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The two landed in the shadow of a slanting, two-column formation of black rock. The sea crooned in her ears as the breeze caressed her face. Hattenel turned on the low bluff to get her bearings. The ocean swept towards the island in long rolling swells until they crashed on the shelf to foam over the sand. Fog obscured the other islands in the chain.
Hattenel made a full circle, savoring the quiet until the alarms went off in her head. Her hand reached for her absent sword hilt. With a shock, she realized both of them were unarmed except for their boot knives. Dolt, aren’t you a little old to jump without looking? Hattenel reviewed her options. Just as well. Someone would notice if your sword went missing.
The sighing of the wind and waves in her ears nagged at her battle senses. Most rookeries teemed with life. Here, no movement caught her gaze but the sea. Scattered clumps of yellowish grass replaced the usual shrubs and trees along the approaches to the beach. Not a single sand piper chased the waves as they retreated from the shore. No gulls, terns, or any other bird circled in the sky. The island was denuded of life.
“Where are the birds?” she asked, perplexed.
Voron shrugged. “They’re gone. No seals or anything else on the outer rocks either.”
“What’s the hum? It’s calling me ... promising me ...”
“You hear it too?” Voron relaxed with her confirmation. Hattenel thought it odd his belly no longer sagged. “The pull is stronger on the other side where the cave is.”
A smile teased her lips as she shook her head, but she squashed the impulse to laugh. When he scowled, Hattenel could no longer contain herself. She guffawed. “You were going to explore a cave ... alone?”
“You think I’d endanger one of my crew here?” Hattenel grinned at him as he straightened. A leaner self flickered under his glamour but disappeared before she could capture the image. “You’ve had your laugh. Now, you can go back to your headquarters and leave me alone.”
His control of the glamour flickered like a candle. Hattenel decided annoying him was much more fun than fishing. “Show me this annoying cave. The sooner we understand its secrets, the sooner we can go home.”
The two lifted to the entrance with him grumbling under his breath. Their feet left dents in the loose bare soil. The cavern plunged so deep into a hill overlooking the empty beach that a cold waft of air encased them. The sound increased as it changed pitches. After her thoughts of fishing, she realized the hum was a lure ... calling to them ... enticing them into the cave. Voron stuck a finger in his ear and shook it as if the vibrations tickled.
“Nasty,” said Hattenel. “Have you encountered the like before?”
“Rumors only. None good.”
With a frown, she said, “I keep thinking I hear words underneath the drone. Can you?”
“It’s no language I know.”
“How clear are the words to you?”
“I hear only pitches.”
“Maybe the sounds will be clearer inside the cave. Do you have a rope?”
Voron unwound his sling from his waist and tied it to their belts. Hattenel watched as his fingers flickered from sausage-shaped to long and sinewy. Not giving her a chance to take the lead, he snapped his fingers to create a bluish werelight before striding deeper into the cavern. Hattenel followed and added her werelight to his. Voron set an unsafe pace, daring her to drag her feet or order him to slow down. Hattenel expanded the werelight so he could see several feet around the shield of magical energy she raised without him asking. The werelight revealed little. As far as Hattenel could tell, the cavern walls were as smooth and black as obsidian.
His pace slowed when they entered a rounded chamber. Their werelights reflected off thousands of multi-colored crystals protruding from the walls and ceiling. The polished floor enhanced the light until the cave seemed as bright as day. Hattenel stopped at his shoulder, looking around until their eyes met. A rapport opened between them as wonder filled both. They turned in unison, tethered close by the sling. Cool air, scented by the sea, brushed their faces from different directions, indicating other entrances. Prickling chills ran down Hattenel’s back.
“Beautiful. If this wasn’t a cave, I’d think someone placed the crystals in patterns,” she whispered. “What’s the catch?”
“Are you imagining this is a trap?” Voron cleared his throat, a superior expression in his half-closed eyes. “Nothing threatens us. The cave’s as empty as the island.”
The dark walls snapped closed. The floor tilted to hurl them through a tunnel of darkness. The two tumbled until the sling tethered them tight together. When they landed with a thud, hot and thick air pressed against them. Hattenel felt as if huge hands reached under her ribs, squeezing the air from her lungs. Voron sprawled on his back, his glamour no longer hiding his lean, muscular frame. Her eyes narrowed as she lifted her head from his chest. She scanned the chamber, ignoring him as he gasped for breath.
Hattenel rolled off of him and concentrated on sitting up. She pulled her feet back from the oily ring of pulsating darkness that hemmed them in. She scooted until her back rested against his. The smell flowing from the circle made her cough.
“Smells foul.” Hattenel tried to camouflage her fear, but her hands shook until she clenched them. “Where’s an ocean breeze when you need one?”
“Smells better than shit-covered bird cliffs.” Voron tried to sound steady, but she noticed when he gulped and licked his lips.
Flickering torches, set in sconces around the wall, lit a circular room. More sconces, set on each side, marked a wide arch with a stairway leading away from the pit or cellar. Without speaking, they extinguished their werelights and sat on the ground as far away from each other as possible. They faced the stairs to wait, their shoulders and knees still touching. The circle barely held two tall Half-Elven. The vaulted ceiling sparkled with gems set in the same pattern as in the cave. Hattenel fought for each breath, wishing again for the return of the light sea breezes.
Grim-faced, Voron stuck a tentative finger above the mist. Flames leapt and would have burned him if he had not jerked it back. When she didn’t criticize him, he struggled to his feet. Hattenel moved with him since the sling still tethered them. Flames flared again when Voron tried the maneuver higher. Taking out his boot knife, he repeated the test.
:We’re prisoners.: His mindspeak was a mere whisper. :Can you breathe? I feel like I’m shifting rocks with my lungs.:
When they heard footsteps thumping on the stairs, the two sat cross-legged, their thighs touching. They gasped for air as both shifted to face the stairway. Loud voices spoke an unknown, pitched language. A fouler odor heralded the unseen newcomers.
Hattenel shivered but was thankful Voron was more warrior than poltroon. :I think we best remain silent. If we’re lucky we’ll be able to read their thoughts without expending too much energy. Have you heard the language before?:
Voron shook his head before he coughed.
Two dog-headed creatures with mottled olive and dark green skin trudged into sight. They stood upright on stumpy legs, revealing white bellies. Both creatures wore gray kilts with gold belts. The elder wore a narrow jeweled collar over his bare, caved-in torso. The pup’s ribs stuck out like spokes in a fish weir even though his chest was twice as wide as hers. The air in the cavern turned fetid as if the creatures had never bathed in their lives.
Voron’s jaw tightened. :Masks and paint?:
The newcomers’ jaws hung open with their curled tongues hanging to one side of their brownish fangs. Hattenel’s shields popped up. The creatures didn’t wear masks. Without asking, Voron reinforced her power, giving her the strength to stretch her mind and pick images from their brains. A queasy feeling hit her stomach, but Hattenel pushed forward until she sensed what they thought.
“The trap caught something sentient this time.” The smaller one yipped a language filled with many different pitches. “What kind of demon are they? Have you ever seen such ugly,
flat faces in your life?”
“Quiet. Let me think.”
The young one cringed back a step. The older creature considered the Half-Elven, his tongue moving in time with his breathing. His long-nailed hands sketched patterns in the air. The gems in his rings blinked in rhythm with the crystals in the ceiling. Hattenel ducked her head, closing her mind off from the creatures as she pulled Voron’s head towards his knees.
:Why did you do that? You hurt my neck.:
:Big Stuff tried to spell us. We need to be close so we don’t leak energy.:
Voron tried to lift her to his lap. She slid from his fingers to drop between his legs. Hattenel wondered if he realized how much personal information she had absorbed from his contact. His fear was as great as hers. She resigned herself to Voron reading her thoughts as well.
No pretending false battle courage.
His mindspeak was a whisper as he wrapped his arms around her. :Sorry. Didn’t mean to drop you.:
Once started, Hattenel couldn’t close down the rapport flowing between them. Trickles of personal information leaked back and forth between the two underneath the impressions she relayed about their captors. Hattenel squirmed to one side, almost closed her mind when she caught the image of her stripling self in Voron’s mind. Her muscles clenched. She had thought she’d buried the image of herself cowering with fear just before the Suthron sword gave her the long scar disfiguring her face.
Hattenel cringed at her dark memories leaking between them until she discovered the stuttering, gap-toothed boy-Voron being berated by the camp’s sergeants. He flicked a booger at them as soon as their backs were turned.
Such a submissive cadet!
Voron wrapped his arms around her and steadied her on his lap.
The young creature exclaimed. “Look at the monkeys copulate!”
“Don’t be sillier than you are. I said quiet. If you can’t keep your mouth closed, leave.” The creature’s eyes narrowed as his hands waved again. Nothing happened. His hands clapped three times. “Monkey demons, I command you speak.” His voice thundered against the walls of the chamber.
When they didn’t answer, the older dog-face’s index finger sketched another series of flaming designs in the air. Both of them jerked their attention away to avoid the mental binding he tried to weave.
:How different is his magic from ours?:
“Don’t use mindspeak,” Hattenel whispered. “He might pick up the energy. Worse, he might seize it.”
Hattenel shrunk closer to his chest. Voron wrapped his arms tighter around her. While she nestled close to him in a submissive posture, she sent tightly focused probes from behind their shield to read deep into the creatures’ minds. Shared with Voron as he nuzzled her neck and stroked her arms.
“We need help. The monkeys only think of copulating.”
When the creatures left the room, Voron continued nuzzling beneath her ear. Licked the length of her throat and kissed the length of her jaw.
“You can stop now.”
:You forget we’re monkeys. We think only of copulating.: A smile grew on the lips touching her neck. :The gossip lies. Your skin feels nothing at all like raw cowhide.:
“Attend to business,” she snapped. “The creatures went to get someone strong enough to strip the minds of the flat-faced uglies. They want to know if our world is habitable.”
“How can they if we don’t want them to?”
“Pray you don’t find out.” With a snort, she looked down at the pack lying at his feet. “What’s in your pack anyway? Anything to eat? I need to replenish my energy.”
“Give me a kiss, and I’ll tell you,” he said with a broad hopeful grin. When she glowered at him, he gave up on the kiss. “Apples and ship bread.”
Hattenel closed her eyes, sighing as deeply as she could in the heavy atmosphere. Don’t men think of anything else? She held out her hand. “Care to share?”
“Your wish is my command.”
The apple crunched as she bit into it and moistened her mouth. “You didn’t happen to bring water, did you?” When he shook his head, she said, “I didn’t think so.” Hattenel searched the stairway as she swallowed. “They’ve moved beyond from my ken. The elder is ‘Runs in Circles’. The younger hasn’t earned a name yet and may never do so if Circles guesses right.”
“He sounded rather sure of himself to be running in circles.”
“The name refers to the herding of lesser beings. We arrived at an inconvenient time. His bitch is in heat, and he’s hurrying to send for someone more powerful to torment us.” Hattenel bit on her lip, worried she was having so much trouble breathing. “We have to get out of here.”
Voron hissed through his teeth, but he handed her the larger apple. “I know that. How stupid do you think I am?”
“Stupid enough to kiss me.”
While her gaze skewered him, Voron chewed his second apple down to the core. His face tight with anger, he threw it at the misty fence confining them. The charred core sailed through to the other side of the circle and disintegrated as the torches in the sconces flared wildly. Debris erupted from the floor in a whirlwind, lifting a section of wall away from the rest. The door pivoted back.
“Did you see the wall move?” asked Voron. “Do you think we can blast our way out of the circle if we combine?” Thumping footsteps came from the stairs. “Here take a couple apples. They seem to be the only weapon we have.”
When two different creatures wearing wider, more elaborate jeweled collars entered the room, the Half-Elven were sitting side by side, cross legged with apples concealed in their hands under their knees, facing the stairs. The newcomers argued, gesturing towards them, their voices growing louder and louder. One tried the finger waving trick again, but the Half-Elven captives fixated on the creatures’ knees and blanked their minds.
When nothing happened, the other captor gave an explosive yap. “I told you so. These beasts are as stupid as all the others. Runs in Circles is a fool.”
Hattenel leaned sideways and whispered. “I almost lost the shield.”
Voron’s muscles clenched. “Best throw the apples at them. On three.”
Shielded for the moment, the apples, one after the other, exploded through the circle’s barrier, each hitting the nearest dog-faced creature square in the chest and stuck. While their captors imploded into an oily, misty pillar of flame that melted them into a puddle, the captives struggled to their feet.
Coughing, Hattenel leaned against him. “My lungs are collapsing. Throw the pack through the circle. Reinforce our shield with all you’ve got. I’ll do the transfer.” Hattenel grabbed him tight around the waist. “Think on the black pronged rock. The red star in the bear just above the horizon.”
As soon as Voron threw his pack, Hattenel launched into the air, carrying them through the swinging door in the wall. Heat and darkness surrounded and weighed them down. Hattenel focused on the rookery landmark, willing their bodies to surface into the light and fresh air as if she swam through water. The smell of singed hair surrounded them, clogging her throat. The farther she pushed, the tighter her lungs became, until she thought she’d drop dead from fright.