“Well,” Much asked. “What do you see?”
“It’s a miracle we’re not all drowned,” Chisul said, wringing the water from his shirt.
“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
