The Five Elements (11 page)

Shanna's fingernail grip slipped and she fell, tumbling straight to her backside. Snarling, she swept a tangle of hair away and was about to leap into her work once more when she stopped. She held up her fingers. The tips were scraped raw. Several nails were torn. Her gaze slid to the floor. She'd made no progress other than to wipe away dust. Shanna sighed. This—the wealth, the dreams, the better life—wasn't for her. It never had been.

Shoulders sagging, she retrieved her vest and cloak, shuddering to put the still wet garments on but unwilling to leave either behind. Then she returned to the door and started down the hall. More braziers, always ahead of her, sprang to life unbidden. She didn't look at the floor, though the colored brilliance that lined every step continued to both tantalize and mock her. Noise from the waterfall faded until the sputtering of the braziers and the slap of her wet socks on the floor were the only sounds. She walked a great hall. At its end, a large, open arch greeted her. Light from the braziers did not reach the arch's full height, obscuring the dwarven coign indicating what lie beyond. It didn't matter. This was the only way to go. Taking a single step through, she was immediately greeted by the flares of more braziers. This time, more than just those nearest came to life. One after the other, on both sides, more braziers ignited until a circle was formed that encompassed the whole of a vast chamber. Like the great arch at the entry, the room’s ceiling was so high it remained obscured in shadow. Beneath Shanna's feet, the white, patterned marble continued. So did the gemstones. Lining the circumference of the room, set in front of the braziers which were almost against the wall, were white marble benches. Their focal point was the center of the chamber.

As she approached the space, she saw a wide, rounded depression set into the floor. Pale, golden light shone from it. Visions of gold flooded her mind as she quickened her pace. She let out an audible sigh when she saw it was nothing so grand. Seamless with the floor, the depression was a perfect half-sphere five paces in diameter. Stone partitions divided it into four equally empty sections. Shanna looked, but saw no source for the light emanating from it. There were dwarven runes carved into each section: circles and triangles and squiggly lines that meant nothing to her. She waited a moment longer for something to happen. When nothing did, she stomped her way to the chamber's other side where she very nearly overlooked a single door nestled so tightly into the wall it was near invisible. It had no handle, but swung outward easily enough from just a soft nudge. Beyond it was another hall, but smaller with a plain floor of blocked stone. There was a torch, rotted and stunted, hanging just beyond the door's threshold, but no braziers. Shanna snatched at the torch, returning to one of the chamber's braziers to light it. The moment she released the door, it swung closed without a sound. With the torch sputtering to life, Shanna re-nudged it open and stepped into the hall beyond. She let the door close behind her, realizing too late that there was no handle on the other side. More than that, the door fit into the wall so perfectly there was not the slightest sign of a seam. It was yet another reminder that the gemstones—which she'd still thought she might return to someday when better equipped—were not meant for her. She thought of marking the spot where the door opened with a smudge from her torch, but there seemed no point. She'd never find her way down to this place again. Even if she did, it would likely be flooded and inaccessible.

Figuring one direction was as good as another, Shanna held her torch high before her, turned to the right, and started down the hall. She found the architecture more familiar and unfortunately devoid of precious stones as she passed under and through embossed arches, banded doors, passages, and, on more than one occasion, great halls filled with neatly arranged pillars. She gave it all a cursory look. Just when the feeling that she was hopelessly lost tugged at her thoughts, she found a staircase going up. Up was good. She took the steps in two's and three's just as her and Aaron had so often done before all of this had happened.

What
had
happened?

She'd been so occupied she hadn't yet stopped to think about it. There'd been an earthquake. A big one. And then the flooding. When they'd discovered the door blocking their escape and, soon after, the seawater rushing in… Shanna had thought they were going to die. But then Aaron had come. Dear, sweet Aaron, who always had an idea for everything. Maybe once she'd gotten out of here and found him he'd know how to find and drain the water from the dwarven secret room. She'd split the treasure with him, of course, then they'd leave Norwynne behind and never look back. They'd buy a carriage, with horses and a driver, and travel all over Uhl. Or at least as far as the roads went. Along the way, they'd find a quaint mansion, with a quiet garden and plenty of land. She'd no idea what she'd do with the land, but she was sure she'd figure something out. In the house she'd have a full room just for clothes where she'd hang so many outfits she'd never have to wear the same one twice. It might take some convincing. Aaron had a promising career ahead of him here. But she knew she had a way with him. She was quite certain she could convince him.

At the top of the stairs Shanna shivered from the touch of a breeze. She held her torch high and, stepping forward, saw a gaping tear in the wall that looked back at her like some great eye. It was low enough that she could stand on her tiptoes and lean in. With hair blowing off her shoulders and the distinct smell of salt assailing her, she peered down the opening's length to see a jagged ruin of a passage that narrowed just at the edge of her torch's light. Chewing her lip, she considered it. The space was narrow. Almost too narrow. She'd have to crawl on her stomach and leave her light and cloak behind, but as long as it didn't close up on her, it should lead her out. She only hoped it didn't end in a sheer drop to the ocean. She let out a deep breath, bearing in mind for a moment her other options. There were so many tunnels and rooms in the Underkeep, she might wander for days—weeks, even—and still not find her way out.

Her mind made up, Shanna took off her cloak. It would only snag in the tight confines. She lifted herself up and into the great eye, turning only to wedge her torch into a slit before she began shuffling through the opening. At first, she only needed to hunch. But then she was on her knees. Two more strides and it was all fours. Even that didn't last long as she went to her belly. She kept her arms in tight, using her forearms to squirm her way forward as she gritted her teeth against the pain of jammed elbows and knees. Once she was past the reach of her torch's light, the way began sloping upward. Shanna shuffled faster, immediately regretting it as her pant leg caught on a jagged protrusion. She yanked herself free, tearing the fabric and invoking a line of pain across her thigh that brought tears to her eyes. She needed no further warning to keep her pace tempered, though such caution was forgotten the moment she heard the distinct sound of the ocean. Scurrying forward, she found the ceiling high enough to regain her knees. Then she saw the most glorious thing. The night sky, still cloudy, but bathed in moonlight. She approached the vision, stopping only when the passage went no further. She took a moment to deeply inhale the cool, night air before she took stock of her surroundings. Beneath her was a grassy expanse, far enough away she'd have to climb down to reach it. Shanna wasted no time, lowering herself slowly as she took care to keep a grip or foothold before probing for the next purchase. Places to clench a hand or set a foot were abundant. She almost made it all the way without incident. But, with ten feet still to go, one foot slipped. It was enough to send her sliding down the cliff face. Pain sliced her chin and then she was no longer sliding, but falling. The next thing she knew she was flat on her back, watching stars dance across her vision. She blacked out.

When her eyes finally opened again the stars were gone, replaced by hulking shapes that hovered over her. Rough hands grabbed her, hoisting her up while gruff voices and the smell of leather and brine dominated her disoriented senses. She felt the tops of her feet sliding across the grass. She tried to speak, but managed only an incoherent mumble. She must have passed out then, for when she next woke she was being carried. Again, she demanded release. "Let… me go." She let out a deep breath as she tried to bring her vision into focus.

"Eh?" said a man's voice.

"Let me go," she said again, this time more coherently.

"Ah, so there's some life left in you after all."

Strong hands made sure she could stand without assistance, then she was released. Shanna shook her head clear and looked at her rescuer. He was a tall man with dark, rumpled hair and a long moustache. He wore a hardened leather breastplate over a nightshirt tucked haphazardly into a pair of pants. A small sword was belted at his waist. Shanna took in others beyond him. A few held weapons. The soldier's voice snapped her attention back to him.

"You're lucky we found you, girl. The city is crawling with dwarves. We only just made it outside what's left of the walls without getting caught. You've damn near been out of it for—"

"Sergeant Tippin!" a whispered voice said. "They're coming!"

Tippin grabbed Shanna by the shoulder. "Come. We have to move."

Shanna was half-dragged along a rock-littered surface. Behind, she heard others running with her. Further away, gruff voices grew distant for a moment, but then Shanna heard a loud outburst and the shouts drew nearer. Risking a quick glance over her shoulder, she spotted torches bobbing in the darkness.

They entered a stand of trees, the lean trunks forming a protective screen as they slipped between them and into a clearing beyond. Shanna thought at first they might use the place as a refuge, but then she saw the torches ahead and she knew they were trapped.

Leather clad dwarves stormed into the clearing from all sides. Sergeant Tippin shouted for those armed to form a ring around Shanna and the others. He'd barely drawn his sword when the dwarves were on them. Steel rang. A man whose back was to Shanna grunted in pain, then he fell forward, dead. Others were cut down or knocked senseless. In moments, it was over.

The dwarves said nothing as they pushed and shoved the refugees into a line. Then, one dwarf, the leader of the bunch by his look, gestured at them to start moving. They obeyed. All but one woman, who remained still and who whispered words of madness over and over to herself. The woman was about Shanna's height, but more than three times her girth. Shanna recognized her immediately. It was Nora, the woman who meant to see her condemned to a life of drudgery and misery. The dwarf who'd gestured them forward showed her little patience: without a word, he shoved her so hard she stumbled to the ground. She stayed down, covering her face with her arms. Soft whimpers escaped her lips. Patience gone, the dwarf raised his axe to finish her off. Chaos nearly ensued. Several men made to launch themselves at their captors, but brandished weapons stopped them in their tracks. The dwarf made ready to bury his axe in Nora.

"Wait!"

Shanna hadn't realized she'd spoken, nor that she'd stepped forward, until she was right in front of the dwarf. Only Nora, lying on the ground, separated them. Shanna met the dwarf's eyes. She saw no compassion in them, no pity, but he lowered his axe. Slowly, Shanna held a hand out to Nora. The woman must have recognized her, for she smiled faintly, then accepted her hand. Together, they fell in line with the others. Shanna gave the woman's hand a squeeze.

"We're going to be alright," she said to her, as much for the woman's benefit as her own. "We're going to be alright."

A
ARON CAME ALERT THE MOMENT the skiff stopped. They were outside Norwynne, run aground in a quagmire made when the floodwaters had surged and then retreated. Just yesterday, the area might have been meadow, pasture, or plowed farmland. Now, a glance over the boat's side showed Aaron a land salted and bracken.

The eslar jumped from the craft without a word. Aaron, moving slower, attempted to stand, but he only set the skiff rocking and nearly lost his balance before Ensel Rhe yanked him out bodily. Mud oozed between his toes as he sank to his knees in the muck. While Master Rhe reached into the boat, Aaron stood in silence, watching him and shivering. Aaron had spied only a single pack with them. Master Rhe straightened with it hoisted over one shoulder. Then he put a foot to the skiff and pushed it away. They both watched it drift before Master Rhe led the both of them to higher—and drier—ground.

The first thing Aaron did was slough the mud from his feet. It was a futile distraction from the breeze that set his teeth chattering. Soaked through, he knew he'd little hope of getting his clothes dry until the sun came up. Even then it depended on the cloud cover, which as of now had diminished only enough to let the barest of moonlight through. With sunrise hours away still, Aaron was just resigning himself to frigid misery when Master Rhe reached into his pack and tossed him a bundle of clothing. He promptly unraveled a dry tunic and a thin but serviceable cloak. He had his wet tunic exchanged for the dry one and the cloak around his shoulders in moments. He rolled his wet laboratory vest up for the time being, mindful of keeping its stoppered vials, all of which appeared intact, safe. He'd put it back on once it had a chance to dry. Aaron uttered a thank you to the eslar, but Master Rhe paid him no heed as he busied himself carving a shallow depression into the ground with the toe of his boot. He gestured for Aaron to toss his wet tunic in, then he covered it with dirt and leaves. When he was finished, he did the unexpected. He drew a knife and pointed its tip at Aaron. Aaron's look of worry vanished quickly as the eslar flipped the blade so the handle was presented first.

"Here," he said. "Take this." He unfastened the knife's sheath from his belt and, when Aaron did nothing more than stare at the naked blade, plunged the knife into the sheath and again held it out. Aaron still did nothing but stare. "You'll need a weapon," Master Rhe said, "to protect yourself."