The Survivors (14 page)

“The good news is there’s a beach here that looks nice and dry,” Bradok said. “Let’s get everyone out.”

Chisul shot him a sour look then stomped to the rail. “Who
elected you leader?” he grumbled.

“If you have a better suggestion,” Bradok said, “let’s hear it.”

Chisul didn’t answer, just jumped over the rail into calf-deep water and slogged his way up to the sand. One by one the survivors of Ironroot made their way out of the waterlogged ship and onto the cool, dry beach.

“We need to get everyone out of their wet garments and into dry clothes,” Tal said as he made his way onto dry land.

“There are a few cuts and bruises that will need your attention too, Doctor,” Much said as he limped away from the boat. Dark blood smeared the arm Much held cradled at his side.

When everyone was out and accounted for, Bradok flopped down on the soft sand. It felt good to stretch out flat again.

“We made it,” he said quietly. “We’re alive.”

There was a moment of silence all around. Everyone was thinking of Ironroot, what happened back there, whether anyone could still be alive after all the wholesale destruction.

Chisul thought of his father, wondering what had become of Silas. Kellik thought of his dead wife. Bradok was thinking of Sapphire, that last pleading look on his mother’s face before her life was extinguished.

The cool air of the cavern moved and swirled in response to the waterfall and the river. Bradok shivered as it riffled his wet shirt. Tal had been right; they’d all catch their deaths of cold if they didn’t get out of their soaked clothes and into something dry.

“We need to make a fire,” he said, forcing himself to stand. “Anyone with an axe, head back to the ship and cut some of it up for firewood. Start with the driest wood first.”

A groan rose up from the dwarves, but several of the stalwarts stood and made their way back to the ship.

“Everyone else, we need to get everyone into dry clothes.
Men, make sure the women and children are taken care of first.”

He half expected another complaint from Chisul, but Silas’s son was one of the first to stand and begin stripping off his wet clothes. Beside him, two rough-looking dwarves named Vulnar and Jenner were also changing into the driest clothes they had as rapidly as they could. Bradok realized those two stuck pretty close to Chisul, and he wondered absently if they were all three friends. He hoped not; Chisul was already proving a troublemaker.

He pushed such thoughts from his mind and pulled off his wet clothes, leaving just his pants. Only some of the dwarves had gotten wet when the ship was breached, and it seemed there were enough dry garments to be shared and passed around.

The sound of axes on wood filled the air, and within ten minutes a modest fire was crackling and popping on the sand.

Bradok hung his wet items on a makeshift clothesline that the grandmotherly Isirah Anvil had strung between two stalagmites. Then he changed into other clothes from his pack. The fire had warmed the air nicely, and he started to feel like himself again. The trip through the bowels of Krynn in a boat was something he’d never forget, but dwarves as a rule are not fond of seafaring. It felt good to have dry land under his feet again.

“So where do we go from here?” Much’s voice rose from the far side of the fire.

“He’s right,” Kellik said, looking around. “We can’t stay here for very long. We’re almost out of food.”

“There might be some fish in the river,” the rough-looking Halum Ironband said helpfully.

“I think it’s clear what we have to do,” Chisul stated firmly. “We need to find our way out of here and get back to our people.”

“That could be the most dangerous thing to do,” the grizzled, one-eyed dwarf said.

“Dangerous if we succeed and dangerous if we don’t,” Isirah chimed in, clutching the youngest of her grandchildren to her side. “We weren’t made to feel very welcome back in Ironroot, and who knows how much of the place has survived? We could get lost and starve to death.”

“That isn’t going to happen,” Rose said. “Reorx didn’t lead us down here just to starve. He’ll guide us to safety; I feel it in my bones.”

“And how is he going to do that?” Chisul asked sarcastically. “Did he leave marks for us to follow or something?”

“How should I know?” Rose replied with a dazzling smile that was wasted on Chisul. “That’s why it’s called faith.”

Chisul rolled his eyes, but many of the other dwarves were nodding. Something Rose said tickled Bradok’s memory, though. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the strange brass device that had released the image of Reorx. Since then, Bradok hadn’t opened it; indeed, he had almost forgotten he possessed it. He wondered if it would even open again. But Rose had said that Reorx would provide for them, and she had given him the idea to try it again.

He put his hand on the hidden catch and pressed. The purple stone on top flared, and the lid swung open. The inside of the device was hollow except for a purple mist that swirled inside it like a miniature cloud.

Suddenly the mist began to pulse with light. Bradok threw his hands over his eyes but not before his vision swam with purple dots. When it cleared, all the eyes in the cavern were on him. From the top of the open device, another illusion sprang forth.

It was a tall, slender woman that might be the image of a human, but Bradok couldn’t really tell. She wore a fitted breastplate and an ornate helmet with a plume. The rest of her body was obscured by a long cloak. The cloak and the woman’s inky
black hair moved and flowed in a wind that Bradok could not feel. In her right hand, she carried a short spear, and a white bandage covered her eyes.

“It’s a seer,” Isirah whispered in her wizened voice.

“A what?” Much asked with trepidation.

“A seer,” Isirah said louder. “They’re from the old stories, blind guides blessed with the gift of second sight.”

As if on cue, the seer raised her spear and pointed off into the darkness.

“I think Rose is right,” Bradok said, finding his voice at last. “We have more than just marks to follow; now we have a guide.”

“Hear, hear,” Rose said, sticking her tongue out at Chisul. “I guess I wasn’t so wrong after all.”

Chisul stared daggers at her but said nothing.

“Enough of this small talk,” Much said, standing up and rubbing his arm while staring worriedly at the female spirit-image that was slowly dissipating. “We’ve got a direction now, so let’s get the supplies unloaded and be about our business.”

Bradok, Much, Chisul, and the other men who weren’t cutting up the ship for firewood all formed a line and quickly emptied the ship of her cache of supplies. Silas had thought of everything but a rudder, it seemed. There were spare cloaks and water bags, wrapped oilcloth bundles of rations, two long poles with mountings for the glowlamps, a keg of long knives, and a keg of assorted tools.

By the time they were through hauling everything out, Rose and Tal had already begun handing out the gear. Kellik made sure each dwarf was armed with a knife. Perin was busy showing Hemmish and his brother Rijul how a glowlamp on a pole would attract fish when held over the river.

Several hours and a dozen fish later, Bradok lay on the sand, feeling better about his prospects than he had in days. The survivors of Ironroot were no longer a ragamuffin band
of strangers; they had pulled together, and their hopes and spirits were high. He still wasn’t a believer, but it looked as though Reorx was looking out for them. Between the gear Silas left them and the strange compass, they should be able to make their way to safety.

The weariness of the past few hours coupled with his full belly pushed Bradok toward sleep. He lay on the sand, rolled in his thick cloak. Sleep should have come easily, but it kept eluding him. With a moment to reflect on everything that had transpired, the reality of his situation began to sink in.

Ironroot was truly gone.

His life as a jeweler and councilman was gone. His father and mother were both dead. The future lay before him like a vast, unmarked plain. It seemed like a whole world of opportunities stood before him, just waiting for him to decide which path to take. Just choose the right path …
choose
… the word kept echoing in his mind as he finally drifted off to sleep.

When Bradok awoke, the cheery orange light of the fire had died, leaving only the pale blue light of the lamps illuminating the cavern. In their unwavering glow, the cavern seemed somehow sinister, like an evil version of itself. He pushed such thoughts from his mind and rose carefully, so as not to wake anyone.

A few embers glowed among the coals of the fire, inviting him to feed them with fresh wood, which he did. In a few moments, he had a cheery little blaze going.

“That’s much better,” Rose said, materializing out of the semidarkness on the far side of the fire. “The glowlamps may burn for years without fuel, but their light has always made me feel as if a shadow was hanging over me.”

Bradok chuckled quietly. “I was thinking the same thing,” he admitted.

“Still,” she added, turning to look at one of the lamps hanging on the end of a pole that had been thrust into the sand, “I suppose we’d better get used to them. I suspect we have a long walk ahead of us.”

“I hope it isn’t too long,” he said, poking the fire with a stick. “We’ve only got food for a few days.”

“Then we’d better get moving soon,” Rose said.

He nodded, looking around at the still, sleeping forms. Many of the dwarves who had escaped Ironroot by boat were old, well past their prime, and there were close to a dozen children.

“And then there’s Lyra,” Bradok whispered to himself more than to Rose.

But Rose heard and, turning to look at the figure of the sleeping pregnant woman, nodded.

“She’s tougher than she looks,” she said. “She won’t hold us back.”

Bradok shrugged. Some of the others were beginning to wake. “But what do we do if she has her baby?” he asked quietly.

“Let Tal worry about that,” Rose said, nodding at her still-sleeping brother with a smile. “He’s good under pressure.”

“You both have the same surname …?” Bradok said, changing the subject, but letting the sentence hang more like a question.

When Rose smiled, as she did at that moment, it struck Bradok how attractive she was. She didn’t have the flawless lines and elegant features of some city girls Bradok had courted, but rather a more natural, earthy beauty, like deep mountain jade.

“I’m not married,” she said, lowering her voice too, the firelight burnishing a line across the hair that fell into her eyes. “Not to Tal or his brother … or anyone.”

If Bradok had just been told that the Mountain King wanted him to design his crown, he wouldn’t have been more
pleased. The knowledge that Rose had a brother and not a husband made him feel like a schoolboy in love—giddy and light-headed.

If Rose noticed anything amiss, she gave no sign. Instead she pointed past the lamplight, where the image of the seer had pointed.

“Shouldn’t we get going?” she asked.

Bradok took out the compass and, holding it firmly, nodded.

“Then, for Reorx’s sake, let’s go,” Kellik said impatiently, striding into the firelight. He’d clearly overheard much of their conversation, and was shaking his head disapprovingly. “All the fish got et last night, so all we got are cold rations,” he added. “We ought to put a few miles under our feet before breakfast.”

Bradok would have rather eaten first, but Kellik was probably right. He had already passed by, leading his sons down to the river’s edge to fill their waterskins. Rose glanced over at Bradok and smiled, amused by the smith. Bradok shrugged.

“All right, walk first,” he said with a sigh. “Eat later. Everyone, wake up! Let’s go!”

Before the echo of his words had faded away, however, Chisul stood up and called out the same orders in a louder voice.

“All right everyone, we need to get moving,” Chisul said. “We don’t know how far we have to go, so we’d better get started. Pack up your gear and don’t forget to fill your waterskins.”

Bradok looked sheepishly at Rose, who was even more amused.

A flurry of activity followed, during which all the rest of the dwarves got up, stretched, and prepared for the journey ahead.

“He’s full of good ideas,” Bradok said in a low voice, sidling closer to Rose.

Rose grinned before her face turned serious. “I don’t much care for him, to be honest,” she said in a low voice. “He seems to need to be right all the time.”

Bradok frowned. The same thought had occurred to him. “He’s probably harmless,” he said.

“Probably,” she agreed, sounding unconvinced.

“Well, I better go make sure nobody needs any help,” he said, moving off reluctantly.

“You go,” Rose said, walking toward the water. “I’m ready. But there’s something I’d really like to do first.”

Wondering what she meant, Bradok made his way back to where he slept and packed up his gear. As he shouldered his worn traveling pack, he opened a small oilcloth with the remnants of the previous night’s fish inside. He took the fish and popped the remaining piece in his mouth. Bradok had never been much of a fish-eater, but not knowing what he’d be eating in the days ahead made the unseasoned bit of overcooked meat taste better than the finest steak.