Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 13: Rockfall: Larc

 The Outer Tunnels were cold, but never quite cold enough. That was one reason that Icers normally avoided them. The air was cool, and the water that seeped from the walls would have made a Flame shiver, but actual ice was rare. Still, there was some, and as the commander of the second phase of the retreat, Larc had a small cave lined with ice. She sat in its center, legs crossed, spine straight, trying to relax enough to sleep a little before the next attack.

 It was futile. Her mind spun with worry, and not even T'Jas healing would soothe it. She thought about Stasia, wondered if she was still alive. There was little chance of that. Larc had sent her to her death. Larc had thought that somehow, if they all surrendered together, they would be able to make a stand within Chraun and demand that the General make good on his promise. The fierce pursuit of the Flames against their forces, even after Stasia had surrendered, made it clear that would not happen. She worried about Stasia's strange plan, her command to Casser to find V'lturhst. When Larc and Casser had parted, the old Icer had been furious. He did not understand his niece's blasphemy any more than Larc did. There was no V'lturhst. Stasia had backed them into a corner, and they would be trapped here by the Flames until they all died of starvation.

 In the tunnels surrounding the burial chamber, there had at least been small animals, flats and jewelsnake, to eat, but the Outer Tunnels were barren in comparison. The few animals that lived there were large, strange, and often dangerous. Cave howlers, giant moleworms, and stranger things with no names and sharp teeth prowled the narrow, labyrinthine tunnels. Many of them had poison in their flesh from feeding on concentrated metals in the rock of the Outer Tunnels. Entire tunnels were dominated by giant vine-fungi that could trap and engulf a person as they tried to walk through. None of this would have been insurmountable if there had been enough cold. The Icers were taxed enough by the fighting; having them kill and purify the few animals available would take the last of their vaerce and leave the retreat defenseless. Larc would be commanding walking dead, Icers who would drop in the middle of battle from the sheer exhaustion that took all Icers when their vaerce were gone.

 I should not be commanding at all, Larc thought. She had never commanded an army, never even considered the possibility. She was a Healer, not a Warrior. An Advisor, not a Commander. Fortunately, she had General Kiner. He was able to make most of the decisions and guide the troops. There was little for Larc to do but worry.

 A howler's deep, echoing call sounded in the distance. Larc tensed, then began her deep breathing again. She had been relaxing, but had not realized it until the call gave her something else to worry about. Cave howlers were the most dangerous creature in the Outer Tunnels. Dark, hairy, shy creatures, they crept through the tunnels, clinging to vertical rock faces, moving in large family bands. It was not physical aggression that made them dangerous but the low, loud call of their leaders. Noises like that were bound to trigger cave-ins. The Outer Tunnels were like a child's sculpture built from the loose, wet sand at the lakeshore, porous and fragile. Larc was sure the call she heard had collapsed a tunnel. The howlers seemed almost deliberate about it.

 Larc rose and tried to neaten herself. Her chirsh armor was dusty and tattered, her hair a tangled mess. She had not seen standing water since the fall of Iskalon. She thought she might give her life just for a chance to bathe. But there was no use pining over what could not be. She brushed the dust out of her face and left her cave. There would be a messenger with news about the damage caused by the howler. She should listen and try to understand whether it interfered with Kiner’s defense plan.

 When she entered the narrow tunnel lined with small cave-quarters like hers, Larc discovered that the messenger was neither an Icer nor a Warrior. It was Hali, one of the guildless, small and waif-like even on the tiny raihan she rode. They had found a pocket of guildless in the Outer Tunnels who had been hiding there since the war, surviving on fungi and stock they’d looted in the chaos of the initial attack on Iskalon. At Casser’s command they were adopted into the highly depleted Guilds. Hali had joined the scribe Guild, most of whom served as messengers since the destruction of the Palace library. Hali was a go-between for Casser and Larc.