Stretching ahead, there were many more.
Chap followed as Chane and Ore-Locks climbed those ancient steps. Soon the fragments became slightly larger, and Chap noticed they formed two straight lines with open ground in between.
“It was laid down long ago by my people’s ancestors,” Ore-Locks said quietly.
The path began to curve and snake. They weaved their way through wind-bent trees, jagged outcrops, and rougher terrain, but the path always continued. Finally, like the Slip-Tooth Pass below, the path of rock fragments simply ended at the crumbled side of a cliff covered in heavy brush.
Chap looked to Ore-Locks.
—Where is ... the entrance?—
Ore-Locks glanced back, extended a thick finger in his grip on the chest he carried, and pointed toward the brush. He crouched, set down the chest, pulled some of the brush aside, and sidestepped through while pulling the chest along. In the dark, he appeared to pass into the cliffside itself.
Was this another trick of the stonewalkers?
Chane dropped to his knees, crawling as he pushed his chest along in front of himself. Halfway into the brush, he paused to look at Chap.
“Come,” he said.
Then Chane pushed through and vanished as the brush snapped back into place.
Chap finally followed but did not see the narrow, downward hole until he had wrestled himself halfway in. By the light of a cold-lamp crystal held by Chane, at first all that Chap could see was the undead’s backside.
A strange gust of stale air blew over him as they emerged in a more-open area.
Chane held up the crystal. Ore-Locks stood farther in, and the crystal’s light exposed a stone archway directly above them. They were in a tunnel.
The ceiling was so low, Chane was not able to straighten up, and he remained buckled over as he lifted his chest.
“Go on,” he told Ore-Locks, and the dwarf led the way.
Chap began to wonder how much farther they would go, when finally, Chane emerged into a large open area. Chap followed as Chane glanced back.
“This was once like the market cavern outside the Cheku’ûn tram station,” he said.
Chap made out large, dead crystals anchored high on the walls. He remembered the station that he and Chane had visited at Dhredze Seatt. Glowing orange crystals above had offered warmth and light amid booths and tents and the scent of roasting sausages. He could barely picture such in this long-dead place.
A large archway dominated the chamber’s far side, and there stood Ore-Locks, waiting. It took longer than Chap expected for him and Chane to cross that immense space.
Ore-Locks led onward again. In the next cavern, Chap found himself before an enormous platform at the chamber’s center. In the back wall was a large tunnel with three lanes of tracks leading into it.
What troubled him most were the long-dead trams with their lengths of cars stretched out behind them at all the docks. Whatever happened here ages ago, those trams had arrived here and never returned to their origin. And if such were needed to reach the ancient seatt ...
“Over here,” Ore-Locks called before Chap could wonder if any of the trams still worked.
The dwarf led them down the tracks and into the tunnel to find a good-sized cart made of solid metal. Its platform was thick with a high-sided iron storage box on the back end. Perhaps the cart had once been used to service the tunnel and tracks. More notable, it was already loaded with supplies, enough to crowd the cart’s two-man pump.
Padding closer, Chap spotted a cylindrical dead crystal the size of his own torso secured at the back of the metal box. It was tied on in a series of loops with a thin rope. Without hesitation, Ore-Locks set down his burdens and hurried over. He untied the crystal and walked around to the cart’s front. Chap followed and saw a simpler iron box on the cart’s other end, and there was Ore-Locks relashing the dead crystal.
Puzzled, Chap could not keep silent.
—Why ... the dead ... crystal—
Ore-Locks no longer flinched and only frowned at the words popping up in his head.
“They still absorb and amplify light,” he answered. “Something we discovered on our last visit. Chane?”
Chane had stowed his chest in the pump cart and stepped forward to hand Ore-Locks a cold-lamp crystal.
“Step back,” Ore-Locks said, and even he looked away.
He swiped Chane’s crystal furiously on his pant leg until it was almost too bright to look upon. And he touched it to the larger dead one on the cart’s front.
Chap yipped, shut his eyes, and back-peddled as light exploded from the cart’s front, illuminating the tunnel ahead for a long distance. Chane shielded his eyes as well and glanced down.
“My crystal would not provide enough light to travel safely at high speed, and we will be moving swiftly with Ore-Locks or me at the pump. Prepare yourself.”
Chap grew sick to his stomach as he eyed the cart.
Nights—and days—slipped away, and in the permanent darkness below the range, Chane could only count them by when he fell dormant.
Now, as he once again took his shift at the pump, he listened to the creaking and clattering of the cart.
The pump cart was filled with gear and supplies, stowed or lashed. Chap barely had room to curl up behind Chane’s feet. Ore-Locks knelt at the front of the cart, peering ahead, perhaps looking for anything that might obstruct the tracks.
“Try to sleep,” Chane said to him.
“Soon,” Ore-Locks answered, without looking back.
Chane pumped by night, and Ore-Locks by day. And while the living did not need to sleep a whole night, Chane had no choice but to sleep for the whole day, even here beneath the earth.
There were brief times when Chap grew too sick to ride and took to loping along beside the cart.
That was frustrating to Chane and Ore-Locks, who had to slow down in order not to leave Chap behind. However, Chane understood Chap’s need, though did not comment on it.
The same journey the last time—the first time—had been hard on Shade as well. The majay-hì were not suited to living without sunlight and fresh air for so many days in a row, unlike an undead and a dwarf. The only thing Chane could do was to press onward as hard as he could while awake and when Chap could tolerate the ride.
They stopped for brief periods so Ore-Locks and Chap could eat or to gather water from trickling cracks in the tunnel wall. In this way, they reserved the water in their stowed flasks.
After a while, the monotony of stone walls racing by began to take its toll, even upon Chane. He missed the moon, stars, and open sky. Only Ore-Locks seemed unaffected and able to recognize—remember—familiar points in the tunnel that Chane did not.
Tonight, Ore-Locks suddenly rose and raised a hand, still watching ahead. “Ease off. We are approaching the cave-in.”
Chane released the pump and grabbed the brake lever, prepared to apply pressure. And when Ore-Locks began lowering his hand, Chane did so—and more each time the dwarf’s hand lowered yet again. Until the cart finally squealed to a halt. Chane found himself staring ahead at something he had almost forgotten.
Another empty cart sat on the tracks ahead. On their first visit, when they had come back out of the seatt, they had found a second pump cart as if someone had followed them. Chane had never learned who. As a result, they had taken that cart—as it was positioned on the track behind their own—to make their way out of the range and Bäalâle Seatt.