Silent Hall (15 page)

“We heard that dragons used to live in these mountains,” Criton answered him. “We were interested in seeing their caves.”

“We were also wondering if we could buy some calardium ore,” Phaedra added, “if that is permitted.”

The old man scratched at his beard. “Cursed caves and sacred stones,” he said. Then he smiled. “We are a gift-giving people. Calardium and guidance are most precious gifts indeed. We are happy to provide them to our exulted guests.”

His smile was very wide. Though he spoke of gifts, there was no doubt that he expected something very substantial in return.

“May all the Gods bless you,” said Phaedra. “We are grateful for your hospitality and your generosity. I wish we had such precious gifts to give you. I'm sure you have no use for gemstones…”

The man's eyes lit up. “The very exchange of gifts is sacred,” he said. “We give what we can. The offerings need not always be of equal value.”

His manner spoke otherwise. Now that they had been mentioned, only gemstones would do.

Hunter looked warningly at Phaedra. They could not afford to spend his whole fortune on directions and a pile of rocks!

“For our people,” Phaedra said, “three is a sacred number.”

“I am curious to hear more about your people,” the patriarch answered her. “We are not so very different, though for us, the number six is sacred.”

“On the island of Tarphae,” Phaedra continued cautiously, “white quartz is considered a rare and precious jewel.”

“I find that extremely interesting,” the old man said, “since in these parts, it is the purple amethyst that is revered above other gemstones.”

Hunter could see where this was going, and he didn't like it. For one thing, his father had not given him six amethysts. Three or four might be more like it, with some additional uncut sapphires and semiprecious white quartz. He had to prevent Phaedra from giving away more than they actually had! Yet all he could think to do was to nudge her with his foot.

“A shame that we have no amethysts,” Phaedra said, “or we would most surely give you every last one. But failing that, I think it would be a beautiful thing to receive a gift symbolic of both our cultures. Six pieces of white quartz, the stone we value above others, in the number most sacred to your people.”

The elder nodded. “Yes, that would indeed be a most suitable marriage of our different ways.”

And just like that, it was all over. In exchange for a bag of warm rocks, Hunter gave over six pieces of quartz, relieved that Phaedra had spared him the amethysts, and yet privately cursing her for having ever mentioned gems to begin with.

“Tomorrow morning,” the patriarch said, “Thasa will take you to Hession's cavern, the dragon cave in Mount Galadron.”

He pointed to the mountain behind which the sun had disappeared. “You would do well to leave your horse with us, as the climb can be very treacherous. We will take good care of it during your absence, and expect to see you again the following evening. It's a hard climb, but not such a long one.”

Hunter was not sure he liked the smile on the old man's face. He was keeping something from them, Hunter was sure of it. But what could he do? At least the mountain men would provide them shelter.

They led Hunter and his companions to the largest building in the village, which turned out to be a barn. No matter. It was warm, and it kept the wind out. Even so, for once Hunter did not fall asleep first. As the others dropped off one by one, Hunter tossed and turned and remained anxiously awake. In his mind, the old man was still grinning.

T
hey set
out the following day with a townsman named Thasa as their guide. Thasa was about Phaedra's age, with wiry arms and a scraggly beard that grew in ugly little patches all over his jawline. He was not especially friendly and not especially bright, and the only redeeming quality that Phaedra could find in him was that his teeth were straight. When Criton asked him about the dragon whose cave they would be exploring, Thasa shrugged and said he didn't know anything about it, and that the dragons weren't around anymore, so who cared? After that, nobody bothered asking him questions.

Phaedra was excited to explore the dragon cave, but her excitement was overshadowed by her concern for Hunter. She had known that he was the brooding type, but until he had collapsed yesterday, she had thought he was adjusting fairly well to their new life. That was the danger with him: he was strong and quiet, and didn't make any trouble. It seemed obvious now that he had been neglecting his own needs for some time, but his presence was so solid and so stable that nobody had noticed.

Why had she stopped paying attention? It had been clear to her in Atuna that Hunter was trying unsuccessfully to stifle his emotions. He had put on a mask of stoicism, yet all along he had been the one most in need of mourning. Alone among the islanders, Hunter had had no desire to leave Tarphae. He had had no thirst for exploration, no alienation from his home. Phaedra loved her parents and her friends, but she had left them of her own accord. Hunter had been forced to leave without warning because of an oracle he had never met, and because his father cared for him. And even then he had wanted to stay. Even standing on the docks, with Lord Tavener booking his passage, he had wanted to stay. Phaedra's heart went out to him.

Today's climb was much harder than yesterday's. In some places, they had to scale fifteen feet of cliff face in order to reach any semblance of a trail. It didn't help that Thasa kept looking around nervously, as if expecting some sort of danger to be creeping up on them at any moment. Narky asked him what he was looking for, but Thasa just kept repeating, “Nothing,” in a way that made Phaedra more suspicious than ever.

“What's he so worried about?” Narky asked when Thasa was out of earshot.

“I think,” Criton said, “that the mountain clan has enemies in this area. I heard their elder tell Thasa to watch out for the farmers.”

“The farmers?” Phaedra could not imagine anything resembling a farm up here in the mountains.

Criton shrugged. “It doesn't make much sense, but I'm sure that's what he said.”

They found the cave late in the afternoon. They had reached a lower summit, and the peak of Mount Galadron stood far across from them. In between, Hession's cavern sank deep and dark, like a hole into black oblivion.

Thasa refused to go any closer. “I'll wait here,” he said. “Set up the camp, and I can watch over it for you while you go down.”

They left him there to put up their tent as best he could, considering how rocky and uneven the ground was. They had only brought one, since they had to carry it themselves. They did not leave any of their other belongings with Thasa – they weren't fools.

Before they began their descent, Narky stopped them for a moment in order to say a prayer to Ravennis. “Let fate be kind to us,” he implored, “and spare us from danger. Um, yes, I guess that's all. Amen.”

The way to the cave began with a steep decline, but the ground leveled out for a time as they approached the cave mouth. Then at last they crossed the threshold into darkness and stood for a moment, waiting for their eyes to adjust. Ahead, their path ended in a yawning chasm.

“We should have brought rope,” Criton said. “I don't know why, but I always imagined dragon caves would be more… horizontal.”

He was right. Their only rope was being used right now to put up the tent, and this black pit probably went a long way down. It was impossible to know for sure without more light. Bandu was carrying a few torches that the villagers had given them, but they would have to stay in her pack for now. It would hardly be practical to climb down there with a burning torch in one hand.

“I go first,” Bandu suggested. “My eyes are better.”

“Are you sure?” Criton asked. “The climb would be easier for me with my claws, and I could always light my way by – hey! Bandu, wait!”

The girl had already dropped down and swung her legs over the edge, feeling for a foothold. Soon her hands were gone too. Criton swore, said, “wait here,” and began to follow.

Phaedra stood nervously with Hunter and Narky, listening and waiting. Criton breathed a small burst of flame once, shedding some light on his progress, but he did not do it again. “Damn it, Bandu,” they heard him say, panting a little as he climbed after her. “You're not invincible.”

Phaedra was just beginning to regret coming here when Bandu's voice called out, “Over here! Is good over here.”

They stared down into the blackness. After what seemed like ages, an ambient glow became visible from somewhere down below.

“There's a shelf here,” Criton called up to them. “It's not that far down, but there's a bit of an overhang between us and you. Can you see well enough to climb?”

“I think so,” Hunter called back. “It looks like there are plenty of handholds.”

Phaedra looked down toward the light, and had to quickly look away again. The light from Bandu's torch only revealed more blackness below. How far down did this cavern go?

“You're kidding, right?” Narky asked. “This is a death trap. Besides, I can't climb down there holding this spear.”

“Leave it behind then,” Hunter suggested. “I doubt you'll need it down there. Here, wish me luck.”

Phaedra watched him go. His progress was fairly smooth, and he soon disappeared under the rock that Criton had called the overhang.

“That last bit is a little tricky,” he called up, “but we can help you with it when you get here.”

Phaedra and Narky looked silently at each other. Narky clearly hoped that Phaedra would volunteer to climb down before him, but she didn't feel ready for that.

“Do you want to go next?” she asked. “Then you won't be left up here alone, to go last.”

Narky shook his head. “No, you go. I need time to, uh, think.”

Phaedra shrugged, and looked back toward the edge. She did not like to admit it, but she was terrified. The thought of climbing down to the others in the semi-dark made her want to curl up in a ball and hide. Standing there quietly with Narky, she was even beginning to hear things: a sort of constant tip-tap-tap that came from somewhere far below.

“Do you hear that?” she asked Narky.

“You know,” Narky said, “I think I'll just stay up here. I don't really need to see any more of this dragon's cave in order to satisfy my curiosity. It's really you and Criton who wanted to explore down there – I'd be happy to just wait for you up here.”

“Phaedra?” Criton called out to them. “Narky? Are you coming?”

Phaedra took a deep breath. “Yes. I'm coming down now.”

It was foolish to stand here like a frightened child. Three of her friends had made this climb already, and no harm had come to them. This was only a test of her will. She smiled, despite Narky looking at her as though she was mad. Willpower had always been a strength of hers. She was her parents' daughter.

She knelt at the edge of the rocks, turned to face Narky, and lowered one foot until she found a solid foothold. She lowered her other foot, her hands still clinging to the ground above. She found that she was making a noise, a little high-pitched squeal at the back of her throat. She made herself stop. She looked down to see how far she had to go, and the distance seemed to stretch out below her.
Keep going,
she told herself.

The rocks were surprisingly warm – perhaps there were calardium deposits down here? Phaedra's foot slipped, and she cried out, but her hands held tight until her foot found purchase again. She breathed, and went on.

She was at the overhang now, what Hunter had called the tricky part. When she extended her leg, it simply hung out over nothingness. Her chest tightened. Gods, what was she doing?

She could not do this. She would climb back up to Narky. There was a foothold up by her knee that she could push off in order to reach that handhold up there and then… and then her foot slipped.

Phaedra had already been reaching for the handhold, and her chest lurched as her hand also missed its destination. She screamed as she fell, past the light where Criton, Hunter and Bandu were standing aghast, past the shelf of rock that they were standing on. Her knee scraped against a jutting rock, and her right hand, wildly grabbing at the air, tore itself upon another. Then she hit bottom on a second shelf, and her legs buckled.

She lay there for some time, unable to move. The light was dim here, only a faint glimmer from above. The others were calling her name, but she could not answer. She hurt all over. Oh Gods, she hurt all over. Her lungs were burning, and she was sure every limb was broken.

“Phaedra, are you there?”

“Yes,” she said, finally finding her voice.

“Are you all right?”

“No.”

She had images of Tana, the princeling of the Gallant Ones, lying with his limbs splayed. “There is no pain,” he had said. She tried moving her right leg. It hurt all right. Her left? Agony. At least they both moved, though. She tried to sit up. Gods above! All right, maybe it was too soon for that.

Was it just her, or was that tapping growing louder? Tip-tap-tap, tip-tap-tap. What sort of creature made that noise? Phaedra had never heard anything quite like it, but she did know one thing: it was definitely coming closer. She struggled to her feet, fighting through the pain. Her knees were wobbly and her right hand had been badly scraped, but she found that she could stand.

“Help me!” she shouted up at her friends. “Oh Hunter, Criton, help me!”

“What's the matter?” Hunter answered her. “What's going on down there?”

“Something's coming,” Phaedra said.

“Hold on,” said Hunter. “Don't move. We'll be right there. Just don't go anywhere.”

It was too late for that. Whatever was making that tapping noise, it was almost upon her. It was coming from somewhere to her left. What was that, looming toward her in the dark? She took a step back, stumbled, and screamed. She had stepped onto empty air and was falling again, or sliding, really, down some kind of rough chute. Even as she fell, the ticking was growing louder. It was coming from all sides now. She tried to slow her fall by spreading her limbs to press against the side of the chute, with moderate – if painful – success. The tunnel into which she had fallen was met by others at different points, and now and then her arm or leg would meet empty space, only to get smashed or jolted when a wall reappeared.

Phaedra's battered body finally came to a stop on something soft and moist that made a vague squishing sound when she landed on it. The smell down here was overpowering, like hundreds of dead animals rotting. She nearly vomited. What agony! It felt as if her ankle had been shattered, and she was sure she had broken at least one rib as well. There was a stabbing pain in her chest every time she breathed in. It even hurt to sit still. When she looked down, she could dimly see her ankle in the bluish light, swelling before her eyes.

Phaedra blinked. How was there light down here, so deep below the surface? It was coming from the ground, or rather, from large patches of phosphorescent mushrooms that grew on the lumpy cavern floor. Perhaps these were the blueglows that Psander had asked for. Were they the ones producing that horrible smell? Groaning, she plucked one of them from beside her and brought it to her nose. It was hard to say. The reek didn't seem to get any
worse
when she sniffed at the mushroom.

Phaedra eased her pack off her shoulders and put the mushroom inside. That was when she discovered that her pack had torn during her fall. She sighed – Gods, how that hurt! – and stuffed a few mushrooms in her shirt instead. She hoped these were the ones Psander wanted.

She looked up at the shaft that had brought her here, and saw nothing but blackness above her. The thought of climbing back up filled her with despair. She tried not to think about it. Somehow, she would survive this. She would survive and return to the surface, and in time she would surely laugh about her ineptness at climbing. They might even come to consider her fall a lucky accident. If she survived.

Phaedra began to cry, just thinking about having to climb back up to her friends. They were too far up for her to drag herself to them on her broken bones. But she had to try – what else could she do? She put her hands on the ground, so that she could push onto her good foot.

The ground squelched, and the stench got worse. Phaedra raised her hands, and found that they were covered in blood, sticky and mostly congealed. O Gods in heaven, she was sitting on a corpse! Or rather, in one. The corpse's ribs were right there beside her. The skull had mushrooms in its eye sockets.

Phaedra really did vomit this time, and it felt as though she was being stabbed in the chest each time she heaved. She wiped her mouth on her shoulder as best she could – the thought of bringing her bloody hands anywhere near her mouth was sickening. Then she froze. There was that tapping sound again! It was getting closer. Something was coming.

Phaedra sat as still as she could, hoping that she would be mistaken for another corpse. The sound was coming from one side, where another dark shaft opened horizontally. There it was! A dark, shiny something, faintly glinting in the light of the mushrooms. Was that a suit of armor?

It was an ant. An ant the size of Four-foot. Its six legs tapped against the rock and dirt of the cave floor, and squelched when it reached the bodies. O Gods, don't let it notice her! Its mandibles would be able to tear through her flesh and bones without any trouble – they could cut off her legs or drag her away by her flailing limbs, to be eaten by the nest. Phaedra dared not breathe. The ant climbed about the corpses, its meandering path coming ever nearer to Phaedra. It was eating the mushrooms, she realized with relief. These ants did not eat people! Or at least, they seemed to prefer the mushrooms. Not that this was all that reassuring, on second thought: the mushrooms were all growing out of human corpses.