Cavern of Secrets

  Raffa found himself thinking of the people who had traveled through the Suddens to reach Obsidia, including his own ancestors on his father’s side. The groups of people known as the Afters—because of their arrival after the Great Quake—had crossed the entire range, a trip so perilous that more had perished than survived. No matter where the Afters came from, they would have had to scale a dozen or more peaks. He marveled now at their courage and determination.

  At last the rugged terrain eased into rolling hills. For two days they traversed the foothills, where the snow was only ankle-deep, a relief from the hip-high drifts in the peaks. Midmorning of the third day, Kuma called out that she could see the beginnings of the Southern Woodlands. They continued hiking until they came to the Everwide.

  Snowmelt had turned its flow into a boiling, foaming torrent. To the group’s disappointment, the river at this point was too wide to cross. Reluctantly, they turned back toward the mountains and began climbing again. They followed the riverbank upward but had to diverge from it often when their path was blocked by overgrowth or downed trees or snowdrifts.

  A little after sunpeak, Roo raised herself to her hind legs and bellowed. She plunged into the river, with Twig hanging on for dear life. Two-thirds of the way across, Roo scrabbled about in the current for a few moments. Then she crossed to the far side with a large trout in her mouth.

  The three humans watched Roo chomp away at the trout until only the piece closest to the tail remained. Then she reached up and pulled Twig off her head, as if the raccoon were a hat. She set Twig down on the ground and gave her the fishtail.

  The raccoon took the tidbit to the water’s edge, washed it thoroughly, and ate it with obvious enjoyment.

  Kuma clapped her hands, laughing, and Raffa had to join in. Even Garith smiled.

  “It’s a sign,” Kuma said. “We should ford here.”

  Roo’s crossing had shown them that the river at this point was no deeper than her chest. Raffa studied the water. The current was swift, but there were no foaming rapids.

  Plate-sized chunks of ice floated past. Raffa scrambled back onto the bank for a better view. Upriver, he could see patches of white where the snow had not yet melted, indicating sheets of ice beneath.

  He rejoined his companions. “It’s as good a place as any,” he said. “Farther up, there are ice patches, but they don’t look like they’d bear our weight.”

  He held his coiled leather rope out to Kuma. “If you could call Roo back and tie this around her,” he said, “we can use it to guide ourselves across.”

  Kuma put her hands behind her back.

  “Tie her up? I’d never do that,” she said indignantly. “She’s not some kind of—of performing bear.”

  Raffa scowled. “I know that. It wouldn’t be like tying her up to . . . restrain her or anything.”

  For response, Kuma pressed her lips together into a straight line.

  Raffa glanced at the river. It might be possible to ford without the rope, but he wouldn’t want to risk it—not for himself or any of the others.

  At that moment, he realized with surprise that ever since the decision to leave the Suddens, he had been acting as if he were the group’s leader.

  He had never meant for that to happen. Throughout the winter, it was Kuma who had taken the lead, with her greater experience at living in the wild. Raffa had been glad to follow her instructions on how to build the shelter, weave baskets, string fish to dry. And before that, in what now seemed like another life, Raffa had always shadowed Garith, who was a year older and a head taller.

  But Garith was no longer himself. And Kuma, it seemed, was now thinking of nothing other than Roo. Raffa usually admired her commitment to the well-being of animals, but sometimes—

  Animals . . . That was the answer. Kuma’s strength and weakness.

  Raffa looked into her eyes and spoke in a voice both earnest and pleading. “Kuma, we have to get across. It would be safer using the rope, and quicker, too, and I need to get Echo home as soon as I can.”

  He saw her gaze flick to his neckline; Echo was tucked away, out of sight under his tunic. Then she sighed, and he knew that her innate kindness to all beasts and creatures had won out.

  “Just this once,” she said.

  Kuma whistled for Roo, who loped back through the icy water. It took Kuma a few tries before she was able to tie the rope around the bear’s massive waist. Roo let out a growl and pawed at the leather.

  “It’s only for a few minutes, Roo, okay?” Kuma said.

  At Raffa’s request, she also tied the rucksack around Roo’s neck. It now contained Echo on the perch necklace, wrapped carefully in soft rags.

  Kuma sent Roo to the far side again. When the bear turned and looked at her, Kuma held up both hands in a “stop” gesture. Roo planted all four of her massive paws firmly on the ground.

  Because of the length necessary to circle Roo’s waist, the remaining rope did not reach all the way across the river. Holding the other end, Raffa and Garith gritted their teeth and stood knee-deep in the freezing water at the edge. With one hand on the rope, Kuma waded into the current. She moved hand over hand, reaching the halfway point easily.

  “It’s p-p-pretty s-s-slippery,” she called out, her teeth chattering.

  As if to prove her point, she lost her footing and almost went under. But she hauled herself back up using the rope, with both boys bracing themselves against her weight. On the other side, Roo moaned a little but moved not a hair, while Twig watched intently, chittering in concern.

  Kuma crossed to the other side without further mishap. She crouched down and hugged her knees, trying to warm herself.

  Raffa put a hand on his cousin’s arm. “Wait,” he said. Knowing that he would be holding Garith’s weight on his own from this end, he wrapped the rope twice around his wrist.

  Garith started across. Strong and athletic, he made rapid progress to the middle of the river, where he stopped to look at Raffa over his shoulder. He waved, signaling that all was well.

  Then a thunderous crack splintered the air. Raffa jerked his head in the direction of the sound.

  Upstream, a huge plate of ice had broken away. It caught the current and was now hurtling directly toward Garith. In the next second, realization struck Raffa like a blow.

  Garith wouldn’t have heard the noise.

  If he had, he could have hurried and made it across before the floe reached him. But he was just beginning to move again, and with his eyes on the water in front of him, he didn’t see Kuma gesturing frantically on the far side.

  Raffa did the only thing he could think of to get Garith’s attention: He gave the rope a tug.

  It was a disastrous mistake. The rope jerked out of Garith’s hands. As he flailed his arms trying to grab it, the floe slammed into his legs. He toppled into the water, where the current snatched him and pulled him under the ice.

  “GARITH!” Kuma screamed in horror.

  Raffa took a single giant step, then dove.

  It was so cold that his breath seemed to freeze solid in his lungs. His eyes were open, but he saw only blackness, the unspeakable cold numbing his brain. Instinctively, he surfaced, every muscle and nerve in his body pushing him upward.

  Forcing another breath into his paralyzed lungs, Raffa ducked under again. He focused his entire being on a single thought: Find Garith! He kicked his legs and tried to make swimming motions with his arms, which felt like they were made of wood.

  Through the fog of his vision, he saw a shadow to his right and made a desperate grab for it. Was it a branch or—or—

  It was Garith’s forearm!

  Raffa’s fingers closed around it. He gripped it with all his might. Hardly knowing what he was doing, he yanked his cousin out from under the floe.

  Both their heads emerged. Raffa could no longer feel his limbs. He took a strangled, choking mouthful of air as he slipped on the rocky riverbed. Unable to regain his balance, he fell back into the water. With no strength l
eft to fight the cold and the current, he was dragged beneath the ice.

  A raging red cloud filled his brain and blotted out all thought.

  CHAPTER THREE

  RAFFA couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. There was a terrible weight on his chest. On his face, too, smothering him. . . . Was this what it felt like to drown?

  Odd . . . upon strange. Never knew . . . drowning . . . smells awful. So awful . . .

  He tried to turn his head away from the nasty odor. From somewhere far away, he heard voices.

  “Is he— It looks like he’s waking up!”

  “Roo, you can get off him now. Gently—”

  “Raffa, wake up!”

  Garith. That was Garith’s voice. Did he drown, too?

  With a dreadful spasm, Raffa retched several times, spitting out mouthfuls of water, then curled up on his side. Opening his eyes seemed to require as much effort as lifting a boulder.

  Garith’s face swam in and out of focus. Raffa fixed his gaze on Garith’s nose, trying to get it to stay in one place. To his relief, it finally stopped moving. He blinked and looked into Garith’s eyes.

  “You scared us, you wobbler!” Garith punched his shoulder, which hurt so much that Raffa knew he wasn’t dead. Relief pierced through the muddiness in his brain with the realization that Garith wasn’t dead, either.

  Slowly he raised himself on one elbow. Every muscle in his body twanged with pain. He saw that he was in a clearing on the riverbank, lying on a patch of dead grass.

  Garith and Kuma both began talking at once.

  Raffa shook his head; his brain jangled in protest. “One at a time,” he croaked, and held his hand up weakly for Garith’s benefit.

  “Take off those wet clothes,” Kuma said. “I’ll get a fire going.”

  Raffa struggled out of his sodden boots, trousers, and undergarments, then donned his tunic again; its soft heavy wool was warm even when wet.

  Shivering in muscles he didn’t know he had, Raffa crouched by the fire next to Garith, who wore only his linen underclothes. In silence, they turned around from time to time, alternating roasting and freezing their fronts and backsides.

  Kuma piled an armload of wood next to the fire. She spread out their wet clothes on flat stones near the flames, then plopped down beside them and stretched her toes toward the warmth.

  “It was Roo. I didn’t even have to say anything to her,” she said proudly. “She went right into the water and dragged Garith out, and then she went back for you. Garith started coughing right away, but you were . . . I had to make you spit up some water. And you were practically frozen solid, so I got her to lie down on top of you.”

  So that was the smell: pure, unfiltered bear.

  Then Raffa felt a little guilty for the thought. Roo couldn’t help it that she smelled . . . well, like a bear. And she had just saved his life, which in all likelihood neither Kuma nor Garith could have done.

  “Thank you, Roo,” he said earnestly. The bear was busy grooming Twig again. Recognizing her name, she showed him her teeth in what he hoped was a smile, and Kuma reached up to scratch her behind her ears.

  “Ta-too, Roo,” Twig said, imitating him. “Ta-too, chuff chuff, ta-too.”

  “It was a good thing, the rope,” Kuma admitted, a little gruffly. “We pulled on it, and it led her to you, sure upon certain.”

  Then Raffa sat up with a jolt. “Echo!” he cried out. “What—? Where—?”

  “He’s here,” Kuma said immediately, and brought the bat out from under her tunic. “I took him out of the rucksack to keep him warm.”

  “Is he—”

  The look in Kuma’s eyes stopped him from finishing the question. Carefully she handed over the perch necklace. Raffa cupped the little bat in one hand and placed a tense fingertip on Echo’s chest.

  He waited. Garith and Kuma waited with him. Even Roo and Twig were silent and still.

  Please, please, please . . .

  Then he felt it.

  A single heartbeat.

  An eternity before the next one.

  Echo was closer to death than life.

  Garith slumped on the ground. “It’s my fault, isn’t it,” he said. “The ice—did it make a sound?” He looked from Raffa to Kuma and back again.

  Raffa could not bring himself to answer. Kuma, stricken, gave Garith a tiny nod.

  “I knew it,” Garith said, and this time the bitterness in his voice was clear. “I didn’t hear it, and that’s why everything went wrong.”

  “No, Garith,” Raffa said. “It was mostly my fault. I yanked on the rope—if I hadn’t done that—”

  But Garith wasn’t looking at him. He had drawn his knees up and put his arms over his head, as if by making his body as small as possible, he could somehow disappear.

  Once again, Raffa felt the familiar surge of guilt, but this time it was tangled up with anger. Garith hadn’t even thanked him for pulling him out from under the ice.

  Heat burned behind Raffa’s eyes so fiercely that he realized his anger was not of the moment. He understood then that he’d been angry with Garith for a while now—weeks, maybe months—his ire stewing and roiling beneath the surface of his thoughts.

  Because Garith’s deafness was Raffa’s fault . . . but at the same time, it wasn’t. Raffa hadn’t forced Garith to drink the infusion that caused his deafness; Garith had made that choice all by himself. I wasn’t even there, Raffa thought. He clenched his jaw to keep resentful words from spewing out. The last thing he needed now was an argument with Garith.

  Raffa hung Echo’s perch around his neck. Then he got to his feet. His limbs still felt leaden and sore, but he forced himself to ignore the pain.

  Home, he thought. Maybe not all the answers were there, but he hoped that some of them would be.

  Raffa winced as he put on his clammy clothes. At least they were no longer dripping. He and Kuma tamped out the fire and scattered its remains. They waited for Garith to finish dressing, then set off again.

  By midafternoon, they found themselves walking through a gorge with majestic limestone cliffs on either side. The river cut through the middle of the gorge, occasionally diverting around enormous rock formations or disappearing underground for yards at a time.

  The cliffs were high, but not sheer, their faces pocked with hollows, as small as fists, as large as Roo. Hardy trees, shrubs, and vines had gained rootholds in cracks and on ledges. The vegetation was just beginning to bud out; Raffa could tell that the gorge would be cool and shady when the trees were in full leaf.

  Kuma was looking around, appraising the gorge with keen interest.

  “What do you think, Roo?” she asked. “Do you like it here?”

  Roo sniffed the air. Like a tiny shadow of the big bear, Twig raised her head and sniffed, too.

  “There’s water,” Raffa said, “and the caves and trees give plenty of cover. Plus it’s too steep for horses. I think it would be easy for her to find places to hide if they come looking here.”

  He saw Kuma frown, and he added hastily, “Not that they would. I mean, it’s still pretty remote.”

  Kuma nodded, then trotted to the base of the cliff on the left and reached for an outcrop of rock above her head. “I want to check out one of those caves,” she said. “I’ll only be a little while, I promise. You can go on ahead if you want. I’ll catch up.”

  Anxious as he was to reach home and help for Echo, Raffa decided that it was a good time for a brief rest. He sat down on a handy boulder. Garith slumped to the ground with his back against the cliff. Roo, with Twig on her shoulders, began climbing in Kuma’s wake. Raffa marveled at the sight of the great bear, with her bulk and weight, scaling the cliff.

  “Up up up!” Twig said.

  Raffa wasn’t exactly afraid of climbing. But he had always thought it a more sensible choice to stay on the ground, where he couldn’t fall any farther than his own height. Climb only when necessary, not for fun, please upon thank you. He shaded his eyes to watch Kuma’s progres
s. She made scaling the cliff look easy.

  The yellow and gray limestone wall was streaked thickly with white in some places, including an area not far above where he sat. Curious, Raffa stood up on the boulder to examine the white streaks more closely. As he suspected, they were droppings of some kind.

  Raffa frowned and scanned the cliffs on both sides. It would take a huge flock of birds to make so many droppings. But there were no birds in sight. Where were they all?

  Then he heard a tiny squeak, and at the same moment, Echo spread his wings and left the perch necklace.

  “Echo!” Raffa gasped.

  It was the first time in many days that the bat had made either sound or movement.

  Raffa’s delighted surprise vanished almost immediately: Echo was barely flying. His wings flapped erratically; if he had been walking, Raffa would have called it a terrible stagger. The little bat struggled a short way up the cliff, following a heavy line of droppings. Then he disappeared into a Y-shaped crevice.

  In that instant, Raffa realized that the white streaks were bat droppings. Their presence showed that a large number of bats lived in the many caves riddling the cliffs, and Echo had apparently sensed their proximity. Perhaps he was seeking out his own kind—

  Raffa’s throat seized up with fear.

  Had Echo gone into the crevice . . . to find a place to die?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  RAFFA jumped down off the boulder. He hurried over to Garith, who was aimlessly scratching at the dirt with a stick.

  “Echo’s gone,” Raffa said. He tapped Garith on the shoulder, then held up the empty perch necklace. “He went into that crack. I have to go after him.” He pointed at the cliff face and mimed climbing.

  “What?” Garith said with what seemed to Raffa a complete lack of interest.