The Hunter (31 page)

When the last of them had wakened from their sleep they refreshed themselves with another small meal and warm water cautiously
drawn from the lake. It was Keri who discovered the tunnel. Taking the pouch of warm water and a cleaning cloth, she availed
herself of the privacy offered by a veil of rock that hung from the wall at the far edge of the rocky clearing. Staking her
torch into the soft sand, she was startled to discover a cleanly cut opening concealed directly behind the rock. She probed
its opening with the torch and was astounded to see a series of markings painted on the wall with bright colors. There were
a number of glyphs that she could not decipher and two handprints, one pointed toward the lake, the other pointing into the
dark maw of the tunnel.

“Braldt! Batta Flor!” she called their names excitedly, and fearing another attack they wasted no time in arriving at her
side. Braldt studied the glyphs in puzzlement, but it was immediately apparent that Batta Flor had seen their like before
for he studied them closely and his small, dark eyes glittered with excitement.

“We have found the way,” he said, pointing to the strange marks. “It is the writing of the hard ones. It is old, strange…
unlike that which I am familiar with, but I can read it.”

“What does it say?” Braldt asked impatiently. Batta Flor studied it for a moment before he replied. “‘Beware the creatures
of the water.’ Good warning, too bad there was not such a warning where we entered.”

“What does the rest of it say?” asked Braldt. “Surely there is more.”

“Fourth level, down to minus level, that is what it says.”

“What is minus level?” asked Keri.

“A level that is below the control chamber,” answered Batta Flor. “It gives access to the ships when they land so
that the fuel pods may be exchanged. There are also a number of work bays for maintenance and storage.”

“Is there a way to reach the outside from these lower chambers?”

“Yes!” cried Batta Flor, excitement growing in his voice as he stared at Braldt, immediately grasping what it was he had in
mind.

“Well, if they can be reached from the outside, why did we have to enter the mountain to get to them?” Keri demanded angrily.
“Why did we have to go through all of this if we could have gotten there from the outside?”

“No, it’s not like that.” Batta Flor turned to her. “They are small openings with heavy grates fitted over them, much too
small for the Madrelli to fit through. We could not have entered that way, they are for drainage, for runoff, nothing more.”

“But they could be used to drain away the waters that have built up inside the chamber,” muttered Braldt. “Do the chambers
connect?”

“There is access,” Batta Flor admitted, “but how would one escape the rising waters once the way was opened?”

“That is a thing I cannot answer until I see the place,” replied Braldt. “You can tell me about it as we go. Come, my friends,
the sooner we are started, the sooner we are done. Let us be gone.”

The walls of the tunnel were smoothly carved from the surrounding rock. There was no question that this was a man-made passageway,
man-made or whatever the hard ones were. But Batta Flor insisted that it had been driven by those of his own kind, and upon
reflection, it seemed likely that he was right.

They lost no more time in searching out or arguing about the origins of the tunnel but, instead, packed up their few remaining
supplies and set off at a swift pace. The tunnel descended smoothly in a series of gentle switchbacks. There was a deeply
channeled groove running along one side of the tunnel and this they ascertained was to bring
additional water from the lake, although why it had been needed was anyone’s guess.

There were other tunnels as well, intersecting on both sides, some rising higher and others descending at steep angles. There
were few if any indications where these tunnels went or what their purpose was, for when they were marked at all, it was with
cryptic signs such as a pointing hand, either up or down, designating the direction of the tunnel and followed by a series
of letters and numbers such as “A 1 b4,” or “L 2 acl.”

While most of the tunnels were smoothly cut and gently graded as was the one they were following, others were cracked and
fissured with chunks of rock littering the ground. The air was most often foul in these broken passageways and remembering
their frightening experience with the poisonous air, they hurried past, making no effort to enter or explore.

After a time, they ceased to explore even those tunnels that appeared to be in perfect condition, for it seemed most likely
that the main tunnel would take them where they wanted to go.

It was Keri who made the next discovery, literally falling over it as she followed behind Batta Flor. Although the torches
illuminated much of the way if they were held high to show the way ahead, much of the floor was left in semidarkness. As their
tunnel had been spared most of the damage noted in smaller passages, this was not deemed to be a problem. And such was the
case, until Keri stubbed her foot hard against solid, unmoving rock and dropped her torch, cursing colorfully and holding
her toe.

Hopping up and down, she lost her balance and sat down abruptly, which gave much humor to her companions who began to laugh,
releasing some of the strain of the past few days. Their humor at her expense did nothing to assuage Keri’s anger and she
cursed them as well as the rock that had caused her such discomfort.

She groped around in the semidarkness, searching for the stone so that she might throw it at them, but instead of a rock fallen
from the ceiling, her questing fingers encountered
the smooth-cut angles of a long square object. Finding her torch, she brought it to bear on the object and found that it was
the edge of a door that fitted flush against the wall and opened onto the tunnel. It was the leading edge of this door, which
had come ajar, that her toe had met with such painful results.

Seeing no reason to say anything to Batta Flor and Braldt who were still choking with laughter and comparing her ungraceful
posture to that of a bottom-heavy infant, she opened the door to its fullest extent and peered inside, wondering what she
would find for it was the first such aperture they had encountered.

It was dark inside the door, a thick black clinging darkness that the flames of her torch did little to dispel. She blinked
to clear her eyes and stepped forward. Too late she realized that there was nothing underfoot. She screamed aloud and flung
out her hands to grab onto something, anything, to break her fall, but there was nothing, and with a rising sickness, she
shrieked and fell into deep and utter darkness.

Carn stumbled along the sandy path, picking his way
through large chunks of broken rock that had fallen from the ceiling and walls that surrounded him, lighting the way with
one of the few torches he still possessed. In some places, the path disappeared completely, buried beneath massive falls of
rock, and he despaired of finding the way again. The thought of ending his days entombed within the bowels of the mountain,
never to breathe clean air or feel the touch of Sun the Giver upon his skin, however, gave him the strength to continue.

He prayed aloud to Mother Moon, uttering all the prayers he knew, even those that were reserved for the high elders. Part
of his mind mocked him for saying the words that Batta Flor had all but convinced him were naught but trickery on the part
of the masters. Yet another part of his mind refused to acknowledge the argument. What was faith if not a belief in that which
required faith itself for its very existence? Some things were beyond logic, beyond explanation, beyond cold reason, and Carn
found that once he had made such a decision, his heart was eased. Somehow, the reaffirmation of his faith made him stronger
and that was what was needed if he were to survive.

The passage was filled with noises, the scamper of tiny feet, the click of claws, and the snick of teeth. There was the whisper
of scales dragging over rock and shrill chitters that sounded like rats. The sound of dripping water was a constant, and in
some places water could clearly be heard rushing past although there was no sign of a stream.

Most disconcerting of all was the sound of air or gasescaping under pressure, hissing loudly, and occasionally all
but squealing in a high-pitched eerie wail. The sound raised the hair on the back of his neck and all along his arms and he
held his breath and hurried through these places as swiftly as he was able. He suffered no ill effects from the passage and
gave thanks to Mother Moon for watching over him, vowing to honor her always.

The way twisted and turned in all directions, first left, then right, first up, then down, snaking back on itself like a live
thing, and it grew increasingly apparent that no hand of Madrelli or hard one had ever smoothed its way.

After a time Carn became aware of another fact, the rock and, indeed, the very air he breathed was becoming hotter. It was
necessary for him to open his mouth to breathe and his air came in short, animallike pants. His lips were rough and cracked
and the hair inside his nostrils were stiff and crackled with each inhalation. His tongue lay heavy and dry on the floor of
his mouth and he fought against the urge to drain the water pouch dry.

He put out a hand to steady himself and quickly snatched his hand back even as the skin rose in instant blisters on his palm.
The wall of the passage was burning hot! Carn fought down the panic that rose in his breast, and fought off the desire to
turn and run back the way he had come, knowing that there was no hope to be had in that direction. His only hope was to continue
on.

He stumbled over an unseen rock and dropped his torch. The flame was extinguished and instantly he was engulfed in darkness.
Yet it was not the total darkness that he had expected. To his amazement, he saw that the wall on his right seemed to glow
with a dull golden orange light, like Sun the Giver viewed through a parchment at midday.

Carn stared at the ominous sight with stricken eyes, wondering what it was that he was seeing, wondering what it could mean.
Slowly he became aware of another sound, a sound that he had been hearing for some time. It was the sound of swift passage,
as though something was flowing just beyond the glowing wall, something heavy but smooth surging along, scraping the walls
with a constant murmur,
bumping and thumping from time to time as though some heavier object had struck the rock.

Sweat beaded on Carn’s forehead only to evaporate as soon as it had formed, but Carn did not notice. He stared at the glowing
rock, working things out in his mind. Something flowed beyond the wall. Something hot, so hot that it was able to bring the
rock itself to a red-hot glow. As he watched, wisps of steam curled away from the rock, reaching for him lazily, as though
content to wait.

Carn forced himself to think. It could not be water behind the wall, for water was often heated in clay pots over fires and
never did the clay pots turn such a color. If the fire were too hot, the pot simply broke, shattering under the extreme temperature.

No, it was not water, and with growing certainty and horror, Carn knew that what flowed beyond the wall of glowing rock was
more rock, heated to the point where it melted and flowed like a flaming river of molten stone. Only the thin partition of
rock separated Carn from certain death and the partition itself was all but liquid. How long had it held? How much longer
would it hold? Centuries? Lifetimes? Hours or merely minutes? Those were questions to which Carn had no answers and he stared
at the wall transfixed, unable to move, certain now that he was going to die.

After a time, he slumped forward, eyes closed, unable to maintain his horrified vigil. He was filled with fear. He wanted
to cry, to bury his head in his mother’s lap, but these actions would not save him. Then a vision began to form in his mind,
a vision of Mother Moon red-orange, the same color as the glowing wall, rising above the red cliffs of home, rising out of
the black night sky. Carn raised his head and stared at the fiery wall, wondering if it was an omen. The wall rock seemed
to throb as he looked at it, always pulsing as though it were a living thing. It had the same heavy, gravid feel of Mother
Moon at the peak of the Harvest Cycle.

Mother Moon would not have brought him this far only to kill him; there had to be a reason for all that had
happened, there just had to be! Either the glowing wall was an omen from Mother Moon or—or his whole life was without meaning!
Carn got to his feet and staggered on, determined to succeed. If Mother Moon, may she live in brightness, sent him a sign
in this his darkest hour, then he would not betray her trust!

Others, like Braldt, might fail to honor her, might even believe the false words of animals, but those who were true believers
would never be swayed from their faith so easily.

It was up to him, Carn, to save Auslic and the tribe and his sister as well from the danger of outsiders, all outsiders, whether
Madrelli or these masters. Carn was not even sure that he believed in the masters and the so-called hard ones, but nothing,
certainly no words from the mouth of an animal, would ever succeed in swaying him from his faith again. Mother Moon had seen
fit to send him a sign in his hour of darkness; he had but to believe in her, to remain firm in his faith, and she would show
him the way. Fevered and impassioned, Carn rose to his feet and set off down the fiery tunnel in search of salvation and glory.