Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
The basket creaks to a stop, and the entire thing sways. A bolt of fear flashes through me, and I clutch at Raptor to keep my footing.
“Easy now,” he soothes. “I’ve got you.”
I suck in a deep breath, noticing that the sharp, sudden fear chased the worst of the prickling sensations away. A distraction. That’s what I need to get through the day. No one needs to know that I’m struggling.
One of the big Taurians pulls a hooked rod out of the oversized basket and uses it to latch on to an iron circle sticking out of the rock over a tunnel. A big 21 is painted on the side of the wall next to an arrow pointing deeper into the earth, showing our destination. The basket is tugged over to the lip of the tunnel and we all climb out—or rather, Raptor hoists me out and sets me down on solid ground.
Once the basket is sent back up, an oil lamp is lit and the three big Taurians stare at me.
“She gonna pass out?” one asks. “Looks pale.”
“Just a bit of motion sickness. She’s fine now, aren’t you, Gwenna?” Raptor rubs my arm, the one more distant from him, and it still feels as if he’s keeping me hauled against him. He probably is, just in case.
“I’m good,” I manage. “It was dizziness, but it’s gone.”
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.