Fresh Cut Rose
Chapter 1
✦ ❈ ✦
I despise traveling by train. The brand new seats are overstuffed and stiff- wholly unsuitable for sleeping even without the low rumble running through the car. I can’t even do my nightly rituals without my tools rolling all over the place. And worst of all are the tunnels, those choking abysses where even the oil lamps dim in fear.
It might all be tolerable had I the benefit of privacy. Somehow the Holy Covarian Militia can afford smart finery for even the lowliest of recruits but can’t manage to book them a sleeper car. My destination is so remote, I’d hoped to at least be by myself for the final leg of the journey but I have no such luck. Several rows ahead of me, two men huddle together, sharing private jokes and pack lunches. My commanding officer mentioned hiring some mercenaries to play the part of backup. Sky save me if it really is those two. I can’t be outnumbered and on the outside. I’ll have to crack the whip from minute one.
My legs complain when I get to my feet. They’ll be better off for having a walk. And maybe I’ll find an empty place to linger. Dark eyes dart up when I open the next car’s door. The conductor and three smudged workers halt their hushed conversation. Under their gaze, my stomach sinks and my ears grow hot. Of course I’d have the misfortune of walking in on the crew secretly slacking. A nearby lavatory proves my savior. It’ll have to do.
I check the lock three times before my jaw unclenches. The lavatory is smaller than a closet but no less well-appointed. Even the washbasin has a faucet; yet another reason my country expects me to sleep on a bench. I suppose Covaria will expect me to be grateful they put running water on their fancy new trains. But I may as well take advantage of the chance to wash my face.
When I lift my head from the sink, wicked yellow eyes bear down on me. Cruel horns spiral in all directions. A forked tongue lashes over pointed teeth. A woman is slung over the monster’s shoulder, reaching desperately for the people in the distance behind her. Stark red letters over the scene bid me:
SEE SOMETHING? SAY SOMETHING!
Keep the Fae menace away from your daughter!
It’s a poster reflected in the mirror. I see now; the depiction is meant to be a Gancanagh. I’ve never met a Gancanagh with skin such a somber shade, nor with teeth like knives, nor tongues longer than anyone else’s. Whoever drafted this ought to be shot. The libel submits easily when I tear it from the wall. Now my nerves are more shot than ever.
I find myself alone when I step out of the lavatory. My intrusion must have scared the crew back to work. That means no one will notice my little act of heresy. I toss the poster over the railing when I pass between cars again.
My fellow travelers don’t look up upon my return. Coming from this direction, I can get a better look at them. The man by the window leans his elbow on the sill and glares through the glass. He’s the shorter of the pair, though clearly more keen. His severe eyes match his square jaw. Long, straight, black hair is pulled tight over his olive skin and secured into a ponytail.
The man in the aisle seat is a more confounding sort. His skin is dark and hardened, like the bark of a tree, but his features are jovial, with lips curled into a perpetual smile and big apple cheeks. His head is shaved bald but is more than made up for by the scruffy beard that hangs from his chin. The bulk of him would be too big for his own bench, let alone the one he shares now. A single tree-trunk leg dangles in the aisle. I can already tell he’ll be a pain to work with but I suppose even a bulwark can have its uses.
The Bulwark catches me looking as I pass and meets me with a broad grin. I hurry past him.
So much for making a good first impression. I settle back into my seat, fold my arms close to my chest, and let my eyelids sink. Despite being rattled mercilessly, the journey has left me far too fatigued to have a nap spoiled. Perhaps it’s for the best. I could use a premonition right about now. And if I’m lucky, I may scrape one together.
✦ ❈ ✦
Metal screams its displeasure, jolting me out of slumber. Thunderous grinding is met with an ear-shattering boom. I’m thrown from my seat and land hard on the floor before being tossed in the air again. Glass explodes as my shoulder is driven through a window. Shards dig into me from every direction. I can’t hear myself cry out over the screams of metal twisting and crashing. I can’t even feel my body breaking against seats and luggage racks. With one final roar, the noises come to a halt.
I can’t move. My eyes have failed again. My mind is so lost at sea the panic at that fact can’t find me. I can’t even think of what’s wrong. I try to reach my fingers, command them to investigate, but I receive no response. I have to start smaller. How long has it been since I drew breath? It takes all my focus to see to the operation of my lungs. In… Then out… In… Then out…
How long have I been here? Forever. Was I ever able to see? Blindness is my natural state; sight is the anomaly. Was everything before this blackness just a nightmare? This reality is much more terrifying. I want to go back.
Something far away clinks then cracks. It’s not quite dark anymore. Precious light pours into my eyes, reminding them of their purpose. Well above me, a bench is suspended in the air. That can’t be right. Puddles of broken glass glisten between my fingers. What does that mean? The word, “crash,” passes through my mind like sand through a sieve. There’s that clink again. It’s louder now.
A stern face looms into my periphery. He’s doing something, pulling my arm, making me sit up. His lips are moving. Is he speaking to me? I can’t make out the words. An odd prickle runs through my back when a hand brushes it. Magic? Or am I imagining things?
That same hand grabs at mine and pulls hard, dragging me to my feet. The words finally resolve. “Come on, you can rest outside.”
This is the man from before- the one with long hair. His voice is just as serious as his face. He slings my arm over his shoulder but it hardly helps when he gets to his feet.
A chill breeze rushes over me as I’m led into the soft light of a lantern. The Serious Man lowers me onto a rock before taking off again.
Where am I? I’m not sure. Think smaller. What’s around me? I’m sitting on a rock. The ground beneath me is mostly loose gravel. The lantern flickers as the fire dances with the breeze. Further ahead the wheels of a train car hang in the air, showing me the car’s underbelly. The next car is much the same, as is the one after that. The carnage continues down the line, growing in intensity until the scene dissolves into a confusion of metal and stone. Even the tracks disappear under the mass.
My eyes drift upward, hoping in vain to be met with open sky. There are no blessed stars above me, only inky stone which threatens to close its jaws. Is this a cave? No, the tracks mean it’s a tunnel. I have to get out of here.
Plodding footsteps derail my plan. The Serious Man is back with his Bulwark in tow. They’ve abandoned their travel attire in favor of armor and padding. The plates on The Bulwark’s chest are so simple they defy memory. But The Serious Man is moderately more decorated, with little horses picked along the edges of his plates. Even his greaves resemble the shapes of hooves. These two couldn’t possibly be more mismatched. The only feature that marks them as a pair are the badges strapped to their chests. It’s the insignia of the Holy Militia Sub-Contract Division.
This day just keeps getting worse.
“Back in Ephemerie, are we?” The Serious Man is addressing me.
“Yeah,” I manage. The knot of my tie has fallen out of place. I quickly fix it. “What happened?”
“Looks like the tunnel is blocked,” The Bulwark reports. “Forward and back.”
The Serious Man sighs. “Yes, it’s hard to say if it was foul play or a natural disaster. And worse yet, the staff took the brunt of the impact. All dead.”
“Oh,” I yawn. “You’re with the militia?”
“Yes. And it’s our responsibility to take charge of the scene. See that these folks’ families are alerted and no more trains come down that line.”
“Well that’ll be our duty when we find our way out.” I get to my feet. “I don’t suppose you collected my luggage when you got your own?”
The Serious Man gives me a pointed look. He’s only carrying a short-sword but I assume he found his things given the costume change. I sigh and find my way back into the upturned train car.
My boots crunch as I walk along broken windows. Sideways seats and racks reveal their empty hands as I pass. A ticket tucked into a metal clip marks the spot where I was napping not long ago. There’s no sign of my suitcase where I left it. It must have been thrown. I find the thing several rows back, dented horribly and with the lock popped open. My things are still here: clothes, astronomical tools, a spare mirror and- my heart sinks. It can’t be gone. It has to be around here somewhere.
My search redoubles, peering into every crevice that could hide my missing tin. My suspicion is confirmed when I fish the now-bent cannister from a dark corner. The lid has popped off and scattered tea leaves everywhere. Half my supply is gone. Could I somehow filter out the glass shards?
“Any luck in there?” The Bulwark pokes his head through a hatch in what was once the floor.”
“Yes, of course.” I hug the cannister close to my chest. “I just have to put it all back.”
“Oh, that’s a tea-tin, yeah?” He glances around. “Too bad it spilled. Shouldn’t be too hard to replace when we find a town.”
I allow myself a defeated sigh. Not this.
“I’m Walter, by the way.” He hoists himself through the hatch and stands watch as I re-pack my suitcase.
“My name is Owen Goldenfist.” I wait for my surname to find purchase in Walter’s memory. I’m left waiting.
“Good to meet’cha! You’re the militiaman we’re supposed to meet, right? I could tell by the uniform. Only I didn’t want to bother you on the ride over. Seemed like you wanted to be left alone.”
He’s more ignorant than I thought. I’ll have to try again with the other one. “I thought you might be my underlings but you weren’t wearing your badges.”
“Weren’t on the clock.” Walter gives me a wry smile and a wink.
I manage to force the latch of my suitcase shut. The thing refuses to budge when I try to lift it. Of all the people in the world, the one I miss most is the porter who took this from my carriage.
“Say, do you want a hand with that?”
I shoot Walter a glare. “Why?”
He raises innocent hands. “You just seemed pretty out of it before. Gotta save your strength, right?”
My shoulders fall. “Listen up. I’m in charge here. You and your little friend were hired to back me up. I won’t put up with any insubordination. When I give you an order, you obey. Understood?”
Walter picks up my suitcase and throws me a malformed salute. “Yes, sir.”
At least he got the gender right.
When we emerge back into the tunnel, The Serious Man doesn’t look up from his preoccupation. Three ash-blackened bodies are laid in the dirt beside him. He’s bent in prayer over the corpses.
“Hey,” I command. “We need to get a move on.”
He doesn’t react to my order. His lips move as he entreats whatever god he serves. I don’t have the energy to argue. As the man wastes precious time, my eyes linger on the pile of rubble which was once a train. Three bodies recovered. I suppose someone is already buried.
When he’s finally done, The Serious Man lifts his head and gets to his feet. “Right. I can feel a breeze coming from this way. That means there’s an opening somewhere. We ought to mark our path so we can retrieve the crew.”
I point to my luggage and give Walter a commanding scowl. “You, this.”
“Sure thing, little buddy.” I despise the nickname but I’ll reprimand him after he’s done lugging that thing. Walter points between his friend and me. “Sidhion, Owen. Owen, Sidhion.”
Sidhion frowns. “Detective, right? It’s about time you got to work.”
“Yes, yes. It’s all the same if corpses are recovered today or tomorrow. Let’s focus on the living.” I snatch the lantern from the ground and march toward the breeze. A square-cut doorway leads into the natural formations of a cave. The heavy clomp of footfalls echo behind me.
Soon the tunnel bends sharply inward. The walls close tight like the jaws of a great beast, ready to bury us all. I soften my footfalls for all the good it’ll do against the loud tromping of my coworkers. One of them must have chosen to wear tap shoes today.
As the cave squeezes tighter, our progress is halted by two formations which nearly close off the tunnel entirely. With my diminutive stature, I’m sure I can squeeze through. Walter, however, might just have to wait with the train crew. With a brief glance backward, I press through first. I’m quick about it. Sidhion is next and hardly struggles. Walter has to pull off pieces of his plate and feed them through before forcing his chest between the stones.
The ground behind us has given way to rough wood planks, forming what might pass for a room. Two round tables are surrounded by mismatched stools. There are no dishes stacked anywhere and everything is coated in an obscenely thick layer of dust. This place was likely abandoned, intentionally, many years ago.
“We must be on the right track. If they bothered to remove personal belongings, we can’t be far from an exit.” I motion the group to follow me through the next doorway.
Another long tunnel stretches before us but these formations are far from natural. The cave is perfectly straight and held up by wooden arches. Pitons are hammered into the wall at regular intervals. A rope hangs limply through their loops and extends into the darkness. It can’t be a handrail.
“I see what this is, now.” Sidhion emerges from the darkness. He leans down and examines the nearest piton. “This is a mining complex. And this is the guide rope. The shape of the pitons points you to the exit. This way.”
Sidhion turns and clops past me. I let out an exasperated sigh.
Walter claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t fall behind, now.”
He strolls past me, too. Defeated, I follow.
The guide rope seems to go on forever. By my watch we’ve been walking for nearly an hour, following the tunnel as it bends this way and that until it’s impossible to keep my bearings. I swear it’s leading us in circles.
Sidhion stops short so quickly I nearly bump into him. The guide rope disappears into the wall between several rocks. It’s a cave-in. My stomach twists in knots. The very air seems to stiffen around us. We’re dead men.
“Maybe… Maybe we can try another tunnel. We passed a doorway earlier.” Even as I say it, I know it’s hopeless.
“It’s no good for leaving,” Sidhion says. “Any guide rope from that tunnel will likely point here.”
“Do you propose we dig, then?”
“I propose you let me think before you run your mouth.”
“Now, boys, play nice,” Walter interjects. “You can bicker all you want when we get out.”
“Our only option is to go back,” Sidhion says. “We can raid the train for supplies and food. Make up a camp in one of the rear cars. Our absence will be noticed and someone will come.”
“Great plan. You’ll be the first on the menu when we run out of food, not to speak of when we run out of air.” The mere thought of this being my grave sends an awful shiver down my spine. If I’d known yesterday would be my last look at the stars, I would have made a point to enjoy them. Or maybe say goodbye.
Walter pats my shoulder. “Don’t be so pessimistic. Let’s split the difference. We’ll head back to the train and we’ll check that tunnel on our way. Worst case, we’re a little hungrier at supper-time, right?”
Sidhion’s scowl deepens. “Fine.”
We retrace our steps in grim silence. The other tunnel is about ten minutes back. One step through proves it wasn’t a tunnel at all, but a room, brimming with empty beds. All save for one are stripped bare, with only rotting mattresses to keep them warm. The odd bed, the one at the end, still has its pillow and blanket. The cloth is pulled high over something, and rises and falls softly as the something breathes steadily. My coworkers look to me.
I point to Walter then the occupied bed. His eyebrows furrow in non-comprehension. I lean in close and whisper, “You wake it up and see if it’s friendly. I’m a mage. I can cover you.”
I reach into the inner pocket of my jacket and withdraw my animus, the miniature golden hand-mirror which allows me to channel my spells. Walter, mollified, takes a deep breath and rests a hand on the pommel of his great-sword. He slowly approaches the bed, assessing his options. Walter settles on gently nudging the something. “Hello?”
“My shift don’t start for ten more minutes.” The voice is hollow and seems to echo more than Walter’s.
“Uh… Mister? Or miss? I need you to get up.” Walter shakes what might be a shoulder.
The something groans their displeasure. Two arms rise from beneath the blanket, not quite reaching as far as I expected. The something sits up with a loud groan. They’re a Dwarf, dressed as plainly as any miner. Their feet swing off the bed to reveal the massive boots they wear. Murky eyes peer out from behind a long brown beard. “Who’re you?”
“The name’s Walter. My two pals back there are Sidhion and Owen. We’re ahh… Not where we’re supposed to be.”
“And how!” The Dwarf hops to their feet. “Interuptin’ my break ‘cause you wandered onto a work site.”
“We’re real sorry to trouble you.” Walter resumes his chipper demeanor. “You’re the only person we’ve found down here.”
The Dwarf spits on the ground. “Lazy sods, all of ‘em.”
“We were hoping you could help us get out.”
The Dwarf points to the door. “Out that way. Turn right, follow the guide rope. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
“We came from that way . There’s a cave-in.”
The Dwarf’s face contorts as if Walter’s words have struck a nerve. They quickly shake it off. “No. I woulda heard a cave-in. I used that tunnel not an hour ago. You say it’s blocked?”
“Yes. Blocked.”
“Show me. If we’re stuck down here I’m your best shot at stayin’ alive. I know these tunnels like I dug ‘em.” The dwarf grabs a mining helmet off a side table and plops it on their head. “Name’s Sandra, by-the-by.”
Sandra sets off for the door, finally stepping into the lantern-light. The hair on my neck stands on end. I barely restrain a gasp. Sidhion’s expression tells me he sees it too. Sandra is translucent. Is she some shared hallucination? A specter? We don’t have a better plan than listening to her.
We follow Sandra, who glides her hand along the guide rope and pats each piton as she passes. All the while I keep an eye on my watch, if only to remind myself that time still exists. It’s hard to tell when exactly we’ll reach the cave-in. I know it was ten minutes back. Eleven minutes pass. Then fifteen. Then twenty. Something’s wrong. But how could we be lost? We followed the rope.
“How far down was this cave in?” Sandra has noticed the inconsistency.
“Hard to tell. Not like we measured it,” Walter says.
“Maybe find a doctor when you get to the surface. Stray gasses can mess with your mind.” Sandra seems relieved, if anything. “In any case, my break is long over. I’ll show you the way out. Can’t be havin’ civilians on the work site or the foreman’ll have my ass.”
We walk in relative silence, following the guide rope as it stretches to freedom. The man-made tunnels give way, again, to natural formations. Sandra stops when we reach a particularly spacious cavern. A look of dread crawls across her face. “I think… I think you ought to go on without me.”
“You said you’d take us to the surface!” I can’t let her abandon us. Something about her presence allowed us past the cave-in. What if there’s another?
Sandra lashes back, “Ain’t my job to babysit grown men! You already lied about that cave-in. Least you could do is stop botherin’ me and follow the damn guide rope.”
Walter crouches beside Sandra and studies her expression. “You can’t leave, can you?”
Sandra’s eyes well with ethereal tears when she meets Walter’s gaze. She shakes her head. Walter nods. “Don’t worry about us. You did a good thing. You can go back to bed now.”
“Wait just one minute,” I protest. “We need her. She’s our ticket out of here! There could be a million cave-ins up ahead.”
Sandra blinks away her tears. “No… No there aren’t any more. I didn’t- I mean… I know there aren’t more.”
“What does that mean,” I demand.
“Just go, already.” Sandra’s body and voice begin to fade. Where once the specter stood, nothing remains. “I’ve done enough.”
My ire points at Walter. “What did she mean by that?”
He shrugs.
“Come on. We can figure it out once we get to town.” Sidhion takes up the lead again and marches us toward freedom.
Soon we round a corner where a tiny pinprick of light stabs through the shadow. All at once, our hearts are set alight. Walter cheers and breaks into a full sprint. He pushes past Sidhion who is too giddy to admonish him. I run along with them, gasping for the fresh outdoor air. I’ve never been more relieved to see the sky. The sun hangs low and paints the horizon a luminous orange hue.
Down in the valley, our destination is laid bare. The land is swaddled by the mountain from which we came. A swathe of forest below us gives way to perfectly square fields and pastures. Beyond that lies the town itself with its patchwork of buildings which stretch all the way to the coastline. What few sails there are sway in the wind, seeming to wave their greeting to us.
This beautiful sight is the town we were meant for: Two Rocks.
Previous ✦ ❈ ✦ Next