The complex caves of the deep were as familiar to Rhat as his face. More so, even. On thought, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his face. What was the best way to navigate a blind sump? Slowly and carefully. How to interpret caver marks, old and new? Those were more an art, less a formal language. Shouldn’t he know his face?
“Stard,” Rhat whispered back while deftly slipping under a low-hanging stalactite. “What do I look like?”
“Uglier than void but prettier than my arse,” Stard’s voice was characteristically gravelly, like rubbing together two rough stones. “Scrawny as old leather, too.”
A smaller voice squeaked in.
“My left bicep has more meat than your entire body,” Galai said, Modan chirping in agreement. Those two wouldn’t be farther than arm's reach from each other.
“That bad, huh?” Rhat scoffed as he squeezed through a narrow birthing passage. “Guess I’m lucky it doesn’t pay to be pretty down here.”
Rhat stretched out his hand, wrapped with a dimly glowing lumivine, to illuminate a small cove large enough for their group to fit. The light wavered, and Rhat fumbled out his canteen to spill a couple of drops on the tip—it sucked it up greedily before brightening.
The plant was dying. They had taken longer to surface this trip, with the fresh blood Melen dragging at the rear. Rhat would try to steal another on their way out if he could. Exhaling, Rhat squeezed into the low-seated cove before turning.
“Let’s stop up here. Careful with this squeeze,” Rhat whispered back into the hole. “You especially, Stard.”
A fit of stifled snickers echoed back, and Rhat grinned. Of course, Stard managed to fit through without trouble—well, without trouble for him. He slid his upper body into the opening by maneuvering his broad shoulders at an angle before finishing the maneuver with a sickening pop to pull through. Stard maneuvered his arm back into place and gestured a middle finger at Rhat before pushing through with a heave.
As Galai, Melen, and Modan pressed through, Rhat felt the stone—sandstone. They were close to the surface. He slipped the Lussil crystal from his pocket and held it in the light. It refracted the vine light into a rainbow of colors.
The Lussil lived by these increments. All their pain, joy, success, and failures fit into a tiny crystal. Rhat lived in the preset and wouldn’t abandon it. Yet, he had to admit, “time” had its uses.
Melen cleared her throat.
“I think you look like a leader,” she said quietly.
Rhat lowered the crystal.
“What? Oh, that, yes,” he turned to the others. “Hear Melen? Is lying all that difficult?” The others stifled laughter while Rhat subtly nodded thanks to Melen with a smile. She smiled back.
The girl was bald, slight as a breeze, and anxious. She reminded him of a young Rhat before he’d chosen his name, before this life of caves and tunnels, when every drop and stone was a monster in the dark. He didn’t miss it.
Rhat held up the crystal steadily and tightened his focus, the rest of the world darkening out to nothing. Moment light partially filled the crystal’s volume like a liquid, moving to the tune of viscous syrup but falling opposite to Calaria’s pull. Rhat waited until the Moment leveled, then held his finger to the spot. Unfocusing, he counted. Twenty-four marks.
“Damn, we’re cutting close to the edge.”
His crew looked worried. If they missed it, this would all be for nothing.
“Good news, though, is that we’re almost there,” Rhat finished, pointing to the grainy but monsoon-smoothened rock. “Dolomite. There’s a ton of it near the topside slots. We can’t be more than a thousand or so paces down. So relax, it’s our last break. Then, double the effort.”
Their heads bobbed in unison, unstraping canteens while others slumped back for a quick rest, eyes closed.
“And be quiet after this, yeah? Could be a patrol topside. They all connect: the avens, the shafts, and all the tiny holes you don’t see. One whisper in the wrong place could carry to the Shalli. Glove up too—stone can burn the skin right off, topside.”
Rhat looked at Melen when he spoke while the others ignored him. The poor girl looked sick. Her fingers trembled as she searched her flatpack for gloves, and her eyes stared distantly. The reality of things was hitting her.
Stard grunted. “Are you sure this is wise?” He nodded to Melen unsubtly as her face drained of color. “She’s fresher than spring water.” Rhat leaned in and took her hand. Her resolve ironed, and she squeezed his hand back, nodding.
“She’ll be okay,” Rhat said, laying out his flatpack as a makeshift pillow before snuggling into a slope that cradled his form. “Now, don’t bother me for a spell.”
Rhat remembered his first ascent. That sky had been vast enough to swallow him a million times over. With only Calaria tethering him, he’d been too afraid to move. What if she forgot? How long until the sky claimed him? It was an irrational but real fear. And that was notwithstanding the rosol.
A short nap later, Rhat pulled stone vials from his pack and uncorked the wax seal, downing it in one go. His face screwed up as he worked down the bitter plant dew. The others followed wordlessly with their own before Rhat led them out and up.
They followed him through tight flowstone tunnels caked with mudstone at the low points. It was dirty work, but it was his work. Rhat took pride in knowing every twist and turn, having scrapped through this route a hundred times before. There were carved marks along the path that he felt at junctures to ensure they headed steadily up. Surely enough, the tunnel visibly brightened after climbing a vertical shaft after another slight squeeze.
The heat had grown along with it, the air scalding his lungs with each breath. Rhat Realized a chill, shivering as Moment stripped away the worst of the heat. Still, his dark sight eyes stung. Water beaded at the corners of his eyes while squinting against the unnatural brightness.
Shrugging his flat pack to his front, Rhat scavenged out a cushioned nap sack. Pulling open the cord and fingering inside rewarded him with his calcite goggles. Carefully, Rhat pulled the pair around his eyes and secured them with a cinch knot. The brightening world darkened comfortably, filtered through the slightly orange lenses. After quickly slipping on his leather gloves, he was ready.
After checking the crew’s accouterments were in place, Rhat led the group forward. The last squeeze was the worst. The rocks burned from a distance, let alone when bare skin happened to graze the blazing stones. Awkwardly and carefully, Rhat wormed through the downward exiting hole onto the plush sands of the slots.
As he plopped into the open, he squinted, shielding Rosol with a raised forearm as his eyes adjusted. The narrow canyon slowly came into view. On one end, it widened into a sandy, bone-dry basin before extending off about a bend at the other. He listened carefully. There was nothing but wind. Rhat extended a thumbs up back up the squeeze before standing up and patting off the dust.
The air outside was alive. It squirmed and wiggled, blowing through the slot canyons with gusto. It smelled like the air had taken a bath, distinctly different than the caves below. Although not entirely comfortable with the outside, Rhat had grown to love that smell over the many trips to the surface.
The heat should have been scorching. Rhat felt prickles of spiking cool dancing across his skin, but not from sweat. As Moment dissipated into nothing, it took heat along with it. The outside wasn’t precisely comfortable with Moment — it was barely tolerable. Yet, that was more than good enough for Rhat.
The crew fell onto the sands behind him, one by one. Each of them looked tentative as they took in the canyons. Rhat made sure Melen was wearing her goggles, and she was. As someone with dark sight, outside would be blinding without them, painfully blinding.
Everyone solid? He signed.
Galai and Modan both nodded in unison. Their identically small, pinched faces and matching cropped haircuts made telling them apart challenging. Of course, they swore it was easy. “I’m a bit taller, see?” Galai would say back-to-back with Modan. “And I’m smarter,” Modan finished by tapping her head with a cheeky grin. Rhat just guessed, and he was right half the time.
Stard had removed his long blond locks from their braid, brushing them with a large-toothed comb. Stard would get moody if he left his hair out of place for too long, so Rhat didn’t bother rushing the man as Stard finished by rebraiding. Finishing, they held gazes, Stard’s dark blue eyes contrasting against the tawny canyon walls. Patting his hair into place, checking for stray strands, and finding nothing, Stard nodded.
Lastly, Rhat looked to Melen. Her bald head beaded with shimmering sweat that dripped freely onto the sandy soil, but she looked okay. Each time her eyes flicked upwards, she’d quickly return them to the sands. She would look back up a breath later. Amazement and fear fought a battle within her eyes. Stard drew in close to Rhat, looking back to Melen.
“Is she going to be a liability?” Stard whispered loud enough for Melen to hear.
Rhat cut him off with a slicing gesture, eyes widened, and eyebrows raised. These canyons would funnel sound nearly as well as any tunnel. Stard rolled his eyes before leaning on a shaded face of rock. He took his time signing a response.
The girl is weak and slow. That is a deadly combination.
Galai and Modan looked at each other and then back at Rhat with a shrug. Melen rubbed her shoulders, her face flushed. Rhat patted his chest gently, drawing Stard’s and the other's attention.
She comes. There are things more valuable than strength and speed. You can go if you want. I’m not forcing any of you to be here.
Rhat took them in individually.
Don’t leave? Don’t question my fucking judgment.
A tense breath passed over the crew. Stard appeared unconcerned, but Rhat knew him. His jaw tightened, his posture stiffened, and his stillness betrayed the man. The silence stretched until Stard acquiesced with a bowed head.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Good. Let’s go.
Rhat patted Melen on the shoulder before leading the crew out. The zalbia grove wasn’t far off, only a short mile by foot. The muted sound of clothed shoes on the sand followed their careful steps.
----------------------------------------
“You here to take over?” said her watcher’s voice. “I’m sweating my arse off. The harvest is close?”
“Yessir. And I’ll be here until then,” a woman said, her new watcher. “Take care.”
Some scraping sounded to Aelo’s side as they exchanged. She heard the woman’s steps getting closer. A sloshing perked up Aelo’s ears, and her mouth longed for that moisture.
“Want a drink?” the woman’s voice whispered.
Aelo had her eyes squeezed shut against the harsh light outside. Each breath was hot, with every passing mark an eternity. Moving caused her raw wrists to chafe on the rough cords that bound her to the pole by a short rope. Her tongue, thick and swollen, slurred out words.
“Pleaths,” Aelo said, turning toward the voice. Her voice cracked. “Yes, pleaths.” The woman’s sudden laughter startled her.
“You thought I was serious?” she laughed again, harder. “‘Pleaths, pleaths.’ You stupid bitch. Not a drop, not until you’ve made penance. You don’t deserve a drop after, truth be told.” A pop followed some shuffling as her watcher audibly glugged from their canteen. “It’s quite hot out here, no?”
Tears tried squirming their way past her tightly shut eyelids. Aelo shut them harder. A few slipped past her defenses, dripping and sizzling on the scalding stone. Gritting her teeth, Aelo resisted showing the bastard woman anything else.
If she shifted her weight, the stone scalded her skin. So, she kneeled there for marks on end, motionless. That, along with the dehydration, had encouraged a wicked cramp in her back and butt. All that wasn’t mentioning the heat, which was enough by itself to make her want to crawl out of her skin and bleed out somewhere dark and cold.
A meaty crack startled her, and she burned the sides of her legs as she jumped. What sounded like a sack full of harvest hitting the floor came from where her watcher had spoken.
“Oww!” Aelo yelped. “Not funny, that hurths.”
A creepy silence was her response. Aelo tried peaking, just a crack, but the pain that seared her vision caused her to scream in pain. “Fuck you! Leave me alone.”
Again, there were only the screaming winds. Either this was an elaborate prank, or something was very wrong. Aelo felt eyes—so many eyes—all staring at her. A kettle to the fire, Aelo’s calm boiled over into panic. She was a stone to water, tied as she was. She yanked on the rope, grunting in pain as the cords yanked back.
“Who are you?” Aelo cried, pulling frantically, uselessly.
Rustling echoes of shifting sands crunched to her left. She turned toward that sound. “Thpeak to me!” Aelo groaned. She couldn’t sound even the slightest bit intimidating with this cursed lisp.
“What are you doing?” a man’s voice whispered to her other side. Who was that? What was going on? Aelo turned to the new voice.
“What are you doing? Go away!” she said carefully.
Nobody spoke. Aelo felt moist breath on her face, close enough to smell their breakfast. She scrambled back, her feet blistering as her bare soles found the unshaded stone. She ran back until the cord tightened, pulling her short.
“Pleaths,” she said to herself more than anyone. Her feet burned. Whether this was a prank or something else, she couldn’t do anything to stop it. That feeling hurt more than her feet.
Something cold splashed her legs, and she yelped in startlement. Was that water? Aelo stifled a sigh as it ran down her legs and cooled her blazing soles. A man spoke quietly from what sounded about a pace away.
“I am Rat,” he whispered loud enough for her. “Why are you tied here?”
Their accent was unusual. Could they be from Solek? No, that didn’t track. Curse her water-starved brain.
What kind of name is Rat? Aelo thought.
Aelo had been called “rat”. Rat was an insult, not a name. Older warriors referred to the Faulkan as rats. Realization hit her far too slowly. She would have widened her eyes if she didn’t have to keep them shut. Aelo opened her mouth to scream with a deep breath.
Two pairs of arms grabbed her from each side at her back as a hand clamped over her mouth. It happened so fast that Aelo didn’t have time to react.
“Mmmmmh!” she screamed into the hand. The scream muffled, but maybe it would carry. I was unlikely, but Aelo tried anyway. “Mmmmmmmh!” Her dry throat hurt from the effort.
“Stop that,” Rat’s voice whispered into her ear. She didn’t. “Either you stop, or we knock you senseless and leave you here to roast.”
Aelo stopped. She needed to figure something else out, but getting knocked unconscious wouldn’t help anyone. She nodded in agreement, and the hand slowly lifted from her face. The two behind her still held her firmly in place.
“You’re Faulkan, aren’t you?” Rat said. His voice dripped in sympathy, and Aelo couldn’t tell if it was sarcastic.
Not knowing how lying could help her situation, she nodded. She heard some rummaging. All she could do was wait. Rat spoke again.
“I’m going to come closer. I won’t harm you, but I’m going to place something across your face, and I don’t want you to panic. If you scream, you go unconscious. Do you understand?”
Aelo nodded yes. She felt as small as a grain of sand. This situation was not in her control; they could do whatever they wanted to her. The Faulkan were lawless people without guidance, without the Aalsham. Her breath quickened as her body stiffened, waiting for whatever the man was doing.
A thing wrapped around her face, just as he said. Someone secured it behind her head with a knot. Aelo stood as still as a carving. The world outside her eyelids visibly darkened.
“Okay,” Rat whispered. “Open your eyes.”
Aelo did, blinking in surprise as her surroundings came into view, filtered through a dark orange. She could see. No, that wasn’t quite right—Aelo could see well. The experience was so foreign that she forgot where she was, so when Rat spoke, she jumped.
“Amazing, no?”
Aelo didn’t have words. It was more than a single word could describe. She could see everything: the tall blonde man with long hair worked into a braid next to a small, bald woman who looked more uncomfortable than Aelo felt. The bald woman and Rat both wore the same strange crystal things on their face that they had put on Aelo.
Rat reached for Aelo, causing her to flinch back. The two behind held her firm. Thankfully, Rat stopped short, his hand hovering in place. It was as if he was waiting for her to do something.
“The Free Folk clasp hands when meeting,” he smiled. “It’s a sign of respect and acknowledgment.”
Clasp hands? Aelo shivered at the thought, looking at his hand suspiciously. He kept his hand out. Aelo reached out and pinched his hand, minimizing the direct contact of their skin. Rat seemed to find that funny, his face screwing up as he held in a laugh.
“Well met. I am Rat,” he waited. “And your name?”
“Aelo,” she croaked out before she could think.
“Aelo,” he pronounced it as if tasting it. “A beautiful name.”
Reaching behind, Rat pulled out a waterskin. Aelo eyed it with unconcealed desire.
“Let her go,” he said to the two behind her. They listened, freeing her arms. “Would you like some?” Rat whisked the flask in circles to slosh the insides.
She took the bag before she could think, awkwardly fumbling it between her bound hands before getting a secure grip. Tipping the vessel, she slurped down the cool liquid in a hurry. It was so delicious that she wanted to cry. Aelo emptied the entire skin before she could stop herself.
“Thank you,” she said awkwardly, her words finally sounding right. Rat took back his bottle and returned it to his belt.
“We Makesh take care of our own.” Rat brought a closed fist to his forehead in some kind of salute. “I’ve heard of you—the girl among the Lussil. Everyone has, truthfully. You’re somewhat famous in Gelah.”
There were a couple of words she didn’t recognize, but Aelo didn’t bother asking what they meant. Instead, she turned about, remembering her watcher. The woman was nowhere to be found.
“What did you do with her?” she asked with as much fury as she could muster. “I swear if you hurt her—”
“We put her over there,” Rat gestured a nod behind her towards a set of holes into the canyon’s face. “Better than letting her burn out in the open, I’d say. She’s okay, though I suspect she’ll have quite the headache when she wakes.”
Feeling renewed, Aelo considered her options. Why were they being so nice to her? Just because she was Faulkan by blood? No, they wanted something. These Faulkan were the wily sort, especially this Rat. The apparent path popped into her head—lying.
“I’ll warn you because of your kindness,” she said as calmly as she could. Her heart thudded in her chest like the morning drums. “There is another guard change in less than a quarter mark. I’d get out of here and return to wherever you came from. Unless you want all of Shalli chasing you back into those tunnels.”
Rat looked contemplative, his eyes narrowing from behind his darkened crystals.
“Is that so?”
Aelo nodded, feeling a bead of sweat slide off her neck and trickle down her neck. Rat palmed his forehead, shaking it disappointedly.
“I suppose I should have expected lies. After all, they raised you in one.”
“I’m not—”
“We heard them change shifts. Nobody is coming until after the harvest. We both know that. Now, you have a choice to make.”
Aelo swallowed, her throat feeling dry again.
“What choice is that?”
“You are of the Free Folk. Your eyes tell your story.” The man tapped a set of strange, darkened apparel covering his own. “Grafted into another, you still bear the fruit of your people. They don’t accept you, do they?”
“I am of the Whole,” Aelo said more to herself than anyone there.
“Then why are you out here?”
“Punishment for my sins. What is a society without laws?”
“We have laws,” Rat said, chuckling. “True, they’re more basic. No stealing, killing, or raping.” Rat counted off three with his fingers. “Everything else is fair game. No baking out under the Rosol for nothing.”
“What are you here for, then?”
“We are redistributing,” Rat said in a pompous, elevated tone. “Can’t steal from family, anyhow.”
“Family? What do you mean?” Aelo asked genuinely.
Rhat sighed, tapping a finger to his chin in a rhythm.
“We’re of the same tree—the Lussil, the Faulkan—different branches, same trunk. Both of us follow the Guide’s teachings. The only difference is we can read the word directly instead of having it orated to us.”
“You’re lying,” Aelo said, growing angry. “We are not the same. We are Chosen. I am Chosen.”
“You are indeed,” Rat smiled condescendingly. “We all are. That’s the secret.”
“That’s a lie!” Aelo shouted before she could stop herself.
Rhat winced, then sighed. He gestured a hand, and the crew moved simultaneously. Aelo had almost forgotten about the two behind her. They retook her arms as the big blonde stepped forward with a wadded-up cloth ball. Aelo couldn’t do anything as the blonde shoved the thick, dirt-tasting cloth into her mouth. From behind, the two wrapped a rope around to secure the cloth clod.
Damn the man, but he looked sad to have done it to her. He leaned in after they finished and whispered.
“Believe me or not. Eat a thousand more lies—starve on them. I don’t care. If you want the truth?” Rat paused. “We can provide that.”
The wind picked up, blowing across the landscape in a growing storm.
“Rat,” the blonde man whispered furiously over the wind. “We have to go.”
Rat held up a hand before leaning even closer to Aelo.
“You can be free,” he said simply.
Aelo felt something deep rip inside her that she never knew was there. It hurt her to think that she wanted freedom. Did she want that more than her people, her father, Midan, or everything she had ever known?
Rat took her in, quirking his head to the side. “You can, truly—if you want it. When we pass back through, I’ll ask you again.” The fury picked up as the sky began to darken. “There’s a place for you.”
Aelo wouldn’t have been able to speak, even without the gag. Her eyes threatened to fill with tears.
Rhat gave one last sad smile before standing and turning to the others. “Take the watcher’s clothes. Leave Aelo the watcher’s shoes, and let’s go. We don’t have much time. The storm will cover us, so let's move quickly.”
They did as he told, disrobing the watcher woman and dropping her shoes at Aelo’s feet. Aelo slid the thin slippers on, watching them. They moved smoothly, with purpose. Nobody gave her a second glance as they packed up and ran deeper into the slots, towards the grove, dipping out of sight.
Aelo should have screamed then, at least tried to alert the others. Somehow, she couldn’t find it in her. She just stood there, motionless, as the sky blackened.