MARCHING NEAR the front of a long line of soldiers in loose formation, Zhevi felt a kind of dread creeping up on him as he drew closer to the mountain where he’d been held captive last fall. He hadn’t been there long, less than a day, but the prison caves had been gruesome—perhaps they’d left their mark on him, because he felt them like a weight hung around his neck growing heavier with every step closer.
The late morning sun was mellow-warm rather than stifling as it brightened the valley they were moving across, but Zhevi couldn’t enjoy it. It was too much of a contrast to his dark memories. He felt like the world was lying to him, trying to make him believe it was a safe place, when in truth it was full of hazards and hateful people like the ones who had stolen all those children, locked them up, and then worked the lucky ones to death. What they did to the unlucky ones didn’t bear thinking about.
The columns of infantry had veered off the road to shorten the distance, heading straight for the mountain, which punctuated the line of low hills in the distance with its peak, a cap of rounded black stone untouched by the snow that even in summer powdered its high flanks. It had nowhere near the height of Gahabriohl, but in Zhevi’s mind it cast twice the shadow, and its broad footprint seemed poised to squash the valley’s gentle fields.
Despite his trepidation some part of Zhevi’s mind stayed detached and clear, helped along no doubt by the way Luccan’s dog, Maizie, checked on him every once in a while and insisted on an encouraging pet—pet for her, encouraging for him. In that quiet corner, he saw her unexplained faith and wondered what she knew that he didn’t. He also wondered at his fear. The magnitude of it seemed out of balance. It was natural for him to get scared going into a fight just like any other soldier—maybe more so, because at eighteen, he was still inexperienced. He’d only been in one real battle. But even though that had been his first action, and he’d been in a whole other world at the time, and some really strange magical crap had been going on, he had simply shoved the fear to the back of his mind and done what he was supposed to do.
Maybe that was the trouble, or part of it anyway. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do—on this march, or even once they got to the caves. In the battle outside Isa’s tower in Black Creek Ravine, he’d been the standard bearer for Shahna’s Rangers. Sitting on a horse holding the flags during a battle may sound like doing nothing, but in reality, the job involved more. He’d been trained to the duties for months before he was trusted with the Rangers’ standard. During battle, the flag he held flew as the unifying symbol to those in the thick of the fighting, both symbolically and practically, letting them know where to find their officer during the fray. Sometimes, the standard served to signal the troops about a new action or location. If the commanders moved, the standard bearer must stay with them at any cost, unless he was instructed differently.
Zhevi’d had to take an oath swearing to defend the standard by every means, even with his life—and in the middle of combat, with arrows flying, swords flashing, and magical weapons doing their worst, to die defending it was a very real possibility. He’d been scared, but he’d been proud. More to the point, unlike on this ride to the cruel mountain, he’d had something to do with his hands and his brain.
All he could do now was think about how L’Aria wasn’t there.
I’m just not going to think about her, he decided, since I can’t change the situation.
And I’m also not going to think about the caves under that mountain until we get there.
He succeeded in keeping his mind busy for a few minutes, calculating how long it would be until they arrived. They’d been on the road a day and a half, so maybe a couple more hours, he figured. The officers would call a halt before then. Partly, it would be a break for the troops so people would be refreshed and ready when they went in. But also, that’s when the plan of action would be refined and laid out. In a way, the detachment of foot soldiers had set out from the Sisterhold garrison with little real intelligence about what they’d find at the mountain or how to go about accomplishing their goal—defeating the captors and bringing the children back to the Hold.
Although Han had told Zhevi he’d go along as a guide, truthfully none was needed. The mountain had a name and appeared on all the maps. Though Han hadn’t been familiar with the area when they were there last year—and they’d arrived via a roundabout, cross-country route—after a study of charts and maps, he’d realized the tunnels could only be the ones created in distant, mythical times under Mount Khalisehl. Roads to it were well marked, and if not heavily traveled, they were at least more direct and would make it possible to move a body of soldiers quickly—especially with a little magical assistance provided by a couple of university students on internship at the Sisterhold.
Zhevi had been present when Han briefed the officers mainly because it was hoped he’d have something to add about the caves, but honestly, Zhevi’s memory of the place, except for their stealthy exit, was almost nonexistent. L’Aria probably could have helped more, but both he and Luccan had mostly responded to Han’s and Lieutenant Olmar’s questions with blank looks.
Han hadn’t pressed—it seemed to Zhevi he hadn’t really expected much out of him, and that the reason he’d been included in the march at all was only because either Thurlock or Han guessed the truth Zhevi wasn’t talking about—he needed to be part of saving the children, and he also needed to take his mind off L’Aria, though he wasn’t likely to succeed at that except in the middle of hand-to-hand combat.
Like an underscore on how unnecessary his help really was, at that meeting in his office Han had unrolled the map on the conference table and showed everybody a road to Khalisehl much straighter than the chase through the woods Zhevi and Luccan, and later Han, had taken.
“You could probably get there in less than a full day with a forced march. I don’t recommend that, however. The troops should be rested before you go in—I probably didn’t need to tell you that—but since you’re not starting off as early in the day as we’d hoped, perhaps go at an easier pace. As long as you get to the mountain before dusk, you can likely get it all done on the second day.
“One thing to remember,” he continued, pointing to an area to the west of the mountain, there was a town here, or at least a collection of ramshackle buildings and some unpleasant human inhabitants. But nothing like that is marked on the map, so apparently our knowledge of the area is out-of-date. You’ll want to send scouts out so you know what’s there. You’ll be calling the shots in the field, Lieutenant Olmar, but my recommendation is if you can get in and out of the mountain without approaching or alerting those people, that would be best. Our objective is rescue, so we want to keep the action as small as possible—no use striking a hornets’ nest if it’s avoidable. It could jeopardize the mission.”
But the scouts came back after the halt had been called, while the troops were at rest. Zhevi had stayed near the expedition’s command, as he’d been instructed, so he was present when they reported that, although the rough buildings were still standing, after a fashion, the town seemed deserted. The scouts had also checked along the river, around the other side of Khalisehl, where Han, Luccan, L’Aria, and Zhevi had exited the caves.
“No one home,” the scout named Sol had said, his growling voice barely understandable. “No boats. No new trash. Couldn’t hear nothing from inside the mountain, neither.”
The lieutenant looked thoughtful and then asked Zhevi, “Do you remember if you could hear noises from inside once you were out?”
Zhevi thought about it, the fingers of one hand drumming his thigh in an old habit that seemed somehow to move the gears of memory in his brain. “No, sir,” he said. “I don’t think we could. Even inside, it’s not so much that the noise was loud as that it was… disturbing. And it echoed. But even standing right out on the porch step, so to speak, I don’t think I could hear anything from inside the caves.”
“Hm,” said Olmar. “So we can’t assume, just from the lack of noise audible from outside, we’ll be unopposed.” He squatted down and unrolled the map on the ground, a thick square of canvas under it to keep the parchment clean. He told his second and the three noncommissioned officers to gather around and said, “Here’s how we’re going to approach.”
Being asked a question and having information that actually made a difference snagged a pretty good-sized chunk of Zhevi’s attention away from pining over L’Aria’s absence, and he listened to the briefing with something more like his usual practical-minded focus. When the lieutenant asked if anyone had questions, Zhevi spoke up.
“Sir, it’s not a question, but well, having been inside those caves, I see a potential problem with the plan.”
After a moment, during which he’d apparently been waiting for Zhevi to continue, Olmar said, “Well, what is it, soldier? Speak up.”
“Sir, you’ve got people coming in from two directions, and we’re supposed to do a sweep and then sort of meet in the middle, right?”
“That’s what I said, yes.”
“But those caves are a maze, sir. And it’s a pretty big area. I think… well, you know, even if we raised the standard, no one would see it from any distance in there—it’s dark. And the way the corridors run this way and that, it could be a long time before one half runs into the other by chance—and people could even get lost from their own group, especially if there’s hand-to-hand fighting.”
The lieutenant nodded and muttered a “hm” or two, so Zhevi decided to take a chance and offer a possible solution. They had two wizarding interns with them on the mission, a brother and sister about a year older than Zhevi. Their best magic resembled the sister magic Rosishan and Liliana did—or used to do before Liliana went wrong—but certainly, Zhevi thought, they also had a command of basic wizardry, which might be just what the mission needed.
“Sir?”
“Yes, Zhevi?”
“I, um, have an idea for how to solve the problem.”
Olmar raised his eyebrows in surprise, but said, “Let’s hear it.”
“Rami and Bradehn, sir, the two wizards? Each could raise a light, maybe a different color, for their patrol to keep tabs on to help them stay together, and for the opposite patrol to use to set their direction toward each other when it’s time… maybe?”
“Good idea, Zhevi,” Olmar said. “I think we’ll do it. I see why Commander Han thinks so highly of you.”
“He does?”
The lieutenant looked like he was trying not to laugh.
“Sir. I mean.”
“Yes,” Olmar said. “He does.”
Within an hour the officers briefed the soldiers and got them ready to go. They set out to march to their separate entrances, the patrol on the near side allowing time for the other to get in place before entering. Zhevi was with the lieutenant’s group, which would be going in on the near, landward side. They concealed themselves in a thicket very near the cave entrance, settling in to wait the agreed-upon hour before going into action.
Rami accompanied Sergeant Rayehl’s group, while Bradehn was with Zhevi under Sergeant Behrta. He and Zhevi had gravitated almost automatically toward one another, probably because they were about the same age and by far the youngest among the cohort. They talked together quietly as they waited, concealed in the trees on the landward side of the mountain and waited for the signal to go in. It was small talk—they didn’t know each other well at all, and soon they fell silent. Bradehn, either bored or nervous, started fiddling with his oak staff, sending small lights from the heel to the top, where they’d emerge with a small popping sound.
Proving, Zhevi thought, that not all wizards are smart.
“Stop,” he whispered. “If the sarge sees you doing that, he’ll have your hide! We don’t know if anybody’s around who could see those lights before we’re ready for them to know we’re here.”
Bradehn leaned forward and peeked around his bush of concealment to meet Zhevi’s eyes, his gaze horrified. “I’m sorry!”
Zhevi didn’t know whether to say it was okay, or to tell him he should be sorry. He was more inclined to do the latter, but he didn’t want to be cruel. In the end he didn’t have to decide—they got the whistled signal it was time to move.
No one interfered with the platoons as they ran across the open space to the cave entrance, weapons at the ready. The entrance was wide enough for six of them to enter at once but instead, as planned, they lined up along the mountain on either side of the doorway and filed in one after another staying in the shadowed corners as they entered. They executed the plan beautifully, but in the end the stealth proved unnecessary.
There would be no fighting, and little saving of children. The captors were gone, having apparently fled days or weeks earlier, and at first it seemed they left behind them only empty cells and rotting corpses. The battle transformed into a gruesome search of cells and corridors and a few children were found clinging to life. One thing left behind by the enemy proved to be a boon. The halls were strung with lights, pipes connecting one to the next indicating some kind of fuel automatically fed through them, and they still burned steadily. As they moved past a large open area just inside the cave entrance, Zhevi separated from the others as they all fanned out to move through the maze of cells. He made sure to keep Bradehn’s green beacon light in the corner of his eye, both because he was supposed to and because it provided a tether to safety and sanity that he sorely needed.
Not that he was threatened physically, but the nightmare he found himself walking through threatened to undo him. Some of the children appeared to have simply wasted away from neglect and starvation in cells that weren’t even locked, but some had been split open or half-eaten, their gory wounds clearly made by wild animals or perhaps monsters. Zhevi heard retching nearby, but he knew it came from a fellow soldier, rather than a child. Some part of his mind wanted to join him in upchucking his provisions, but by the time he’d carried the fifth dead child out into the corridor to be collected later, a strange sort of numbness came over him.
The lieutenant’s voice, apparently magnified by some wizard’s trick of Bradehn’s, rang out at one point, momentarily shattering the silence of the dead caves. “Keep to the plans. Search all areas. Bring out the dead. If any are found alive—” His voice broke on the word. “—pass them back to me and I’ll see to it they get immediate care.”
Zhevi was nearly to the end of his corridor, searching it and its side branches to the right as assigned, before he found life. But what he found then, coming into a large, open room with a cold fire pit in the middle, was no child.
“You’re a caveblight,” he whispered, as if the pitiful thing needed to know that. And, indeed the vaguely bearlike creature was pitiful, even as it screeched and hissed and bared its long fangs. It tried to stand, but its thin, weakened legs couldn’t hold it up and it toppled sideways, hitting the stone floor hard.
“And you’re dying,” Zhevi said, “starved to death.” With a sickening sympathy that felt as right as it did strange, Zhevi understood what had happened. The monster, all of its four eyes blind to anything but heat in motion, having little sense of smell, could not find meat in a cave full of it because the meat was already dead.
In a sudden flurry of ineffectual motion, the blight scrabbled its already ruined claws against the stone floor. It raised itself up and flopped down hard, then set up a weak yowl far too much like a human crying in grief.
Zhevi, the best of the young archers at the Sisterhold, pulled his bow from his shoulder, nocked a single arrow, and sent it unerringly into one of the monster’s glowing eyes. It died instantly. Zhevi had been dwelling on the horror of this place, but now the sadness of it washed over him, and it included a deep pity for the creature he’d just killed.
“Maybe I don’t want to be a soldier after all,” he whispered to himself.
But with his next breath he began to wonder why the creature had remained in this cave long enough to starve to death. Though he thought of it as a monster, it was indeed only a natural beast. They lived in caves, but were known to hunt the darker, older forests of the continent at night, since the warm-blooded prey there were easier to catch and meatier than the bats that shared their caves. There was something more to be learned about this beast’s plight, Zhevi thought, and he glanced around the large room. The chamber was larger than most in the caves, and lit by only a single lamp, so it took a moment before he noticed what looked like a pile of white and gray fur in a shadowed corner.
Dreading what he would find, Zhevi slowly advanced until he recognized what was there. A female caveblight bound in heavy chains, bloody from having just given birth, starved to skin and bones, lay curled around her obviously dead infant, mewling weakly and so very pitifully. What an awful tale this told! The jailers had wanted to keep the caveblight male there to frighten the children into subservience, so they chained its pregnant mate.
With angry tears pouring from his eyes, he once again drew his bow and ended the misery of a creature that did not deserve its torture any more than the children who had died all around it. He struggled to get his head around the idea that humans had done all of this. Humans—people who probably had families, children of their own, horses and chickens and pets. Humans had prepared this place and filled it with innocent children and creatures and worked them and tortured them and… what? Sold them?
With disgust he returned to his duty, dragging the caveblight corpses out into the corridor along with the children. The corpses were too many and too rotten to carry home, so there would be a funeral pyre. Zhevi saw no reason the blights could not go onto it. They were victims here too.
It was while Zhevi and many of the others were gathering firewood for that pyre that Maizie fulfilled her purpose, and redemption came.
They’d gone a fair way into the woods that covered the mountain’s lower slopes when she surprised him, running up from behind, and with a whining growl took hold of his sleeve and began to drag him toward a rocky outcropping surrounded by scrub pine and a couple of tall holly trees. At first he was aggravated and tried to make her stop and release his sleeve, but eventually he got the idea. There was something hidden by that brushy screen she insisted he must see. When he pushed through the branches, he found a low cave entrance. Remembering the caveblights in the tunnels, he felt a little apprehensive, but Maizie ran in, and he heard a tiny voice cry out in surprise.
Gods!
Heart beating like a war drum, Zhevi heaved aside a huge, flat rock that partially concealed the opening, letting in enough light to reveal a small tribe of ragged children—scared, nearly starved, but definitely alive.