went to the thumb hole and stuck a moccasined toe in. Even with the gear packed on his back he disappeared like the ground had slurped him up.

Like a child, Yah-Su hopped over and jumped on the hole with both feet. He and the hides lashed to his hump disappeared.

Oghi lit a horn lamp, grinned, shrugged at Aku, and followed.

Aku stuck his head in first and peered around. The hole didn’t wait but gobbled him up.

Shonan and the buffalo giant looked at their empty palms. The clubs and spears they carried had evaporated into thin air. They checked and discovered that they still had their knives. Aku still had his flutes in his claws.

“You can’t stick a spear into the dangers of the Underworld,” said the mole before them. Coppery fur, four feet like paddles, a short tail sprouting out the back end. Eyes overgrown with fur. “Call me Mouldywarp,” it said, “and follow me.”

Thick roots twisted and tangled in every direction, and from them little strings of roots tentacled through the soil. Mouldywarp crooked his way down through a mole-sized tunnel. Somehow, though they were much too large, the others slithered down behind him. The single lamp showed
nothing but big roots, little roots, and finger-like tunnels branching off in every direction. Mouldywarp four-footed downward without hesitation.

“Can you see the route?” asked Aku.

“I have no need of eyes,” said Mouldywarp, “and yours won’t save you.”

Crook and crawl, crook and crawl, down and down they went. Dust fell on them like rain, and all except Mouldywarp sneezed it out. After a long time—Aku guessed that the roots plunged further into the earth than the branches of the tall tree in the world reached into the sky—Mouldywarp stopped on a stone ledge.

“This is where I leave you. Below is a cave with passages leading in every direction. There’s running water, so you won’t die of thirst.

“There’s no way to explain to you how vast it is. By the way, you’ll have to swim sometimes. I do.” He held up his paddle paws.

“Let’s remember,” said Aku, remembering his experiences with Tsola, “nothing grows in caves, nothing at all. There’s no light.”

“It is the land of the dead,” said Mouldywarp. He
ahemmed
. “If you’re going into it, go. I’m just a conductor, and I don’t spend time on good-byes to people I’m not going to see again.”

The four stepped down into the stone cavern, and were greeted. It was a cacophony of misery like none other ever heard, a subterranean chorus of howls, wails, shrieks, sobs, moans, and ululations echoing through canyons and tunnels of stone that circled the earth, a symphony of human woe.

They were stunned by it, paralyzed in mind, emotion, and body.

After a long time Shonan put his mouth to Aku’s ear to talk. “What do you see?”

“Not much, and nothing dangerous.”

Nearly unable to hear, Aku led the way across a stone floor with his owl eyes. He pinch-footed his way forward until he felt water with a claw. “This is running, it’s a stream.” It seemed like a good idea to stop next to water. He wanted to tell them what he saw with his owl eyes, but knew he wouldn’t be heard. He decided to put his claws in the light of the horn lamp and use a crude version of the sign language. “The darkness is scary. Even to me everything is shadowy. We’re standing near where we came in, and it’s a huge room. Little passages lead in every direction—we could never check them all.”

“What dangers do you see?” signed Shonan.

Aku saw in his father’s eyes that the Red Chief was struggling with the thought of invisible threats.

“Nothing. Aside from the walls and the odd formations of caves, I see almost nothing. I expected enemies, monsters, every sort of fell creature, and all manner of evil. I don’t see any of that.”

“Don’t be foolish,” signed Shonan. “Evil beings could be anywhere.” He gestured toward the passages and alleyways that led to infinite nowheres.

“Why don’t we plug our ears?” signed Oghi. “This is hard to take.” Each man clipped a small piece of hide off his clothing, cut it in half, wadded the pieces, stuck them in their ears.

“Damn well better,” said Shonan.

Aku looked around. “As far as I can tell,” he went on, “there are no people at all, no skeletons, no rotting flesh, no hair, none of what you might guess. What I see—well, just follow me. And why don’t we save our lamp fat? It isn’t doing any good.” He grasped Yah-Su’s hand with his claws.

Shonan grabbed hands front and back and blew the lamp out.

Aku led them several hundred paces, to a wall that looked like it was flowing stone. Now the cacophony of misery was fainter, and they could talk.

“Right in front of me is—light the lamp.”

Shonan did.

“Do you see it? It’s incredible—what you might call a wraith. It’s like … like the heat waves you see above a fire. There’s no substance to it, but it’s in the shape of a person. It’s …” He hesitated, unable to believe what he was seeing, what he was saying. “Do you see it?”

They all murmured yes.

“Maybe that’s what a spirit is. And listen to that wail. The thing’s mouth is open, and I’d say it’s pointing at things that are invisible and turning its head and trying to get away. Look, there, now, it’s backing away, crawling on its feet and elbows. It’s cowering. It’s terrified.”

“Terrified of what?” said Shonan.

“Nothing,” said Aku. “Nothing that I can see.”

Shonan made a grunt of disgust.

Aku said, “There, there, it’s flipped over and is pressing its face into the rock floor and covering its head with its hands.”

“Let’s keep our minds on our mission. There’s nothing for us here,” said Shonan. “Let’s move on.”

Aku saw Oghi start to speak and stop.

They wandered around. Aku, Shonan, and Oghi couldn’t think of anything else to do, and Yah-Su seemed content to do whatever the others wanted. They came on twenty or thirty other wraiths, all far separated from the others. Some of them were crawling away from unseen threats. A number were rocking back and forth, weeping. Some were rolling
around, beating their hands and feet and even heads on the floor. Except for the wounds they inflicted on themselves by scratching, biting, hitting, and banging their heads on the stone, none of them was being attacked or hurt in any way. All were howling, yowling, crying, yelling, bellowing, screaming, wailing, shrieking, screeching, squealing, sobbing, blubbering, sniveling, whimpering, snuffling, puling, moaning, mewling, keening, or caterwauling—a monstrous mural of cries of human suffering.

“I’m tired,” said Aku.

“I’m tired of all this pain,” said Oghi.

“I can’t stand these horrible sounds in my head,” complained Shonan.

“Let’s go to the stream,” said Aku. He led everyone there, perched, and opened Tsi-Li’s gift bag. They ate.

Aku said, “Have you noticed? Whenever you eat Tsi-Li’s chestnuts, the bag refills itself.”

“Give me the ordinary world,” said Shonan. “Does this racket ever let up?”

“I don’t think so,” said Oghi. “That’s why this is called the Darkening Land and no one wants to come here.”

“But people get to go back,” said Aku.

“Yes,” said Oghi. “I don’t know how that works.”

“How long are they down there? Who decides when they get to go back?”

“The right way to come here,” said Shonan, “is by death in battle.”

“Or giving birth, or trying to be born and failing,” said Oghi.

“Whatever,” said Shonan. “Let’s just get Salya and get out of here.”

“If we can get out,” said Yah-Su.

“Tsi-Li said we can’t get out unless we gain the knowledge of death.”

“He’s talking about that old story about how mortality came to Earth,” Shonan said.

“I don’t think so,” said Oghi. “I think what we have to learn is right in front of us. I think we have to figure out what’s going on with these poor, terror-stricken people.”

“I’d rather find a way to shut them up,” said Shonan.

Oghi ignored him. “I’ve got some ideas,” he said. “I’m going to try something.”

He pulled some red lichen out of his bag and mixed it with water in a horn.

“Tea!” said Shonan. “That’s just going to use up our lamp fat.”

“It works cold,” said Oghi.

He stirred the brew thoroughly and downed it.

The world glowed faintly, even the Underworld. A thought floated idly through Oghi’s mind—the glow of the Land Beyond was partly due to the
u-tsa-le-ta.
But he didn’t want to spend his journey time on idle thoughts.

Greetings, pilgrim
, said Tsola.

The brew slanted his thinking oddly, and he was startled—he’d forgotten momentarily.
Greetings, Grandmother. I’m glad you’re with me.
He could hear the tap of her drum, as on his journey to the Land Beyond, the steady thump of a heartbeat.