YASH EXPLORED Chej’s ‘courtyard’ for some other way out, using Deng’jah’s faint illumination to guide her. Other than the smoke hole, the only other entrance or exit seemed to be a drain in the floor partly covered by a rotting wooden grate.
“Do you know where that goes?” she asked Chej.
“It goes into an old sewer,” he said. “I explored it a little bit. It still works—they connected the newer pipes and tunnels to the old ones.”
“To drain rainwater?” she asked.
“Yes. And other water. You know. Wastewater.”
“Sewage, you mean? Your garbage and your shit mixes with rainwater?”
“Yes.”
“That’s… not very clean. I imagine it drains out somewhere?”
“It drains out of the fortress under the wall. But you can’t get that far; the tunnel is stopped by a stone plug. It’s pierced so water can get through, but the holes are too small for a person to pass.”
“But there must be shafts going up, as well? Connecting to the newer drains?”
“Yes,” he said. “But I never went up into those. They’re—well, you just said it yourself. Disgusting. Not the sort of place you want to crawl around.”
She knelt and removed the grate. The drain was narrow. She would fit, and she had no doubt Chej had fit when he was a boy. But he was a man now, and a big one. It might be a challenge.
The entire room shuddered, and bricks cracked above. She grabbed Chej and shoved him against a wall as debris rained down through the smoke hole. The Beast bellowed, and its acrid stench rolled down to them, stinging her nose and making her eyes water. She slipped over and glanced up the shaft where faint, ruddy orange light was now spilling through. The Beast’s head was pushed into the smoke-hole shaft, battered through from a room just above them. It bellowed again and angled its head down, its nose horns catching at the shaft and shattering the old brickwork and opening up yet another room on the other side of it.
“It’s found us,” Chej said.
“Down the shaft,” Yash said. “You lead the way.”
“Yes,” Chej replied. He glanced up. “Do you smell smoke?”
“Yes,” Yash said. “I think the fortress is on fire because of Bright’s arrow.”
“That’s on the other side, the eastern side,” Chej said.
“The Beast has doubtless overturned many lamps,” Yash said. “Perhaps there is more than one fire.”
“But the fortress is mostly stone and brick,” Chej objected.
“There’s plenty of wood, too,” Yash said. “Beams in the ceilings, supports in the walls. It will burn.”
“You were going to burn it down yourself, weren’t you?” Chej accused.
“I considered it,” Yash admitted. “I might still. Can you fit?”
“My legs are already in,” Chej said. “My shoulders are a little tight—oh!”
Another shower of bricks and dust fell from overhead, and fully half the ceiling of their refuge caved in. She covered her head with her arms and bent as the fragments battered her. The Beast’s head drove deeper, its mouth no more than the length of her leg away now. She still had her weapons, but using Bright’s bow down here would surely kill Chej and her both and still not harm the monster. The long knife had demonstrated its uselessness. Continuing the fight right now didn’t seem like the best use of her time.
She glanced over. She couldn’t see Chej anymore. She found the shaft with her hands and slipped down it as the Beast dug deeper. It had been hard to see in the dim light, but now it was clear that the Beast had changed somewhat; it no longer had horns on its nose and instead of thick, hooflike toes it now had huge, curved claws well suited to digging, which it was now busily doing. One of the clawed forelimbs reached for her just as she let herself down the shaft. There, she briefly found herself standing on Chej’s head, who squealed and then moved out of the way. The Beast pounded the top of the drain as Yash fell into the old sewer tunnel.
It was larger than she had imagined. The dim light revealed a vaulted ceiling over a chamber perhaps ten paces wide, with four passages running out from it. Everything was wet, and it smelled of rot and shit. In Deng’jah’s dim light she saw water had collected in isolated puddles, and the floor was strewn with small bones and other trash.
“This is unpleasant,” Yash said. “Which way is out?”
“That way.” Chej gestured.
Before they could move, however, the ceiling of the chamber collapsed with a muted roar as the Beast tore its way through it. They scrambled back as a huge claw raked down through the ceiling. The hole wasn’t yet big enough for it to get to them, but in heartbeats it would be.
“I remember!” Chej shouted, over the din. “Even Horn was afraid of the Beast. Sometimes he would put it to sleep and send in Dzhen to cut a hole through its skin. It has a spot, about the size of a fist, under its breastbone, where there isn’t any hair. Dzhen thought that Sha made him do that so the Beast would have a weak spot, if it was needed. One only he and Horn knew about.”
“Right,” Yash said, looking up. “Crawl up the tunnel as far and fast as you can go. Do it now.”
She didn’t look to see if he was obeying her, and the din the Beast was making was too loud to hear him moving. She strung the bow and put an arrow on its string, then lay flat on her back, watching the monster dig toward her. The shaft they had come down was now blocked by the creature, along with the firelight that had filtered down it.
“I need more light, Deng’jah,” she said.
“I can do that,” Deng’jah said. “But not for long.”
“Do what you can.”
In the next breath Deng’jah became too bright to look at directly, casting golden rays up into the shadows. She saw the Beast’s belly, fur matted like felt. She didn’t see anything that looked like a hole in it.
The vaulted ceiling above her sagged, crumbled, and collapsed. She kicked herself along the mucky floor of the shaft to avoid the worst of the falling debris. One of the Beast’s clawed hands slapped down an arm’s breadth from her. She controlled her breathing, eyes darting through the widening holes. Deng’jah’s light began to dim.
It might have been a shadow she saw as her companion’s illumination failed, or just a marking on the fur. It was all she had, so she sped the arrow and then began frantically kicking away, eyes closed.
The flash came through her eyelids. The sound was deafening. Then everything above the tunnel collapsed into it, muting the rest of the explosion. She covered her head and face as falling brick and stone battered her, knowing she was about to be buried.
But a few more heartbeats passed, and the collapse subsided. Her ears continued ringing, so she couldn’t hear much of anything else. She slowed, panting. All of Deng’jah’s light was gone now, and it was as dark as any cave she had ever ventured into. The smell of the Beast, however, was overwhelming.
“Deng’jah?” she murmured. She couldn’t hear her own voice.
But she could hear her helper as clearly as ever.
“Here,” he said. And with that he began to glow again faintly.
The passage was filled with rubble. She stilled her breathing, but her ears were still useless. She placed her fingertips on the ground, feeling for vibrations.
“Deng’jah, is the Beast dead?”
“I will go see,” Deng’jah said.
At the same moment, a shock traveled up her fingers. Yash threw herself back as the rubble filling the collapsed sewer began to push toward her.
“Never mind,” Deng’jah said. “It’s hurt, maybe fatally. But it can still kill you.”
The Beast shoved its head into the passageway, digging out of the debris with the antlers of a gigantic elk. She felt more than heard its furious shriek; its antlers smashed into the walls as it pushed forward toward her. She didn’t try to stand up but kept scuttling back, kicking with her feet and pushing with her hands. Its glistening black eyes were fixed on her.
Horns. Antlers. The name of the tower itself. She remembered a trip to a place where the grass was tall, a dj’ende place so awful no one dared cross into it.
I know his name, she realized.
“De’łgheedi!” she shouted. The name sounded to her like it came from beneath a pile of blankets, and the monster took no heed.
“De’łgheedi!” she repeated.
This time, something flickered in his eyes. He drew his head back slightly, and everything was still for a moment. Then the Beast lurched forward. He vomited blood, enough to fill up three or four grown people. His massive head shivered.
Yash stared at him for a moment. Every nerve in her body told her to get up and run, but she stayed where she was, watching the monster die. After a dozen heartbeats, she moved slowly forward. She put her hand on his muzzle, felt his hot, damp breath.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “But it’s going to be better.”
The anger was gone, and only confusion remained. He took a single long, labored breath, and then even that was gone. She pulled herself closer. She stroked her hands on the sides of his head. She began to hum and then to sing.
De’łgheedi I have heard you called
Horn Stabber
Wary One, Protector of your herds.
As she sang, she began to see a place where mountains sloped down, flattened out, and became a prairie of tall grasses that stretched far toward mountains so distant there almost looked like smoke on the horizon. Nearer, a dark shadow crept slowly across the yellow-green expanse. She thought at first it might be cast by a cloud, but the sky was clear. Then she understood. It was a herd of bison. She had seen a few of them in her life, massive creatures with dense fur and fearsome horns, but only in scattered groups, never in numbers like this. And they weren’t alone. Antelope sprang through the high grass, elk grazed near the tree line. She had never seen this place. No one living had. But she had heard the stories. Once her people had ranged here, at the very edge of their country, the place of the herds. They had come back with meat, stories, sometimes wives or husbands. But that had been long ago. For many years it had been a barrier no one dared approach closely.
“Your home,” she sang.
Your home is Tłuhk’e, The Grass Place.
Your home is Qunghinteł, Where It Becomes Flat.
You have been called De’łgheedi, Horn Stabber
But you have other names
Wejetsjah, Earth Trembler, Thunderhoof
This is your place, the Grass Place.
This is your home, Where It Becomes Flat.
Bring it all back with you.
She felt hot breath on her neck. She smelled crushed grass, felt sunlight on her face and the wind teasing at her short hair.
She felt relief. She felt a smile begin.
It is good, a voice said. I remember now, and it is good. But you must beware, child, little one, spring peeper. He is not the same as me. He is not like Older Sister Who Watches the Spring in the Winding Canyon. He is not kin to Yeetwa, The Grey Giant, or the others you have come for. He has no place in this world. He came for us. He will come for you.
“What do you mean?” Yash asked. “Who are you talking about?”
The one in the center. The middle of it all. He has slept. He has waited. But now he is waking. You were not meant to kill him. It is not your purpose. You—ah, no…
The voice shot up and rose in pitch, became a howling wind. The grassy plains blurred and blew away, a painting in sand smeared and destroyed by the gale. She felt a gaze touch her then. She didn’t see any eyes, or anything at all, but she nevertheless knew she was seen. And what saw her was something awful.
Something struck her. Like a wind, it wasn’t a solid thing, but it was substantial enough to stun her and send her tumbling back. Farther down the tunnel, Chej yelled and then whatever-it-was continued on crashing into things, cracking stone. She lay there, listening to the racket recede, knowing the spirit of Grass Place was beyond her reach. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
She had lost him.