Procks continued to grind steadily, stone grating on stone.
Garet Jax shifted from the crouch, gray eyes so cold that Stythys’ arm tightened further about Jair. «Let the Valeman go, Mwellret,” the Weapons Master said softly.
The blade of the knife pressed closer against Jair’s throat. Jair swallowed and tried to shrink away from it. Then his eyes met those of Garet Jax. The Weapons Master was fast — faster than anyone. It was when he had confronted the Gnome Hunters who had taken Jair prisoner in the Black Oaks that he had first shown how fast he could be. And the same look he had worn then was now in the lean, hard face — a calm, inscrutable look where only the eyes spoke of the death that was promised.
Jair breathed a deep, slow breath. Garet Jax was close enough. But the knife at the Valeman’s throat was closer still.
«Magicss belong to uss, not to little peopless!» Stythys rasped in a quick, anxious whisper. «Magicss to sstand againsst the walkerss! Little peopless cannot usse it, cannot usse uss! Sstupid little peopless! Crussh you like bugss!»
«Let the Valeman go!» Garet Jax repeated.
The Fire Wake danced and glimmered before the Mwellret, a whirling cloud of shimmering dust. Stythys’ green eyes drew into slits of hatred, and he laughed softly.
«Letss you go insstead, black one!» he snapped. He glanced quickly at Slanter. «You, little Gnome? Cut loosse thiss tie that bindss me to him!»
Slanter looked at Garet Jax, then looked back again. His eyes shifted for just an instant to find Jair’s. The Valeman read there what was expected of him. If he hoped to get out of this alive, he was going to have to do something to help..
Slowly Slanter came forward, a step at a time, slipping the long knife from his belt. No one else moved. Jair steadied himself, fighting back against the fear and repulsion that coursed through him. Slanter came closer, another step. One hand reached for the slackened rope that bound the Mwellret to Garet Jax. Jair went perfectly still. One chance was all he would get. Slanter’s hand closed about the rope and the knife lifted to the hemp.
Then Jair sang — a quick, sharp cry that Slanter recognized at once. Dozens of gray, hairy spiders clustered on Stythys, crawling over the arm that held the knife to Jair’s throat. The Mwellret jerked his arm away with a howl, beating it wildly against his robes in an effort to dislodge the things that clung to it. Abruptly the Fire Wake scattered in a wide circle, taking back the light and throwing everything into shadow.
Cat–quick, Slanter threw himself on Stythys, burying his long knife in the arm that gripped Jair about his waist. That arm, too, jerked away, and Jair tumbled to the roughened stone, free again. Shouts rose from the others of the little company as they charged forward to pull him clear. Stythys flew backward onto the cavern floor, Slanter clinging to him, Garet Jax leaping after. A long knife appeared in the Weapon Master’s hand as he sought to cut through the rope that bound him to the Mwellret. But he was yanked off balance as the rope snapped taut. He lost his footing and skidded to his knees.
«Slanter!» Jair screamed.
The Gnome and the Mwellret stumbled through the maze of Procks, clawing wildly at each other. The Fire Wake continued to rise as Stythys’ control over it slipped away, and the entire cavern was rapidly falling into shadow. Another few seconds and no one would be able to see anything.
«Gnome!» Foraker cried in warning, breaking away from the others to where the two forms struggled.
But Garet Jax was quicker. He leaped like a shadow from the gloom, his footing regained. The long knife severed the rope about his waist with a single cut. Procks grated and snapped in response to the sounds above, dark maws working madly. Stythys and Slanter were directly in their midst, squirming closer, slipping…
And then Garet Jax reached them, flinging himself across the remaining space that separated them, his iron grip fastening on Slanter’s leg. With a yank, he tore the Gnome free from Stythys’ claws. Clothing shredded and ripped, and a frightful hiss burst from Stythys’ throat.
The Mwellret tumbled backward, thrown off balance. Beneath him, a Prock’s black maw gaped open. The lizard seemed to hang suspended for an instant, clawed fingers grasping at the air. Then he fell, disappearing from sight. The Prock closed and there was a sudden shriek. Then the black fissure began to grind, a terrible crunching, and the whole of the cavern was filled with the dreadful sound.
Instantly the Fire Wake scattered and fled back into the gloom, taking with it the precious light. The Caves of Night were plunged into darkness once more.
It was several minutes before anyone moved again. They, crouched where they were in the blackness, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the absence of light, listening to the sounds of the Procks grinding all about them. When it quickly became apparent that there was not even the smallest amount of light to allow their eyes to adjust, Elb Foraker called out to the others and asked them to respond. One by one, they called back, faceless voices in the impenetrable dark. All were there.
But they knew that they were not likely to be there for long. The Fire Wake was gone, the light they so desperately needed to show them the path forward. Without it, they were blind. They must attempt to move through the maze of Procks using little more than instinct.
«Hopeless,” Foraker announced at once. «Without light, we cannot tell where the passages open before us and we cannot choose our path. Even if we escape the Procks, we will wander in these Caves forever.»
There was a hint of fear in the Dwarf’s voice that Jair had never heard before. «There has to be a way,” he murmured quietly, as much to himself as to the others.
«Helt, can you use the night vision?» Edain Elessedil asked hopefully. «Can you see to find a way through this darkness?»
But the giant Borderman could not. Even the night vision must have some light to aid it, he explained gently. In the absence of all light, the night vision was useless.
They were quiet then for a time, bereft it seemed of even the smallest hope. In the darkness, Jair could hear Slanter’s rough voice admonishing Garet Jax that he should have known better than to trust the lizard, as Slanter had told him. Jair listened and seemed to hear Brin speaking to him as well, telling him that he, too, should have listened. He brushed the whisper of her voice from his mind, thinking as he did so that, if the wishsong served him as it did her, he could call back the Fire Wake. But his song was only illusion, a pretense of what was real.
Then he thought of the vision crystal.
Calling excitedly to the others, he fumbled through his clothing until he found it, still tucked safely away, dangling from its silver chain, and he brought it forth into the cup of his hands. The crystal would give them light — all the light that was needed! With the crystal and Helt’s night vision to guide them, they would yet get clear of these Caves!
Barely able to suppress the excitement that coursed through him, he sang to the gift of the King of the Silver River and called forth the magic. The brilliant light sprang up, flooding the cavern with its glow. Brin Ohmsford’s face appeared within it, dark, beautiful, and worn, rising up before them in the gloom of the Caves of Night like some wraith come forth from another world. Grayness surrounded the Valegirl, gloom all too reminiscent of their own, close and stifling. Wherever she was as she looked past them to her own future, it was no less hostile a place than their own.
Cautiously, they rejoined one another, gathering about the light of the crystal. Joining hands as children might on a walk through some dark place, they began to move forward through the maze of Procks. Jair led, the light of the vision crystal sustained by his voice, scattering the shadows before them. Helt followed a step behind, sharp eyes scanning the cavern floor for where the Procks lay hidden. Behind them, the others followed.
They passed from that cavern into another, but this new cavern was smaller and the proper choice of passage less difficult to discern. Jair’s song lifted, clear, strong, and filled with certainty. He knew now that they were going to escape these Caves, and it was because of Brin. He wanted to cry out in thanks to her image as it floated before him. How strange that she should come like this to save them!
Closing his ears to the sounds of the Procks as they grated stone on stone, closing his mind to everything but the light and the vision of his sister’s face as it hung suspended before him, he gave himself over to the wishsong’s magic and passed on through the darkness.
Chapter Thirty–Eight
