He huffed the chant as his toes scratched for an edge. Even a tiny one. He placed both his feet and heaved himself up. Then up some more to a lip of rock. A lip that led nowhere. He flattened himself against the wall.
In the gray twilight, he looked over the vast valley. The tops of the trees kissed in a mist that concealed it from above. Across from him, the mountain he’d climbed a few days prior. To his right, the section he couldn’t believe he’d crossed. While to his left…flat rock. A dead-end climb.
He sighed.
And he could have sworn the mountain sighed with him, an exhalation that actually brushed the skin of his cheek.
Just a little spooky. He turned to glance at his back and noticed the hard ice that had melted from above and formed a sheet over the rock partially concealing an opening. Only the barest sliver remained uncovered, and it chuffed. A hand in front of it showed air moving out of it. Warmer air. A cave?
He tugged at the edge of the ice, pulling with all his strength, only it didn’t crack. He unsheathed his knife and began chipping the thick ice, flecking off a bit at a time. This would take forever.
The knife found itself swapped for his pistol. He’d used it only once before and had been shocked at the explosive sound. Not to mention his poor aim. However, this time he stood right in front of his target. He placed the barrel close to the ice covering the widest part of the hole. Turned his head and pulled the trigger.
Boom!
The recoil almost sent him tumbling down to his death. He threw himself forward instead, slamming into the ice that shifted under his palms. He grabbed it and pulled, hearing a lovely cracking sound as it broke away. The hole he’d blasted had created a lovely web of fissures.
He kept yanking and tossing ice, his ears ringing still from the gun, which was probably why he didn’t recognize the rumbling. Mistook the shaking in his body for excitement.
As he cleared a hole big enough for him to explore, the first chunk of ice went bouncing off the rock face beside him. From above.
He tilted his head and gaped. “Oh shit.” The only thing he could think to say as he saw a sheet of ice hurtling down.
Sure death.
With only one possible way to survive.
Jool dove into the cave he’d uncovered just as the ice went tumbling by. He ducked and covered his head, the mountain vibrating as ice and snow spewed from above. It took forever for the rumbling to subside.
A bit longer after everything stopped shaking for him to dare to remove his arms.
I’m alive.
He stood and looked behind him at the ice thickly covering the entrance, even spilling a bit inside. It roused panic in him, and he punched at it, shoving the chunks, creating an opening that only filled with more ice. So he kept pushing.
And once he had a hole big enough, he glanced through, only to gasp in horror. For the handholds he’d used to climb to this remote spot were gone. The avalanche had wiped the rock face smooth.
Leaving him stuck in a cave.
He pulled his upper body back in and took a few deep breaths. He couldn’t be trapped. When he had more light in the morning, he’d look again. Surely he could find a way back down.
Only as he paced did he realize the cave was bigger than he’d first thought. Once he moved in a way it got wider and a touch taller than him.
How big was it?
Groping in his pockets, he pulled free a lighter, which he clicked several times. It sparked but failed to light. He tried again, and it sputtered and flickered weakly. All it managed to show him was that the darkness kept going.
Going where? It wasn’t as if he had many choices, so he might as well explore. Could be he’d find an easier way out. First, though, he needed a torch. Feeling around the ground, he didn’t luck out and find some sticks. But he didn’t let that deter him. He scrounged in his pack and ended up using a scrap of cloth wrapped around the blade of his knife. He rubbed the fabric in the animal grease he’d preserved from his last meal—he’d spotted it cooling on a flat stone underneath the meat he’d cooked. He’d planned to use it as a balm when he climbed into the colder reaches that chapped the skin. It also made a fine fuel source.
The flames crackled, and smelled yummy, but it wouldn’t last long, so he moved quickly to check out the cave that turned out to be more like a tunnel.
It kept going and going. Unlike his torch. He kept having to feed it, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his light ran out.
When it did, he kept going, following one simple rule: go straight. He took no side passageways, even if they appeared quite large.
This deep in the mountain, there was nothing to hear. Nothing to see.
The blanketing darkness smothered him, and at times, he wondered if he fooled himself. Perhaps he’d fallen into a trap and wasn’t moving forward at all but in circles.
He walked for hours. Days. He couldn’t tell in this timeless space. He drank all the water in his canteen. Ate even the smallest crumbs in his bag.
His stomach clenched hard in hunger, and the only relief he got was from sucking his talisman. Which a less starving man might have mocked. But the metallic taste in his mouth provided comfort.
Pity it couldn’t stop the hallucinations, because he was pretty sure he could see glowing from up ahead. Surely a trick of his eyes, a mirage of the dark even if he’d never heard of such a thing.
Intent on the oddity, he missed the danger. His foot slipped off an edge, and for a moment, he teetered, his eyes widening as he realized the light came from below. As in down a wide shaft.
He sat down on the edge, legs dangling, and stared for a good moment.
Glowing mushrooms. That was what created the light.
Edible mushrooms?
Hopefully he’d find out. He plucked them as he slid down on his butt, the slope pebbled and gritty with actual dirt. The moisture appeared to drip from above. He felt it hitting his skin. He wished he had a way to collect some with his canteen.
With a handful of glowing fungi, he got innovative, placing the largest on the blade of his dagger, a few more squished in his pockets, flaps left open. A walking lantern—which, in retrospect, probably made him a target.
It started with a rustling sound, as of paper fluttering in the wind. Then a chittering, which proved more ominous because it indicated something alive. The whoosh he didn’t understand until the first giant bat swooped by his face. He blinked in astonishment, getting only a glimpse of a furred head with pointed ears and wings. White and leathery. Just like the pictures showed in the books of animals long extinct.
The other thing he recalled about them?
Meat eaters.
Pack meat eaters.
As the recollection filtered, rousing his panic, one of the bats attacked from behind, claws digging into his shoulders, sharp teeth attacking the back of his head. The pain of being bitten brought a scream and broke the paralysis.
Jool ran, not thinking or picking a direction, his hands clawing at the thing on his back.
Use the wall.
He didn’t understand but aimed for one, seeing the rough surface in the bouncing glow of the mushrooms. He turned at the last moment and slammed into it. The bat squeaked and let go.
He shoved off the wall and began running again, pulling out his gun and stupidly firing. Boom. Boom. His ears rang, and even more chaos erupted. Rocks fell.
A stalactite slammed into chunks a mere pace from him. The brush of something had him flinching and aiming his gun to his left, only to realize the bat flew past him. Everything flew away.