18 A tunnel toward the Underground

For the next day, I kept thinking about the mission I had been given. I went to the Capitol, but this time there was a guard at the front door, and he stopped me and said, “You cannot pass”. His tone was so inflexible that I did not dare to break the rules, I backed away and left. I went to my cousin’s house at noon, but he wasn’t home, so I spent the afternoon selling newspapers and returned at six. It was no use: Yal still hadn’t returned. And as I did not know where the new Hostel was, and as it was not an hour when I could go to see Korther, I went and sat with Little Wolf on a low wall from where I could watch the house with the green shutters, and I waited.

The day was spring-like, and the Esplanade was alive with activity. I took out the rodaria root, and while chewing on it, I looked down at my boots. Adoya’s dogs had left them in a terrible state. I had tried to retie the sole, but my attempt had been useless. Worse: I had discovered bloodstains. And suddenly wondering whether it was mine or the Black Hawk’s, I had wanted to throw the boots to hell. However, I remembered at the last moment that they had cost me three goldies, and I held back.

I waited in vain until seven o’clock. Manras and Dil came to see me twice, and a few comrades and acquaintances passed by, but when the sky began to darken, the gwaks of my band gradually withdrew. Little Wolf was active: he had made friends with a little girl of his age, the daughter of a bun seller who was working nearby. I had whispered to him: nab one, nab one. But the blond boy was so young that he didn’t understand me, and instead of going to the buns, he went to the little girl. She had shown him her rag doll, he had shown her the Master, and now they were both playing very diligently.

And as they played, I became more and more nervous. Because… if I couldn’t find a Black Dagger in those three days, what would happen? Let’s just say that I only had two days left.

A lamplighter started to turn on the lights, the bun seller left with her daughter, and as Little Wolf followed them, I snorted and went to stop him.

“Halt there, Little Wolf. She’s the little girl’s mother, not yours.”

The blond boy looked up with a frown, and I sighed.

“The bun maker doesn’t want you, gwak. That’s because you’re a gwak. You get it? Come on,” I encouraged him.

And I led him back to the low wall. I had not yet sat down when I saw Manras and Dil running up to me, and I arched my eyebrows. But hadn’t those two already gone back to the Bivouac?

“Sharpy!” Manras gasped.

“What’s the matter, shyurs!” I replied, puzzled.

They approached, and finally Manras explained:

“It’s the Black Cat. We bumped into him on the Avenue. He wants you to go to The Crazy Nut asap.”

This made me jump with excitement.

“Good mother! Really? The Black Cat? That’s great!” I snorted cheerfully. “I’m going!”

And I ran off leaving my friends with Little Wolf. I was looking for the Black Daggers, and it just so happened that Yerris wanted to talk to me!

The Crazy Nut Inn was halfway between The Ballerinas and Moon Square, on the border with the Cats. It was also called the Artists’ House, because people with studies and lots of ideas met there. I rarely went in that place, but I did remember picking the pockets of some drunken student leaving the building.

I arrived, pushed open the door, and went in. I came panting and glancing murderously at my boots, for they had tripped me up a dozen times on the way. The place was bustling with activity, with a guy up on a chair making a speech about traditions or something, and he went: no, gentlemen! Goodbye standards, goodbye rules: art must be free!

His assertion was cheered, and in the meantime, I turned around twice and… smiled broadly as I spotted the Black Cat sitting at a table with… Sla!

The red-haired dark elf had a hand resting on her huge belly. I rushed towards them and said with emotion:

“I’m so glad to see you guys!”

Slaryn smiled.

“Ayo, shyur.”

“Sit down,” Yerris invited me. “Before we get started, let me buy you a drink. Wine?”

I nodded. He took the bottle from the table, and I went to ask for a glass. Yerris placed my chair between him and Sla, who even let me hear how the little one was kicking inside.

“From one storm, there can only come another storm,” Yerris joked.

I ducked in time as Sla gave the half-gnome a good whack.

“Storm, your mother,” the dark elf replied. “It would be nice enough if he wasn’t born as hotheaded as his father. Did you know, Draen, that this scaluftard broke his left leg?”

“Bruised,” Yerris corrected. “That’s what the doctor said. And, that’s precisely why,” he continued, lowering his voice, “Korther needs another volunteer in the tunnel. It’s very easy, don’t worry. You just have to go into a hole, leave the magaras along, and come out. Apparently you don’t have the option of saying ‘no’, so, I’ll show you the way as soon as you finish your drink and as soon as the princess allows me to.”

Slaryn rolled his eyes.

“Permission granted.”

Yerris bowed theatrically, and I laughed as they continued to bicker as usual. Still, when I finished the wine and the Black Cat gave me the nails to go pay, I observed out of the corner of my eye that they were looking at each other like two lovebirds.

To my amazement, we did not leave The Crazy Nut, but went through the back door of the establishment. The tavern-keeper said nothing to us, and I deduced that he must be a friend of the Black Daggers… if not a real Black Dagger. Thunders. To think I had picked the pockets of several of his customers…

Yerris discovered a trap door, and he and I descended to the cellar, where the Black Cat revealed a secret passage in the wall.

“From there, just go down and down. You will find Ab. He’ll guide you. The guy’s having fun as a kid down there with the explosives. Don’t forget to remind him where you are so he doesn’t blow you up,” he joked. He pointed to two bags. “Take them with you and give them to Ab. They’re supplies, not explosives,” he reassured me. And as I took the bags, he leaned on his crutch, looked at me curiously, and added, “By the way. I’ve just been told that the Black Hawk is dead. Did you know?”

I stiffened a little, but nodded casually.

“Yes. I knew.”

“A great recruit to the underworld,” Yerris smiled. And he yawned. “Apparently, the men of Frashluc killed him. For once, they’ve done something useful!” As I merely shrugged, he pointed to the secret passage with his chin. “You’d better go there. Korther wants to finish this in two days. You’ve got a good distance to walk,” he warned me. “Good luck.”

With some trepidation, I took the lantern he held out to me and entered the tunnel. Before the Black Cat closed the opening, I blurted out:

“Yerris.”

“Mm?”

I hesitated. I didn’t know what to say to him. I wished he would say to me: don’t worry, shyur, we already know what Frashluc asked you to do, Korther is not angry: he will help you. Blasthell, how I’d have loved to hear something like that! However… I sighed, discouraged. I could always dream on.

So, putting aside my worries, I gave him a bantering smile and said:

“You’ll let me know when the baby’s born, right? I wanna see it.”

The black semi-gnome smiled with all his teeth.

“Sure thing, shyur.”

Smiling, I turned my back on him and started down the stairs, lantern in hand. The secret door closed behind me.

At first, the stairs were more or less regular, then they became less and less visible and turned into a simple slope. I came to a crossroads and stopped. There was a path going up and another going down. Yerris had told me to go down, but… what if the upward path led me back to the surface? Then I could run to The Yellow Dragon and tell Frashluc: I know where the tunnel entrance is!

With this thought, I took the path that climbed. After a while, however, I came to a dead end. Was this another secret door? Perhaps, but no matter how hard I tried to find a mechanism to open it, I could not find anything. It was almost a relief. With my heart in my throat, I took the path down.

I descended for what seemed an interminable time. At times, I felt waves of hot air that reminded me frighteningly of the Salbronix mine. I don’t know how long I had been descending when suddenly one of my boots got stuck and my toes hit a rock. I almost sprawled forward. I grumbled, pondered, and decided that enough was enough: I put down the lantern and the bags, took off my boots, and left those in a corner, wishing never to see them again.

“Good riddance, traitors,” I said.

And I resumed my walk. The ceiling of the tunnel lowered and rose at times, but I never had to bend over. Being small must have some advantage.

I was beginning to wonder if this tunnel had an end when I heard voices. I continued to descend in silence, and gradually, I began to catch some words. It was Aberyl.

“Power… power of a hundred… no, two hundred and thirty… No, that’s not it. Bah, bah, bah… I’m getting confused! Focus, Ab…”

After listening to him for a while, I realized he was talking to himself. Tightening my lips into an irrepressible smile, I approached the tunnel and eventually saw a bright light bathing the whole place. Sitting on a rock, a notebook in his lap, the demon was talking to himself. He had taken off the muffler he always wore, revealing his pale face, and… his marks. He was transformed. He looked up abruptly with his red demon eyes and seemed relieved to see me.

“Hell, boy. You don’t make a sound. So they finally found you. Come on, there’s work to do. Leave those bags there. And take this one.”

I obeyed without a word, too intimidated by his marks to say even “ayo” to him. And as we started walking, descending further into the tunnel, Aberyl continued to glance steadily at his notebook while mumbling to himself. He asked me no questions. There was no “So, how was the valley?” or “You wouldn’t happen to have a big problem with the biggest kap of the Cats, would you?” No, nothing of the sort. Because, as Frashluc had said, they didn’t give a damn about what could happen to a miserable gwak. Well, I just added “miserable”, because I was offended by such disinterest. And so, with a clenched jaw and a hardened heart, I followed Aberyl, loading the heavy bag full of explosive magaras.

We came to a place where the tunnel became a simple hole through which we had to crawl. And there, Aberyl said to me:

“Put the bag down. Carefully, boy! Let’s see, let’s see.”

His eyes were shining with excitement. He took the magaras out of the bag, and when I tried to help him, he clicked his tongue.

“You stay put, boy. Don’t mess up my magaras. I’m trying to think…”

I let him think for a while, and then, tired of waiting, I said:

“Have you managed to think already?”

Aberyl frowned and raised an index finger to silence me as he placed the magaras and attached them one by one to some wires. After a moment, he touched each magara again and smiled, breathing in.

“Good.” He looked up at me and pointed to a spot. “Do you know what this is?”

I looked from the rock to the Black Dagger several times before saying:

“Rock?”

“Lionrock,” Aberyl announced as if he were presenting me with a precious stone. “It’s an underground rock that renews the air. We must be about six hundred meters down. And… right there, according to the plans, forty meters away at most, there is a tunnel. A tunnel that leads to the Underground. We’re gonna need another one of those pipe bombs. See the hole the other one made? Those bombs are the best. The Artificer sells them at a crazy price, but… hell, they’re incomparable. Well!” He covered his face with the muffler and gestured. “Onward. Take the first magara and keep moving forward, dragging the others inside until I yell at you to stop. Then you step back and place the magaras, one on the ceiling, one on the floor, one on the ceiling, one on the floor, and so on, so that the wire is always taut. Got it?”

I nodded, swallowing, and did as he asked: I took the magara he held out to me, flattened myself by the hole, stuck my head in, and… said:

“Don’t blow it up when I’m inside, huh?”

I heard Aberyl’s snort.

“Don’t talk nonsense and go. If anything happens to you in there, turn your harmonic light red.”

I widened my eyes in alarm.

“Red light? I don’t know how to make red light!”

“Well, well, the little necromancer doesn’t know how to make red light? I find that hard to believe. Go,” Aberyl repeated, growing impatient. “It’ll be fine.”

“Blasthell,” I replied tersely.

Through clenched teeth, I began to crawl into the hole, dragging the explosives. I wondered what would happen if I popped off there. Frashluc wouldn’t bother killing my family, would he? Except maybe he would, who knows. He might think I’d run away. As a matter of fact, who would ever think I’d popped off in a hole six hundred meters below the Rock?

Driven by fear, I did my best not to lose my concentration for a second. When Aberyl shouted “stop!” I began to back away, placing one magara on top, another on the ground, and so on until finally I emerged from the hole, my knees and elbows bloody and my hands shaking. My arm wound had reopened.

“Can I go now?” I asked.

Aberyl cast me an incredulous glance.

“Go away? But we’ve only just started!”

I breathed in. And I braced myself.

Finally, I understood what Aberyl meant by “we’ve only just started”. After blowing up the small hole, Aberyl asked me to do the same thing again. I entered the hole three times. The tunnel was getting wider, and during the breaks, I had to take out stones, clean up, and in the process, half asphyxiate myself with the dust cloud.

In the end, I was worn out, and when the tunnel was high enough and wide enough for Aberyl to enter, I lay down on the floor all the way. I was aching all over and my head was throbbing with fatigue. I could barely move to get the wineskin, drank all that was left, and then, bloody and dusty and exhausted, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

Aberyl shook me.

“Hey. Hey, boy. Get up, we’re going back upstairs.”

I resisted and told him: no… He insisted. Without thinking about it, I gave him a slight mortic shock so he would leave me alone. And he did. At last. Dead to reality, I returned to the world of dreams.

I woke up to a crash. At first, I thought that Aberyl had resumed blowing up the earth without me. But no matter how hard I looked, I could not find him. He had left me a lantern, and it was still burning. I rose to my feet, numb, sweaty, and scared. The crashing did not stop. The earth vibrated. Was the tunnel going to collapse on me?

I picked up the lantern and was about to run away when suddenly there was a deafening BRANG! and rocks began to fall. I leapt aside to avoid one, the lantern smashed into another, and I found myself cowering against a wall in the dark.

Oh, blasthell, blasthell, blasthell! I let out a cry of terror. I shielded my head as much as I could and closed my eyes tightly. Then the earth stopped shaking, and in place of the clatter came a loud, resounding, snapping sound, a bit like Dakis’s breathing, but way more powerful. I opened one eye… and thought I had gone mad.

In front of me, more or less at the point where we had broken through the rock, there was a large gap downwards. And in that gap there was light. And in that light, I could see the huge nostrils of a… of a…

Of a dragon.

It had earthy-coloured, golden scales, and its breath was hot and reeking of minerals to the point of asphyxiation. Anyway, I hardly dared to breathe. I was petrified.

Glittering insects flitted around the dragon’s scales, but it didn’t seem to mind. After sniffing through the hole for a few moments, it took a large rock between its jaws and crunched. Bang! Pieces of rock shattered and fled in all directions.

I had to move. The problem was that I was half buried under the rocks. None of them were actually crushing me: they had fallen at an angle, leaving me just enough space not to turn into a spirit. But I was going to need time to get out of there… and maybe need some help too.

I had a coughing fit and tried to stifle it. The dragon, however, did not seem to hear me. It continued to chew, and suddenly, it struck its head against a wall. The earth shook violently again, and a rock almost fell on my head and blocked my view.

After a time which seemed interminable, the earth stopped shaking. I tried to climb out from under the rubble, to no avail. I was trapped, and I was afraid that, if I tried to move a rock, it would crush me. I wanted to scream, I wanted to ask for help, but I didn’t know if the dragon could hear me. So after a few frustrated attempts to free myself, I remained huddled in my grave. Now I was pricking up my ears and could not hear anything. It was as if the dragon had been but a dream. However, at the time, it had seemed so real…

An eternity passed before I heard noise again. I woke up—well, not really, because it was impossible to sleep in these conditions—and I heard something like a shower of stones. Then an explosion. Horror overcame me. They weren’t going to activate magaras without knowing where I was, were they? But what did they care, I thought painfully.

There was another series of explosions before I could finally hear voices, then a:

“Merciful spirits, I can’t believe it!”

“What?” the other replied.

“The tunnel. It’s open. But… an earthquake can’t have done this, can it?”

The first one to speak was Aberyl. The second was Korther. The kap answered with a muffled gasp and said:

“That lad had us all in a tizzy until his last breath. I wouldn’t be surprised if he collapsed the tunnel by himself.”

“Kor, let’s not joke about these things,” Ab protested.

“True, he was clever enough not to make it collapse with him in it,” Korther admitted. “Gosh, it’s so silly. Poor boy… Anyway. What are you doing?”

“Looking for his body.”

“Spirits. Under all those rocks? He could be anywhere.”

Then, though my throat was completely dry and I was only half-conscious, I managed to make a sound, a mere strangled moan.