Mountains and Caves

Sweet Tongue and his men guided them to a small camp just a mile away. Malik realized how close they had been to stumbling across the mercenaries’ sleeping quarters. If they found the camp, Malik wondered if things could have turned out differently. Maybe then they could have sneaked in and killed Sweet Tongue. They could have rescued Abrie and then been on their way. Malik could have returned to his normal life, far away from Luberg. He would have been happy to be nothing more than a simple bard. He would learn new songs. Would start less bar fights. He would enjoy every day like it was his last. He would never complain again. 

The man he had been riding with threw him from the saddle and Malik’s vision blacked out for a few seconds. The next thing he remembered was being hoisted back to his feet by the same man. It was then Malik noticed the smell of stale ale and body sweat. Malik’s stomach turned from fatigue and pain and coupled with the smell, he let the negligible amount of contents in his belly come up. He narrowly missed puking on the man’s boots. 

“You little…” the man pushed Malik away. 

Malik did not hear the rest as he fell to his side and lost a few more minutes of time. When he came back to, he was being dragged by the man and another toward a small outcropping of tents. He did not see his friends or Egg, but supposed they were in similar situations. 

When the men deposited him on the ground in front of the tent, Malik puked again. This time he did not turn his head and wound up with puke all down his front. Instead of a kick, all he received were laughs. 

“I hope I get to be there to watch this one die,” said the man who had rode with him to the camp. 

The other man just grunted his reply. Malik closed his eyes and fell to his back. They did not bother tying him up or pushing him into the tent. It did not matter anyhow; Malik could not move even if he wanted to. Malik felt like the first time he had gotten too drunk. His world spun, his chest heaved, and every moment promised to expel his stomach contents. Malik tried to swallow to calm his belly, but there was nothing aside from the acrid taste of vomit and acid. He doubted he could convince any of the mercenaries to give him a taste of water or any other liquid. He would just have to sit and suffer. 

Malik thought about trying to get some sleep. If he would die, then maybe he could go in his sleep, unaware. Even with all his aches, pains, and sickness Malik was not sleepy. He was afraid. He feared dying, even if he tried to convince himself differently. 

When Malik heard the thud of something hitting the ground next to him, he willed his eyes open; they did so reluctantly. Mollie was a dirt and mud mess from their journey and being dragged across the ground to the tent. The mercenaries had kept Mollie tied up at the wrists and legs, but they did not give Malik a second glance. Mollie had her eyes open, but she stared out into space. Malik waited for the mercenaries to step away before he struggled to call out her name. Mollie took a moment to turn her head, but when she did, it was like her world had filled with light again. 

“Are you okay,” Mollie asked him. 

Malik thought about the question. He was very far from okay, but he did not need Mollie adding him to her worries. 

“I will live,” he answered, although that may have been a very generous answer. 

Mollie’s eyes devoured the camp in a quick glance. She could not move and neither of them had much hope of rescuing themselves or the others. 

“Where are Embre and Khris?” Malik asked. He had to control his stomach with every word he uttered, but the spinning subsided. 

Mollie took time from her evaluation and looked to Malik. “Zimbre has Embre. I don’t know where he took her, but I don’t suppose it was any place she would find likable. Khris was not tied or dragged, they just pushed him along. Sweet Tongue knew his father.” 

Malik wondered if Khris had led them again into a trap. Everything kept coming up roses for him while they suffered. He did not voice his concerns. He was not sure if it were because he did not want Mollie to have more worries, or if it was because his stomach would not allow an in-depth conversation. 

“They took Egg with them. They still have him tied up, and they took him to Sweet Tongue’s tent. We have to save him,” Mollie said. 

Malik chuckled and instantly regretted the sudden movement. After he let out a few groans and took a few deep breaths to regain some composure he said, “I don’t know if you notice this, but you are tied up and I can barely move my arms.” 

He hated to burst Mollie’s hopes, but it was the reality of the situation. They were not capable of providing any help. 

Mollie looked at her bonds. “Can you untie me?” 

Malik thought about it. Could he motivate himself for the time it would take to untie some rope? Even with the thought of it, his body screamed in pain. He would do it for her though. If it were the last thing he did on this Earth, he would make sure Mollie could free herself. 

“What then?” Malik asked. 

Mollie looked over the tents again. “I will save Egg,” she said. She looked down at Malik. “I will save us all.” 

Malik believed her. He did not believe she would succeed, but he believed she would give it her best. Malik felt more for Mollie than he had ever felt for anyone else. He feared losing her more than he feared losing his family, his village, or even Abrie. He reached out his hand with every ounce of energy he could muster. 

“Don’t leave me,” he said. 

Mollie came from her daze and really looked at him for the first time since arriving beside him. She was silent for a long stretch. 

“We have to try, Malik.” 

Malik knew it was not in her to sit back. There had been a brief time after she killed the man in the bar for him that she froze in fear. That was short lived as she decided to kill no one again and gained back her resolve. Mollie was not an idle person who would wait around for saving. She would do all she could to get them to safety, even if it likely got her killed. 

“I know,” was all Malik could say in reply. 

He hated she would sacrifice herself for them. He knew she would fail, but he would not try to stop her. He knew better. Malik gave it everything he had to sit up. His body screamed in reluctance and tried to revolt against him, but he pushed harder until he sat. He had to close his eyes and convince the Saints to allow him not to puke again, but he stayed upright. 

When he finally opened his eyes, he reached to Mollie. “Give me your hands.” 

Mollie looked down at the rope that tied her hands together. The mercenaries had tied it several times around her wrists. Malik doubted he could loosen a single knot, but he would expend every effort. Mollie lifted her arms in front of her chest, and Malik took her hands into his. He wanted to tell her he cared for her, but like most things in life, he was a coward.

 Instead, he reached his hands across to her wrists and tugged weakly at the rope. It did not budge under his weak prodding. He tried to work his fingers between the knots to create a gap, but the mercenaries had done their diligence. Malik used both hands to pry the ropes, but they just burned his fingers for the effort. Mollie’s shoulders shook after a few minutes of holding them straight. She was probably about to give up hope. She had probably given up hope he could help her in anything long ago. Malik still tried. He would have tried until he could no longer move, but a voice stopped him. 

“As romantic as this is, I would rather she stayed tied up.” 

Malik stopped working at the steadfast ties. Malik turned his head to see Sweet Tongue standing alone. There were no mercenaries flanking him for protection. There were no others to hear his quips. Just Sweet Tongue staring down at them. 

“We will move soon.” Sweet Tongue stepped closer to them. “Well most of us will stay back, but you two will be among those I bring with me.”

Malik thought about jumping to his feet. He thought about placing his hands around Sweet Tongue’s neck and squeezing as hard as he could. There were hundreds of mercenaries he would have to kill before saving Abrie, but at least Sweet Tongue would be dead. If nothing else, he could take his last breath knowing he avenged Abrie. 

“Don’t bother getting up,” Sweet Tongue said, guessing what Malik thought. 

Malik knew he could not get up. He also knew the feelings, thoughts, and emotions were all nothing he would act on. Their best bet sat beside him. Malik could not even untie her to give them a shot at escape as small as it may be. 

“Where is Abrie?” Mollie asked. 

Malik had wanted to ask, but his tongue felt like it was full of lead. 

“Sadly, my old friend is not here. Maybe you would have seen him if you stayed in Gray Waters. I hear he is a shoo-in for winner of the King’s tournament,” Sweet Tongue laughed. 

Malik felt his heart slip a little further. 

“You’re lying,” Mollie said. 

Sweet Tongue shrugged. “You’re right. He won’t enter the tournament. He already had his chance at being a Tempre and he wasted it on your…” Sweet Tongue turned to Malik. “What did you have that turned the great Abrie to tucking his tail and running away?” Sweet Tongue looked honestly confused.  

Malik let the words wash over him. They were just ramblings of a madman. 

“So Abrie denied an invitation into your club and you hunted him down to kill him for it?” Mollie asked. 

Sweet Tongue contorted his face. “Denied us?” 

“It is clear you feel slighted by him,” Mollie said. 

Sweet Tongue laughed again. “I like you, girl. However, Abrie never denied our invitation. Without Abrie, I would have never become who I am today. I never hated him for denying us. I hated him for abandoning me. Without him maybe I would still be as pretty as you,” he said, pointing toward Malik. 

Malik wondered if the words sounded so true because he was still weary and delirious. Was he still knocked out from falling off the horse?

“Abrie would have never taught you anything,” Mollie yelled back. 

“Why don’t you just worry about getting to your feet? We will leave in about ten minutes. Happy riding,” Sweet Tongue turned away from the conversation. 

Sweet Tongue disappeared, and Malik would have thought himself mute. He did not turn to Mollie to ask her what Sweet Tongue had meant. He did not belt her with questions of the exchange. He pretended it did not happen. He had not heard what he thought he heard and even if he had, Sweet Tongue was a liar. They had missed their shot at rescuing Abrie, and now Sweet Tongue tried to change their perception. None of it was true. Sweet Tongue was using their own minds against them. 

Malik felt Mollie scooting across the dirt to be near him. 

“You will be okay.” 

Malik shrugged. “I feel fine.” 

He was not only lying to her. He lied to himself most of all. He knew the truth probably hurt too much to think on, so he convinced himself nothing Sweet Tongue said had even happened. He was still unconscious from the fall and would wake up soon. He would escape Sweet Tongue. He would rescue Mollie and Embre. Mollie would make him rescue Khris, and then they would find Abrie and get out of this camp. 

Only a few minutes passed before Sweet Tongue made good on his promise of leaving. Two new mercenaries⎯one man and one woman⎯came and pulled Malik and Mollie from the ground. Malik let out a groan of pain as his muscles stretched. Mollie’s feet bound so tightly together that she had to hop. This frustrated the man, who pulled her along, to the point that he hoisted her onto his shoulder and carried her. Malik secretly wished the woman prodding him would carry him, but he could not get so lucky. 

The horses were the same small pack horses Malik rode in on with the other mercenary man. He did not long to get back on one after having fallen off not much earlier. He could still remember the force of his head driving into the ground. The woman, who pushed him from behind, did not care if he wanted to ride or not. 

“Get on the horse,” she said, pushing him in the back with the long stick she had been guiding him along with. 

Malik’s body tried to resist his urgings to climb on the horse’s back. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball near the horse’s hooves and just sleep. He could sleep for a few days and when he woke up, maybe it would all be over. 

The woman refused to let that become his reality. She pressed him again, harder. “The next one will be less pleasant for you.” 

Malik groaned, letting the thought of climbing the horse settle into his mind. He had no choice, he told himself. There was no point resisting just to get beaten. Malik looked over toward Mollie. The man hoisted her up onto the horse. He had not bothered to untie her feet, so she straddled to one side like a noblewoman in a dress. Malik raised his foot with another moan and placed it into the stirrup. He pulled himself up and sat his aching muscles into the saddle. The woman followed him, wrapping her arms around his waist. 

“Try nothing funny,” she said. 

Malik had no plans to try anything. His body was too sore to even think of escape. He resolved to do whatever Sweet Tongue planned. 

The woman kicked their mount into a trot and soon they joined Sweet Tongue and a few other mercenaries. Khris rode his own horse behind Sweet Tongue. Khris would not make eye contact with Malik, not even when Malik tried staring a hole through the back of his head. On Sweet Tongue’s horse⎯or rather draped behind it⎯was Egg in a small wooden cage. Zimbre was the last to join them. Zimbre had changed into the gear of the Tempre Warriors, having killed his own brother to achieve the goal. Behind Zimbre on his tall, black mount was Embre. Embre had changed into new leathers, and her hair had been combed. She had also been crying heavily, Malik noticed. Malik gave her a nod, and she turned her eyes down in embarrassment or pity Malik was not sure which. 

“Everyone is gathered and ready.” Sweet Tongue looked around at those who stood behind him. Taking a moment to count those who had arrived. “Then on our way we shall be. I think you all will enjoy the show,” he said, looking directly at Malik and then the others. 

Malik felt a chill run through his spine. He was not sure if it were the scars on Sweet Tongue’s face that frightened him, or the words he had spoken earlier. Either way, Sweet Tongue was a dangerous man who would not hesitate to kill any of them for no reason. 

Sweet Tongue galloped toward the nothing surrounding them. About a quarter mile away from the camp, Sweet Tongue came to a complete halt, holding up his fist, he stopped the others. Malik wondered if this was where Sweet Tongue killed them. 

With an order to the others to stay mounted, he hopped off his horse. A brief walk brought him to Egg’s cage. He placed the creature, still in the cage, onto the ground. 

“Remember our deal?” Egg growled, showing his sharp fangs behind his curled lips. “You help us, and I will let your friend live.” 

Malik wondered why Sweet Tongue talked to Egg like Mollie. Did either of them really believe this simple creature could understand their words? 

Egg stopped growling and covered his teeth. Sweet Tongue pointed toward, and Egg eased his posture. Then Egg lifted his claw and pointed. Malik knew what Sweet Tongue was doing then. He used Egg as a compass to guide them. They had not found what they were looking for out here, but they would if Egg guided them, and Egg would guide them if only to save Mollie. 

“Outstanding job,” Sweet Tongue said, putting Egg back onto his horse. 

Sweet Tongue threw himself back into his saddle and kicked off. They rode at a run for what felt like forever to Malik’s sore body. The noonday sun rose and trailed back down toward the horizon, and then Sweet Tongue slowed again. He repeated the ritual Malik, and the others had done for so many days before. He asked Egg for a direction and Egg obliged, pointing with his extended claw. 

They started again, and Malik’s body protested at every step. Sometime around evening they stopped and Sweet Tongue allowed them a small fire to cook upon. The mercenaries did not bother asking Malik or Mollie if they would enjoy some food, but Khris and Embre got invited to sit around the fire without bonds. Malik and Mollie got deposited under their own tree, tied back to back. The only words they said to one another were when Mollie promised Malik they would find a way out. Malik did not reply. He just closed his eyes and tried to forget everything. 

During the night, Khris brought them water and some leftover scraps of food. Malik had to eat from Khris’ hand. 

“I am sorry, I would untie you, but I think they would kill us both,” Khris said. 

Malik figured he was right. It did not make him enjoy it, but he at least understood the caution. 

The water and food subsided some of his pains, but many of them⎯deep in his muscles⎯stayed with him into the morning. 

The next day was much the same as the day before. Sweet Tongue rode them all hard. Malik’s muscles screamed in pain. Egg guided them with a pointing claw. During the afternoon of the second day, the mountains rose into view in the distance. Malik knew that was where they were ultimately heading. They looked so far away, and Malik did not look forward to their hard press toward them. 

The second night they slept tied to one another again. There were no trees. Khris did not come to them with food or drink. They shivered in the night air, but Malik drew comfort knowing Mollie was near. Mollie reassured him again that they would find a way out of this and they would rescue everyone. Malik tried to believe her, but he knew it was hopeless. Sweet Tongue would not let them walk away. 

The third day, the mountains rose like towers into the sky. They cast shadows over the entire flat lands. The land changed during the afternoon from dirt to snow, and the wind pressed on them with its chill. Malik had not dressed for such extreme weather change and Sweet Tongue showed no inclination to relieve his suffering against the cold. Sweet Tongue had one goal, and that was to get to the relic the old man had told them about. 

As the ground changed into snow, they left the flat plains behind them. The unfamiliar ground they covered was rocky and filled with hills. If Malik had thought the plains were bad for his aching muscles, then the hills and rocks were like Saint’s Hell. He winced with every hoof fall and even moaned as they turned to gallop across the less rocky hills. Sweet Tongue rode them long into the night with no regard for the horses or the riders. Malik figured he could feel their destination growing closer and was ready to retrieve his prize. 

Malik still did not understand what the relic would do or how Sweet Tongue and the Tempre would use it. The old man had gone into little detail on the relic’s power. He had just told them of a blight that would sweep across the land. How did it help the Tempre? How would a blight help anyone? Like the previous two night, Malik was thrown from his horse and tied to Mollie. Khris again did not come as the others slept. Malik was too cold to sleep. 

“Are you awake?” Malik asked. 

Mollie stirred behind him. 

“I am freezing,” Mollie answered. 

Malik took a deep breath. He had no comfort or warmth to offer her. He was freezing too. Instead, Malik tried to take their minds off everything. 

His voiced stuttered with the clenching of his jaw and the dryness of this throat made his words catch, but still he sang to her. It was a minor comfort, but it was all Malik could offer. It did not make her warm; it did not provide them nourishment, but the song provided them hope that even in troubled times they could find something that could not be taken away. When Malik finished, he asked Mollie what she thought would happen at the end of this journey, but she had fallen asleep to his words. Malik let a small chuckle escape. He would sit alone in misery for the rest of the night, but at least Mollie had found rest. 

On the fourth day, they came to the base of the mountains and rode down them at a slow walk. Even Sweet Tongue⎯who was eager⎯knew riding the horses hard in the treacherous rocks would only bring havoc. By the fourth afternoon, Egg had guided them to a small cave. Malik knew this was the cave the old man had talked about in his story. The outer surface was smooth, and human or Saint made. No natural formation was this precise. Sweet Tongue jumped from his horse. 

“We have arrived,” he sounded joyous. 

The joy scared Malik even more than the somber tones Sweet Tongue usually displayed. Sweet Tongue ordered everyone off their mounts and provided his mercenaries with oil lamps from his pack. With them, he moved to the cave’s entrance. 

“Touch nothing in this cave,” he said. 

Malik felt a flutter in his belly. Even Sweet Tongue feared what they may find. Khris had called the guardian a Crystal Dragon. Did that mean they would find their new home resting in the belly of such a creature? Malik received no time to ponder their end destination. Sweet Tongue ordered everyone into the cave and the woman guiding Malik gave an extra hard poke to his ribs to get him started. 

Inside, the cave was smooth, just like the entrance. Someone or something had taken a lot of time to smooth out each sharp angle. There were no rocks out of place or jutting edges to catch on. 

Only a few yards into the cave, it widened out so much Malik could not take in the entire room with one glance. To his left it opened to an altar with shrines to the Saints. Small, well-preserved statues lined the walls to either side. Someone or something had taken a lot of time to hand carve features into each of the statues. Malik could almost feel the eyes of the Saints watching him as he passed. In the middle of the first room was a fire pit built high with cement blocks and a grate across the top. Sweet Tongue did not stop in the room to explore and he urged everyone forward, reminding them to not touch a thing as they passed. 

The next room was even bigger than the first. In this room gold coins, small diamonds, and other expensive trinkets lined the walls. 

“Do not be tempted,” Sweet Tongue told his mercenaries. 

Malik wondered how such a treasure had lasted so long with no one coming to claim it for themselves. There were enough coins and trinkets in this single room to live like a king. They did not make it to the end of the room before Malik received his answer. One mercenary did not abide by Sweet Tongue’s warning. When Malik heard the scream, he turned hoping no one had hurt Mollie or Embre. It was not them who screamed. It was a scrawny mercenary who had bent to touch a sack of gold coins. His hand was black as coal and his eyes bulged from his skull. His scream did not stop until the black crawled up his arm and into his throat. It was then his voice went silent, but he did not die. It took another few minutes before the black covered his entire upper half. Sweet Tongue did not a say a word, but he also did not order them forward. He wanted his other mercenaries to see this. He knew this would be a much better deterrent than his simple words. This treasure was not for the taking. Malik tucked his hands into his pockets. There was no use accidentally scraping up against any loose treasure. No amount of money was worth what had just happened to the young mercenary. 

When the man fell to his death, he exploded into a pile of dark, black ashes. Malik noticed the other piles lining the outside edges of the room. There was no wind here, and Malik noticed them dotting almost every corner. There had been at least two dozen men or women who had tried to take the treasure home with them. He wondered how many more had narrowly left with their lives. 

Sweet Tongue ordered them forward again. He did not bother to tell them again how important it was to keep their hands off the items. Malik figured they all got it now and no one would reach out and grab anything. 

The further they went into the cave, the more Malik expected it to grow too dark to see. That was not the case. The more they moved into the cave; the more things seemed to come to life with color. By the fifth section there were torches across the walls. The fire that burned here did not do so without heat, nor did the flames flicker. They were almost like the lights that one would expect in a fancy inn or a king’s castle. They lit the entire room, which was more of a church to the Saints than a cave. Here, Sweet Tongue stopped again and looked over his surroundings. 

“We are getting close.” 

No one answered. Malik wondered if anyone else even knew what it was they had come for. Would Sweet Tongue think it necessary to elaborate on his plans? 

Sweet Tongue urged them on after getting his fill of the room. The next room was even bigger and if Malik had thought the second room had been full of coins and treasure, it was nothing compared to what they found here. This room had more wealth than ten kings combined. A man could feed an entire kingdom gold and still have coin left over to throw away. 

Malik tucked his hands deeper into his pockets. He heard the shocked expressions of the mercenaries and even the gasps from Mollie, Embre, and Khris. The only creature not affected by the sight of all the wealth was Egg. Egg had not taken his eyes off Mollie since they had entered the cave. 

Sweet Tongue did not remind anyone to keep their hands to themselves. At this point it was unnecessary to warn them. He pressed through the winding piles of gold and came out the other side into a small hallway. Here, he put down Egg, who pointed them toward the left pathway. The hallway widened again, and they found themselves in an empty room. Here, it was still obvious human, or Saint’s hands had carved the room, but there were no items filling the walls. Instead, only a metal grate door blocked a small entrance. Sweet Tongue reached out and gave the door a jerk. It did not move. 

“Come over and help,” Sweet Tongue said to Zimbre. 

Zimbre was an immense man with plenty of muscle to spare. Malik was sure the door would move if he only gave it a slight tug, but even when he put all his power into it the bars held steady. Sweet Tongue put Egg down again. 

“Where do we go?” 

Egg pointed again toward the doorway. 

“It won’t open!” 

Egg just pointed again. Malik was not sure if Sweet Tongue expected a detailed answer from Egg, but he would not be getting one. 

Sweet Tongue urged Zimbre to try the door again, but again it did not budge. It only filled the cave with a lot of noise. Noise Malik had not even realized was missing from their walk through the halls. It had been quiet during their trip; almost too quiet, aside from the gasps at the treasure room. 

Malik knew caves echoed. He had only been in a few and even then, only in the entrances for shelter from a hard rain shower or storm. But even in the entrances, voices and other noises bounced around like a child’s rubber ball. Here there were no echoes. There was nothing but silence. 

Zimbre stopped pulling on the doors again. There was no use. Sweet Tongue looked around, trying to figure out another way. There were more paths they could take, but Egg had pointed them here. If what he needed was on the other side of the grate, he would have to make the door move. 

He ordered more mercenaries to help Zimbre, but even with their combined might the door did not budge. After an hour, Sweet Tongue put his head into his hands and sighed. 

Malik would have expected his next words to be a frustrated plea to either Egg or his mercenaries, but the next sound breaking the silence was not Sweet Tongue. It was a roar that echoed through the hall like a building collapsing. The cave walls rattled, and Sweet Tongue took his hands from his head. His eyes were wide with what Malik knew instantly as fear.