They had already said their farewells-Brightdawn holding Billee and embracing Moonsong, Kronn taking his sisters’ hands and promising to return, Riverwind kissing Moonsong, Catt, and Paxina goodbye. Now the Lord Mayor bowed to them, smiling.
“Kendermore thanks you,” Paxina said softly.
Gravely, Riverwind bowed to her, then turned and walked down the stairs into the tunnels. Brightdawn and Kronn followed. They did not look back.
Chapter 23
Time became meaningless for Riverwind, Kronn, and Brightdawn as they traveled toward Blood Watch. There was no day or night in the tunnels; there was only walking, constant and endless. Occasionally, they would reach a fork or intersection in the passage, and they would have to stop while Kronn consulted an old, yellowed map of the tunnels and determine which direction to take. Other times, their torches would begin to gutter out, and they would pluck new ones from the wall sconces and light them with the charred stubs of their dying brands. For the most part, however, the catacombs stretched arrow-straight ahead of them, a long throat of stone leading to the dragon’s belly. Minutes melted into hours, hours pooled into days.
Then, after what seemed like years-but was actually only several long days-the tunnel began to change.
It was barely noticeable at first-a slight warping of the walls, a twisting of the floor-so no one spoke of it, each assuming it was simply a trick of the imagination. After several more miles, however, the passage’s deformity grew more pronounced. The stone was cracked in some places, and in others it ran like melted wax. The stench of hot metal mixed with the old, familiar tang of brimstone. Faint wisps of black smoke hung in the air, writhing as they passed. It grew steadily warmer, and soon the three travelers were slick with sweat, panting for breath as they struggled on.
“This is Malystryx’s doing,” Riverwind said, his voice hoarse from hours of disuse.
“No kidding,” Kronn answered. “Actually, I’m not too surprised-we must be almost to the Hollowlands by now. She’s been using her magic to shape the land above us-it only stands to reason that the tunnels would have been warped too.”
“How bad do you think it’ll get?” Brightdawn asked.
The kender shrugged. “You tell me. I haven’t been down this way in years.”
Suddenly Riverwind began to cough, choking and gasping in the smoky air. His steps slowed, then he stopped, doubling over and hacking violently. Brightdawn ran to his side and grabbed his shoulders. “Father?” she asked, her voice rising with alarm. His face was dark red, and contorted with pain with every wracking cough. “What’s wrong? What can I do to help?”
He fell to one knee, wheezing. “Water…“ he croaked, his voice tight and strained. Sweat ran down his face in rivers.
Quickly, she pulled her waterskin from her belt, unstopped it, and held it to his lips. He took a gulp of water, sputtered it out when another spasm seized him, then tried again. He swallowed several mouthfuls, and the paroxysm passed. Relaxing, he sat down heavily and took several long, deep breaths of the foul air. “Give me… a moment,” he puffed. “I’ll be fine…”
Brightdawn nodded, then started to close her waterskin again. She stopped, though, when she saw that its neck was flecked with blood. She looked at Riverwind in alarm. His lips gleamed red; seeing her stare, he quickly wiped his mouth.
“Father?” Brightdawn asked quietly.
“I said I’m fine!” the old Plainsman snapped. Glowering, he heaved himself to his feet and started to stumble down the passage again. “Come on,” he said. “We can’t afford to waste any more time.”
Brightdawn and Kronn exchanged worried glances, then followed.
The tunnel grew steadily worse, becoming more deformed. The air became smokier and closer, the heat like an oven. After several more leagues, the tremors began.
The first was little more than a dull rumble, shaking dust from the ceiling. They looked around, worried, but the stones around them soon stopped trembling, so they carried on. Only a few minutes later, though, a loud crack resounded through the tunnel. The floor seemed to fall away beneath their feet as the whole passage shook, and they fought to keep their balance, groping at the shuddering walls. Pieces of stone-some of them several inches across-clattered down around them. The quake lasted nearly a minute before it subsided, leaving them lying, gasping and wide-eyed, on the ground.
“Trapspringer’s boots,” Kronn muttered, standing shakily. “I didn’t like that very much.”
Riverwind looked up and down the passage as he rose. “I have a feeling things will only get worse, the closer we get to Blood Watch.”
Brightdawn lay sprawled on her back, looking up above them. “Father…” she murmured. “Look at the ceiling!”
They looked up. Above them, the shoring timbers that lined the ceiling had buckled and splintered. The wood continued to crackle as the rocks above them bulged slowly downward.
“Run!” Riverwind shouted. Grabbing his daughter’s arm and dragging her after him, he turned and dashed down the tunnel back the way they’d come. Kronn sprinted at their heels, his short legs pumping.
The ceiling groaned loudly. Then there was a terrible, snapping sound as the timbers gave way. Behind them, where they had been standing, the ceiling caved in, filling the tunnel with thundering stones. A blast of dust surged past them, caking their skin and clothes. Then, echoing dully, the crash faded to silence.
They slowed, then came to a halt and looked back, breathing heavily. Through the settling dust they saw that the tunnel was gone, choked with jagged rubble.
Kronn was the first to find his voice. “I guess that’s that,” he declared.
“What do we do now?” Brightdawn panted.
The kender pulled out his map and studied it for a moment. “Unless I’m wrong, we passed a way up to the surface about half a mile back.” Nodding firmly, he folded the parchment up again, stuffed it in a pocket, and began to walk. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here before the rest of it comes down.”
Lifesbreath, the kender had called the hills south of Blood Watch, and not without reason. Wedged between the thornbush-dotted Somber Coast and the grey, barren Hollowlands, it had been a green, vibrant place. The Heartsblood River had burbled noisily through its midst, flowing among drooping cottonwood trees. Clover and wildflowers had dotted the verdant slopes. Butterflies had danced on the breeze.
No more. The cottonwoods and butterflies were gone, the Heartsblood dried up and forgotten. The wildflowers would never bloom again. Lifesbreath had yielded to the Desolation.
Kronn stared around him, his eyes wide as he surveyed the dry, blasted wastelands. The ground, which had once rolled smoothly north to the sea, was riven with jagged cracks that hissed ash and steam. Mud and tar bubbled in wide, unclean pools. The wind was scorching, merciless. To the north, jagged, rust-colored peaks jutted skyward like serpent’s teeth. And beyond, at the rim of the angry ocean, a tall spire rose toward the black, hazy sky. The top of that mountain burned brightly, like a candle atop some unholy altar. All three travelers knew, with a gnawing in their guts, that they looked upon Blood Watch.
“This is what she’s doing to the Kenderwood,” Kronn said numbly.
“Kronn,” Riverwind said softly. He was ashen with horror at what he beheld, but he fought to keep his voice from trembling. “We need to keep moving. We’re running out of time.”
The kender hesitated a moment longer, crouching down and scooping up a handful of dry, gravelly soil. He held it up and let it sift through his fingers. Then, a harsh look in his eyes, he rose and started walking north, toward the smoldering volcano. Riverwind and Brightdawn followed at a distance, leaving the kender to his thoughts.