“That depends. How long do you think it will take to get down to where Modi was lost? And will I have a guide?”

  “I can’t send any of the red cloaks with you. It has been forbidden,” she answered, “But Gamal can guide you. He is of the clan of miners. He is the one who brought us Modi’s message from the deeps in the first place. It is my impression that it will take days to reach Modi, if not weeks.”

  “Weeks?” asked Brand, shocked. Just how big of a place was the Everdark? It had only taken them three days to travel here from the Haven.

  Gudrin read his mind. “It is indeed a very large place. But that is not what takes so long. Traveling vertically through shafts is nothing like following roads. Think of the effort it would have taken for you to scale those cliffs outside on Snowdon’s shoulders, rather than to have followed a nicely carved road.”

  Brand understood and rubbed his face. He had not really thought about what this journey would be like. He had never spent any time below ground in his life. The furthest he had gone underground was probably Gram Rabing’s root cellar, which had two levels to it.

  “In the morning then,” he said. “When the Great Vents open.”

  And so it was agreed.

  * * *

  Dawn in the Earthlight. It was a different sort of dawn, with the light that streamed in the window being a deep red at first which built slowly to a brighter yellow-orange. Normally, dawn in the world of wind and sun started off with a bluish color. Brand blinked awake on a stiff mattress and felt a soreness in his shoulders. He reflected that the Kindred liked their beds almost as hard as the stone the bed sat upon. What’s more, his feet hung over the end of the bed, his ankles having floated in free space all night long.

  He joined Telyn, who was already up and looking out the window. The window was strange as well. Not only was it a carven circular hole cut through the stone slab of the wall, but it had no glass. None of the windows Brand had seen down in the Earthlight seemed to have glass, it was not needed as there was little in the way of wind and nothing like a rainstorm. They were, after all, deep inside a mountain.

  They had spent the night in the inn at the bottom of the great spiraling road that led up to the Gates of Snowdon. The inn they found unremarkable, except for being built of stone slabs, full of grit underfoot and Kindred everywhere else. The beer, of course, was excellent. It served very well to wash the gray dust from their throats.

  After a fine breakfast of salamander steaks, toasted mushrooms and “breakfast beer” which seemed to consist of beer flavored with citrus, they were ready to move again.

  A miner of the Kindred came up to their table. He was lean of build and his muscles showed in stark relief upon his arms, rippling beneath the skin when he lifted them in greeting.

  “I’m Gamal,” he told them simply, “I’m honored to meet friends of Modi.”

  Brand and Telyn greeted him warmly. They invited him to breakfast. He hesitated, fumbling with his cap, but then sat and quickly ate his fill.

  “We must go immediately,” he said. There was a haunted look in his eyes.

  “Do you think they still live?” Brand asked.

  Gamal pressed his lips into a line and nodded. “Modi will not die easily. As to the others, I’m not sure.”

  Knowing Modi, Brand had to agree. “There’s been no further word?”

  “Nothing.”

  “We should leave in all haste then. What is the fastest route?”

  Gamal shifted uneasily. “There are two paths. One is the route we took to reach the spot. That is safe, but long. We would take at least a week. Maybe ten days.”

  “Too long,” said Brand, “what is the second route?”

  Gamal licked his lips. “We could head down the shafts near the Earthlight. They are very close to the magma chambers...”

  “How long?”

  “A day, maybe two. But, milord, it will be hazardous. Possibly deadly,” said Gamal. He lifted his hands and tugged, wincing as he removed his blackened gloves. He revealed his burned fingers. They could see his hands were still oozing blood and charred in spots. Blisters were in evidence up to the wrist. One of the fingers was missing at the mid-point, terminating in a dirty bandage.

  Telyn touched his hand and offered to rewrap the wounds. Gratefully, he let her do so.

  “I’m surprised that the clan of physicians have done so poor a job,” said Brand, looking on in concern.

  Gamal snorted and leaned closer over the table. “I’ve not shown them the wounds. Nothing about this mission is acceptable to some.”

  Brand lowered his voice so their conversation was more private. “What do you mean?”

  “The warrior clan has spat upon Modi’s quest. The physicians follow their lead, and it is as if we never existed.”

  “They shun you? Is this a command of some kind?”

  “The Kindred have no King,” quoted Gamal, “but clanmaster Hallr is the closest thing to a King that we do have.”

  Brand nodded. In situations without clear leadership, he had learned, the fellows with the weapons tended to run things.

  Tomkin declined to go with them, saying that his kind were creatures of the open forest not dank caves. He was obviously anxious to work with Gudrin, who had promised him help with mastering the Blue Jewel. Brand didn’t object to him staying behind. Even if he had been able to really wield Lavatis, what good was sky magic miles beneath the surface? He would not be able to summon the Rainbow down here. It would be best, as an ally of the Haven, that Tomkin learned to properly control the Blue Jewel.

  For similar reasons, he didn’t ask that Gudrin travel with them. Her wisdom would be appreciated, but she was old and relatively slow. This was supposed to be a rescue mission and speed was of the essence in such affairs.

  Lastly, they left behind the roan in the stables. The horse didn’t even like the Earthlight, and there was no point in trying to take it into the Everdark. So it was that only Telyn, Brand and Gamal who loaded themselves up with all the supplies they could and hiked toward the Great Vents.

  As they approached, the ground grew more unstable. There were cracks everywhere, some of which gusted up hot air into their faces as they passed. The further they went, and hotter it became. Soon, they tread in the hot ash near the Great Vents. These incredible constructs, which had seemed huge at a distance, came to tower over them.

  It was only as they came close that Brand realized just how massive the three louvers that made up the Great Vents were. Each mechanism was taller than a tower, perhaps a hundred feet high. They were far longer than tall, perhaps a half a mile wide. He had always been impressed by Kindred engineering, but he was now beyond impressed. He was stunned. In Riverton, a three-story building was a big achievement and rarely seen. He felt his people were simple and backward in comparison.

  As they drew closer, they met up with the workers who manned the vents. They were an unforgiving group. The clan of mechnicians were not know as social butterflies.

  “What business have you here?” demanded the first that they met. She was dressed all in black leather—black because it had been scorched, not dyed. She carried a huge wrench over her shoulder, a bar of greased dirty iron that must have weighed a hundred pounds.

  “Excuse me,” said Gamal of the miners. Brand noted that all the Kindred, no matter how high their clan, tended to show respect for others if they were clearly treading upon their territory. Even a warrior, for example, would show deference to a farmer if he was tromping across a patch of cultivated mushrooms.

  “I have with me two visitors who’ve come from far lands to admire the Earthlight in all its glory.”

  This softened the attitude of the mechnician. She raised her thickly gloved hand to them. “They are not properly attired,” she said. “They sweat already, and we are not yet to the green zone. If you take them to the purple, they will swoon and die in minutes.”

  Gamal agreed, nodding his head. Brand raised his eyebrows, this was news to him.

  “I was wondering if perchance any of your people had a spare heatsuit... Or two, as the case may be.”

  She looked at him harshly. “We are not accustomed to tourists here.”

  “Of course not.”

  Brand became irritated with the mechnician’s manner and opened his mouth to speak. Telyn put a warning hand on his arm. He looked at her, and she shook her head. Brand wiped sweat from his brow and kept his silence, letting their guide do his job.

  “But this is a lord of the River Folk, and he wishes to learn of our people and our ways. What could be more critical to such an education than learning of the Earthlight, the very core of our achievements?”

  “Well,” said the mechnician, puffing up a bit with pride. Brand thought that she had probably heard precious few compliments in her life. “I suppose we might have some to spare. On the basis of a loan, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Gamal, smiling.

  They followed her back to a stone hut that served as a rest station for the workers. There was a conduit of cooled water available in the hut. Brand and Telyn drank their fill while the mechnician threw them glances that were somewhat disdainful. Clearly, she was not of the opinion that the heat was oppressive.

  The largest suit fit Telyn, but with far too much space in the shoulders, of course. For Brand, however, there was nothing that worked well. They finally had to wrap his exposed midsection in three fat belts of protective leather. This, on top of the heavy pack of supplies, became quite a burden. Brand suspected that if things went badly down there, he would have to dump his bags and draw the axe quickly for strength.

  When they had managed to equip themselves and were back out into the face of the vents, Brand spoke to Gamal. “You didn’t tell her our real mission.”

  “Naturally not,” said Gamal. He stopped and frowned, “are you saying I lied?”

  “I didn’t mean that—”

  “Very well then. There it is. Admire it so that my words might be turned to truth!”

  Brand stopped and gazed at the Earthlight, smiling. Telyn came up beside him and touched his face with a black-gloved hand. The glove burned his cheek, but he didn’t shy away.

  “Gamal,” he said, but the other was stumping away in annoyance. Brand hurried to catch up. “I just meant that I’m surprised. Why does no one want to help Modi?”

  Gamal slowed and they trudged together up to a great fissure. It was too wide to jump over safely, being at least seven feet wide. The bottom was obscured by swirling gasses that rippled in the vision due to tremendous heat. They followed the fissure along to the right, toward the southern end of the Great Vents.

  “Like I said, Hallr has decided to forget his son. Modi’s mission was never approved by his father. Quite the opposite. You see, for centuries we have not gone on deep missions into the Everdark. There are things there... Things that are best left sleeping.”

  “So Modi was forbidden to go down there? He disobeyed his father?” asked Telyn.

  Gamal nodded. “There was a policy. It was not law. We have no new laws, as the Kindred—”

  “Have no King, yes I got that part,” said Brand irritably. Perhaps it was the heat, but he had begun to find the Kindred to be irksome.

  Gamal frowned at him. “We repeat that phrase often, ‘tis true. But it is very important to us. We had Kings once, and those were very different times. You see, when the Kindred have a King, that makes us into a very different people. Instead of doing the same thing every day, we do what the King wants. If we are lucky enough to have a good King, then we do good things. But if the King is not the most excellent....”

  “You mean you will not build new buildings without a King?”

  Gamal shrugged. “We might, but even that would be frowned upon. We would certainly not hollow out a new mountain, or declare war on an old enemy.”

  Brand looked at him, nodding. If the Kindred had no King, they kept to their old ways, dormant in a sense. Nothing new was done. So, by Modi’s decision to travel deeply into the Everdark, he was breaking with tradition. This was why no one was helping them. Modi had done something new without authority.

  “How would the Kindred gain a new King, were that ever to happen?” he asked.

  Gamal slid his eyes to look at him for a moment, then he looked away. He thought before answering. “All the clanmasters would have to agree that such a bold move were necessary. All the clanmasters would have to agree on who the new King would be as well. Such an agreement, shared among the most conservative of all our folk, is difficult to imagine. The need must be so dire that nothing else will suffice.”

  “Something like a war? Like if some enemy breached the Gates of Snowdon?”

  Gamal nodded, not liking the thought. “Something like that, yes.”

  “So your people only have a King in times of crisis?” asked Telyn. “How long has it been since the last one?”

  “Five centuries and eight decades.”

  Brand whistled. A very long time indeed.

  “And when you do select a King, how long does his rule last?”

  “Until he dies, of course.”

  While they had been chatting they had been making good time across the crusty surface. The cracks were many now, but narrower. In truth, they hopped now from one island of stone to another, separated like huge tiles by foot-wide fissures. They had almost reached the mechanism that controlled the Great Vents.

  A massive machine of brass gears reached hundreds of feet up the stone cliffs before them. Great pipes led to the spot where the gears were based. At the bottom of them squatted an alien contrivance. Gamal told them it was a boiler and the heat from it drove great pistons that turned the gears. It seemed very vast and complex to the River Folk. The heat, they understood, came from the magma itself. Steam was used to create pressure in great tanks, which in turn powered the gears to open and close the Great Vents. Brand was impressed with this engineering marvel. As long as there was a supply of water to the spot, the machine never needed fuel. The heat of the Earth itself had been harnessed to operate the vents and to provide the cavern with heat and light as well.

  The Kindred were the greatest engineers in the world.

  Chapter Eleven

  A Wurm Disturbed

  The kobolds continued the siege. There had been flare-ups, certainly. Occasionally, the Kindred had made forays down the tunnel, firing crossbow bolts into the black unknown at any eye they saw or thought they saw. The kobolds, for their part, pulled back, tossing darts and hiding in side-tunnels. Their tactics were simple but effective, lure the miners into traps and come out of the side-tunnels from behind.

  Modi and his team were very aware of their enemy, however. They were veterans of the Everdark, and had already seen two of their members die on this trip. They sent forward a squad of four with crossbows, but then kept back the majority a dozen paces behind, without lanterns. When the hiding kobolds sprang out from side-tunnels to backstab the four crossbowmen with stone daggers, Modi and his team fell upon them from behind in turn.

  A vicious fight had ensued. One of the brave crossbowmen had taken seven stab wounds and bled out. There were a dozen kobolds left on the tunnel floor, which was slick with mixed bloods.

  After the battle, Modi called his team back to build up barricades of rock, more than half-blocking the tunnel. There they waited, and the siege continued.

  Sieges tend to work upon the minds of men and of Kindred alike. Many grow complacent, taking the situation as a new condition of life. They adjust to it, and philosophically wait it out. Others are not so lucky. For some, a siege is the height of frustration. They know they can’t end the tension, but they want to and each passing day makes the situation swell in their minds. They grow restive and desperate.

  Modi was one of the latter types. He understood a siege, the tactics and the appropriate response. In fact, it was by his order they had halted and allowed it to begin. But he had seen no sign of aid arriving. Each day ate at him, and he suspected he had made a mistake. He suspected his mission was dissolving into a colossal failure. The same failure this father had so glumly predicted when Modi had first brought the idea to him.

  Where in the nine hells was Gamal? He had sent the fool up into the chimneys a week ago. Had he died up there? Had he found a wife and started a new family farm?

  Modi could have led another advance. Perhaps, if they killed another dozen of the kobolds they would lose heart. But he might well lose another miner, and there were precious few of them left. The Kindred were much better fighters, but there were always more of the enemy. For the same reason, he didn’t want to send another man up to the surface. If Gamal had failed, what chance did the second man have? Besides, sending another man up meant one less down here to protect their hoard of rubies.

  And so, Modi needed another outlet for his energies.

  The great plug, as black as iron, made lumpy and burnt centuries ago, squatted at his feet. It was a puzzle, a mystery, and it was at hand. Did another exit exist right beneath their feet? Often, when traveling in caves, one had to go down to reach a point at which an upward opening could be found. They were far enough from the magma chambers here, they shouldn’t find a roasting pit down below. Almost certainly, whatever had been sealed was long since dead. There were few beasts that could live isolated for centuries in a hole.

  Modi pulled his pick from his belt. A few eyes slid to watch him. The miners, who had been talking in low voices, quieted.

  Modi drew a great breath.

  “We must do something,” he told his company, “we can’t just sit here forever. We will run low on supplies soon, and be forced to abandon all the loot we’ve gotten.”

  The company shifted uncomfortably at the thought. They had all, of course, had the same thought run through their minds. At some point, they would have to decide to leave their rubies or die here. This was a hard thought for any Kindred to entertain, as once a gem has fallen into one of their dusty pouches, it was a very difficult thing indeed to remove it.