Page 46 of By the Horns
It’s not gone. The unnerving sensation is building back up, and I manage a bright smile for the others even as they shoot me disapproving looks. I focus on their sashes instead. Two artificers with a great many Lesser Artifact pins on their sashes. Raptor’s wearing the same unadorned pale white sash as mine, that of a fledgling. I wonder if this is humiliating for him.
The Taurian whose name I don’t recall holds out the oil lamp, set carefully atop a shoulder-height walking stick (my shoulder, not theirs), and I take it from him. “If I’ve got the lamp, should I be in the front?”
“You can be at the rear,” Osprey says. “We can see just fine in near darkness.”
Of course. It’s another reason Taurians are so prized in the Everbelow. I nod and take the canteens that Raptor hands back to me, slinging them over my neck. “Lead on, then.”
Raptor shoots me another worried glance, but when our party takes off and I gesture that he should follow, he does. I trail behind them, putting a hand on one metal canteen to stop it from banging against my gut. It scratches me, and I realize there’s a hard metal shard sticking out of the side. It’s no bigger than a hangnail, but it’s enough to hurt when it bites into my hand.
It’s also enough to distract, so as I walk, I push my hand against the shard, over and over again. It keeps the buzz at bay, and I’m able to concentrate a bit more.
It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been down in the tunnels, and from what I’ve heard from others, there’s a variety of shapes and sizes. Some of the older, more excavated tunnels have walls that have been smoothed down from all the artificer traffic moving through them, while others seem to be carved from jagged rock. Some are tight, with little headroom, and some are big enough that one could drag that ridiculously huge statue of Sparkanos through with no problem. This particular tunnel is closer to the latter, with a high ceiling and a practically roomy size. The floor is worn down and slopes deeply the farther we go in. The blackness around us gets more and more intense, and the air grows colder, and I’m reminded of just how deep into the earth we are. If it wasn’t for the lamp I’m holding and the fact that I’ve got three strong Taurians walking in front of me, I’d probably be a little panicked right now.
But the dead feel no nearer, and the tunnel isn’t getting smaller, so even the intense darkness at the edges of the light becomes normal after a time. The Taurians talk cheerfully amongst themselves as if I’m not there, discussing what the harvest is going to be like in the southern plains due to this year’s drought; the Greater Artifact that was uncovered by an artificer named Pelican, whom no one seems to like; the best place to get corn cakes in the city.
It’s all so completely normal that I relax. Stab my hand with that sliver of metal again and again, and relax.
Soon enough, we reach the crumbled part of the tunnel and reunite with the others. The buzzing feeling is less awful here, so I’m able to slow down the hand-stabbing a bit. The big tunnel is blocked off by what looks like a jumble of rocks of all sizes, and I wonder what caused the cave-in. The others in our group—Hawk and another Taurian—are gazing at the rocks, assessing the situation. “We’ve got big pieces to move, so that’s both good and bad. Good in that they’ll be easier to take care of, bad because they’re heavy,” Hawk says.
“Heavy for puny humans, you mean,” brags a Taurian, and flexes his bicep. The others snort with amusement.
I clear my throat.
They look over at me, startled, and the one flexing his arm immediately lowers it. Raptor just gives me an utterly amused grin. “Yeah, not all humans are bad. Some of them are rather adorable.”
“Oh gods, you’re just as bad as the rest of them,” I say, waving a hand as if to shoo him off.
They laugh again, and Hawk points at the largest boulder. “We’ll start there. Who’s got the wand?”
Osprey pulls it free and holds it against the tunnel wall, drawing a massive circle. As he does, it lights up and creates a portal. Sunlight spills in from the portal, and on the other side, a bored-looking repeater jumps to his feet and straightens the black sash on his shoulder. He’s standing in what looks like a rock quarry, and as I watch, the portal seems to tilt, facing what looks like the edge of a gigantic hole.
“Ready over there?” Osprey calls.
“Ready—send through as you please. The portal’s in place.”
Osprey turns back to Hawk. “There we go.”
“All right. Let’s get moving. Be on the lookout for signs of a man-made collapse. Scorch marks, unusual debris, or even broken artifacts.”
“You think this was deliberate?” Raptor asks.
“We’re going to rule it out” is all Hawk says.
I shiver at that and jab my hand again.
Raptor glances back at me, no doubt making sure that I’m all right. I give him an overbright smile and step back as the Taurians gather around the largest boulder, debating how to maneuver it. “If we pull it free, it could cause more of a rockfall than already exists,” says Osprey.
“If it does, then this tunnel is no use to us anyhow. Besides, I’ve never met a Taurian who got bested by a mere tunnel collapse.” Hawk’s words are challenging, meant to fire them up.
Raptor just rubs his hands together. “Let’s earn ourselves some coin, aye?”
Twenty-Two
Raptor
Gwenna’s presence isquiet and unobtrusive as we haul rocks from the collapsed tunnel and shove them through the portal to the quarry. Her silence is a bit unusual to me, but perhaps she’s just not used to being around so many loud Taurians in their element.
For all that it’s hard work, I enjoy clearing tunnels. It’s one of the rare occasions when multiple Taurian artificers are called together, and we’re all close friends. Hawk talks about his students and what it’s like to be a master for the first time. Gyrfalcon brags about the latest find his Five made, Osprey provides sour commentary to deflate Gyrfalcon’s ego, and Shikra is silent, but he always is. He’s a hard worker, and I catch him smiling at a few of Osprey’s terrible jokes, so it’s not as if he’s miserable.
