The Hidden Passage

(prequels: The Southern Library, A Bargain for Freedom, and Ambushed)

“Here it is,” Hethrial murmured, his words a whisper. The sun was sinking and the forest was already growing dark.

Kyranduíl, lord of the elven kingdom Kryduith, stepped forward. He grabbed Hethrial's arm in a vice-like grip.

“Do not lie to us,” he said coldly. “Should you betray me I vow I will have my revenge. Are there guards in the passageway? Would there be anyone down there now?”

Hethrial shook his head. “Not that I know of. I know of only four people who know of the tunnel's existence—Raedynth, myself, of course, and two other captains, neither of which would have any reason to be there.”

“Is everyone ready?” Kyranduíl queried, searching the looks of the faces turned towards him. Six elves gazed with determined eyes, looking for their lord's directions. Nods greeted his words.

“Then we shall go. If we do not survive this night, know that I think highly of each and every one of you and that there are no others I would rather die fighting beside.” Except for Taliànwen, he thought, then shoved the thought away.

“How do we enter this passage?” Kyranduíl asked, turning once more to Hethrial. The elf, once a captain under Raedynth's command, moved backward a few paces until he stood by a tree, its width many times greater than that of most trees. A small boulder leaned against it; the tree grew partially around it. Nestled into the rock and tree sat a large dead thorn bush.

Taking up a long stick, Hethrial shoved the thorns away, revealing nothing but the ground beneath. Lodging the stick between the boulder and tree to keep the thorns away, Hethrial knelt and pulled on a cord hidden in the dead pine needles. He pulled up and a trapdoor opened into inky darkness. It looked to be no more than a pit—no ladder, no rope, no way of descending. No one moved. Kyranduíl stared hard at Hethrial, who gazed down into the hole with apprehension. The captain finally looked up and met Kyranduíl's hard eyes.

“You do have rope, do you not?” he asked. Kyranduíl spun away, throwing his arms up into the air with a snort of disgust.

“You take us all this way just to tell us we need rope? You couldn't have told us before?” Kyranduíl jabbed a finger at Hethrial, who backed away and lifted his hands.

“Did you bring us here for no reason? Is there no rope already here?!”

“There is…” Hethrial began, then hesitated. “…at the bottom.”

Kyranduíl let out a groan of frustration and massaged the bridge of his nose between his thumb and first finger.

“We will have to jump,” Hethrial added.

“How deep is it?” Kyranduíl sighed, not looking at the other elf.

Hethrial swallowed. “About twenty feet, I think… at least.”

“Twenty feet, and you expect us to jump?” Kyranduíl roared. “I'm not an idiot!”

“It can be done?” Hethrial offered weakly.

“Perhaps, lord,” an elf stepped forward. She was Alinwian, a horse trainer and breeder. “We can take the cinch straps from the horses' saddles and use them to make a temporary rope. It would force us to ride bareback if we were to leave in a hurry.” The cinch straps were what circled under the horse's belly, right behind the front legs, and kept the saddle from sliding off.

Kyranduíl sighed. “Thank you, Alinwian. That should work. It won't reach twenty feet, but it will greatly decrease the distance to fall.” Raising his voice he called, “All of you, take the saddles off your mounts. Stash them nearby, but out of sight from the tunnel. We want no indication that we were near. Bring the cinches to me.”

Once he had all the straps, Kyranduíl quickly knotted them together to form a rough rope. He tied one end of it to a nearby root and dropped it down into the hole. Another thought occurring to him, Kyranduíl stood and faced the expectant elves.

“Does anyone have any light source?” he asked with a sigh, knowing that none did.

“There are lanterns with oil at the bottom,” Hethrial offered. “We must light them down there.”

Kyranduíl nodded, relieved. He surveyed the group quickly, then said, “Kieryth, you go down first. Call back up as to what you find. If there is no one, go ahead and light the lamps. I will descend next. Vylthrian, you come after me and then Hethrial will come down. The rest of you, follow quickly, and once the lamps are lit, close the door. Cariath, as we discussed on the ride here, you hurry back towards Mithvärir to find Captain Silthinael and the reinforcements. Bring them here when you find them.”

Cariath acknowledged him with a quick nod.

“Will we leave the cinch strap rope tied to the root?” queried Kieryth.

“Yes. We may need a quick escape.”

Kieryth nodded and took up the makeshift rope in both hands. He descended quickly, his feet walking down the wall of the pit. He called up a moment later, “I'm at the end. I'm going to jump.” A second later everyone heard a dull thump and a grunt. Then, “The bottom isn't terribly far. Just jump and you'll be fine.”

Kyranduíl grabbed the rope and slipped down, descending in the same manner Kieryth had gone. The end came suddenly and he almost fell the rest of the way. Letting go, Kyranduíl landed with a thump on the solid ground. It was cool in the tunnel and the still air smelled musty and unused. Kyranduíl hoped to be out of it as quick as possible. The darkness and lack of wind were disturbing.

A light flared out of the darkness and Kyranduíl squinted. Kieryth was holding up a lantern. It illuminated the pit and a tunnel leading away into the darkness.

“I found two,” he proclaimed as Vylthrian joined them. It took but a moment for the rest of the elves to descend into the pit. The walls were close together and allowed for only a single file line, no more. They started off, Kieryth with one lantern in the lead, and Lorieynth with the second at the rear. The tunnel was cut from the dirt with occasional beams of wood to support the walls and ceiling. Kyranduíl realized with a jolt of fear the wood was rotting. It was an old passage. The ceiling was low and they had to stoop.

“How long is the passage?” Kyranduíl grunted after nearly half an hour.

“It is long. The entrance is far from Brathvynâ,” Hethrial replied. The captain was ahead of Kyranduíl.

“How far?” Kyranduíl growled.

“At least an hour—perhaps more.”

No one was happy in the dark, dank, cramped tunnel. Cobwebs were constantly being pulled out of faces and clothes. Kyranduíl pitied Kieryth, while at the same time feeling glad he wasn't in the lead. Roots from the plants and trees above dangled down into the passage and often brushed through their hair, a disconcerting feeling as the gnarled things scrabbled at their heads. Kyranduíl started at every small noise.

At long last the tunnel began sloping up. Kyranduíl felt like they had been in there for hours. He was cold and stiff from hunching.

Suddenly, they were in a small stone room, barely enough for the seven of them to fit. Another tunnel, narrower than the first, dissolved into darkness in the opposite wall.

“This exit is down in the cellars,” Hethrial whispered, pointing to a thin crack between the stone blocks that let in a sliver of light. Gesturing at the thin tunnel he added, “That leads to Raedynth's chambers and the south tower.”

“Where would Raedynth most likely be right now?” Kyranduíl queried.

“At dinner,” Hethrial replied.

“The sun was setting hours ago,” exclaimed Kyranduíl. “How late does your lord eat?”

“Traversing the passage only takes a little more than an hour. The sun hasn't completely set yet, most likely,” said Hethrial.

“What?! We were in there for hours!”

“Sometimes what seems real is not. The passage is monotonous and presses on your nerves—it feels a lot longer than it actually is.”

Kyranduíl nodded reluctantly. Hethrial's words made sense.

“So we shall wait,” Hethrial continued, “until Raedynth returns to his chambers and is alone.”

“How will we know when he has returned?” Alinwian asked. Her face was hard to see in the darkness, but Kyranduíl thought she was frowning.

“We wait at the end of the passage,” Hethrial replied, “as there is a small peephole. We can see at least half of his sleeping room through it.”

“Good,” Kyranduíl said. They continued on through the passage. There were still rats and cobwebs, but at least the way was dry and there wasn't a constant fear of hundreds of pounds of dirt collapsing and suffocating them alive. At one point another passage loomed up at sharp right angles to the passage. Hethrial said it led to the south tower.

Then they reached a series of ladders climbing up…

and up…

and up.

The ladders curved and Kyranduíl realized they were ascending into the tower and the tunnel was on the outside wall, curving around the outside of the inside staircase.

By the time they reached the top they were out of breath and Kyranduíl's calves burned with painful fire.

Kyranduíl quickly located the peephole and peered through it. The room was dark, save for a faint bit of sunlight. Nothing stirred.

The elves waited an hour before Raedynth entered, followed by two elves, one garbed in full armor, the other wearing a white robe.

“Tomorrow shall be the day,” Raedynth said. “The Qazatrahg will be mine—after that, I shall crush Kryduith and that fool, Kyranduíl. But now I am weary—leave me, and I shall rest. But be awake before dawn tomorrow. We have much to do.”

The two others bowed and exited the room, leaving Raedynth alone.

“Shall we go, my lord?” asked Kieryth, his voice a whisper.

“Not yet,” Kyranduíl murmured. “We will wait until Raedynth is in his bed. Then, we shall attack. But be quiet and cautious. Take him alive, but if he escapes, do not hesitate to finish him.”

Even after Raedynth had slipped under his covers, Kyranduíl waited another half hour. Finally, he roused the elves and said, “It is time.”

Hethrial silently opened the door. Vylthrian stayed near Hethrial; if the captain tried to shout or escape, Vylthrian would stop him.

Raedynth was sound asleep. His breathing was soft and regular.

“You would think he would know to keep at least one guard in his room at night,” Vylthrian muttered, moving closer. “This is too easy.”

“Shh,” hissed Kyranduíl. “I've done it once before—we'll do it again.”

It took but a moment to tie a gag around Raedynth's mouth and bind his hands and feet. He awoke with a start. He stared wide-eyed at them for a moment, then huffed angrily at glared at nothing in particular. He said something around the gag that sounded like, “Ff curf if oo afamf.” After a brief moment of puzzling, Kyranduíl figured Raedynth had something like, “Of course it's you again.”

“For Taliànwen,” Kyranduíl murmured in his ear. Raedynth's eyes widened abruptly. Kyranduíl hit him over the head with a nearby stool. The lord was knocked out cold. Kyranduíl smiled grimly. “I do not envy the headache he will have once he awakens. Now, let us be out of here.” He looked around, then froze. “Where is Hethrial?”

Everyone spun around, searching the room. The former captain was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, a door at the far end opened and a figure slipped out of the room. The door slammed shut.

“No!” Kyranduíl screamed. “Hurry! To the tunnel! We must run!”

“I'm sorry, lord,” Vylthrian groaned. “It was my fault.” Kyranduíl ignored him and picked up Raedynth with Kieryth. After rushing back to the secret passage, they closed and barred the door behind them.

“Not too quickly down the steps,” Kyranduíl cautioned. Their calves and knees were burning as they finally reached the bottom. They ran blindly through the dark, feeling their way along the damp dirt walls. The lanterns, which had been extinguished before entering Raedynth's chambers, were at the top of the ladders. No one was running back to get them now.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as they raced through the darkness, not even being able to see an inch from their faces. Kyranduíl's breath came in ragged gasps and he was dimly aware of hearing desperate panting ahead and behind him as well. Partway through Kyranduíl and Kieryth passed Raedynth to Vylthrian and Lorieynth. The lord of the south was dropped multiple times as they fumbled through the darkness.

All of a sudden an unseen force slammed into Kyranduíl and he was hurled backwards into his companions.

“We made it!” he gasped, a hysterical laugh breaking free of his throat. “Here—here is the cinch strap rope. I can feel it… just above my head. Climbing out will be difficult… but it can be done.”

The next ten minutes were spent struggling out of the pit. Kyranduíl realized it could have gone much quicker without Raedynth. He winced as he heard a muffled thump again. Raedynth would sustain many bruises. At long last, all were gathered at the top. Kyranduíl undid the cinch strap rope, thankful for the full moon.

“Quick! Resaddle your mounts. Do it as quickly as elvenly possible.”

After mounting and tying Raedynth behind Vylthrian's saddle, they galloped off into the forest. A few minutes later they were apprehended by soldiers from Brathvynâ.

“Dismount and surrender Raedynth to us,” commanded Hethrial as ten horses fanned out to circle them. The captain was garbed in armor and carried a voulge—a weapon that looked like an axe, hook, and spear all at once.

“'Efriaf,” Raedynth tried to call out. He had awoken due to the rough bouncing and jouncing. Being tied to the back of a galloping horse like a sack of potatoes is not a good way to travel.

“Dismount!” barked Hethrial again. Realizing they were outnumbered, Kyranduíl did and bade the others to do the same. He caught Kieryth's eye as the young soldier dismounted. Both gave a slight nod.

“Lord Kyranduíl of the Northern Kingdom of Kryduith,” intoned another of the mounted elves. He was not armored nor armed, but instead read off a scroll in such a bored monotone that, despite himself, Kyranduíl almost laughed.

“You and the,” here he paused, quickly counting the dismounted elves, “five elven soldiers, also of the Northern Kingdom of Kryduith, are hereby charged with thievery, trespassing, and kidnapping His Most Esteemed Royal Highness, the Gracious, Powerful Lord Raedynth of the Southern Kingdom of—”

“Oh, for goodness's sake just get to the point, elf!” Kyranduíl bellowed, drawing his sword and leaping at Hethrial. The captain, caught entirely by surprise, could not ready his voulge in time. The pommel of Kyranduíl's sword thunked into Hethrial's temple and the guard swayed, then collapsed off his horse.

Kyranduíl's elves had moved instantly as well, their swift action catching Raedynth's men by surprise. Unfortunately, they were still outnumbered.

Raedynth had been freed and the lord's remaining guards were slowly advancing, Raedynth in the lead. The two sides stopped, facing off. Five feet of open ground lay between them. For a moment, neither side moved. Then shapes emerged from the trees. They were reinforcements from Brathvynâ. It was only five more elves, most likely only a rearguard. But still, it tipped the balance further in Raedynth's favor.

“Surrender now,” Raedynth growled, pressing a hand to his head, bloody from Kyranduíl's stool-whack.

“Never,” Kyranduíl snarled.

“We will not make it, my lord,” Kieryth said, the young elf positioned in a fighting stance next to Kyranduíl.

“I know,” the lord replied, “but we shall die with honor.”

Raedynth pointed a sword at Kyranduíl. “Get them,” he commanded. Just as the elves started to charge, a loud crack resounded through the moonlit woods and stopped everyone in their tracks. All looked up as one of the pines, an impossibly wide ponderosa, toppled down. Raedynth's men tried to move but it was too late. Half of them, including Raedynth, were crushed under the considerable weight of the tree.

“Well,” Kyranduíl said after a moment of utter silence, “I didn't see that one coming.” He sheathed his sword.

“Lord Kyranduíl!” the shout came from the woods and was soon followed by its owner: a tall, narrow elf with long silver hair. He carried a heavy battleaxe in his hand with ease. Dozens more elves emerged from the shadows.

“Captain Silthinael!” Kyranduíl exclaimed. “I cannot express how happy I am to see you. Was the tree your doing?”

“Yes,” Silthinael replied, looking at the fallen tree. “It was dead and rotting, already leaning to one side. From there it was a simple matter to work it loose enough to push onto Raedynth.”

“Why didn't you fight?” Kyranduíl asked. “Your men outnumbered theirs by far.”

“Because Raedynth's elves do know how to fight. We surely would have lost some. I decided we would try the tree first.”

“Well, whichever course of action you chose to take, I am in your debt,” Kyranduíl said. “We all are.”

Silthinael nodded gravely. “I shall not forget it.” Then he smiled, almost mischievously. “Taliànwen is back at Mithvärir.”

“How is she doing?” Kyranduíl asked, leaning forward eagerly.

“She is doing badly, but the healers say she will survive. She is a strong warrior, you know. Something between you two, is there?”

“That is too presumptuous,” Kyranduíl said hastily. Silthinael only smiled. Then his smile faded and he said, “We have a mess to clean up. And Rynvalia is now without a lord.”

“Yes,” Kyranduíl said wearily. “Though the fight is over and Raedynth dead, we have much to do. But first I must return to Mithvärir.” A twinkle entered his eyes. “There is someone I must see.”