The Scribe and the Sword
Part Two
Shenshen led the two Wolfriders and their mounts down a staircase hidden in the shadows of what appeared to be a natural arrangement of boulders. Only an elf – or a troll – was small enough to fit between the rocks and find the tunnel that Two-Edge had dug into the mountain.
“It’s wonderful to see you again,” Shenshen chirped. “It’s been much too long – I’ve hardly seen any of the Wolfriders since I left Sorrow’s End with Brightmetal, and I can’t remember the last time I shared a meal with an elf from your Eldertribe.”
“It’s dark in here,” One-Eye scowled. “Still got sun spots in my eyes.”
“I hope it’s no bother taking us in like this,” Clearbrook said.
“Of course. Don’t be silly. We’re glad for the company. Oh, there are never enough moments in the day to do everything – we’re hardly enough bored with all of Two-Edge’s projects to keep us entertained. But with only four of us, we do get a little hungry for a new face. No, don’t think twice, Clearbrook. And tell all your friends to come and see us more often. Especially that funny Littlefire. We would love to see him again. It’s been too long since he came here, and after all, he is Two-Edge’s close kin – and Aroree’s too.”
Chattering the entire journey, Shenshen led them into the first chamber. Furs hung from the walls on wooden pegs, as did long robes of woven cloth and several woven sun hats.
“The wolves can sleep here if they’d like,” Shenshen said. “But if you’d rather they stay with you they are welcome to come in and sleep with you in your room. Or if it’s the open air they like, there are lots of overhangs where they could sleep.”
“This will be fine, Shenshen. Thank you.”
“We weren’t exactly sure when you would be arriving, so Two-Edge has been making his best stew every night for the last eight-of-days,” she said to explain the mouth-watering aroma as they left the wolves and descended deeper into the cave. “The best woodrot and toadstools... and some fine wildfowl too. Ohh...” she paused as she saw One-Eye’s unenthusiastic expression. “Or if you’d like I’m sure it’s not too late for Aroree to rustle up something fresh.”
“Whatever you’ve made is fine,” Clearbrook said, giving One-Eye a little nudge in the ribs. “We don’t want to be a bother.”
“Not at all. I told you, we’re glad for the company.”
The main chamber held a great stone hearth. A fire was roaring within, over which the stew was bubbling. One-Eye and Clearbrook both stiffened imperceptibly at the sight of the half-troll crouched near the fire, the wolf in them instantly on guard. But Two-Edge only turned and favour them with a timid smile.
Aroree appeared out of another room, bearing a flagon of wine. “You’re here!” she beamed. “Shenshen, you should have sent. Welcome. Please, sit. You must be tired from your journey. Are you thirsty? This dreamberry wine is from last year’s harvest – very sweet, and without too much of a bite.”
They sat down around the stone table and Aroree poured out the wine to her guests. “I am so happy you’re here, One-Eye, Clearbrook,” Aroree said. “I’ve longed to have a chance to repay the kindness your tribe showed me so many years ago.”
“I too,” Two-Edge said. “You... you and your tribe had no reason to take me in after the war with the trolls... but you did. Your healer saved my life then... and he saved the life of my mate and my son years later. I... I always pay my debts. I... the edges must be equally sharpened, you see. The scales must be balanced. If it’s the secrets of the forge you want, my son and I will be glad to teach you.”
“Where is your son?” Clearbrook inquired politely.
“Oh, he’ll show his face when the stew is ready,” Aroree laughed lightly.
Sure enough, when the stew was cooked and Two-Edge was ladling it into bowls Aroree held, the quarter-troll made his appearance, seemingly unfazed by the appearance of two Wolfriders at his table. “One-Eye and Clearbrook, yes? So you’re the Wolfriders who want to learn to forge metal, are you?”
“Just Clearbrook,” said One-Eye.
Brightmetal took the bowl of stew Aroree was about to set at Two-Edge’s place and sat down at his own seat next to Shenshen. “What? Oh, shame. You’re letting your mate toil at the forge alone? It’s the male’s duty to forge to metals, the female’s to adorn herself in them.”
“Brightmetal...” Shenshen touched his shoulder. “Don’t mind him. All these years and he still thinks the only way is the troll way.”
“I’ve got no head for metalworking,” One-Eye said. “Wouldn’t know where to begin. It’s Clearbrook’s dream to make a brightmetal sword. And it’s my duty to stand by her, no matter what.”
Brightmetal nodded thoughtfully. “Well. It’s about time one of you wolf-elves decided to take up the trade. They’ve been making fine metalwork in Sorrow’s End for ages.”
“Hm. Shouldn’t be too hard to teach you the ways of metal,” Two-Edge said. “Few days’ rest and we can take you down to the forges.”
“I’m ready to begin tomorrow,” Clearbrook announced.
“You must be tired from your journey,” Aroree said.
“Not tired enough to kill the hunger inside me.”
Two-Edge and Brightmetal exchanged skeptical glances. “Very well,” Two-Edge said at length. “Tomorrow.”
“Tell me everything that’s happened at Redmark’s Rest,” Shenshen begged excitedly. “Oh, I know the Way doesn’t hold much with change, but I can’t believe nothing new has happened. Any new quests? New human tribes found? Recognitions?”
Clearbrook winced. One-Eye looked down at his plate. “Actually... there... will be a new cub in another two turns of the season.”
“Oh, how wonderful,” Aroree exclaimed.
“Who?” Shenshen demanded.
“Uh... Kit–”
“And Littlefire? Well, it’s about time–”
“And... me,” One-Eye said.
“Oh.” Shenshen fell silent.
“How lovely for you,” Aroree said. “You’ll have a cub waiting for you when you and Clearbrook return home.”
“Well... we hope to be home before then,” One-Eye began.
“But we’ll stay here as long as it takes,” Clearbrook added hastily.
“Yes...”
Again Two-Edge and Brightmetal glanced at each other askance.
The Wolfriders slept in the guest room – Aroree explained that they always kept a spare room in case visitors came by. The bed was huge – clearly built to a Glider’s height, not a Wolfriders. One-Eye gratefully burrowed under the furs, but Clearbrook lingered on her feet, watching the wood crackle in the flames of their hearth.
**Come to bed, Perth,** One-Eye sent wearily. **Morning will come soon enough.**
Clearbrook’s education began in earnest come morning. She struggled to lift the heavy hammer, and blanched when Brightmetal cheerfully informed her it was the smallest one they had. She strained her eyes to see the different veins of metal that ran in the rock. She coughed at the soot and ash in the air.
The first days were spent showing her about the forge, explaining the purpose of each tool. Clearbrook’s head spun from all the new vocabulary.
After Clearbrook could name every tool and its purpose, they showed her how to hold a pick axe and mine the rock directly from the tunnel around her. After her hands were covered with blisters from hefting the great pick, they melted the rocks she had chipped away, demonstrating how some molten stone floated in the great crucible while other ores sank.
“That yellow rock must always been removed from the ore to make brightmetal,” Two-Edge warned her. “It will make your blade brittle.”
“The metal sinks straight to the bottom,” Brightmetal told her. “You can break the bowl open to get at the shards of metal, but it’s better if you build a spout in the bottom of the bowl to drain out the molten metal.”
“Strong clay will do the trick,” Two-Edge added.
Clearbrook was at a loss more often than not. But she could still impress her hosts with her own special skills. “There are three kinds of metal here,” she told them as she sniffed the brightmetal blade Two-Edge showed her. “But... but I don’t know what kinds... or in what measures.”
“Patience...” Two-Edge told her again and again when she wanted to race ahead. “I can tell you the metals are greymetal, hardflint and blacksheen, but until you know them from the rocks around, they are only names.”
“Ohhh... this isn’t working,” Clearbrook moaned as One-Eye massaged her aching shoulder muscles. “I’m never going to be any good at this.”
“Hold still,” One-Eye chided gently.
“I won’t give up,” Clearbrook insisted.
“No one says you have to. But try to take it slow. You don’t have to make a sword by the next eight-of-days.”
“Here,” Shenshen said at supper after two-eights-of-days, when Clearbrook could not longer hide the pain in her muscles. She held out a ceramic container of a smelly green ointment. “It’s made from grubbing moss – I know it smells horrible, but it will take the pain out of your shoulders at night and give you new strength in the morning.”
Clearbrook smiled in gratitude. “What do you with your days, Shenshen? Aroree hunts and weaves the cloth you all wear. Two-Edge and Brightmetal stand at the forges. What about you?”
Shenshen shrugged. “A little bit of everything, really.”
“Don’t be so modest,” Aroree said. “She is our best gatherer – she finds the best mushrooms and mosses for our stews and pies. And her herb lore keeps us all strong. We have no healer’s magic here, but Shenshen’s mended many broken bones and cured many fevers over the years.”
“It’s so good to feel... useful,” Shenshen confessed to Clearbrook later that evening as they sat by the hearth, warming their hands. “At Sorrow’s End... even at the Great Holt... I felt so much like one of many. Oh... I was useful. I was another pair of hands. But there was nothing special I had to offer... save for those rare times when I could help at a birth. Even then, you Wolfriders could take care of yourselves, more oft than not. Most of the time... I could just as easily be replaced by another pair of hands. But here... no one could replace me. Here I have something all my own to give. And that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Clearbrook smiled. “I think it is.” She reached over and squeezed Shenshen’s hand.
The next morning, Shenshen passed Clearbrook and the two smiths at the forge. “And where are you off to so cheerful, Shen?” Brightmetal teased.
“Looking for some more grubbing mosses and roundroot. From the way you’re working poor Clearbrook, I imagine I’ll need it.”
“Look,” Clearbrook held up the tiny sliver of brightmetal she had made with the metal tongs. “Hardly a sword, I know, but a good beginning.”
“All things grow from good beginnings,” Shenshen grinned. “I’ll see if I can’t find a little blakeroot too while I’m down in the Southern Maze. Fry up some fish for a proper celebration tonight.”
“Just leave a few raw ones for One-Eye,” Clearbrook said. “He can’t stand cooked fish.”
“We’ll turn his taste to proper cooking yet!” Shenshen threw over her shoulder.
“Be mindful, daughter!” Two-Edge called. “There were tremors in the Southern Maze a few days ago... the ground may still be shifting.”
“Don’t worry. I know these caves like a troll now.”
Shenshen left them behind in the forge and skipped down the steps to the lower levels of Blue Mountain. The light of her glowing stone lantern revealed the many structures of the Gliders that had survived Blue Mountain’s fall. The great staircase was rock-shaped, not hewn with a troll’s pick. The walls were decorated with elegant organic swirls that not only pleased the senses but also held the ceiling well fortified above the floor.
Deeper still she returned to the cleanly mined tunnels of Two-Edge’s own design. She followed it past two intersections of smaller tunnels, to its terminus above a deep shaft in the rock.
Reaching Two-Edge’s elevator built of ropes and wooden pulleys, Shenshen descended to the bottom of the shaft. A smaller, narrow tunnel led deeper into the mountainside. Shenshen set her glowing rock down and knelt on the roughly hewn floor. Tubers poked through the rocks, their stems covered with brown fuzz. Shenshen smiled as she began to carefully pry out the fleshy stalks for her herb basket.
She sang to keep herself company, and her voice echoed in the close confines:
“When I was a young troll I had brave ambitions
To murder my uncle, his treasure to win.
But he was the stronger, he laughed at my folly.
He'll die of old age, his gold buried with him.”
“So we hack and we hew with our picks in the stone
For the treasures we take from our old mother's bones.
No joy will we know 'til that treasure we hold,
For troll maiden's love is as true as your gold.
Ohh... a troll maiden’s love is a true as your gold...”
She heard a strange noise over her shoulder. The wind whistling through the tiny fissures that ran throughout the rock?
It sounded almost like a murmuring.
It was growing louder.
Surely just the cave breathing. Her imagination was getting carried away, that was all.
She tried to sing again, to drown out the moaning, mumbling sounds. “So we hack and we hew... with our picks in the stone... for the treasures we take from our old mother’s bones...”
The murmurs were growing louder.
“Who’s there?” Shenshen called.
The noise only rose. “Mmmmmmmrrrrrrrrrrr.......”
“I know you’re there! Who are you?”
“MMMMMMRRRRRRRRR....”
The rocks around her were vibrating. She could feel the tunnel wall shiver against her hand as she braced herself against it.
“Oh... Great sun...” she moaned. She looked about desperately.
The whole tunnel seemed ready to collapse around her as it hummed in tune with the noises. “Got to get out...” Shenshen murmured. “Out... out... oh great sun!”
She dropped the basket and bolted. She sprinted back up the tunnel and hauled herself onto the elevator’s platform. She yanked hard on the release cord and the hidden rock counterweight sent the platform rising towards the familiar corridors. The echoes of the moaning chased her up the shaft.
**Brightmetal! Two-Edge! Help me!** her sendings raced ahead of her as barrelled up the staircase bound for the forges. **There’s something down there!**
“Hey, whoa, Shenshen,” Brightmetal appeared at the top of the stairs, and she tackled him with such force he staggered back, almost falling over. “Hey, hey, what is it?” he smoothed her hair back as she wept against his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s something down there,” Shenshen repeated.
“What?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know! Voices! Mumbling... moaning... I didn’t see their faces... but there are... creatures down there!”
“Shhh... it’s all right. It was probably just the cave breathing–”
“I know what a breathing cave sounds like!” she snapped defensively.
Now Two-Edge and Clearbrook joined them at the top of the stairs, and Shenshen sobbed out her story.
“What do you think, Father?” Brightmetal asked Two-Edge. “Another quake? Aftershocks of rocks settling.”
“I’m telling you, there’s something down there!”
“One good way to find out what’s what,” Clearbrook said.
She called for One-Eye and the wolves, while Two-Edge sent to Aroree, and the party descended the staircase, Shenshen leading the way. She took them through the rock-shaped corridors and the troll-hewn tunnels to the elevator platform above the shaft.
“Here... down in the tunnel below,” Shenshen explained. “It started while I was picking blakeroot, and then it chased me up the elevator. Dreadful mumblings.”
“What set them off?” Clearbrook asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Well... there’s one sure way to announce ourselves, I reckon,” One-Eye said. He tipped his head back and howled. Clearbrook joined in, as did their two wolves. Shenshen flinched and clung to Brightmetal’s side as the song bounded off the walls.
They waited for a response.
And waited.
And waited.
One-Eye sighed at length, breaking the tense silence.
“I know what I heard!” Shenshen cried.
“Calmly, Shenshen,” Aroree said. “We believe you. Come... let’s go have some tea... we’ll sort this out.”
“What if whatever’s down there comes up after us? We have to... we have to seal the tunnel... or post a guard... or...”
“Shh. You’re overwrought. Patience. We’ll sort this out in time.”
The Lord and Lady of Blue Mountain led Shenshen back to the hearth and prepared her a hot herbal tea. But Shenshen would not be pacified by warm drink. She continued to brood, her shoulders occasionally shaking with fear.
**What do you suppose she heard?** One-Eye asked Clearbrook.
**Who can say? These caves are full of noises that sound strange to my ears.**
**Probably wind moaning through a new fissure opened in the rock since the last tremor,** Two-Edge decided when Clearbrook asked him in sending.
“You believe me, don’t you?” Shenshen asked Brightmetal as he draped a warm shawl over her shoulders.
“Oh... Shen... I’m sure you think you heard something...”
She shrugged the shawl off her shoulders and stalked away.
Clearbrook returned to the forges with Brightmetal the next day, while Two-Edge took his pick to explore the Southern Maze, much to Shenshen’s horror. “You mustn’t go down there,” Shenshen begged. “It’s too dangerous.”
He smiled gently. “I’ve roamed these tunnels since before your parents were born, dear daughter. Blue Mountain keeps no secrets from me. I’ll be in no danger. You’ll see.”
Two-Edge disappeared all day, but when he returned in the evening, he had nothing to report other than one tunnel cave-in and a new fissure opened up far beneath the tunnel where Shenshen had heard the sounds.
“I’m not a child,” Shenshen insisted angrily when Two-Edge and Brightmetal sought to calm her. “I know the difference between the sounds a cave makes and... and the sounds something else makes! Why won’t you believe me?”
“We believe you–” Aroree began.
“No, you don’t! You think I’m just imagining things – that I heard air hissing through the rocks and lost my head. You think because I wasn’t born here, I don’t know how to get around in these rocks. But you heard the sound, I’ve shared the sending with all of you! Do you really think it’s just air!”
“It’s gnawing at my gut, that’s for sure,” One-Eye said to Clearbrook in private. “Maybe... maybe it would be better if we go back to the Grove for a few days... sleep under the sky like real Wolfriders... clear our heads.”
“Whatever Shenshen did or did not hear... the answer won’t be found outside.”
“You think only of your dream of making a sword,” One-Eye said gently.
The days passed. Clearbrook returned to work, chipping rocks from the walls around her and melting them in the clay crucible to watch the heavier greymetal ore drain out into the pan. One-Eye was frequently at her side, mopping the sweat from her brow and bringing her cold water to quench her thirst. Aroree hunted for fresh food as always. But Shenshen refused to venture into the tunnels below the forges, and spent most of her days up in her room, embroidering her freshly-woven belts, and brooding about the nightmares that dogged her dreams.
“Come on, be a sword!” Clearbrook urged, hammering on the slab of brightmetal as it glowed white-hot. “No!” she cried as it broke into two pieces. Brightmetal smiled indulgently and picked up the broken pieces to heat over the fire again.
“We’ll start again. It’s easy enough. Just remember to breathe, will you? You elves...” he grumbled under his breath. “You get all riled-up over nothing.”
“I can’t go back into the Southern Maze,” Shenshen murmured to Brightmetal one night as they lay together in bed. “I just can’t!”
“Shh... it’s all right, Shenshen. You know I’ll always take care of you.”
“I don’t need to be taken care of...” Shenshen whispered long after he had fallen asleep.
“Are you thinking of Kit and the child you will share?” Aroree asked One-Eye one afternoon as she took note of his pensiveness.
“Yes. Though I would hate to admit it to Clearbrook.”
“Why?”
“It would only hurt her to know where my thoughts take me.”
“I’m sure she knows.” Aroree leaned across the stone table to take his hand. “I know what it is like to fear the loss of a lifemate’s love.”
“Clearbrook shouldn’t fear – wait... you? When did you ever have cause to doubt Two-Edge’s love?” One-Eye seemed genuinely perplexed. “I’ll admit... I never saw it coming, but you two seem as perfectly fashioned for each other as.... well... as I could imagine.”
Aroree nodded. “Never had I known such joy before Two-Edge came into my life. My life before... is lost in a fog of painful memories. No... but there was a time... a short time... when I feared his love for another might... lessen the bonds we shared.”
“Love for whom?”
“Our son.”
One-Eye stared at her, uncomprehending.
“I always knew Two-Edge wanted a child more than anything... and when I first realized I was with child... I was so happy. But as time passed... I began to fear that Two-Edge loved me not for myself... but as a vessel for his future child. I feared... I thought then that love was something to be carved up and portioned out, and to love Brightmetal he would have to turn from me. And in my darker moments I hated the child growing inside me.” She shook her head. “I was such a fool.”
“Did... did you ever tell Two-Edge?”
“In the end, I did not have to. He knew. And when I realized how well he knew my own secret shame, and when I held my son in my arms... I knew nothing could weaken the bonds between us.”
“It’s different with us...” One-Eye said. “The child... Kit... even Littlefire... there are suddenly three more elves in our family. How can I promise Clearbrook that we are still lifemates as if nothing has changed?”
Aroree smiled sadly. “You can’t promise her that. Everything changes. Every day.”
“Come on... come on!” Clearbrook urged as she beat on the brightmetal, slowly shaping it into a long straight blade with a triangular tip.
She worked alone in the forge. Two-Edge and Brightmetal had left her, Two-Edge to tend the hearth fire and prepare supper, Brightmetal to seek a refuge from what her called her “exhausting” obsession. He doubtlessly expected her to give in for the day once the metal once again failed to cooperate. But this time the hammer struck true. This time the sword was coming to life.
She plunged the blade deep into the water and drew in a sharp breath as the steam billowed up around her face. When the steam cleared, she pulled the blade back out. Twice before the metal had splintered when it cooled suddenly. Twice before she had come so close only to fail again.
She held the blade up to the light. It was solid.
**Sur! Come quickly!** The sending spurred One-Eye into the forges at a fast sprint. Clearbrook’s voice soundly so urgent in his head, yet also so joyous. He found Clearbrook tentatively weighing the cooling blade in her hand.
One-Eye beamed with pride. “You’ve done what no Wolfrider has ever done!”
“It’s not finished yet,” Clearbrook said. “Still needs a proper handle hilt...”
“Still – this is the beginning of a new day for us!”
As Clearbrook and One-Eye quietly rejoiced in the forge, Brightmetal was trying to seek reconciliation between his own lifemate and her lingering fears of the caverns below. Shenshen still refused to descend below the forges. Dark circles ringed her eyes from lack of sleep. Her tongue had grown sharp from arguments with Brightmetal.
Aroree told him to be patient, but he was growing increasingly uncomfortable with her irrational fears. Something needed to be done, or Shenshen would waste away in her rooms. The best way to face a fear was to confront it. His father had always taught him so.
“Looks like ol’ Clearbrook might have that sword made sooner than we thought,” he remarked as he followed Shenshen on her root-gathering. “Father wants to make a nice meat pie to celebrate. Little premature, I think.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Nothing like blakeroot to season a good meat-and-mushroom pie,” Brightmetal remarked as casually as he could.
Shenshen’s hands clenched tight on the basket. “Don’t,” she said.
“What?”
“I’m not a fool, Brightmetal. I won’t be played like one.”
“Aw, Shen....” Embarrassed, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m trying... I just wish you’d let me in a little. Let me help you.”
“There’s nothing you can do. Just... let it go.”
“You can’t keep living in fear.”
“This isn’t a fever you can dose with the right root.”
He touched her arm. “Look... just come with me to the Southern Maze. You can help me pick the best tubers – you know I can never be trusted to find one with the right mould on it. And I can show you that’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“No.”
“Shen–”
“You still don’t believe me! You still think I’m some hysterical child!”
“I... don’t know what you heard. I don’t know what’s got you so scared–”
“I sent! I showed you!”
“I know. And I know it’s got you shaken. So I thought – look. Why don’t we go down the lift to the Southern Maze? If there is anything down there, I’ll be there with you. And if there’s nothing... then maybe you can see you’ve no reason to be –”
“Augh!” Shenshen cried, throwing up her hands. “It’s like talking to a wall!”
“It’s not exactly easy figuring you out lately! I swear you’re trying to–”
“Do you think this is an act? Great sun, what will it take for you to believe me?”
“Shen–” he reached for her hand.
“No!” She stumbled back, shrinking from his touch.
“Just–” Again he reached for her, and again she pulled away. “Shen – how can I help you if you don’t–”
“Just forget it!” Shenshen cried, turning her back to her. “Forget it!” She ran down the hallway, bound for the reaches below the mountain.
“Shenshen – where are you–”
“Away from you!” she shouted back as she disappeared into the darkness.
Brightmetal watched her flee. He paced restlessly, muttering curses under his breath. There was no reasoning with her when she was in a bad mood. And he was an eminently reasonable troll, he imagined. Try as he might, he could never predict the completely illogical tangents her fancies took her.
He was better off letting her go. She didn’t want to see him, and he certainly didn’t want to deal with her in such a state. Left alone, she cool her heels in some dark corridor. She would come back, all haughty indignation. He’d play the lovable empty-headed fool, and she accept his apologies, even if they both knew he had no idea why he was asking forgiveness. Life would go on.
It was the reasonable thing to do.
But she was wounded by a far graver hurt than their usual spats caused. And she had been known to get herself lost in the twisted caves.
And there was still the matter of those strange sounds... in truth unlike any gasping air flow he had ever heard before.
“Slugscat,” he moaned as he set off after her.
Shenshen ran blindly down the corridors. Phosphorescent moss lit her way as she stumbled in the gloom, taking one turn, then another. She tripped, scrambled back to her feet, and then ran on. She sobbed and gasped for breath. When she couldn’t run any further, she collapsed to the rock and wept angrily. She hated him. She hated his trollish arrogance, his condescending smiles. She hated his reasonableness. Why had she ever agreed to be his lifemate? He did not see her as an equal. He saw her as an ornament, a living doll – nothing more. He even dressed her as a troll’s doll. She sniffed and wiped her nose as she looked down at her garments scornfully. A golden collar, a breastplate of gold coins, a finely woven belt laced through gold rings at her waist. She might as well have been a lovetoy of the ancient troll tyrants Greymung and Guttlekraw. He didn’t trust her. Didn’t believe her...
Shenshen coughed and choked on her tears. Gradually her rage passed, and Shenshen began to think clearly again. Brightmetal wasn’t to blame. It was not that he did not trust her, or that he counted her thoughts less than his. He just did not have the capacity to imagine any unknown intruding into the cheerful shell he had built around his family. The notion of undiscovered creatures... or Old Magic reawakened, beneath his very home was simply preposterous to him. To admit even the possibility would be to admit he hadn’t nearly the control over his own life he claimed.
But she knew what she had heard.
After she had cried out the last of her anger, she rose and wandered down the tunnel at a more measured pace. She’d stay away just long enough for Brightmetal to start worrying about her. Then she would go back and sit him down for a proper conversation. Brightmetal was a good soul, but every few years his cheerful arrogance needed to be properly checked. They had quarrels like this every few years. She doubted Brightmetal would ever change. But these occasional frustrations were a small price to pay for such a devoted lifemate. And as soon as he rage wore off, she always remembered that the only reason she could hate him so much in one moment was because she loved him so dearly.
She followed the tunnel to a great staircase, then descended into a large chamber, an old hall once used by the ancient Gliders. The remembered the room vaguely. Brightmetal and Two-Edge had once worked to reinforce old walls and prevent a cave-in. But otherwise they had left it alone. The thin soil that clung to the cracks in the rock was too sterile for underground growth, and Shenshen had seldom had a reason to visit the old crypt. The many doorways that stood at compass points throughout the room led only to collapsed mine shafts.
She saw an old block of hewn stone in the center of the room. She sat down and looked at the worn patterns in the stone. A Glider rockshaper must have separated the darker rock from the lighter to create a flowing design across the floor.
She heard a rumbling sound in the distance.
“It’s nothing...” Shenshen whispered to herself.
She was trembling. She rose from the block and touched her hand to the stone floor. No... the floor was trembling.
“rrrrrrr....” growled the stone.
Shenshen slowly began to back away from the empty black doorways, towards the safety of the staircase and the forges far above.
“Mmmmrrrrr....”
“It’s nothing...” Shenshen breathed. “Just rock settling. Another aftershock, that’s all....”
“Shennnnsssheeeennnnnn!” Brightmetal’s voice boomed off the rocks.
The growl became a roar. The ground shook underfoot. Shenshen turned and bolted for the stairs as it seemed the very walls of the crypt closed around her.
“Brightmetal!” She ran towards his voice. She reached the base of the stairs and saw him standing high above her. “Brightmetal – we have to get out of here–”
Even as she spoke, she saw the walls shake around him. A boulder came tumbling down from the ceiling over his head, and she screamed. Brightmetal ducked, stumbling down the steps as more rocks rained down from a fissure in the ceiling.
“Brightmetal – jump!” Shenshen screamed as he outran the stones crashing down the steps. One rock clipped his hip, and he fell. Inertia took over as he tumbled the rest of the way to the base of the steps.
“Beloved!” Shenshen raced to his side. “Are you all right?”
“Unhh, well enough....” Brightmetal moaned, getting to his feet. “It stopped, at least. We’ll just have to find another way–”
The moaning caught up with them. The entire chamber echoed with shambling footfalls and incoherent murmurs, punctuated by the scrape of metal chains against rock. Horror-struck, Brightmetal turned to face the phantoms that had haunted Shenshen’s dreams.
Trolls. Dozens of drooling, stumbling, dead-eyed trolls. Armed to the teeth and slowly advancing upon them.
Elfquest copyright 2014 Warp Graphics, Inc. Elfquest, its logos, characters, situations, all related indicia, and their distinctive likenesses are trademarks of Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Some dialogue taken from Elfquest comics. All such dialogue copyright 2014 Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Alternaverse characters and insanity copyright 2014 Jane Senese and Erin Roberts