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He bent forward, touching his forehead to the ground in apology, fearful of the spirits that always eddied around her, smelling death. “I beg your pardon, Hallowed One. Do not curse me!” He was almost weeping.

She felt immeasurably ancient, watching his young face, even though they had been born in the same season, the same year. He wasn’t even old enough to grow a proper beard, although fuzz shadowed his jawline. “I won’t curse you, Kel. You were brave to rescue me.”

“Nay, it wasn’t my idea,” he said, and added defiantly, “nor even Beor’s. It was Alain. We only followed him.”

Alain gave up fiddling with the armband and, turning, paused when he realized that they were studying him. The grandmothers told many stories about ancient times. Adica had always supposed that some were true and some were not, and yet now Alain faced her wearing an armband woven of magical substance. She had always known that the Wise Ones who live under the hills existed, but she—who had seen so much!—had never seen them nor had she believed the tales about the potency of their magic. She had witnessed their magic today: light without flame and the ability to split the very rock. Truly, what she had seen awed her, for she did not understand the root of their power.

Yet here also stood Alain, wearing an armband forged and shaped by the Wise Ones. She had seen him fighting, when she had had time to look. Nothing had touched him. He hadn’t hesitated. Nor did he seem afraid now, watching them with a puzzled expression on his face, as if he expected them to ask him a question. The armband’s light cast strange shadows on his face, but somehow it only made his eyes seem brighter and more sweet.

Maybe she understood then that he was not quite like other people. Some unnameable quality separated him from the rest of humankind, perhaps because he had walked on the path that leads to the land of the dead. Except he had stepped off of it. He had come back to the land of the living. He had been touched by a power outside any she understood.

She loved him.

One of the dogs brushed up against her legs and leaned into her so heavily that she staggered sideways, half laughing because her heart was beating so hard already. The other dog, standing at the edge of the light, whined softly and padded a few steps away into the blackness, down the ridge toward the far wall of the cavern, made invisible by darkness.

“I think we must follow the spirit guide.” Her fingers still hurt as she collected three spears and two arrows from the floor. It was hard to really get a good grasp on anything, but her legs worked well enough.

As Alain moved, the light shifted, and together they walked cautiously along the ridge of stone, a crevasse gaping on either side.

The dogs had found an opening. This tunnel lay low to the ground, an easy height for the Wise Ones or for dogs, but Alain had to bend almost double to follow the dogs inside.

“I don’t want to go in there,” said Kel.

“Come.” Alain’s voice echoed weirdly out of the stone passageway.

Kel smiled weakly, and went after him.

“Go,” said Adica to Beor. “You’re wounded. Carry what you can. I’ll bring up the rear.”

Beor had many flaws, but arguing when he was wounded and their party possibly trapped was not one of them. They crept forward through the low passageway with the dogs in the lead.

The passage struck straight, only a few smaller tunnels branching off. In time, the ceiling lifted and they could walk upright, although never more than single file. After some time Beor tired, and they rested, sharing drink and food. They walked again, and rested again. The loss of Kel’s provisions hurt them; they only had enough to gnaw off the edge of their hunger, not to satisfy it.

They spoke little. Beor had enough to do to keep going, and the silence and darkness frightened Kel too much to break it with words. Now and again Alain whistled softly under his breath. At intervals he would call lightly ahead to the dogs but otherwise he, too, remained silent.

Adica worried. Would the Cursed Ones stumble upon them, here in the dark? If they knew who and what she was, then had they kidnapped her six comrades as well? If there were not seven to cast the spell, then the spell would fail and the Cursed Ones would spread their empire of blood and sacrifice and slavery across all human lands.

Worst of all, did they understand what the human sorcerers meant to do? Had they learned the secret of the looms? Humankind could never triumph if they lost the power of the looms.

These troubled thoughts distracted her. She didn’t hear the scrabbling behind her until it was too late. An object, then a second, fell heavily at her heels, knocking her forward. She cried out just as Alain exclaimed out loud ahead of her. A dog barked, and Alain’s light vanished.

She whirled with her spear raised to face the threat from behind, but nothing stirred in the black tunnel. Finally, hearing Beor question her, she knelt. Feeling along the floor, she discovered their lost torches, the ones that had fallen into the crevasse. A moment later she realized she could see her hand as a pale blur.

“Hallowed One! We’ve found a way out!” Kel called from up ahead. She gathered up the torches and followed the sound of his voice. He was helping Beor up a rugged slope of rock. At its top, light bled through tree roots. By getting purchase with one foot on the rocks and grasping the stout tree roots in a hand, she was able to drag herself up into a dense copse. The light hurt her eyes despite the protection of leaves. By the position of the sun she judged it around midday, but they had been so long underground that she supposed an entire day and night had passed since the raid. She gulped down cool, fresh air.

With some difficulty, they got the hounds out and helped Beor climb out as well. Finally, they all lay on a hillside in the cover of the trees, panting. She wanted to laugh, out of relief, but dared not. Their enemies might be lurking nearby. Kel took a spear and went scouting, and after some time returned triumphantly with an escort of six astonished White Deer tribespeople.

“We’re nearby to Four Houses!” Kel exclaimed, and with Ulfrega and her companions as an escort, they walked to the safety of the other village. A healer tended to Beor. A Swift was sent to Queens’ Grave to deliver the message that Adica had been found. The Four Houses folk knew how to lay out a good feast: freshly killed boar and venison, pears and apples stewed into a potage, bread, and barley porridge sweetened with honey. Beer flowed freely, and the tale was told at length, and then a second time when the most experienced of the Four Houses warriors asked for more details.

What weapons did the Cursed Ones use? What of these clubs borne by the Wise Ones? Did the under hill people have eyes, or were they blind? Was it true they could not speak? Had the foreigner been enchanted by the Wise Ones, or was he simply a sorcerer himself, hoarding great power? Could Four Houses take one of the bronze spears in exchange for the hospitality they had shown to the Hallowed One this day?

In return, Beor scolded them for their unfinished palisade, and Kel gained a circle of admiring youths who wanted to hear all about his heroic efforts. Alain sat quietly. He was too strange a figure to be fawned over, nor did he seem to care that he was left alone to attend to his food. Certainly he had become accustomed to being stared at. Now and again Adica caught him looking at her, and each time her heart beat a little harder for thinking of what might yet come to pass. For her own part, she waited with mounting impatience for the return of the Swift. The youth returned in the late afternoon: a large escort would come from Queens’ Grave tomorrow to escort the Hallowed One back to her own village. The Walking One known as Dorren waited for her there; he had brought a message from Falling-down.

ogs had found an opening. This tunnel lay low to the ground, an easy height for the Wise Ones or for dogs, but Alain had to bend almost double to follow the dogs inside.

“I don’t want to go in there,” said Kel.

“Come.” Alain’s voice echoed weirdly out of the stone passageway.

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