Part 19 (2/2)

”I've watched you, Duncan Treloch. I've seen how you've changed the others with nothing but words.” He pointed to himself and then at Duncan. ”The weak working with the strong, helping each other to survive. You've given us back our humanity, turning animals back into men.”

Duncan stared at his friend. ”Yes, but will they listen? Will they dare to save themselves?”

”Ask them.” His voice rang with conviction. ”I believe they're ready to hear your plan.”

”Is this your second sight speaking...or just the last hope of a tired old man?”

Clovis shrugged the leather harness across his bony shoulders. ”Perhaps a bit of both.” Coughing, he turned and leaned into the harness. ”Perhaps you're not the only one who wants to see the sky.” Wood sc.r.a.ped against stone, as the sledge slowly lurched toward the tunnel's mouth.

Duncan grunted and hefted the hammer, his hands hardened with calluses. Pounding his anger against the wedge, he sent a steady beat through the tunnel. Sweat dripped into his eyes, his knees ached and his thirst raged. He worked the ore-face, falling into the weary drudgery of the mine. Clovis returned with an empty sledge, but by then neither man had the strength to talk. They filled the sledge with tumbled rock, coughing on the dust. Clovis leaned into the harness and Duncan picked up the hammer, each man yoked to his task.

One stroke after another, Duncan kept beating his rage against the ore-face. Better to have died in the steppes than in this h.e.l.lhole. He longed for fresh air, for the smell of green on the wind, for the crystal waters of a mountain stream...and for Kath. The hammer missed the wedge, striking stone, sending chips flying. He swore, ducking the shards, but then he noticed a trickle of water. Dropping the hammer, he pressed his face to the flow. Sucking the rock like a t.i.t, he swallowed the trickle, the tastes of rock and iron lingering on his tongue. The taste didn't matter, only the water...warm and wet, like a balm to his parched throat.

Clovis's voice came from behind. ”See, the G.o.ds watch over you, Duncan Treloch, suckling you even in the depths of the earth.”

The trickle ran dry before he could get enough. ”It's only water trapped in stone.” He gripped the hammer. ”The G.o.ds care nothing for the plight of men.”

”You're wrong.”

The conviction in the old man's voice made Duncan turn. ”Why?”

”Because I've seen pure evil.” Clovis sketched warding a sign with his left hand. ”I've witnessed things you wouldn't believe...for I was once a guard in the citadel.” His voice dropped to a hush. ”The Dark Lord is real, the true master of the north. If the Dark Lord exists, then there must be other G.o.ds, benevolent G.o.ds, else what chance does mankind have?”

For a moment, the old man's faith was contagious...but then Duncan shook his head. ”If the G.o.ds exist, then they should show their faces and strike a blow against evil.” He swung the hammer, driving the wedge deep in the ore-face.

The earth rumbled and shook.

A mighty roar came from the tunnel's mouth. A belch of rock dust rolled towards them like a storm cloud. Duncan threw himself to the ground, his hands over his head, expecting the weight of the earth.

The rumbling stopped...and the screaming began.

Fear hung heavy in the stale air. Duncan squeezed past the sledge, pus.h.i.+ng Clovis toward the exit. Choking on dust, they crawled on hands and knees till they reached the gallery. Other prisoners spilled out of their side tunnels, shock and fear etched in rock-dusted faces.

A wail of pain shuddered through the gallery. ”My legs! I can't feel my legs!”

The cave-in was three tunnels down. Trell lay pinned beneath a tumble of stones, half-swallowed by fallen rocks.

Duncan began s.h.i.+fting stones while Clovis tried to calm the injured man. ”We'll get you out. Lay still.” Duncan set his shoulder to a large rock, but it would not budge. It was only then that he realized the others were not helping. He turned to confront their stony stares. ”Help me save him.”

A few men looked away, others fidgeted, but Brock met his stare. The big man shook his head. ”No use, cat-man. He's already dead.”

”You don't know that.”

”Look at the size of those rocks.” Brock's voice was hard as iron. ”His legs are crushed, eaten by the mine.”

Trell loosed a keening wail, the sound clawing at raw-edged nerves.

Duncan pointed to the rock-fall. ”And beyond the fall? Perhaps the other man still lives.”

Doubt flicked across Brock's face.

Duncan pressed the point. ”I'll not leave a man buried alive.” Some of the others began to nod. ”We work together and live...or we stand alone and die.” He extended his hand. ”Don't let the mine defeat us, brother.”

The big man hesitated...but then he stepped forward and clasped Duncan's forearm. ”We stand together.”

A ragged cheer rose from the other men.

The cheer soon turned to resolve; the men knew time was against them. Brock issued orders and the men formed a line, pa.s.sing the fallen stones from hand to hand, stacking them at the far end of the gallery. Duncan worked with the big men at the rock-fall, trying to clear the entrance. Smaller stones rattled and fell as the larger rocks were muscled away. Trell whimpered, a trickle of blood at his mouth. Clovis whispered, ”I think we're losing him.”

Duncan grabbed another rock, careful not to start a slide. ”Ask him who he works with. Who wields the hammer?”

Clovis answered. ”It's Bruce.”

Duncan pictured the tall, blond-haired man. ”A strong one.” He wrestled a large rock from the pile. ”I'm betting he's still alive.”

Trell moaned, his eyes glazed with pain.

The men worked with grim determination, whittling away at the rock fall. An opening appeared at the top. Duncan peered inside. Dust choked the darkness, making it hard for even Duncan to see. Brock grabbed a torch and handed it up. Duncan poked it through the opening, calling for the missing man. ”Bruce! Do you live?”

No response.

Duncan withdrew the torch. ”It's too dusty inside, too hard to see. Keep working, he might still live.”

Doubt clouded the other men's faces, but they kept at it. More stones were cleared, opening a s.p.a.ce large enough for a man to squeeze through. Duncan stared at the hole, fearing another collapse. ”My idea. I'll go.”

No one argued.

He took the torch to protect his secret and climbed to the opening. Rocks s.h.i.+fted under his weight, a bad omen. Thrusting the torch forward, he crawled on his belly, stones sc.r.a.ping against his bare-chest. His shoulders just fit, like a well-measured tomb. The way ahead narrowed. He shoved a rock aside, praying the ceiling would hold. Stones tumbled forward with a disturbing clatter. Duncan waited, holding his breath...but the ceiling held. Worming his way through, he gained the other side. Dropping the torch, he pulled free of the pa.s.sage, peering through the dust. ”Bruce! Do you live?” Halfway back, he found the blond-haired man sprawled amongst a tumble of stones. His face was covered in rock dust...but a strong heartbeat pulsed at his neck. Duncan shook him hard, willing him to wake.

Bruce's eyes fluttered open. ”W-what happened?”

”A cave-in. We need to get out. Can you move?”

His eyes widened in fear. ”I'll b.l.o.o.d.y well try.”

Duncan led the way, Bruce struggling to follow. Ahead, the torchlight glowed like a beacon in the dust. They reached the rock-fall and Bruce gasped. ”Buried alive!” The big man began to shake.

Duncan gripped his arm. ”We work together and we live.”

Bruce nodded, his eyes wide and wild, his face pale.

Brock's voice came from the far side. ”Any luck?”

”I found him. He lives!”

<script>