"I wonder if I'd feel better if I died," she said. She was sitting with her knees drawn tight up to her chest, her face buried in her arms.
I glanced around for help, but none of the others seemed to have heard. The thought was scary, even in the context of the game.
"I—" I started, having no idea how I was going to end.
"Shhh," hissed Robin, and a moment later I heard it too, the clump of heavy booted feet, the jangle of armor.
I jumped to my feet. "Let's get out of here."
"No," Thea argued. "The only way we'll ever escape is to find someone who knows his way around. Let's move down to that corridor entrance and hide. See what comes."
"What if whatever comes, comes down that corridor?" I asked, disoriented by the echoes.
"You've got a sword," she pointed out. "I don't know what you're worried about."
Ouch. A slam against my valor. I pulled the dagger from my belt and held it out to her. All the others had iron weapons, which we elves couldn't use; I was the only one with bronze. But it galled her to have to take charity from a Silver Mountains elf, I could tell. And I had to fight my inclination to hoard both weapons, just in case.
She snatched the knife. "Cover that torch," she warned Cornelius.
Cornelius, not willing to trust any of us with the treasure box, juggled both items and couldn't manage.
I took the torch, put it on the ground, and sat on it—one advantage to an illusionary light.
Seconds later someone from our group sniffed, very softly.
Carefully I inhaled. It was either two-week-old bacon, or orcs.
They didn't carry torches, since orcs can see perfectly in the dark, but when I glanced out from our side passage, I could see the glint of their eyes. Twelve glowing amber buttons, indicating six orcs. One for each of us. We could handle that. (Or twelve one-eyed orcs walking in pairs. We could handle that too, just not as easily.) Either way, I'd be fast, so I could help my mother with hers.
So softly she could barely be heard, Thea said, "Ready?"
I put my left hand on the shaft of the torch. Somebody had to bring it, or we wouldn't be able to find the orcs when they blinked. My right hand already held my sword.
"Go!"
We leapt out of our hiding spot. Holding the torch, I could see the surprise on the faces of the orcs before we bowled into them.
The trouble with orcs is, even though they're stupid, they're born fighters. I mean, that's an orc's idea of a good time—battle, pillage, and burn. You can surprise them, but the advantage doesn't last more than two seconds.
I found myself faced up against an old veteran of an orc who was missing one ear. Instead of a sword, he had this enormous club, about as big around as my waist, with metal spikes sticking out of it. When the orc saw me, he grinned, displaying many sharp teeth.
"Heh, heh, heh, warrior elf," he said, though it sounded like what he meant was: Oh, nice—white meat for a change.
Thea may have wanted someone to lead us out of the caves, but I certainly wasn't going to mess around trying to convince this guy to play tour guide.
I tried for a quick jab, but the orc skipped back out of my way, faster than you'd have expected from such a stumpy, twisted body.
"Heh, heh, heh, warrior elf," he said again.
I feinted to the right, then swung my sword to the left.
He blocked with his club. My sword hit it, whatever the wood was, and bounced 'off without even putting a dent in it. Meanwhile, my arm went numb right up to my elbow.
"Heh, heh, heh, warrior elf."
He was beginning to get on my nerves.
I pretended that I was going to feint to the right again: feinting a feint, I guess, to be technical. I leaned to my right, jabbed at his face with the torch in my left hand, but still followed through with the sword in my right.
The blade cut deep into the orc's side. His eyes widened in surprise. He didn't fall, but at least he stopped laughing. I yanked on the sword, but it wouldn't pull free. The orc wobbled a bit on his feet then lifted his club, aiming somewhere between my eyes and the top of my head.
I abandoned my sword, still in the creature, and took a step back.
He took a step forward.
I took a step to the side.
He took another step forward.
OK ... I took another step to the side.
He took another step forward. By then he had stepped beyond me, but didn't seem aware of it. His eyes were still wide open as slowly he began to tip; then he dropped, like a tree coming down.
I retrieved my sword by bracing my foot against his ribs and tried not to think about it.
Four of the other orcs were dead. Wolstan had the last one pinned to the wall, his arm pressing against the orc's windpipe, and his dagger against the orc's belly. Thea was dragging on the arm of the hand that held the blade. "No!" she demanded, and her tone indicated she'd said it before and I hadn't heard because I was so caught up in my own battle. "No, Wolstan. Don't. Don't!"
Wolstan had what could only be described as a feral glint in his eyes—like an animal gone wild. Low and throaty he said, "I hate orcs."
"Yes," Thea said, not letting go. She shook at his arm. "But we need him, Wolstan."
He took a couple steadying breaths. The unnatural gleam became the reflection of my torch in his pupils. "Do you want to help us?" Wolstan asked the orc. "Or do you want me to cut you open and strangle you with your own insides?"
The orc, too scared to speak—not to mention that Wolstan's arm had prevented the guy from taking a good breath for the last minute or so—seemed to be trying to indicate the first alternative.
At last Wolstan eased up the pressure.
The orc coughed. "Thank you, thank you," he wheezed. In attempting to sound ingratiating, his voice was an already-irritating whine. "Thank you for sparing my miserable life, great noble sirs, great noble ladies. Great brave noble sirs, great brave—"
"I'm beginning to regret this already, you unctuous little worm," Cornelius said.
"Yes, sir," the orc said. "Thank you, sir."
Cornelius stuck his face into the orc's. "Let us even suspect you're trying to trick us," he warned, "and I'll let Wolstan here eat you alive."
"That's the only way I don't hate orcs," Wolstan said, sounding sincere.
The orc's head bobbed up and down in total agreement. "Yes, sir. Thank you very much, sir."
We made him remove his armor—he had a metal breastplate, but nobody wanted it because it smelled as bad as he did—then we took off his shirt and used it to tie his hands behind his back. He assured us that it would be another four hours' walk to the exit on the Sannatia side of the caves.
"I can't," Mom said. She began to cry. "I want to go home."
"Aw," the orc said, but he wasn't quick enough to hide his triumphant smile. "Poor lady. Poor, poor lady. Rest for the poor, tired lady. I'll take you to a place you can rest."
I didn't like the sound of that, but none of us was going to make it much farther. We'd been on our feet for at least twenty-four hours.
"We'll go on a little bit," Cornelius said. "I don't like this tunnel. There may be more orcs." He turned to the orc. "You understand, you little rodent? You find us a safe, out-of-the-way place where we can take turns sleeping. And remember, if anything happens, you'll be the first to die."
The orc bobbed his head up and down. "Yes, sir," he said, the picture of happy subservience. "Thank you very much, sir."
19. NIGHT WATCH
"This is a good place, great, brave, noble, gentle sirs," the orc said after a trek of no more than five minutes. Except that he was bound, he would have looked like a smarmy bellhop expecting a tip. "This is a nice, dry place for the poor lady to rest. Nobody comes here. You won't be disturbed here, honorable sirs."
"Yeah, and we won't have any way to get out if somebody does come," Cornelius said. "There's only one entrance, you revolting piece of slime."
"Nobody ever comes this way, grea
t wizard. And the entry's so narrow, anybody passing by couldn't see you if they did come by, which they won't. And the poor lady needs—"
"Just keep away from her," I shouted at the orc. "Don't go near her, don't talk to her, don't talk about her."
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. Thank you, sir." The orc bowed and backed away. But behind the gentle words and the wheedling tone was a hardness in the eyes, an expression of loathing that I could see even in the dim light. Orcs abandon sick or wounded members of their own kind. Or eat them if times are tough. I could see his mental wheels turning, wondering why everyone was so solicitous to the helpless member of our group, estimating that she must be very important.
If he got half a chance, he'd go after her.
This was stupid, I thought. If we didn't trust the creature to find us a resting place, why did we trust him to lead us outside?
The part of the torch around Thea's hand had faded away, so that it appeared as if the torch were floating about two inches above her clenched fist. Afraid we'd be caught in the dark, we selected a passageway that was near three separate side tunnels and settled down.
"Three tunnels, fine sirs," the orc said as we tried to make ourselves comfortable on the cold, hard ground. "Somebody's sure to come down one of them. Now the place I showed you—"
Everybody yelled, "Be quiet!" or "Shut up!" or something along those lines. Everybody except Mom, who was already asleep, which just goes to show how tired she was.
Robin volunteered for the first watch, then I was to take over, then Cornelius, then Thea, then Wolstan. Each one would guard for what felt like an hour. We figured that even though we couldn't tell what time it was, it was probably dawn, or close to. Hopefully that meant that the orcs, and any of the caves' other nocturnal inhabitants, would be getting ready to bed down themselves. Hopefully we weren't making sitting—or sleeping—ducks of ourselves. Our orc didn't look sleepy at all. He sat against a wall, glowering, his arms still bound. I was sure he was comforting himself with thoughts of eating our brains.
Relax, I told myself. Worrying would keep me awake, robbing me of necessary rest, and wouldn't help anything. The others were asleep already. Every once in a while Mom would make small whimpering noises, but these were interspersed with slow regular breathing. Cornelius was snoring: a gentle rattling wheeze. Thea ground her teeth for a while, but then mercifully rolled over and must have fallen into deeper sleep. Wolstan was twitching a lot, the way dogs will when they're dreaming about chasing squirrels.
I wondered if I should trade watches with Robin, if I couldn't go to sleep.
But Robin was already all settled in, sitting under the last of the torchlight, his sword drawn and resting across his knees. From a pouch at his belt, he took out the cards he had stolen from the bandits' dungeon. "Pick a card," he told the orc. "Any card."
I'd give myself five minutes, I told myself. If I didn't feel sleepy by then, I'd offer to switch with Robin. But I wasn't even awake long enough to find out the orc's answer. Without even being aware of closing my eyes, the next thing I knew, Robin was shaking my shoulder and telling me it was my turn.
"Yeah," I mumbled. "OK. I'm up."
The torch had gone out and we were in total darkness. I wanted to stamp my feet and walk around to make sure I didn't fall asleep again, but I didn't dare. I'd be sure to step on someone. The only light came from the glowing eyes of the captive orc. Still awake. Staring at me.
I couldn't see them, but all around me I could hear my companions, and that was reassuring. I listened as Robin's breathing got slower and slower ... and slower ... and ... slower...
My head had been nodding to the rhythm, and I sat up with a start. I didn't think I'd actually been asleep, but it was impossible to tell. The orc still watched me, his amber eyes never blinking.
I tried to stretch my hearing outward, beyond the rest of the company. Nothing. I'd been awake late at night before, but I'd never heard it this quiet. No cars. No wind. No hum of electricity.
I shook myself, realizing I was lingering longer and longer when I blinked my eyes.
Did I watch one hour? I don't know. Did I fall asleep during my watch? I can't be sure of that either. Certainly our prisoner never seemed to rest.
When I couldn't take it any longer, I got on my hands and knees and followed the sound of the snoring. I just barely avoided putting my hand down on Wolstan's face, my fingers brushing his thick hair and catching on his ear.
He grumbled without waking and rolled over.
I crawled around him. "Cornelius?" I prodded the sleeping form.
"Yeah." I heard our wizard yawn.
"Good night," I said. I lay down right there and yawned myself. I closed my eyes, then forced them open once again, just to check.
The orc was still awake. Still watching.
20. DAY THREE
The dream started out nice enough.
I was at a lake, lying on an air mattress with my eyes closed, drifting wherever the wind and the waves took me.
Oh, yeah, I thought, knowing that I was really asleep and dreaming, I'll stay here a bit. The gentle up-and-down motion was pleasant, lulling. I thought how odd it was to be asleep and dreaming that I was about to fall asleep and start dreaming.
But where were the other people? I should have heard talking and laughing and splashing.
Instead there was a noise like a squeaky wheel. Like a lot of squeaky wheels.
The dream began slipping away even as I tried to hold on. Instead of fresh air and water, I could smell mustiness, like in our attic, where mice build nests in the corners every spring no matter what Mom does to try to keep them away. Mom ... Mom...
The dream was gone, ruined. I remembered I was really in the Shadow Caves with some gaming companions, a sick mother, and a guide-orc I didn't trust. If I opened my eyes, I wouldn't be able to see anything because we were lost far underground without a light.
At least, I thought, at least I was refreshed. Who'd have imagined four hours' sleep could counteract the exhaustion of last night?
No...
No, I was too refreshed. Someone had fallen asleep on watch, and we'd all slept a lot longer than four hours.
I opened my eyes. I couldn't see anything, but the rocking motion hadn't stopped. Neither had the sharp squeaks.
I looked down toward the floor. It looked like a sea of red tapioca. Hundreds of little red eyes. I took a deep breath. I gulped. I took another deep breath.
"Rats!" I screamed.
I tried to roll off the rats that were carrying me, but they were everywhere. Blindly I kicked and flailed my arms, all the while remembering that—like orcs—rats can see in the dark. The squeaking noises they made changed in pitch and intensity. Either they were frightened, or angry.
From around me I could hear noises of alarm and struggle. Then there was a flash. Momentarily the cave lit up, like a night scene frozen by lightning. I glimpsed my companions, borne on the backs of countless dark, furry bodies. Then Cornelius's bolt of Wizards' Lightning faded out.
The rats caught on the periphery of Cornelius's magic—those that were still alive—screeched in pain and fear, an awful noise like nails on a blackboard, like a subway train braking, like the feeling in your mouth when you've got braces and you drink from an aluminum can. Sulfur and singed fur tickled my nose.
There was another flash of Wizards' Lightning. Cornelius was aiming at the front of the mass of rat bodies, to avoid hitting us. But panic was spreading throughout the pack. Even those back where we were screeched and squirmed. They still held on to us, but they'd stopped moving forward.
The next time I rolled, my shoulder brushed the ground. The rats jostled me back up, but there were fewer of them.
Again Cornelius's Lightning flashed.
The rats that had been carrying him had had it: they were gone. Cornelius was on his knees, and the empty space around him began widening.
I twisted as hard as I could, finally got my legs under me, and stood, not that
it did much good. My sword was gone, so I did the best I could with blind kicking.
Yet again a light lit the walls of the cave, but this time it was Cornelius's Continual Light spell. A new day, a refreshed set of spells. It was heaven to be able to see again. Apparently reasoning that a bigger light must be a bigger danger, most of the remaining rats took off.
Mom was there, that was the first thing I made sure of. Then I saw that our weapons were scattered on the floor. The rats must have been carrying them separately in case we awoke. Even the box with our treasure was there.
I grabbed up my sword and began slashing at the stragglers. The other members of our company did likewise, and in less than a minute, the only remaining rats were the dead ones.
"Who's the idiot who fell asleep?" Cornelius demanded.
Which was a surprise, because I'd figured it was probably him.
But Thea sheepishly hung her head. "Sorry. I was so tired. I didn't know—"
Mom patted her arm. "No harm done," she said in a hardly audible whisper.
"Except we've lost our prisoner," Robin pointed out.
I saw that our orc was indeed gone. Now that I thought about it, I couldn't remember seeing him during the times Cornelius's Lightning had lit the tunnel. No way to tell if he'd escaped, or if the rats had killed him or just abandoned him.
"Most rats," Wolstan said in his usual slow understatement, "don't act like that."
"Uh-huh," I said.
"They were definitely bringing us someplace," Cornelius said.
"This tunnel's a mess," Mom whisper-said.
That sounded more like her usual self. But then I saw what she was getting at. There were rat droppings all over the place, and marks their sharp claws had worn on the stone ground. They'd been up and down this particular tunnel an awful lot.
"Their lair must be near here," I said.
"And that's where they were bringing us," Thea finished. "But why?"
"No way to tell without going there," Cornelius said.
"Go where they were bringing us?" Mom asked. "Then why did we bother to fight them?"