The Men in the Passage

Are they the whisperers? Starrow thought, sprawled out on the ground.

The lantern blazed anew and the captain carried it over to the pit's edge. "Come, Mermin!"

Mermin was happy to obey. He stepped carefully over the break in the edge and hopped over the gap to join the rest of the party. He and Starrow pulled Henor up by the shoulder and carried him after Captain Risel and his light. The captain strode down the tunnel, almost running, but restrained himself lest he leave the men in darkness. He stopped at another crossroads of the dark passageways and set the lantern down.

"Bring him here!" he shouted.

Starrow and Memin laid the whimpering Henor down gently, onto his belly. "Oh, it hurts," he blew out.

"Cut the breeches away," said RIsel. He rummaged through his pack whilst the men bared Henor's legs with their dirks. They moved away so Risel could sit over the man. He passed the lantern to Mermin and bid him to hold it up. "Count the bites with me, Starrow."

They counted twelve pairs of puncture marks, little holes an inch apart at the center of a furious red welt, up and down the back of Henor's back like evil tattoos. Starrow saw the answer in the captain's eyes but asked the question anyway. "Can we take the venom out of him?"

Mermin shook the lantern, he was so surprised. He inspected the bites closer and knew the rash that had spread so quickly down his body could have no other cause. He didn't realize it was hopeless, though.

"Suck it from the bites, like water through a cloth. Spit, and don't swallow."

Starrow and Risel set to work while Mermin watched. "I didn't think we'd literally be kissing your ass for your heroism, Henor," he joked.

Henor groaned and managed a weak, barely telligible, "Aye. Aye." He was weak. Very weak. If he felt the poison being sucked out of him, he gave no indication. His face didn't show any expression, save distant pain. He was pale in the face, and sweat freely ran down his brow like the water over the tunnel walls. His eyes were nearly closed, he didn't seem capable of keeping them open.

Starrow spat the last of the venom on his side of bites and cursed the taste. It was almost sweet. The captain spat too and bid Mermin to start a fire. Together, Risel and Starrow removed the pack from the big man's back.

"Cold... cold, captain," Henor whispered.

Starrow could feel the heat radiating from his body, particularly from his legs. The captain rolled him to his side and felt his forehead. He gave Starrow a bleak look, even in the dim light he could tell the captain knew Henor was going to die.

"Stoke the fire, Mermin. Pour all the oil you need. He's cold." The captain laid his cloak over the first volunteer.

They made camp without any word of conference. Mermin got to cooking and soon they were eating. Henor couldn't open his mouth wide enough, so he took water dribbled through his lips until that proved to be too much for him. They didn't speak, because Henor couldn't do that either; only grunts and weak murmurs. All could tell, save Henor, that morale was thinning in time with Henor's blood.

"What will you wish for, once we get back?" Mermin asked the campfire. Starrow's instinct was to glare at him, for being so daft and foolish, but he caught the wisdom in the little chimney-sweep's question.

He answered first. "I'm going to make it illegal to ring those damn bells every damn faith day. I'll make up all the sleep those things have stolen from me during the siege."

Mermin grinned and pictured those bells in the flames of the fire. He dared a glance at the captain and saw he wasn't impressed. "How about you, Henor?"

Henor wheezed something out, his eyes wincing even tighter in that face once plump with fat now swollen with blood and whatever the devils in the pit filled him with. Mermin couldn't make out what he said.

"He'd make shoes for the queen," the captain pronounced. He almost looked furious saying Henor's words.

"Henor, you should have given her a pair before we left. She was smitten with you; she'd have bought the boots off your smelly feet."

Henor wheezed again and the captain gave Mermin a look that said, "Enough."

"Me," Mermin said, shying away from the captain's glare, "I'd ask the queen to be my one and only."

"One and only," Starrow scoffed. "Third and latest."

"Those two don't count," Mermin protested, his brow furrowing above him. "This one, Her Grace, will be a marriage of love."

"I see." Starrow chuckled, and said in a polite voice, "Captain. Would you tell us your wish?"

The captain looked at them each in turn, for the longest at Henor, and then stared through the little fire. "I'd ask for forgiveness, or the block."

Noone else spoke for the rest of the night. Nor did the captain seem to blink away from that fire, Starrow noticed. Let the man grieve.

The other three men went to sleep while the captain kept watch, but only two woke the next day in the tunnel.

"What should we do with him?" Mermin whispered, as if afraid to wake him.

Starrow pulled the captain's cloak over Henor's head. It was his now. "This is as buried as he can be. I'll use my wish to rename this place 'Henor's Tomb.'"

"Better to name the street his shop's on after him, I think."

"Aye."

They stood over Henor's shroud for a time in silence. Mermin would have stood longer, but Starow was fearful of what stillness could bring. They pivoted to look over the spot in the dirt where the captain had sat for so long before the fire.

"Do you think he went back?" asked Mermin, quietly, as if he was afraid the captain would appear from the shadows.

"Not that one. He's taken the lantern and pressed on, forgetting all about us and how we should go."

"Should we go back?"

Starrow looked back the way they had dragged Henor and shuddered. "We've seen what those pit vipers can do in the dark."

"It would feel shameful to tread back so soon after he's fallen, and only some feet farther," Mermin added.

"That's true." Starrow had been more concerned with getting out of the tomb alive than with shame or honor. "But how can we go forward with torches alone? What will light our sleeping fires?"

Mermin looked at the dwindling remnants of the night's campfire and knew they had to find another way. His eyes passed over Henor's pack, and then quickly returned to it. More than enough oil remained in all those jugs to supply them light through and back those passageways, though they had no lamp to light.

"Light the oil in a jug," suggested Mermin.

Starrow frowned and hefted one of the jugs, studying its contents. "Too full. It's likely to burst if it tasted flame."

Mermin took one up himself and pulled it's stopper out. "Let's pour most of it out. Henor's carrying enough to walk forever; it makes no matter." Starrow nodded his approval and Mermin turned the jug, empting the lamp oil onto the cavern floor until only a couple fingers remained. He righted it and took a burning splinter from Starrow and dropped it into the jug.

The little lake of oil took flame after a heartbeat's courtship. Mermin's toothy smile took up all of his little face... until it twisted into a marriage of pain and panic. He cried out and dropped the jug. "Hot! Too hot!"

Starrow gripped his chin and supposed he should have thought of that. Mermin sucked on his scalded fingers and whimpered. Starrow watched the jug roll down the passageway before them, its fiery contents leaking a trail of tiny flames that ate the darkness and cast shadows down the tunnel. Starrow's eyes widened and he was glad the old man was the coward and not the little chimney-sweep. "Henor will light our way forward."

They tied half of Henor's haul to their packs and Starrow took point, pouring oil through a pinhole pierced through the stopper of a jug behind him. Mermin took the last dying embers of the campfire and piled them over the tail of the trail, nursing the fire till the flame was strong and the thin stream of oil made a crack of light over the tunnel floor.

They could see better behind themselves than forward, and Starrow had to keep advancing at a steady pace but it was better than shambling through darkness terrified, toward likely death. At first the shadows worried him, but he grew accustomed to the shapes and patterns they etched onto the walls and ceiling of the passageway, and the darkness ahead was only a stride away from being conquered by the light.

Mermin took to his side and smiled at him. Starrow only nodded. They walked in silence, Starrow unsure that to say, his thoughts occupied by Henor and the way ahead. Mermin was content to follow his lead. Their footsteps formed a rhythm that based the improvisational hymn the fire murmured in its subtle voice. They were soon deafened to these sounds. Hours of twisting tunnels blinded them to anything but the sinister edges of the shadows --the only living things besides themselbes in those dark ways. Then, they could feel nothing; not their shoulders rubbing against each other as they walked side by side nor their feet slapping onto the stone floor of the tunnel. Time was run out, they knew nor felt how many more hours had passed. The jug was emptied. Starrow could not take another step forward.

He licked his lips and feeling returned, reporting the faint dryness of his cracked lips to his dim consciousness. His mind was somewhere far away, somewhere warm and light and open. He tried to remember where he was, who he was, who else was there. There was someone else, once, others too. He was smart and wily, short. "You..." He sputtered, choked before he could get the words out; so long it had it been since he had spoken. "Is there... someone... hello? Dark, it's dark."

"...Yes, yes, it's dark. Can you... make it light?" a voice he thought he could recognize croaked.

"I think so. Need to remember."

The silence flooded the tunnel once again and pounded on Starrow's ears and rammed his forehead as he tried to remember how to get the light back. Fear, more and more fear began to bubble in his blood and gust within his guts while he stood there, thinking. Hot, he felt hot now. Hot. Light can be hot -- burned fingers, the sun. A ball of flame up above, somewhere else. Fire, it was made of fire.

Starrow dropped the jug he realized he was holding and discarded it. He turned and saw the little river of fire guttering out in a little pool behind his heels. He heard his back jingle and probed with his hand, finding something smooth and heavy containing something that sloshed around at his clumsy touch. He pulled it, he heard cloth rip and the thing was in his hands. He caressed it like a blind king remembering what joys his jewels had once brought. His fingers brushed something rough, a beak. No, a mouth. He pulled and marveled at the sound of the pop. The silence faded away and he heard a snap, a whisper, a tap, tap, tap, the crackling of flames, the heavy panting of the man beside him.

He dumped the jug over the relic of the trail of fire that followed them so far and recoiled away from the abrupt roar of flame as the fire took to the replenishing oil lustily. The man beside him gasped and he could see again. He saw the sweat beading down his face and the look of sheer confusion in his eyes.

"Mermin," he remembered.

"Starrow." He did too.

"Talk to me. Talk to me, Mermin. But walk, too, we can't stop."

"Yes... never stop. I... I, three wives, no, two. I want the third."

"Who is she?" Starrow remembered it was the queen, but who was she?

Mermin was quiet for too many breaths and Starrow was about to panic when he finally said. "Queen. The queen. Once we're out, we can come back and she'll give me a kiss." He was quiet again, and Starrow looked down at him and saw the fresh confusion over his face. "Why are we walking away from where we're trying to get back to? The queen's going to kiss me when I get back."

Starrow tried to think of the answer. The silence began to creep back to lay siege to his temples and he remembered he had to speak to keep it away --for his and Mermin's sake. "We... we walk for the queen. Through this dark we go behind the dark outside the walls outside. Then we go to the queen"

Mermin made noises of recognition and recalled what he remembered of their mission. The old man and his retreat. The fat man who was good who died. The captain, who would forget. Mermin managed to laugh at the thought of the forgetful captain slogging along with them.

"This must be what he always feels like," Starrow joked, and they both laughed loud and hard. They began to hear again; first their hoarse, manic laughter, then the clatter of their packs and their steps upon the stone. They could hear the constant crackling of the flames behind them when Starrow shuddered out the last of his laughter and asked Mermin, "Tell me a story, would you?"

They both knew it was to ensure the silence would be kept at bay but it didn't need saying --only the story, the remembering.

"I'll tell you of my wives," Mermin began. "The first one. I was to sweep a red brick chute, on a tanner's roof. I climbed the roof, but there was no red brick. I looked about, and across the street I spied a red brick chimney. I figured I had the wrong roof, so I went down and put my ladder up against that building. Embarrassed, I was, so I just climbed right up and went to work, scrubbin' the brick and then lowering myself down the chimney I went. Cleaning went easy, but then my line snapped and I fell the last few feet into the fireplace.

"First, all I heard was my body tumbling over the firewood, but then this shrieking went up. Like I'd come down a corpse. It was worse than that, I fell onto the woman of the house's boy's kitten. Wasn't the tanner's, either. Just a house with a red chimney."

"So she married you?"

"No," he chuckled in black humor, "The widow made me clean the rest of the chimney and then I had to marry her so her boy wouldn't grow up so poor. Then I had to find that tanner's chimney and clean it anyway."

Starrow laughed but wanted not a moment of silence. "What about your second wife?" he urged.

Mermin sniffed. "That one, she's my cousin." Mermin went on at length about the dynamic between a humble chimney-sweep and his two wives, how they seemed more a union than he and them. They both doted over his first wife's boy and chided him for not spending enough time with the lad... after nagging him for not bringing home enough money to support two wives and a son. "...Once I'm back, and the queen will grant me my wish, I'll be king, and rich enough to make the lad a prince and afford golden muzzles for those women."

"King Mermin," said Starrow.

"King, aye. The queen can have the city, I'll be content never to see another dark hole again up in her castle." Mermin thought a moment, to the more distant terror of Starrow and asked, "Do you have a wife, Starrow?"

"No. Never. Not even one."

"Not even one," Mermin echoed wistfully. "Been long since I could boast that. You can ask the queen to marry you, if you've been thinking that. I won't take it hard."

Starrow was strangely touched but assured him the queen was all his. "Womenfolk can't abide my demeanor, it seems. Easier for all if I leave them be and them me."

This struck a chord with Mermin, who had fantasized about such an outlook in life. They spoke on about the mysteries and perceived follies of women well into the black underworld and time unfelt. Their bodies and stomachs in particular told them it was time to stop for the day. In the middle of the tunnel they sat down, backs to the walls, the quarterful jug of oil aflame between them. They talked and talked, through mouthfuls of food and all, right up till their eyes shut and their last syllables tumbled over their teeth.

They woke to darkness, but the looming silence was absent about their ears. Starrow heard Mermin's snores and the laboring water beyond the stone walls of the passage, as well as a shrill whistling that sounded far off. Starrow fumbled in the dark, freeing a jar and searching for his kindling. The flames soon caught and took to the little pool he had poured their way forward. Mermin woke to the crackling and seemed relieved to hear the silence preyed upon them no more. He bid Starrow a good morning and wasted no time getting his things in order.

The dark faded before their trail of flame just as it had the day before. Mermin walked beside Starrow in a quiet they need not fear. They still spoke and told each other stories to erect a barrier to the silence, should it be waiting to return and consume them. They had naught else to do anyway. They theorized about the captain and made sure to keep an eye out for him, or his remains. Mermin secretly hoped that if he was just a body, now, they could snatch up his lantern and make the going easier.

No remains were found, though. Nor the lantern. Instead they found pits and twisting, blind passages again. Their trails of oil crossed over itself like a flaming serpent as they backtracked and chose different paths. Hours passed and a jug of oil. Starrow fretted over it but Mermin was still certain they had enough to find their way out and back again if they had to.

"What should we do once we're out?" asked Mermin.

"Split up and ride for Burrate's allies, if they're not already here, lined up against the walls."

Mermin didn't need to turn to know Starrow shrugged. He shrugged too. "She did say we should save ourselves."

"If we didn't find help in time," Starrow reminded him, perhaps a little too sharply. "We must try, at least. To do something." Starrow wondered when he had started to care about the queen's mission.

"You're right, you're right. Something." Mermin wondered too. "What do you think old Cerridan would have done?"

Starrow chuckled and said, "Yield. Go right to the Plain's marshal and trade him the passage for his life."

They looked at each other. They kept walking.

The twists and turns disappeared and they were walking down a narrow corridor. Pillars of shadow persisted on either wall, even as the men and their fire neared. Starrow led the oil up a ways and returned to examine the wall with Mermin. A crevice cracked its way down each side of the tunnel, only just wide enough to take in Starrow sideways. He stuck his head through and found himself in a cavity large enough for both of them to stuff themselves into.

"What do you think these are?" he asked, removing himself from the crevice.

"It can't be natural," observed Mermin, "It's doubled as far as I can see down the way. Near as identical to make no matter."

Starrow stared down the corridor while Mermin took a look inside the cavity and the fire marched its way closer. He heard the snap again, close, and still coming from back the way they came. He saw the fire snap this way and that, the shadows flickered in unfamiliar plays over the walls. His breath caught in his throat while Mermin said something about his chimneys or his wives. Starrow pulled him out of the wall and clapped a hand over his mouth, pointing at the ceiling with the other.

Mermin's eyes widened. He was glad for Starrow's hand over his mouth, else surely he would have gasped or worse. The shadows waved like the tall grasses of the plain over the walls; above, a black length as jagged as it was smooth in the dimension of shadow flickered and rippled. The fire was upon their toes and the shadows shifted, changing the angle of the thing writhing above them. Starrow removed his hand and replaced it around Mermin's arm and cautiously turned them about together. The fire seemed to race ahead of them, they moved so slow.

As darkness took dominion behind their backs, they began to hear the shadows. The snap sounded like a bone cracking and then being put back into place, over and over and over again. They heard the brush of plains' grasses on the walls, but it sounded more like shaggy fur than grass to Starrow --too heavy, frictional. The drip, drip, drip became clack, clack, clack, fourfold --claw points on four loping limbs on stone. They heard the rustle of a tail against the ceiling. The whispers were distorted into a reptilian rumble in a hoarse throat.