“Look-blindfish!” Moreen exclaimed, pointing into the shallow, clear pool.
Kerrick saw a number of the cave dwelling swimmers, including a pair that were a good foot and a half long. Quickly he nocked an arrow into his bow and with a few well-placed shots was able to pull two of the largest fish out of the water. The shiny creatures wriggled and flopped until, with a few swipes of his knife, he filleted and cleaned them. Bruni gathered pieces of driftwood that had collected here.
Several Highlanders took up positions along the riverbank with light spears, while others held torches, the light reflecting in erratic glimmers from the rippling surface. In short order they had plucked dozens of fish from the stream, while still more of their comrades set about cleaning and cooking the aquatic delicacies. They grilled the fish and ate some of their dried bread, while sharing a few companionable sips from their dwindling supply of warqat.
Moreen and a dozen Arktos offered to stand the first watch, giving the others a chance to sleep. It was hard to tell how long they remained here in the lightless grotto, each of them standing a turn at the watch, but some time later they were all awake, refreshed, and ready to continue.
Barq gently probed his battered face. “Doesn’t hurt as much now,” he said. “Still swollen, though. Right?”
“No, really, it looks much better,” the elf suggested, disingenuously. He didn’t say better than what.
They continued along the cave. The party formed a long column, each warrior staying within a few paces of those marching before and behind. They passed through an array of caverns, some narrow with low ceilings, others vaulting high overhead. Water became common, mostly in small streams or clear pools.
“How far do you think we’ve come?” Moreen asked when they stopped for what they guessed to be a midday rest.
“Hard to tell with all the winding around, but counting yesterday, I think we’ve gone at least ten miles,” Kerrick speculated. “That must be half way to the main citadel, judging from where we saw the mountain outside.”
“We’d better stay alert,” Barq noted grimly. “There’s bound to be more of those big brutes waiting up ahead. They ain’t gonna let us walk right into their city like this.”
The others nodded, though Kerrick was not so sure. He was beginning to think that the ogre Broadnose had been right, that this was pretty much a forgotten and remote route into the ogre citadel, not a place that any citizen of Winterheim would use for a practical purpose.
“We should be coming to that place, the Moongarden, somewhere along here,” Moreen said. “Do you suppose we’ll know it when we find it?”
In another hour their question was answered as they came through a narrow arch in the cavern passage to find themselves in a chamber much, much larger than any before. There was no way for the torchlight to reach even halfway across the huge cavern, but neither was it necessary. Indeed, Bruni quickly extinguished the light, and the companions looked around in awe.
“It’s like a forest of mushrooms,” Moreen said, gesturing to the floor of the cavern some fifty feet below them. Everywhere grew massive clumps of fungi, some the size of bushes or boulders, others as big as cottages.
Throughout the clumps of mushrooms they could see streams, some rippling over rapids, others swirling or marked by still, deep pools. Flying creatures dived and spun through the air some distance away, and Kerrick pointed out that they looked like bats-a swarm of a thousand or more.
“It’s underground,” Moreen said, gesturing to the lofty ceiling rising to a shadowy definition overhead, “but we can see everything!”
“The walls,” noted the elf, inspected the stone surrounding the arch through which they had entered. “This is a glowing lichen here, and it seems to extend all the way around this place.”
Indeed, the illumination was soft, greenish in tint, and very pleasant to the eyes. It cast no shadows but instead provided a gentle and uniform light that resembled a summer night, when the skies were clear and the white moon full with the solstice light. It struck them all at the same time, as they looked at each other and nodded in understanding. It was Barq One-Tooth who articulated the general realization.
“I think we found the Moongarden,” he said.
There was a stabbing pain in his right side. Vaguely, over a long time, he realized that his arm was twisted behind him, almost impossibly bent. Probably it was broken, he thought glumly.
Karyl Drago had very good cause to be glum. He was wedged between the walls of the crevasse, an unknown distance far below the lip.
The big ogre uttered a groan and tried to shift his body around. It was his massive belly that had lodged him here where the chasm walls leaned close together, he realized. In so doing his great girth had saved his life. He had thrown enough loose rocks into this crevasse over his years of duty here. He well knew that it was virtually bottomless. If he had slipped past this spot-he could feel by kicking his legs that the gap was much wider just below-he would have plummeted an unknown, fatal distance.
How had they managed to knock him down here? He reflected on the question, not used to analyzing his own failures following a lost fight. Indeed, he had never been beaten before, though in his time he had battled a half dozen bull ogres at once.
It was that axe! He remembered the fire that had exploded before his eyes, dazzling him, filling him with wonder. The brilliant golden-edged blade had been the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, a miracle that warmed his soul and entranced him. He had been consumed by such a sense of awe that he had gone weak in the knees just from the sight. That weakness had been enough to doom him.
Or was he doomed? With a little more determination, he wiggled around, realizing that his arm, though wrenched, was not broken. Using all of his strength, he pushed on the walls to either side and ever so slowly began to inch upward. After ten minutes he had climbed out of the narrow choke point that had pinned him and was able to support himself with his legs widespread, massive feet braced one on either side of the chasm.
He looked upward. The crevasse was not terribly wide, and he wondered if he might be able to brace himself like this all the way to the top. Grimly he pushed, lifting himself another few inches before he had to shift his feet to new perches. Now he knew he was not trapped here, not doomed.
He chuckled, a rumble echoing through the deep chasm. The chuckle boded well for him and ill for those who had left him here. He would climb out of here and go after them. It was his duty, of course, and he would not let himself fail. He had another secret reason as well. He absolutely had to have another look at the wonderful, beautiful, axe.
15
Experience had taught Stariz ber Bane that in the most secret matters of the human heart-that is, the insatiable desire for freedom-normal procedures of intelligence gathering rarely applied. Slaves who were inclined to gossip casually about trysts and alliances, who would gladly discuss thievery and betrayal in matters of lust or greed, became unreasonably tight-lipped when it came to matters of rebellion. Even bribery or torture was of little use once they clamped their mouths shut.
Thus, neither bribery nor torture was the favored tactic of the high priestess as she sought to investigate the sedition in the Nobles’ Market. Oh, certainly Garnet Dane, with his wily ways, might be able to discover a useful bit of knowledge, perhaps even a name, but when it came to learning the full truth behind such a movement, the queen of Suderhold would have to put her trust in a higher source.