Cor awoke slowly, his head throbbing as if it had been beaten in by a rock wielding giant. As it turned out, this wasn’t far from the truth; whatever had thrown him through the air had brained him against the rocks in the cave. On some level he was sure that he was lucky to be alive. His torch was gone, and the cave was completely pitch black. Cor checked himself over and found Soulmourn and Rena’s journal still attached to his belt, but his pestle fetish was gone.
He searched his surroundings by feel and found that the cave had three apparent walls. Two were rough and solid, but the third seemed to consist of blocks of masonry, large boulders and much dirt and other debris. It seemed Cor had been very nearly crushed alive by a cave in, and he nearly panicked with the thought that he may not have a way out. He calmed himself and quieted his breathing; listening intently, he could hear the sound of water, like that of waves within the cave.
With little other option, Cor focused on the sound and slowly felt his way through the cave on his hands and knees. The cave was dry, though the air was fetid, and at times the cave closed in suddenly to add to Cor’s unease. More than once, he crawled faced first into what he believed were stalagmites, jostling his already pained head and mounting his frustration. But he moved inexorably forward, the cave beginning to dampen, until he reached a point that the cave clearly opened up to either side. He felt several feet in each direction, unable to follow the cave walls. The entire cave stank horribly, but Cor had found the source of the sounds of waves he had been hearing; somewhere nearby, this cave opened into the sea. Uncertain as to where to go now, Cor continued forward ever so slowly, finding that the cave floor sloped suddenly downward and was very slick. He noticed that a dim light shown far below; it was an eerie, pale blue light that seemed far away, but it certainly did not emanate from fire, which meant he went the correct direction.
Cor turned around, intending to lower himself down the slope feet first, and he hoped to use the heels of his boots to help him gain purchase on the uneven, slick cave floor. The flaw in this plan became quite evident; as soon as Cor’s hands were no longer on the level part of the cave floor, he immediately slid downward, and his boots did nothing to slow him or give him purchase. His hands received many abrasions in his vain attempts at slowing his momentum, and after several long seconds of sliding uncontrollably, he came to rest through none of his own efforts. The cave floor simply and suddenly leveled. Cor lay there for a moment, relieved, before a small wave washed over his legs and then pulled away.
Cor sat up and yelled in triumph at what he saw, raising his fist into the air. The cave closed into a small tunnel, large enough for a man and clearly led outside; sunlight filtered through the water, seemingly turned blue. Waves occasionally came through the tunnel, but when they receded, Cor could see clearly through into the open air out the other side. The tunnel couldn’t possibly be more than twenty feet in length, and it appeared just tall enough to stand in if Cor hunched over.
Cor was convinced that this was the same cave he’d seen at the bottom of the promontory, which meant the tunnel would be empty of water at low tide. Cor had no idea how long he had been unconscious or in the caves, which meant he had no idea when low tide would occur. Also, it was easily conceivable that high tide would completely flood the cave, drowning him. He had no other option but to chance the tunnel now.
The ocean frightened him in many ways, and Cor had no idea how to swim. Aboard ship, one had the illusion of control over the sea, but in the water, the sea herself was the master. He decided to acquaint himself with the feel of the water and the rhythm of the waves for a few minutes before committing himself fully. He removed Soulmourn and the tome from his belt and sat them on the cave floor where a wave would not reach them. Cor slowly lowered himself into the pool of water at the end of the tunnel; he’d always had the impression that the sea was a cold place, and this water surprised him with its warmth. He stood there and allowed a few waves to impact him; the water tasted of salt and stung his eyes, but he found the force of it manageable. What he found exceedingly uncomfortable was the weight of his armor when he attempted to move in the water that was well up to his chest.
Cor lifted himself back onto the cave floor, his muscles beginning to protest the constant abuse. He unstrapped his breastplate and legguards, allowing them to clang to the stone floor, and he pulled off his chain shirt in relief and tossed it on the pile. Last, Cor loosened the buckles on his armguards and let them fall as well. He again belted Soulmourn and tied the arms of his tunic together, hanging Rena’s journal around his neck. He hated to expose the book or sword to the saltwater, but somehow he knew it would not harm Soulmourn. As for the journal, he could only hope that his improvised wrappings would protect it.
Cor looked at the armor wistfully before again lowering himself into the pool of water; the book did not float up to his face as he expected it to, but in fact hung heavily against his chest in the water. The saltwater stung the many small cuts and nicks he’d received from the chain shirt, but after a few moments it actually felt cool and soothing. Movement was easier without the heavy armor, and Cor was fairly certain he could manage this last task.
Cor stepped into the tunnel, immediately following a wave, crossing several feet in the tunnel while the water level was low. He walked with his neck and shoulders uncomfortably hunched over and had to be careful he didn’t knock the back of his skull on the ceiling. The tunnel was amazingly smooth under the touch of his fingers and somewhat slick under his booted feet. When the first wave came, Cor braced himself, pushing his arms and legs out away from his body with as much pressure as he could manage. The water washed over him and into the open pool behind him; again it was not nearly as violent as he imagined.
He continued forward without hesitation, to have his feet ripped out from under him as the wave receded back out to sea. Cor went down under the water, his hands immediately grasping the journal to his chest and the hilt of his sword. He felt himself dragged out of the tunnel for a panicking moment, and then the pressure eased. Cor stood up in the tunnel, coughing and gasping for breath; fortunately, the coughing passed quickly and did not lead to an attack as the smoke had before.
Feeling stupid, Cor blinked the water from his eyes. He had anticipated the strength of the wave coming into the tunnel, but not going back out to sea. As his vision cleared, Cor could see that he was only mere feet from the exit. Cor waited for the next wave to wash over him and immediately ducked through the cave’s mouth. He stood in three or four feet of water at the bottom of a rocky cliff, late afternoon sun shining down warmly on him. Cor couldn’t easily see below the surface, but could feel the bottom was strewn with rocks. He saw a wave beginning to rise, heading to break against the rocks, and he clambered across the rocky bottom, using the cliff face to steady himself. By the time the wave broke, Cor stood in only about a foot of water, and it lapped gently against the back of his knees. He walked a few feet up the rocky beach and collapsed in exhaustion, allowing the warm summer sun to wash over him.
Cor lay there half asleep until the sun began to sink into the horizon. He forced himself up and moving north up the beach, realizing it had been at least six or seven hours since he left his horse tethered to a tree. He turned east, nearly asleep, knowing that he had nearly a mile to reach the edge of the wood and the stallion. By the time Cor crossed the distance, the horse was exceedingly aggravated at being tied to the tree for hours. Cor tossed his bedroll on the ground and then released the animal to graze at his will. He removed his sword and the journal from his belt and lay down to sleep dreamlessly.
19.