The Spaces Between (A Drunkard's Journey) (24 page)

“What on…” Zhy began.

“Magic,” the small-man replied. “Another trap. Well, not a trap, but…who in their right mind would walk into such blackness?” He sniffed. “If the explosions didn’t kill you, you’d surely not take two steps into that darkness, would you?”

Zhy shivered despite the sudden warmth the sun brought. It was cold here. Colder than anything he had ever imagined. “No—no, I would never.”

Qainur grunted and started forward; finally, he let his arm drop.

After their eyesight had returned, they noticed that a trail, barely wider than a man’s foot, meandered out of the tunnel and hooked sharply to the right. The narrow trail followed a ridge atop a colossal canyon, its bottom barely visible. Snow covered the trail, but a deep rut indicated a pathway. The canyon shot down to their left; to their right, a solid line of balsam reached to the sky, roots hugging a sheer rise.

“Trees?” Zhy wondered in awe.

“Indeed,” Torplug replied. “This must be fertile soil here…or something else.”

“Ambush,” was all Qainur said, his eyes warily looking upward, while simultaneously trying not to slip on the trail.

“What?” asked Zhy.

“It is a perfect place for an ambush,” the mercenary replied before Torplug could. “A drop-off here. Over there the trees so thick you can’t see anything. A few arrows, or even a quick shove, and we all die. Those trees are thick enough to hide a small army! And look how high they go!”

Torplug eyed the woods nervously and rubbed his hands together.

Qainur seemed to read his thoughts. “Please don’t try to burn these trees. It would not do any good. They must go back a hundred leagues!”

“No, I have no intention of setting a fire. Not now. I’m just nervous.”

“As am I,” replied Zhy.

The three travelers wound their away along the ridge and admired the tall trees as they whistled in a light breeze, although admiration was tempered with tentative steps along the narrow trail. Each man cast nervous glances in all directions, though it was imperative to focus on careful steps. The narrow trail forced them to snake along single file. As they rounded a slight bend in the trail. Qainur whistled.

“It’s gorgeous,” Torplug said, his mouth open. “Look at all the mountains! They stretch on forever...the Spires of Solitude, boys, the Spires!” Indeed the mountains did stretch beyond the horizon.

“Except for that,” Zhy said, pointing down to his left. The drop was direct and deadly. “One bad step and we’re—”

“Don’t remind me,” Qainur said, his jaw set.

Zhy was not certain what was north or west or south anymore, but guessed they were moving in a northerly direction.

For a few brief moments, the sun warmed them on their careful journey. Then high clouds floated in, and the green trees took on a duller hue; the snow looked almost purple in the darkening light. Suddenly, the whisper in the massive trees built into a growling intensity, and they started swaying violently in an intense wind. The wind was strong enough to push the travelers around. Its howl was that of the dying
gherwza
, and the massive branches of the trees cracked and snapped as they were violently whipped into each other. To Zhy, the air smelled of electricity—like an oncoming spring thunderstorm, and he swore he heard rumbles of thunder far up in the sky, but the wind drowned almost all sound.

“What in ...” Qainur wondered, his eyes darting up to the sky. Black clouds raced across the horizon, only inches above the tips of the pines it seemed. Wispy clouds raced ahead under the thick blanket. Soon large snowflakes started falling lazily.

“Snowstorm!” Torplug shouted. He did not look at the suddenly leaden atmosphere, nor the falling snow, but furiously scanned the trail ahead of them, desperately seeking some cover.

Zhy followed Qainur’s gaze. For all the ubiquitous stretches of their journey, this suddenly sucked the breath from his chest. Snow. Snow. Living in southern Belden had sheltered him from the snow and the cold. He watched in awe as the large snowflakes gave way to smaller crystals, which fell lazily for a few minutes and then gradually gained intensity.
It was like a rainstorm
, he thought.

But his wonder started to fade to fear as the snow increased its intensity from a gentle shower to an all-out hurricane of snow. It seemed as if someone had up-ended a continent-sized bucket of cold powder. “What in Sacuan’s scro—” The oath was severed when Torplug screamed.

“Blizzard!” Torplug swore over him. “We need to find shelter or we will be buried. And for me—” he gestured to himself, already covered in a quarter inch of snow, “That won’t take long!”

“Gaah!” the mercenary spat, trudging through the thick falling blanket.

Zhy fought through the rapidly-falling snow, trying to reach Torplug, who was already knee-deep. “Man, you are going to be buried, come on!”

“I can’t move!” the mage screamed. “This is not—” he wiped snow away from his face—”natural! Qainur!” he barked. The mercenary turned. “Get over here!”

The burly man forced his feet through the deep snow. He could not get his feet up and over the top of the snow, so he plowed his way though, cursing. “Come on, Torplug,” he said, reaching down and picking the small-man up. He heaved him over his shoulder and continued forward.

“I’m not—sure—I can—make—it,” Zhy said. The snow was up to his thighs. “Just push through it!” Qainur barked over the roar.

Zhy moved an inch forward and felt as if he were walking through solid rock. Looking up at the rise to his right, he thought perhaps there would be more shelter beneath the tall trees, but they would never get there at this pace.

Qainur emitted every curse he knew as he hauled Torplug along. Suddenly, he shouted and pointed. A black smudge opened up ahead of them in the rock. Zhy hoped it wasn’t moss or a discoloration in the rock.

“There! There! A cave!” the mercenary barked as he tried to push forward

“I can’t...” Zhy groaned over the wind.

“Push forward!” Qainur barked. Snow whirled around them in violent cyclones, stinging every inch of exposed skin.

“Sacuan’s—” Zhy screamed and forced his legs forward. He reached Qainur in time, and the strong man grabbed him and pushed forward. As one they fell into the opening of the cave, panting.

“This is far too convenient,” Torplug howled over the roar of the blizzard. But no one stopped to think. They made great haste and dove further into the safety of the dark hovel. Looking back out into the mountainous world, they saw nothing but white as the blizzard hammered the countryside.

“I wonder how far back this goes.” Zhy wondered, staring into an abyss. Where they were sheltered, the rocky walls of the cave closed in a few inches above their heads. Snow was swirling into the cave and starting to pile up. They inched backward and noticed that the ceiling had opened up beyond their view, and the rocky walls faded back into an unknown abyss.

Qainur was staring into the blinding snow. He turned slowly. Zhy saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. “I don’t know. Could be miles.”

“Hmm,” Torplug mused. He shivered. “I wonder if there is any fuel for a fire back in there? I’m cold.”

The mercenary looked at him, his eyes wide. “But how can you see back there?”

Torplug smiled, but said nothing. Instead, he answered with a spell. He snapped his fingers and muttered something. A small blue light appeared in front of his right hand, which he had clenched in a fist. There was not much light given off, but enough to highlight the gray-brown walls of the cave as they stretched back into the mountain. The ceiling of this place was still invisible, but Zhy was taken aback by the strangeness of the walls…it wasn’t their dull granite color or their smoothness—but what was painted on them.

Someone had painted elaborate drawings on the walls, and the drawings covered the cave wall as far as he could see. There were fur-clad people fighting large beasts, people huddled around campfires, women stretching thread between looms, and countless other scenes that would take years to catalogue.

“Wights!” the young mercenary blurted, staring at his companions.

“What in the—” Torplug replied, staring at the drawings.

Zhy was also staring at the primitive art. “Qainur, look at these people…they look like you and I!”

Qainur looked closer. Then he smiled. “So I guess they were not demons after all.”

“Who knows?” Zhy shrugged. He stepped closer to examine the drawings, but Torplug snuffed out his magic light.

“I can’t keep that up for too long,” he said. He sounded out of breath.

“Well, I guess we’ll sit and wait out this storm,” Zhy said, looking out into the howling blizzard.

“Aye,” Qainur said gruffly. Hours seemed to pass in the cave and the three watched the storm with interest. But as the daylight started to dim, the mood soured. It was obvious that the storm was not going to pass over quickly.

Torplug used the magic light sparingly and was lucky enough to find dried wood deeper in the cave. But he scampered quickly back to the entrance—the deepness of the cave was unsettling. Every so often, a brief gust of wind would flow up and touch their faces. It was a warm and damp wind, leading them to believe that water was deep down in the cave. But it also carried a smell that was musty and cloying.
It smells like a wet dog
, Zhy thought
.

“Something…is down there,” Qainur said, nervously eyeing the darkness of the cave.

Torplug had piled his wood and looked back, his eyes wide. “Yes,” he said quietly.

Well, isn’t that nice?
Zhy thought to himself. “Wights?” he asked, but the word sounded very strange coming from his lips.

“I’m not sure I care to know,” the mercenary said. He was trying to sound brave, but his voice faltered. “We should stay close to the entrance in any case.”

“Are you sure the seith isn’t down there somewhere?” Torplug asked.

Qainur scratched his head. “No, I don’t think so. The documents I found describe a castle. Plus—well…” he trailed off. His glance went from the whiteout at the mouth of the cave, back into the darkness inside.

“When do you want a fire?” Torplug asked, cutting off whatever train of thought was coming. He sniffed loudly.

“Is that all you found?” Zhy asked.

“Yes…well, I didn’t look very hard.”

There was silence, and no one answered his question, but he did not seem to mind.

“How long will this storm last?” Qainur asked, staring out into the mesmerizing whirlwind of snow.

The mage shook his head, following his gaze. “It is hard to say. In the mountains, storms like this can last hours, or days. We are still somewhat in early autumn, so there is hope much of it will melt.”

Zhy groaned. “We brought so few possessions with us. I hope it does not last for days!”

“Well,” Qainur said, stretching. “We will need to ration, then. At least we have water!” he pointed at the snow.

The three laughed nervously.

A gust from below caught their noses, and they grimaced at the unbearable stench.
It’s getting worse
.
Or closer
, Zhy thought, a second before they heard it. Whatever
it
was, it was big.

The breeze from the depths suddenly shifted from a random tuft of wind to a discernible pattern.
Huff-huff-huff
. It took a few seconds for the travelers to realize that was no longer the breeze, but breathing. Something big. The ground shook as huge feet padded the floor. A massive snort of some kind reverberated in the cave.

Qainur was quick to draw steel, and Torplug set out another magic light.

Zhy stumbled backward at the sight of a massive brown bear just a few yards into the gloom. Its huge black nose sniffed the air and he snorted. The eyes blinked at the light. Qainur held his sword out, and Torplug started to cast a spell, but the big bear didn’t charge. Instead, it cowered like an abused puppy and took a step backward.

“What…?” Zhy wondered.

“Back me up Torplug!” Qainur roared. He paid no attention to Zhy. He had suddenly charged the great beast. Torplug tried furiously to find a point of attack, but Qainur was too fast and was atop the great beast. To the surprise of everyone, the beast did not charge or make any attempt to swipe at the mercenary with its deadly claws. Instead, it slunk further backward, in a defensive stance. Torplug had no need to cast a spell as the great mercenary gashed the huge beast’s throat and stepped back. The bear looked up with stunned eyes, then slowly slunk to the floor as the life poured out of it.

Torplug and Zhy stared at the corpse. Zhy was still not used to seeing things die—well, large things, in any case. He’d seen countless roosters, chickens, and goats slaughtered, but he still was not used to humans or large animals pouring their blood out into the heartless ground.

Qainur, either through his stubbornness or callousness, assessed the situation coldly and gruffly. “We now have dinner.”

Torplug was staring at the beast as well, and he simply nodded his head slowly.

“And how will we cook it?” Zhy asked, looking back at their meager pile of wood. Then he looked back at the corpse of the massive beast. His hackles rose suddenly, and he had to turn away and focus on the snow.

Torplug and Qainur looked at each other. “Well…” Qainur began, “if…if…” A pause as he thought.

The mage finished the thought. “If there are other beasts, and they are just as timid, I think we can search more of the cave for fire wood.”

Zhy nodded, still looking into the snow. “I can—I can stay here,” he said quietly.

Qainur grunted. “Then let’s go looking.”

* * *

The two returned after about fifteen minutes, and each held an armful of wood. “There’s more,” Qainur said, panting, as he dropped the pile unceremoniously near the existing pile. He and the small-man disappeared without a further word.

Once they returned, Qainur began the gore-filled task of dressing the bear. There was a tremendous amount of meat that was produced. Zhy was amazed at the thick layer of fat between the skin and muscle. Qainur took over an hour to cut out a countless number of slabs of meat.