The air became less foul as they walked and began to smell more of salt than sewage. When they reached the end of the tunnel, his guide simply pointed to a familiar-looking ship in the harbor and turned and walked back into the tunnel.
The water was far below the tunnel exit, and Chase stared down at the waves crashing on the rocks, hoping the water would be deep enough where he landed. Before his courage fled, he took a running leap into the harbor and struck the water hard. As he reached the surface, wiping the water from his eyes, he heard voices.
"Who goes there?" barked a gravelly voice.
Coming toward Chase was a small rowing craft filled with uniformed men. Taking a deep breath, he slipped beneath the dark water.
Chapter 20
Evil exists only in the hearts of men.
As he climbed back to the chamber atop the mountain, Nat's legs trembled from exertion as well as fear. Only the hope that he would learn something important kept him moving. Within the chamber, his visions became absolute, blotting out his current reality and showing what he thought were vivid glimpses of a likely future. Though they left him feeling nauseated and abused, he kept coming back, drawn by morbid fascination and the quest for knowledge.
Beside him, Neenya climbed, and her presence bolstered his confidence. Never before had someone shown such faith in him. As he slowly learned her language, all barriers between them seemed to fall. To trust someone so completely was a thing Nat had never believed himself capable of, but Neenya's unwavering dedication and loyalty made it impossible for him to feel otherwise.
Concern was clearly visible in her eyes as they reached the final stage of their climb, but there was something else there, something Nat could not easily define. It was acceptance, he finally decided, and he sighed. Though endeared by her devotion, Nat also felt the weight of responsibility. The Gunata, as Nat now knew the villagers called themselves, believed in him. They believed he had been sent to them to do something special, something important. Neenya had given her life over to him, leaving behind whatever it was she had done in the past, and Nat prayed he would not fail them.
When the chamber entrance came into view, Nat quailed. Only the needs of those who were depending on him drove him forward, and he practically fell into the chamber. As he crawled forward, drawing ragged breaths, the power of premonition obliterated all other thought.
Neenya held him in her arms, and when the vision finally released him, he looked into her eyes, tears streaming down his face. No words could express the horrors he'd seen, and as he pulled Neenya closer, he squeezed his eyes shut, praying that, just this once, his visions were untrue. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. His body shook in grief as his mind reconciled what he'd seen. As he wept, Neenya sang softly, rocking him to sleep.
The days merged into one long, miserable blur. Catrin could not recall how long it had been since they sold Curly, but the blisters on her feet spoke of more days than her memory could reconcile. They trudged along, surrounded by pilgrims who marched in morose silence. It wasn't a joyful journey for any of them; it was more like a death march. Like sheep to the slaughter, they put one foot in front of the other and nothing more. The people seemed to know they were going to their deaths, yet they continued.
Catrin despaired and wondered why they would leave their lives behind to seek out an idol. Even if the archmaster had mandated their presence, he was certainly in no position to enforce his edict, but they seemed not to care. From what Catrin sensed, most simply wished the misery to end.
The roads were churned to mud, at least until the snows came; then they froze, their texture sealed by frost. Ruts and frozen footprints threatened to turn their ankles, and illness began to spread. Catrin could not breathe through her nose, and a cough rattled in her chest. Benjin did what he could to secure dry places to camp and wood for fires, but the landscape was usually picked clean long before they arrived.
Large groups huddled together at night for the protection in their numbers, but Catrin and Benjin kept to themselves. They had no desire for the company, and those around them seemed to have no desire for the fellowship of strangers.
Occasionally they passed an inn, and the rosy glow that came from within beckoned to them, but Benjin insisted they save their coin for food, which was becoming increasingly expensive. Vendors took advantage of the massive migration and inflated their prices. Perhaps the shortage of food could explain away the cost increase, but Catrin resented it. She felt as if they preyed on the poor and hungry, and she detested them for it. Anger and spite were all that kept her going at times, and she used her fury to stay warm.
"You've not lost hope, have you?" Benjin asked at the end of another silent day.
Catrin remained mute for some time before answering. "Hope," she said. "Hope for what? A quick death? An end to the misery? I've no idea what to hope for. I cannot hope to save these people, and they cannot save themselves."
"Such thoughts will get you nowhere. There's always a chance that things will work out, and you're not the only one attempting to stop this madness. Others labor toward the same end, and we can only pray they've not given up," he said, but she continued to spiral into her own personal nightmare.
"Even if the statue is destroyed, what then? There are no crops in the fields. The food supply is already growing scarce, and disease is sure to follow. I begin to wonder if saving these poor wretches from a quick death is the right thing to do. If they'll only suffer slow deaths, then what good will I have done?"
"You act as if all is already lost, but the sun still shines and we still live and breathe. I, for one, plan to do whatever I can. I'll not give up until my last breath leaves my lips."
"Good luck to you, then," she said. "I'm tempted to simply lay down and die. I've no more to give, and this dreadful march will never end."
Benjin stopped and yanked her aside by her arm. His face was crimson, and she had never seen him so angry; he frightened her, and his grip was painful. "How dare you give up! Did your father teach you nothing? Anything worth doing is difficult, and this could not be more worthwhile. How could you expect it to be easy? You shame me." At one time, those words would have stung, but she simply shrugged.
"Who knows if my father is even alive? I doubt it. I'll never see him again, and if he wants to be disappointed, then let him. And that goes for you as well. Perhaps you would rather walk alone."
"It's tempting, but I'll not allow you to give up so easily. If I have to drag you by your ears, you'll fight, and you'll win, if only to spite me," he said, and a crooked smile actually tried to form on his lips.
Catrin couldn't fight him; he was right, and she knew it. That didn't make it any easier, but it did keep her moving. "You're right. I know, but I'm tired. So very tired."
"I know, li'l miss, but I'm here to help you. I'll always be right by your side. You can count on that," he said.