The Survivors Read online

  “Enough,” the first voice quieted them. “We need to be ready. As soon as we hear them, we take off.”

  “Go,” a new voice said.

  Sounds of someone moving echoed up the passage.

  “No,” the first voice hissed. “Omer, get back here.”

  Bradok gripped the handle of his sword, holding it up in front of him just as a figure rounded a bend in the tunnel not ten feet ahead of him. As his hand tightened around the hilt, he did something he had never done before: he made a wish, wishing he’d brought a light. Suddenly the enchanted blade burst into a pale, orange glow.

  In the light, Bradok could see three dwarves with white-blond hair and white skin. The tallest had a braided and forked beard that decorated a shrewd-looking face. Behind him came a woman, with glassy blue eyes and long, disheveled hair. They both seemed to be reaching for the dwarf in front. He was younger, with his beard barely in, and he had an innocent, childlike expression on his face.

  Bradok saw all that in the moment it took for the pale dwarves to react to the light. The big man and the woman shielded their eyes as if in horrific pain, but the younger dwarf simply stared at the glowing sword, his face contorted into a mask of rage and hatred.

  “Magic!” he shrieked, his voice like an explosion in the silence of the tunnel.

  What happened next was almost too fast for Bradok to follow. The young dwarf leaped as if he’d been shot from a catapult, slamming into Bradok and knocking him to the floor. The attacker’s hands were around Bradok’s throat, squeezing with a force unlike any Bradok had ever known. Purple dots erupted across his vision and the world went dark.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Outsiders

  Bradok’s fingers tore at the hand, clamped like an iron band over his throat. He could hear Rose cursing and other voices, too, unfamiliar voices, echoing as if from far away.

  “Omer,” one shouted. “Let go, boy.”

  “No,” the young dwarf roared, not letting go for a moment. “Magic!”

  “He’s not a Theiwar, boy. Look at him,” the first voice said. “It’s just a magic sword. The sword is magic, not him. It’s ‘found’ magic.”

  The vice on Bradok’s throat loosened a bit, and Bradok gulped a lungful of air.

  “Found magic,” the young dwarf repeated, his voice changing back to a tone less threatening, the childlike innocence. “Like me?”

  “Yes, like you,” the fork-bearded dwarf said.

  When the hand released Bradok, he scurried back, gasping. The pale youth could barely grow a beard, yet he’d manhandled Bradok like a rag doll.

  The fork-bearded dwarf raised his hands, showing them he was weaponless and meant no harm. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Just tell him you didn’t make that magic sword.”

  “I didn’t,” Bradok gasped. “I’ve never even witnessed its magic before. My father won it off an elf in a dice game, long, long ago.”

  The young dwarf made a soft cooing sound, like a bird, then picked up Bradok’s sword and held it out to him.

  “Then please accept my apologies,” he said in a slow voice.

  Bradok reached out hesitantly and took the sword.

  “It’s all right,” he said with a reassurance he didn’t feel. He got to his feet, holding the sword down but still in front of him.

  “Don’t mind him,” the dwarf said matter-of-factly. “He just hates wizards. A Theiwar wizard kidnapped him when he was a baby.”

  The young dwarf shuddered and squatted down at the older one’s feet, putting his arms around his waist and pressing his head against the fork-bearded dwarf’s abdomen.

  “The wizard experimented on poor Omer, here,” he said, stroking the young dwarf’s hair with a gentle hand. “Unfortunately he hasn’t been right in the head since he escaped.”

  The passageway filled with the sound of running feet, and many of Bradok’s companions turned up, wielding their weapons.

  “What goes on here?” Much demanded threateningly.

  The fork-bearded dwarf raised his hands again. “Easy friends,” he said. “We don’t mean anyone any harm.”

  “Like we’d believe you,” Jenner said, clutching an evil-looking war axe. “We wouldn’t take the word of a Daergar.”

  The Daergar had long ago separated their clan from normal dwarf society in favor of living in the deep places of Krynn. Bradok knew the stories told about them: that they were evil, untrustworthy, and hated their higher-dwelling cousins.

  “It’s true we are Daergar,” the dwarf said, indicating his small party. “My name is Corinthar Darklight; you can call me Corin. My friends and I were just passing through here. We mean you no jeopardy; I give you my word on that.”

  “Friends?” Chisul said.

  “There was a woman with him,” Bradok said, noticing her absence for the first time, “and I heard at least one other voice too.”

  “There are six of us,” Corin said; then he turned and yelled back down the passage. “Come on out, everyone.”

  Shuffling out of the darkness came four more Daergar. The woman he’d seen before came first, followed by a short, rotund dwarf with a beard cascading nearly down to the ground. Behind him came a tall dwarf with an exquisite face and a close-cropped beard. The last man was stocky and broad, and from what Bradok could see of him, his body bore many scars that crisscrossed his flesh.

  All of them squinted against the light. They were dressed in rags and wore no shoes on their feet.

  “You say you’re just passing through here?” Rose asked.

  “Just so, friend,” Corin said, an easy, unconcerned smile on his face.

  “So you know these caves?” she said. “Do you know a way to the surface?”

  Corin hesitated; then his shoulders fell. “I’m afraid not, miss,” he said. “We’re just as lost as you.”

  At that the woman giggled, and Bradok recognized her. That was the sound he’d heard two mornings earlier when he was using the privy at the other camp. He blushed as he realized she’d been watching him.

  “Did you somehow escape?” Chisul asked.

  The woman giggled again. “Oh, we escaped all right, handsome,” she replied, her amused expression transformed into an open leer.

  “Easy, Jeni,” Corin said.

  “What does she mean?” Rose asked, suspicion clouding her face. “Where did you escape from?”

  Corin sighed and cast a vaguely disparaging look at Jeni, who appeared not to notice or care. “We were prisoners in the Burning Rock Penal Caves,” he said. “That doesn’t mean anything to you, of course, but it’s the kind of place they send you when they don’t want you coming back.”

  “You’re convicts?” Chisul asked, aghast.

  Corin smiled and shrugged absently. “Call it what you like. We’re ex-convicts now.”

  “How did you escape?” Bradok asked.

  “A little over a week ago, there was some kind of a massive earthquake,” Corin explained. “Most of the caves exploded or collapsed, forcing a river of magma into the few areas left intact. Just when we thought we were goners, a fissure opened in the back wall, exposing an underground river beyond.

  “We had no choice,” he went on. “We jumped into the river just a step ahead of the deadly magma. Twenty of us went into the river. By the time we washed up on the beach, we were all that survived.”

  “You probably washed up on the same beach we did,” Bradok guessed.

  “Yes,” said Corin.

  Jeni nodded and smiled manically. “We found your ship,” she said.

  “Very clever,” the round dwarf said.

  “We’ve been trying to follow you ever since,” Corin said.

  “How could you?” Rose asked. “We almost starved; we went the wrong way and doubled back; we encountered many dangers.”

  The scarred dwarf laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound. “One of the things they did to us in prison was to starve us,” he said evenly. “They’d eventually start feeding us again, after the we
ak died off, so we’re used to doing without food. Following you without getting noticed, that was harder.”

  “Are you hungry now?” Bradok asked.

  Corin laughed and nodded. “Once the spores subsided, we harvested mushrooms from the same cavern you did,” he said. “We’d never have found that feast if you hadn’t led us there. Thanks for that.”

  Bradok wanted to ask more about what happened to the spores and the mushroom-covered dwarves, but Chisul cut him off.

  “Well, since you’ve got food and you don’t need our help, I suggest you be on your way,” Silas’s son said brusquely.

  “Where would we go?” Corin said, rubbing his chin. “We weren’t intending to join up with you; we were simply following. But we can’t go back to where we escaped from; they kill fugitive prisoners on sight. Assuming we knew how to get back … or that anyone there is left alive to kill us.”

  “I don’t care where you go,” Chisul said, “as long as you leave us alone and be on your way.”

  Mutterings of approval filled the tunnel where the survivors of Ironroot had packed in to hear what was being said.

  “You wouldn’t want to go with us anyway,” Bradok said in a conciliatory fashion. “We are trying to make for the surface.”

  Several of the Daergar paled to an almost transparent hue.

  “I know that,” Corin said. “We’ve talked it over and I want to go anyway.”

  “The way the ground shook,” the tall, good-looking dwarf explained in a melodious voice. “It went on for three days. It probably destroyed everything down here. Nothing left for us down here.”

  “He’s right,” Corin said. “We may be the only dwarves left in this part of the world. We may not have always gotten along, cousins, but if we care about the future of the dwarf race, we should put our differences aside. Otherwise, our chances of survival will go down.”

  “You don’t have anything we want, Daergar,” Jenner said tersely.

  “We aren’t going to take convicts into our midst,” Chisul echoed.

  “I thought you might feel that way,” Corin said, “so I’ll make you a deal. If I can prove we’re useful enough to bring along on your little expedition to nowhere, will you accept us?”

  “What do you mean?” Rose said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

  “We might just be able to help you find your way out of these passages,” Corin said.

  “I thought you said you didn’t know your way around here,” Much pointed.

  “Well, I don’t,” Corin said. “So it’s no trick. But if we can help you, is it a deal?”

  “No,” Chisul said stubbornly. “It’s some kind of cheat.”

  “He doesn’t seem like a bad sort,” Bradok said softly. He looked over at Tal, who shrugged, and Much, who kicked stones at his feet. That left Rose, who smiled at him reassuringly.

  Bradok turned back to Corin, who stood easily with his thumbs tucked into his belt. “Can you prove your worth?”

  Corin nodded. “Without question. But only if you agree to take us with you.”

  “Your people are convicts,” Bradok said. “If we take you with us, you would have to guarantee their proper behavior.”

  “Oh, they’re all right,” Corin said with a wry grin. “They were once a rough lot, of course. After all, none of us went to prison for biting our nails. But some are quite harmless now. Or, you might say, rehabilitated.”

  A dark chuckle ran through the Daergar.

  “Never you fear; they’ll mind their manners,” he finished. “When a man gets a reprieve from a lifetime in the Abyss, he’d be a fool to waste the chance.”

  Bradok nodded slowly. He studied Corin, looking for some trace of falsehood or deception. As far as he could tell, the dwarf had been open and honest with them.

  “Why did they send you to prison?” he asked Corin directly.

  Corin smiled but the scarred dwarf spoke before he could answer. “Corin there is an admirable case. He swindled a corrupt politician out of a million steel,” the scarred dwarf said. “It was revenge for the politician bankrupting his father.”

  Corin’s face clouded for a moment; then his easy, affable smile returned.

  “The funny part is why they sent me to prison,” Corin said. “They didn’t care about their friend whom I had ruined; they just wanted me to tell them where the money disappeared to.”

  “What about the rest of you?” Much said, still uneasy.

  “Fair enough,” Corin said. He turned and pointed at the scarred dwarf, who grinned, showing teeth that had been filed to points.

  “That talkative one’s Thurl Surepath,” Corin said. “He was the house assassin for a wealthy family. When they fell on hard times, they sold him out to save their own skins.”

  Thurl bowed with a sweeping motion, his unnerving grin never wavering.

  “That’s Hurlic Sweetwater,” Corin continued, indicating the short, rotund dwarf. “He killed his wife when he caught her having an affair. Well, that happens, don’t it?

  “Of course you didn’t stop there, did you, Hurlic?” Corin added with dramatic flair. “He killed her entire family.”

  A gasp ran through the crowd, and Hurlic looked a bit sick.

  “I’m sure he’s very sorry, and it was all a long time ago. This,” Corin said, pulling the tall, good-looking dwarf forward, “is Xurces Firebrand, the most notorious sex fiend in the history of Darkhold City. It’s said he has fathered over one hundred children.”

  The collective gasp centered on mothers clutching their children and husbands stepping in front of their wives.

  “Please,” Xurces said sweetly, trying to calm the crowd. “That’s all behind me.”

  Corin patted the younger dwarf on the back. “That’s right, all behind him,” Corin continued. “The guards at the penal caverns took care of that. They castrated him.”

  A palpable silence followed. Then Xurces spoke. “No, it’s all right, really,” he said. “It sure did cure me. I’m no longer the person I was, and that’s actually a good thing.”

  “Next we have Omer,” Corin said, throwing an affectionate arm around the youngest dwarf. “After he was tortured by a mad Theiwar wizard, he killed twelve armed dwarves in a tavern brawl with just his bare hands. Ten or twelve, it depends on who’s telling the tale.”

  “Twelve,” murmured Omer, beaming.

  Bradok could believe that. He’d never seen anyone move so fast or possess such strength.

  “But his mind nowadays is that of a child,” Corin said. “Just treat him nice and kindly, and he’s docile as a lamb.”

  Omer leaned his head forward so Corin could tousle his hair.

  “That just leaves dear Jeni,” Corin said, gesturing toward the sole female. “Put your hands over your ears, dear,” he said.

  As strange as the request sounded, Jeni complied, putting her hands over her ears and humming loudly.

  “She can’t bear to hear her crimes recited,” Corin explained. “Her husband beat her and tortured her mercilessly, you see. And in the end, poor dear, she went mad and killed her children.”

  “That’s monstrous,” Rose said, her voice choked with emotion.

  Corin nodded sagely. “Monstrous it was,” he said. “She’s much better now, away from her husband. She thinks the murders were just a dream and as long as no one tells her otherwise, she’s fine and dandy. You just have to treat her with kindness and she’ll be all right too.”

  “That’s quite a collection of misfits you’ve got,” Chisul said skeptically. “You don’t make a very attractive addition to our plight.”

  “Let me assure you, oh dubious one, that I personally will guarantee the conduct of my people,” Corin said. “You have all stuck together. We are sticking together. I help them. They listen to me. None of them will give you any trouble.”

  “The word of a con man,” Jenner scoffed.

  “You can have my word,” the scarred Thurl said. “If any of us revert to our old ways, I’ll kill the
m myself.”

  “Kill them yourself! That’s not very reassuring,” Jenner said.

  Thurl snorted angrily, adopting a frightening expression of rage on his face. Jenner edged back.

  Corin spoke up. “You wouldn’t know this, of course, but a professional assassin can only make a living if he’s as good as his word,” he said. “For Thurl to tell you that he would kill someone on your behalf is a vow of honor that would be worth plenty of steel to others.”

  “I was a very well-paid assassin,” Thurl said, cooling his anger. “My word is as good as cash in the vault.”

  “Enough of this,” Bradok said. He didn’t like the idea of bringing the dark dwarves into their group, and he didn’t like all their talk of killing and assassinating for pay. Corin seemed a likable enough dwarf, but not only were they Daergar, the ancient enemies of the mountain dwarves, but they were the scum of their society. “As much as I hate to admit it, Chisul may be right. We should have some evidence, first, of your value to us.”

  Corin reached into his ragged cloak and searched around, pulling out something smallish and round from an inside pocket. When he turned it over, Bradok immediately recognized the device.

  “My compass!”

  “Is it yours? Well, I picked it up for you,” Corin said, polishing the purple stone on his dirty shirt. “And I’ll be happy to return it to you,” he added. “Provided you take us with you.”

  “That’s ours to begin with,” Jenner said angrily.

  “Give it back,” Chisul said in a voice edged with threat. “Or we’ll take it ourselves. Don’t forget, we outnumber you.”

  “Hang on a minute,” Bradok said, stepping in front of Chisul.

  The stocky son of the cooper showed white knuckles gripping his sword, and the sweat shone on his face. Bradok didn’t doubt Chisul was ready to try and make good on his threat. But again, Bradok felt as though Corin was being honest and fair, in his way.

  “I think we need to talk,” he said in a low voice, leaning close to Chisul and signaling the others. “In private.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Much said. “Why don’t we temporarily adjourn back to the cavern to discuss this matter?”