Cavern

Prologue “Do you believe she has any idea where we are going?” Baufra kept his voice low, scarcely above a whisper. The High Lady Qalhata had remarkable hearing and she never seemed to miss a trick. Harwa flashed him a warning glance, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you mad? We never question a High One. Never!” Baufra nodded. He didn’t trust the High Ones. They were an odd lot, and he wasn’t just thinking of their physical appearance. Everything about them was just a little bit... off. Their limbs were too long, their torsos too thin, their eyes too large. Even their patterns of speech, the way they worked their lips with each syllable, as if human speech were unfamiliar to them. Some said they were gods, but Baufra knew better. Three days ago, the High Lord Intef had fallen, his heart pierced by an arrow from one of the primitives that called this land home. An arrogant man, Intef had ordered everyone to stay back as he alone approached the natives. He’d spoken in a tongue utterly alien to Baufra and the others. Either the natives had not understood either, or they’d grown bored of what he had to say, because in the middle of Intef’s speech, one of them had raised his bow and fired a single shot that found its mark. Baufra still remembered it all. The blank expression on the primitive warrior’s face as he took aim, the sound of the arrowhead piercing flesh, the look of disbelief in Intef’s eyes as he turned back toward his men, the casual disinterest with which the natives watched him die. And then the battle. Baufra and his men had driven the natives away, slain several. But not before they had stolen Intef’s bow and arrows. Some of his men had wanted to try and track down the thieves—the bow was a priceless treasure—but the High Lady had ordered them to continue their journey, insisting that their destination was somewhere close by. Three days later, they were still wandering. Baufra hated this land. It was cold and damp and smelled of earth. And the natives were a constant source of danger. They had no metals, their weapons were of wood and stone, but they had the advantage in numbers, and they moved like shadows through the forest. Half of Baufra’s party had lost their lives on this journey. He wondered if any of them would make it home. “Baufra!” The High Lady Qalhata called in that strange, birdlike trill she called a voice. Baufra knew not to delay. He hurried in the direction of her voice until he found her, standing in a tiny clearing, gazing down at that strange silver tablet she always carried. Baufra dropped to one knee in front of her and lowering his gaze. “You called, High Lady?” “You may rise.” Baufra stood, eyes still downcast. He hated looking at the High Ones. “I have found it,” she said simply. Baufra’s head snapped up and he met her gaze. Hope flickered inside him. Perhaps this journey was almost over. “You are certain?” He forgot to add the honorific, but Baufra didn’t seem to care. “It is underneath us. We need to find a way in.” “If I may ask, High Lady, what are we looking for?” “A cavern. That is all you need to know. Now, find the way in. That is all.” She made a shooing motion with one long-fingered hand. Baufra bowed and hurried away. The sooner he and his men could find this cavern, the sooner this nightmare would be over. –––––––– It was nearing nightfall when Baufra and Harwa returned. They had successfully completed their task, and found the cavern. But what they discovered within its depths gravely concerned him. “Should we tell her we found it?” Harwa asked. “I don’t see how we can avoid it,” Baufra said. “It’s not far away or well-hidden. Sooner or later it will be discovered.” “You saw what’s down there. We could be here for years before the task is completed.” Baufra forced a grin. “Then we had best get started as soon as we can.” When they reached the camp, Baufra knew immediately that something had gone very wrong. There were too few men here; only a handful milled about, all looking fearful. The closest man, a soldier named Irgo, spotted the newcomers and hurried over. “The natives. They attacked us again in even greater numbers.” Baufra gritted his teeth, anger burned inside of him. He should have been there to fight, but deep in the cavern, he’d been blissfully unaware of what transpired above. “How many lost?” Baufra asked through gritted teeth. “All but four.” “And the high lady?” Irgo shook his head slowly. “Gravely injured. I fear she will not survive the night.” A burst of relief flooded through Baufra. If the High Lady should pass, that would leave him the highest-ranking survivor. He would order the party to return home immediately. Surviving the return journey would be a challenge, but that was a problem for another day. Perhaps he ought to feel guilty for taking pleasure in the death of another, but the High Lady had never shown even a passing concern for the many losses they had suffered on this journey. “She wanted to see you the moment you returned,” Irgo said. “Very well. Set a perimeter around her pavilion. Everyone keeps watch for now. I’ll not lose another man to these savages. While Harwa and Irgo went about setting up defenses, Baufra went to see the High Lady. A single oil lamp sat on the ground beside her pallet, giving off faint golden light and a musky perfume scent. Qalhata lay on a pallet on the soft earth. A blood-soaked bandage was wrapped tightly around her middle. Baufra winced. No one survived a wound like that. “My Lady,” he said, dropping to one knee beside her. Qalhata opened her eyes and gazed blankly at the roof of the pavilion. “Did you find the cavern?” “We did, My Lady.” Baufra described what he and Harwa had found deep in the cavern. As he spoke, Qalhata smiled. “Take me there,” she whispered. “My Lady, I fear that is impossible. There are places where we must crawl, or climb great distances. In your condition we would have to drag you along. You would not survive it.” “I will not survive if I simply lie here and wait for death. But if you can take me there, I would have a chance.” Baufra tensed. He had suspected that the cavern was a source of great power. By the gods, he had felt it! Was it possible? Could the High Lady be healed? And even if it were possible, was that what he wanted? His left hand slipped to his dagger. No! It would be too obvious. He would have to suffocate her. His hands twitched and then he came to his senses. He had killed many times but he was not a murderer. He was a man of honor. “It will be as you say, High Lady.” “You will take me, along with the man called Irgo. He will know what must be done with my body should I not survive. In this, you will follow his instructions. Do you understand?” “I do.” Baufra’s head spun. Irgo, the low-ranking soldier, knew of the High Ones’ crafts? What else did he not know about his traveling companions? “You will lay me to rest in a place worthy of one of my standing.” She coughed and winced. “And there is one other thing. As you know, I must be protected in the next life.” “I am certain every one of our men would be honored to serve you.” Baufra highly doubted that, but it would be done. “I require the noblest of our number. That means Irgo and yourself.” Baufra listened with a powerful sense of detachment. Maybe he should have been shocked at the knowledge that he might die very soon, but for some reason, it didn’t surprise him. Of course his fate would be sealed just as he stood on the cusp of freedom. “Very well, High Lady. But we shall make every effort to assure that you do not reach the next life any time soon.” He bowed his way out of the pavilion and hurried to find Irgo. He might never leave this land, but perhaps he could avoid leaving the world any time soon.