“I’m sorry you asked,” muttered Jeralund.
“So am I.”
Only Jeralund carried a burning torch. The rest had extinguished their brands to preserve them for later use. Jeralund’s flame passed just under the nose of a figure standing in a niche in the wall. What he had taken for a sculpture suddenly recoiled from the wafting flame, and Jeralund gave a shout of surprise. Vixona’s higher cry echoed his. The figure was no statue; he was alive!
“Put away your swords!” he shouted. “I’m one of you!”
Hamaramis froze, unable to believe what he was seeing. “Hytanthas!”
General and captain fell on each other, embracing like long-lost brothers. Hytanthas recognized the other three warriors. Vixona introduced herself. With her writing down every word, Hytanthas quickly outlined his adventures thus far.
“You’ve been down here more than a week and haven’t spied another living soul?” Hamaramis asked.
“Not one.” Hytanthas shrugged helplessly. “Only the dead.”
“It must have been terrible for you,” Vixona said.
Torchlight played over her upturned face. It had indeed been terrible, but as he stared down into the warm brown eyes that regarded him so sympathetically, Hytanthas found himself smiling.
Hamaramis related how his party had found Jeralund. The young captain gave the human a considering look, but when Hamaramis mentioned they’d heard the Speaker summoning them, all other considerations were pushed aside.
“So it was real! I heard him too!” Hytanthas exclaimed. “We must get to him!”
They were all agreed on that point. The problem was, even with Vixona’s map, Hamaramis’s party hadn’t been able to retrace their journey. The tunnels seemed to alter after they passed through. Intersections vanished, wall paintings noted by Vixona were no longer present.
“Strange,” Hytanthas remarked. “That hasn’t happened to me. I’m just lost.”
He asked to see the map. With ink-smudged fingers, Vixona indicated her party’s path on the small page.
“We tried backtracking from the deep pit where we found Jeralund, but the passages had changed,” she said, brow furrowed. She obviously regarded it as unfair for the tunnels to belie her carefully drawn map.
Hytanthas gazed down the tunnel behind Hamaramis. “Let’s go back the way you came,” he suggested.
The general protested. Hadn’t the boy been listening? The tunnel was no longer as Vixona had drawn it.
“Nevertheless,” the warrior said and set off.
Hamaramis was put off by his blithe manner, but Vixona said, “We should follow him, sir. He’s been here much longer than we. He might notice something we missed.”
Taking the torch from Jeralund, Hamaramis and Vixona followed Hytanthas. The warriors surrounded Jeralund and brought up the rear.
Keeping his voice low, Hytanthas explained to Hamaramis how he’d been prey to hallucinations during his first few days. Those had faded, and he felt able to distinguish between false and real images. He was anxious to see if his hard-won acuity would allow him to see through the illusions that had stymied the rescue party’s attempts to find a way out.
Far down the route, Vixona’s map showed a crossing tunnel. Hytanthas found it precisely where she had indicated it would be. He complimented her accuracy. The young scribe blushed. Hamaramis was perplexed. His party had backtracked, seeking that very crossing, and it hadn’t been here.
They continued on. Hamaramis congratulated Hytanthas on surviving his encounter with the will-o’-the-wisps. The general still found it strange Hytanthas was alive when all the other vanished elves he’d come across were dead. Hytanthas hadn’t mentioned his discovery of the warrior Ullian, whom he suspected of having taken his own life. He didn’t know why Ullian had awakened down here, and until he could report to the Speaker, he wouldn’t engage in speculation. He had no doubt at all why he himself had awakened.
“The Lioness called me back from death,” he said simply.
Vixona looked up from her note-taking.
“I heard the commander’s voice. I was falling into oblivion, most certainly never to return, but I heard her voice and it drew me back.”
Hamaramis offered no comment. They passed a large radial crack in the tunnel wall, positioned exactly as Vixona had noted. Next would come a southeast-northwest crossing passage, she reported. Hytanthas walked faster.
Jeralund, plodding along near the rear of the group, considered trying to escape, but wandering alone and unarmed in the tunnels seemed a far worse fate than remaining with the elves. The conversation also had given him food for thought. Why had he awakened when so many others had not? He had heard no voice calling him back. He simply awoke as from a sound sleep. Perhaps the magic of the floating lights affected him differently because he was human.
Vixona gave a cry of triumph. The intersection was exactly where she had drawn it.
Hamaramis could hardly credit their success. His party had been able to find none of the landmarks on the map once they passed them by.
“Are you a wizard?”
Vixona’s question earned a smile. “No, just a hard-working fellow trying to earn his pay,” Hytanthas said. “Maybe the lack of light helped me overcome the visions.”
They skirted the pit where Jeralund had been discovered. It was silent and dark. The throbbing sound and faint glow were gone. Hytanthas pointed to the footprints left in the dust earlier by Hamaramis’s party. It was a sign they were getting near the surface, he thought. Deep in the tunnels, where he’d first awakened, the floor was covered by a thick layer of bones. That thinned until there was only hard stone that didn’t show footprints. Here the floor was covered by dust that filtered down from above.
Hytanthas jogged through the last intersection and started up the southeast passage. The others followed until he stopped suddenly, causing Hamaramis and Vixona to blunder into his back. His arms were outstretched to prevent them passing.
“Listen!” he hissed.
A metallic ringing came to their ears. There were three distinct rings, a pause, then three more.
“That’s our signal!” Hamaramis exclaimed, rushing by the immobile Hytanthas. “The Speaker is calling us back!”
The warriors, bringing Jeralund with them, crowded in behind their commander. Hytanthas trudged tiredly up the rising tunnel after them. Only Vixona remained with him.
“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “General Hamaramis is right. It’s our signal.”
Hytanthas nodded. He didn’t doubt it, but another realization had stolen away the joy of his escape from the tunnels. The other vanished elves hadn’t been as fortunate as he. He was bringing the end of hope for a great many families.
Vixona took his arm. “We came to rescue you, but you saved us. The Speaker will honor you for your deed.”
Hytanthas looked down at her hand. Although ink-stained, it was well formed, the hand of a strong elf woman. He took a deep breath and increased their pace.
On the surface by the overturned monolith, rain fell in fits and starts. The sun had vanished behind the western mountains, and the last light of dusk was fading from the cloudless sky. Torches had been lit. A large plate of hammered bronze hung in the pit. A mallet rested against it. By hauling the plate up and letting it drop sharply, the elves made the hammer strike. Taranath was there, back from his long patrol. He ordered the gong rung again. The rope gang drew up the heavy plate and let go twice. Before they could do so a third time, something in the pit took hold of the rope.
Hopeful but cautious, Taranath ordered archers forward. The rope twitched and twisted. A voice from the pit shouted, “We’re here!”