A loud boom rose up beneath them.
Chapter Twenty
“Wot’s that?” Miguil asked, trickles of dust falling from the ceiling above them. “Cave-in?”
Ōbhin stood tense, ready to dart away from falling debris. Pressure squeezed around his heart, a mighty fist of fear seeking to crush it. A liquid fear melted through his bowels. Flashes of the earthquake and the terrifying plunge into the mines beneath Gunya filled him. The flowing sand gripping him, dragging him deeper and deeper into the earth.
“I think we’re fine,” Dajouth said after a long period of silence. “If it was going to collapse, it would’ve by now.”
“Elohm’s damned Colours, I hope you’re right,” Fingers said, his voice a low whisper.
“There are main support columns here,” Dualayn said, padding up to a thick column of pitted stone. “The ceiling looks strong. I don’t think we need to worry about collapses here.”
“Yeah,” panted Ōbhin, the fear slowly trickling from his guts. He edged forward, gripping his lantern. Sweat soaked his gloves.
The light fell on what looked like a carriage of some sort. It had metal wheels wrapped in rotten, black leather. It had glass windows on all four sides, its body painted a deep red that had weathered the ravages of time better than the exposed metal. Where the paint peeled, rust ravaged the steel beneath. It was sleek and lean and like no carriage he’d ever seen.
“How’d you hook the horses to it?” Miguil asked. The groom moved to the front, his effeminate face streaked with dust. “There’s no tongue. Not even a single hitch.”
“There’s more,” Fingers said. “This one’s blue and shaped differently.”
His lantern light fell on another carriage, taller. More rotten leather surrounded its rusted wheels. The glass had shattered. A skeleton lay inside of it, a hand gripping a wheel sheathed in more rotten leather. Fabric covered the seats, mostly gnawed and devoured by insects. Something scurried out of sight, fleeing the light.
“We’re in a carriage house,” Miguil said as he drifted to the right, staring at the other carriages.
They were green and yellow and blue. One looked silver. Some had intact glass, others had bodies inside of them. One had its door ripped off. It lay nearby, the metal half-melted. The interior of it looked burned, the frame warped in places from a great heat.
“Hundreds of them,” Avena said. “So many in one place. Who would need so many carriages?”
“The people who lived in the tenement above,” Dualayn said. “They must each have had their own.”
“But they’re so poor,” Dajouth said. “Those apartments weren’t that big. Who could afford their own carriage if they lived in such a small space?”
“Leather wheels?” Miguil asked. He kicked at rotten black that burst apart. “They wrapped the metal rims in them.”
“Metal wheels are impractical as it is,” said Fingers. “But put leather on them? Why not wooden wheels banded in iron?”
“Bugger me Black,” Bran hissed and leaped back.
A shadow burst out from beneath a car and lunged at him. Fingers kicked it. The small shape, the size of a cat, rolled across the dust before gaining its paws. Fur bristled. It barked like a small dog before darting beneath another carriage.
“Like a lapdog,” Fingers muttered. “Noblewomen in Ondere have them. Mebudese Lapdogs or some such nonsense.”
“Must be living off rats,” Ōbhin muttered.
“Poor things,” said Avena. She crouched down, shining her lantern beneath one of the sagging, rotten carriages. A piercing yelp echoed. Claws scratched across the stone floor as one of the dogs fled. Its yipping barks echoed through the vast space.
More answered. Snarling growls and screeching challenges. They echoed around Ōbhin and his companions like flurries of snow driven through a narrow mountain canyon. Eddying and swirling, whipping around and assaulting them from every direction. But the barks held fear.
“How big is this place?” Dajouth asked. “I’ve never found a cave this big. How far does it go?”
“This wasn’t a cave originally,” Dualayn said. “These thick support columns have held up the roof remarkably well. The engineering here is fantastic.”
“Big space to search,” Finger said. “Maybe we should split up. Find the way out faster.”
Ōbhin studied Fingers. Are you the shapeshifter? Did you murder Fingers and slither into his skin?
“Okay,” Ōbhin said, the tension squeezing about his heart. He had to be careful here. He casually rested his hand on the pommel of his sword like he often did. He set the lantern down on the roof of one of the carriages and gazed around.
Avena studied him, the diamond light picking out the gold highlights in her eyes. Dust streaked her face and darkened her loose hair. Emeralds glowed around her hands, giving her enhanced strength. Her hand drifted towards her binder.
“Dualayn and Dajouth with me,” Ōbhin said. “Avena, lead Fingers, Bran, and Miguil.”
He studied Fingers, searching for any sign that the man objected to the decision. Or showed disappointment.
Fingers glanced at Avena. “Well, girl, which way you want to go?”
Bran grinned, nodding while Dajouth shrugged and shifted over to join Ōbhin. Dualayn let out a wounded sigh, understanding why Ōbhin chose him. The hurt expression on his face stirred not an ounce of pity in Ōbhin’s heart.
Avena caught his gaze then flicked her eyes to Dajouth. He gave the slightest nod. Had he inadvertently selected the impostor? Bran bounced eagerly beside Avena, boasting about how he’d find the exit while Fingers held this paternal air. Miguil, above suspicion, only looked on with unease. He’d come here to help Avena. Their relationship had gone from betrothed to friends with surprising ease.
Love and lust can easily be mistaken for the other, Ōbhin thought, Foonauri lurking in the back of his mind. He’d obsessed over her
