P. W. Catanese - Happenstance Found

HAPPENSTANCE
FOUND

CHAPTER

The boy felt as if hed emerged, fully conscious and wholly formed, out of nothing. Not out of darkness, or chaos, or mist or murk. He was sure hed sprung from nothing , and now he was lying in a strange place with rough stone pressing against the back of his skull.

He began to notice peculiar things. A strange taste painted his throat. His clothes were damp, especially the thick cloak. And he couldnt see, because something was across his eyes: a cloth, tied behind his head. When he reached for it, someone spoke.

Dont touch that.

The voice was unfamiliar. Of course it wasit was the first the boy ever remembered hearing. The man had spoken briefly, but the boy detected something in those three words. Amusement. Or eager anticipation.

Who is that? Who are you? asked the boy. He pushed himself up until he sat on the stone floor.

Never mind about me, said the man, nearly singing the words. The boy heard a patter of stealthy feet, a scuffle of shifting cloth. When the man spoke again, his voice was closer. Hed been standing before; now he must have been kneeling. Im curious about you, though, the man said. How do you feel? What do you know?

What do I know ? the boy asked. The question was strange, the answer even stranger. Because, in fact, he knew very little. At the moment, anyway, knowledge seemed to arrive bit by bit, as he needed it. What is this Im sitting upon? A stone floor. What is around my eyes? A blindfold. What is on my feet? Boots. What is it called when I open my mouth and draw in air? Breathing. A spring inside his mind surged forth and filled his head with words and notions. But when he called on the spring to tell him one particular thing, there was no response. The boy gasped.

My name! the boy cried out. I dont know who

Hush! cried the man. Listen!

The boy heard nothing at first. He turned his ear, searching. His senses hinted that he was in a confined space, surrounded by walls. But the space wasnt entirely enclosed, because a sound came from one direction, distant but growing.

Best be quiet for a moment. Until the worm passes, the man whispered, so close that the boy felt warm breath on his ear.

Worm? That word had more than one meaning, the spring of knowledge told him. There were the worms in the ground, the tiny, wriggling things that were feasted on by birds and in turn feasted on all things dead. Then there were the other worms. Beastly and dangerous.

He heard the thing comingbut was it one thing, or an army of things? A massive bulk scraped across a rocky surface, and there was an incessant clacking, as if hundreds of talons scrabbled over the ground. The noise grew until it became a roar as the creature passed a narrow window or door, just a few strides away.

The boy felt a single finger across his lips, and the knowledge came to him: It was a sign that he should be quiet. His shoulders quivered as the scraping, tapping sounds went on for longer than he could believe. Finally, they began to fade. The worm was gone, propelling its vast bulka many-legged bulk, the boy decidedthrough the adjacent corridor or passageway.

When the sound died, the man spoke. Well. I hope the worm doesnt eat them.

Eat who ? asked the boy.

The ones who are coming for you. Where are they, by the way? They should have been here by now. Hold ontheyre getting close. Yes, thats them. And hes with them. I knew he would be. Something in the tone of the voice made the boy think the man was grinning. Dont be afraid. I want you to trust them.

I dont understand. Who are these people? asked the boy. The man didnt answer. Hello? The boy pushed the blindfold over his forehead. The room was dark, but his eyesight pierced the gloom. The man was not there.

As hed guessed, the room was small. The walls were chiseled blocks, fitted tight, and the floor was made of paving stones. At the near end of the room a narrow archway led to a broad corridor where the worm had slid by. He turned to the opposite end. There, a wider archway opened into another gloomy space.

The boy pushed himself to his feet. His short leather boots squished when he stood, and water dripped from his cloak. He wondered why they were so damp, and why he wore such a heavy garment at allit was warm in this place, almost uncomfortably so. He shrugged the cloak off, revealing a dull red tunic and brown trousers underneath.

He turned to the far end of the room again because a dawning orange light was filling the archway there. There were footsteps and voices. Faint echoes bounced off the walls.

The first voice he heard was deep, as if born from a thick and powerful chest. Is this the place? Fine. Get the thing, whatever it is, and lets get out of here.

Another man spoke in quick and eager tones. Hush, Oates. Wheres your sense of adventure?

I think this is it, Lord Umber. That was a third voice, female and young. The light flickered, disturbed by their shadows. One of them has a lamp, thought the boy.

A trio appeared in the archway. They froze and stared at the boy. The largest was a towering, slab-jawed, burly man who scowled down with dark, narrowed eyes and tightened his grip on the long spear that he carried. Thats the deep-voiced oneOates, the boy guessed. On the other side was the young woman. A girl, reallysurely not yet seventeen. She was tall and gangly, with hair pulled back from a fragile face. The boy felt a pang in his heart when he saw that her right arm ended at the wrist. Where a hand should have been, there was a three-pronged piece of metal holding the lamp.

The man in the middle, who had to be Lord Umber, held a parchment in two hands. He was slight of build, with a wide-eyed, small-chinned face under a mess of sandy hair. His eyebrows wandered toward his scalp, and he tilted his head to one side and smiled. The smile showed every tooth, and it formed effortlessly; the boy got the feeling that it always did for this man.

Well, Umber said, chuckling. We didnt expect to meet anyone down here. He looked back at the corridor. This is the place. The map couldnt be clearer. Umber let go of the parchment with one hand. It was inclined to curl, and so it rolled up instantly. Umber stuffed it into one of the bulging pockets in his vest.