A Fox Called Sorrow Page 10

  Unless Sly had not wanted Brod to hurt her or cause her to be taken from the flow of earth magic! Little Fur thought of something else. She had believed Gazrak was the betrayer, and she had been wrong. Gazrak had proven loyal and courageous. Could she be wrong about Sly? She had asked Sly to help her get into the palace to find Sorrow, and that was what the cat had done. And now Sly had made sure no one would hurt her, for a while at least. Was it possible that she intended to help Little Fur and the fox to escape? Wasn’t that what had been in her green eye as the troll had carried her away?

  Little Fur was suddenly sure that she was right. Had not the earth spirit whispered to her to have faith? Perhaps this was what it had meant.

  “I will trust her,” she whispered to herself.

  “Trust whom?” Sorrow asked.

  Little Fur told him of Sly’s apparent betrayal, whispering so that the troll by the door would not hear. The more she spoke, the more certain she became that Sly’s actions only seemed to be so. The Sett Owl had foreseen betrayal, but she had not known that Sly would be part of the quest. So perhaps she could not foresee that the betrayal was a ploy. It was the only thing that made sense. Little Fur now felt sure that Sly had a plan to help them get free. She told Sorrow that they must prepare themselves to be rescued.

  “The cat did not strike me as the self-sacrificing type,” the fox said with faint irony.

  “She is not,” Little Fur said. “But neither is she a traitor to her friends.”

  “I am no expert on friendship,” the fox said. “In any case, I am dying, and will soon be free without her help. But I hope she will come, for your sake.” His words smelled of pity.

  Little Fur realized that she had never smelled such a sentiment in the fox before. She sniffed and let all of her healing skills guide her; to her amazement, his spirit smelled less sick. But what could possibly have mended it?

  It came to her then—and it was a very strange thought—that the fox’s spirit had begun to heal because he had spoken of the sorrow that consumed him. He had told his story to her, and darkness had flowed out of his spirit as he did so. She wanted to tell him this, but more trolls entered the chamber. Her cage was flung open, and she was pulled out roughly and her hands were bound behind her back. She dared not struggle, lest the trolls pick her up and throw her over their shoulders. Only as they turned and tugged the rope to make her walk did Little Fur see Sly sitting nearby, watching with an enigmatic green eye.

  There was a great jostling as all of the trolls foolishly tried to push through the door at once. Little Fur took that moment to look back at Sly and whisper, “I know you have not betrayed me, Sly. You can’t help me now, but please, free the fox and the other animals in this terrible place and help them to get away.”

  There was no time for more, and she was not even certain that the cat had heard her over the grunting and snarling of the trolls. Once again, Little Fur walked through the bleak halls of the Troll King’s palace, and then out the front gates and into the square, where Brod was in the midst of a speech before hundreds of assembled trolls.

  “. . . king will see how clever is Brod!” Brod was saying, and then he caught sight of Little Fur. A smile of triumph lifted his surly features, and he waved to the guards to bring her closer. “See, here is Little Fur, that king hates. How it will please king to see her stumbling before us as us come to welcome king back to his kingdom.”

  Little Fur ought to have been faint with fear, for the trolls roared their approval and pressed nearer, prodding and jeering at her. But she had noticed something that drove all else from her mind. Brod wore a cord about his neck with a green stone hanging from it, just as she did. Was it possible that he had been related to her mother?

  As Brod began to walk and the mob crowded after him, Little Fur tried to be brave. But though she could feel earth magic flowing through the black stone upon which Underth was built, there was no moss to allow the earth spirit to whisper of hope.

  They paraded through the city to a bridge of stone that Little Fur knew must be Lessbridge, for Kingsbridge began inside the palace. Brod led the way over it, still shouting his own praises. At the end, there were two paths: one led toward the black hills of stone and the road to the surface, while the other branched to the left and ran along the river. Brod took the left path, and soon they came to a wide opening in the cavern wall that Little Fur knew must be the beginning of the under-road.

  Brod stopped and made another speech, standing in its gaping mouth, and Little Fur stood swaying with weariness and hunger and thirst.

  At last, Brod signaled, and the trolls surged past him into the tunnel. Brod followed, reeking of triumph. But they had not been walking long when a low, blood-chilling growl filled the tunnel. Brod and the other trolls stopped, horror twisting their hideous features. The growling grew in volume until it became a roaring bellow.

  Sly suddenly shrilled at Brod to run, run for his life. A pack of dogs was coming!

  Little Fur had heard that trolls feared dogs, but she had never believed it until she saw the effect of Sly’s words. A wave of terror rippled over the frozen trolls. They turned and fled, lumbering blindly back toward Underth. The troll who held the rope securing Little Fur turned, jerking the rope so hard that she stumbled and fell. When the troll saw that she had fallen, it flung the rope down and ran.

  In a flash, Sly was beside her. “There is a crack in the wall alongside us. Hide until help comes!” Then she was gone, crying out to the trolls to run before the dogs tore them to pieces!

  Little Fur scrambled to her feet and let her troll blood lead her to the nearest crack. She pressed herself into it as deep as she could manage, and then she made herself still. She was so tired that despite the barking of the dogs and her terror, she dozed.

  CHAPTER 16

  A Surprising Rescue

  Something pricked Little Fur’s hand. She opened her eyes, and was astonished to see Crow.

  “Shh,” he said. “Sly said to waiting until trolls passing by again. She telling them dog pack came to rescue Little Fur. They will come past again in force with armor and weapons, chasing. Once they going past, we following.”

  “Following!” Little Fur gasped.

  “They not looking back,” Crow assured her.

  “We go along under-road only to crack leading up. Black dog showing Crow that wayfulness to Underth.” Little Fur stared at him, her mind reeling. Surely he did not mean that he had been shown a way to Underth by the black dog?

  “Listening!” Crow scolded.

  Little Fur obeyed, and heard the steady beat of trolls marching. When they appeared, they were marching fast and wearing grim expressions. They carried great stone clubs and spears and knives. She caught a glimpse of Brod, a whip in his hand, his face contorted with rage. By his side ran Sly. For one moment, her bright green eye darted a glance at Little Fur, who was stunned to see laughter in it. Then Sly was gone.

  The trolls marched by for so long that Little Fur thought Brod must have mustered all of the trolls left in Underth to come after the dog pack. At last, the drumming of their feet grew distant.

  Little Fur climbed from the crack, and Crow’s sharp beak made short work of her bindings.

  “Crow flying ahead. Little Fur coming quickly.”

  Crow took to his wings before she could ask the questions clamoring at her. There was nothing to do but walk as he had bidden.

  Little Fur was so preoccupied by the puzzle of the black dog that it took her some time to notice something was coming along quietly in the darkness behind her. She sniffed, but the smell of troll was too strong to make out what it was. She walked faster, wishing Crow would return so that she could ask him to fly back to see if anything was following them.

  The whisper of sound grew closer, and she thought she heard the scrabble of claws on stone. Was it rats creeping after her?

  Little Fur turned. Better to face whatever it was than to wait until it attacked her from behind.

  The s
oft sounds came closer, and this time, when she sniffed, she could hardly believe her nose.

  “Sorrow!” she cried softly, and then she saw him, limping painfully along the tunnel.

  “Ye were right about the cat,” he whispered. “She came into the chamber and gnawed through the ropes of all the cages. Then she bade all the animals that had been freed to run as fast and far as they could. She said it would be a good diversion. She told me to seek ye on the under-road. I did not want to go,” the fox rasped. “But even dying, my spirit will not let me be. Once she opened the cage, my spirit bade me: Run! Escape! Be free! I could not refuse it.” He drew a few weary breaths. “In truth, I would rather die under the open sky with the sun or stars above me.”

  Little Fur heard the whisper of wings and turned to see Crow landing. He looked at the fox. “You smelling very bad.”

  The fox gave a soft laugh.

  “Crow, how much farther until we reach the crack?” Little Fur asked, worried because the fox could not move swiftly, and the more time that passed, the greater the danger of discovery.

  “Just ahead being horrible narrowness of crack, which is beginning of wayness to surface,” Crow said, having hopped and flapped to perch on her shoulder. “Black dog is waiting there,” he added blithely. “Too narrow for her to coming. She pushing out muzzle to do barking. Very terrifying, eh?” he added smugly.

  “The black dog showed Crow a way to Underth that let him use his wings,” Little Fur told the fox. Sorrow made no response. Little Fur turned to see that he was staggering with exhaustion, his eyes blank and unfocused. She helped him through the crack in the wall and edged through after him, being careful not to bump Crow, still perched on her shoulder. The crack widened a little way in, and there the fox collapsed.

  “He smells of death,” came the low, husky voice of the black dog.

  Little Fur looked to see the dog’s eyes gleaming in the darkness. “I do not think he can walk any farther,” she said. “He is too weak.”

  “I will carry him,” the black dog said. Little Fur struggled to drag the fox’s limp form to where the black dog had slunk down onto her belly. Then she pulled Sorrow as gently as she could onto the dog’s broad, warm back. As she did so, she felt the slickness of blood on the dog’s black fur.

  “You are hurt,” she said.

  “The rock bit me when I tried to force my way out of the crack. But it was good that I did not go through, for the one-eyed cat said there would then be no trail for a troll to sniff out.”

  They set off, the black dog leading and Little Fur following with Crow perched on her shoulder. “Why did you come down to Underth?” Little Fur asked the dog when they had stopped beside a trickle of water. Little Fur tried to dribble water into the fox’s mouth, but it just ran out.

  The black dog said, “Crow was waiting by the tunnel to Underth when I returned after the hunting humans had gone. He threatened to peck my eyes out if I tried to hurt you. I told him that I no longer wished to kill you. I wanted only to learn your secrets. The crow smelled the truth of my words, but he said that your secrets would soon be inside the bellies of trolls.”

  “I don’t have any secrets,” Little Fur said in bewilderment.

  “This is not the time for speaking secrets,” the black dog said.

  “So tell me how you came to speak to Sly. . . .”

  “Crow told me of the quest to Underth. I asked why Crow had not gone with you. He lamented long and wearyingly about dark, narrow tunnels where wings could not go. I told him of another way to Underth that was a narrow and dark way to begin with, but where soon he could use his wings.”

  Crow took up the story. “Once we coming to crack opening, Crow flying into caverns of Underth. Flying high and quiet in shadows like bat! Crow having eyesight of eagle! Seeing Sly. Crow flying to talk with black cat. Telling of courageous and dangerous journey to Underth with black dog. Sly telling that Little Fur captivated by trolls! Sly saying trolls fearing dogs. She telling that she having plan to saving Little Fur. Crow leading her to crack, and black cat talking to black dog.”

  “We should go on,” the black dog said.

  Little Fur nodded and pulled the fox onto the dog’s back again, whispering to his limp form that it was not far before they would come to the sky, hoping it was true. Her elf blood was waking and yearning for blue sky and sunlight too.

  At last they came into the road serpents’ tunnel. It was a different place than before, but Little Fur could smell that they were not far from another of the beast feeding caverns. The black dog padded along the tracks toward the smell. Little Fur followed warily, and stopped at the sight of the blaze of false light. A road serpent was being tended, but to her intense relief, she saw that they were approaching the back of the creature, so there was no danger.

  Little Fur expected the dog to lead them to another crack, but she continued to the feeding place. She stopped at the very rear of the road serpent just as it gave its rending cry and began to slide away along the rails. Then Little Fur saw that she meant to mount some steps that led up to the feeding platform.

  “We cannot go up there,” Little Fur said. “Humans will see us, and I cannot go where the earth magic does not flow.”

  “Have no fear,” the black dog answered. “Crow will distract the humans as he did when we came this way before; there are places where the magic flows for you to touch.”

  “Do not fearing,” Crow cawed, his beak tickling her ear. Then he launched himself, screaming and cawing, into the air.

  To Little Fur’s amazement, out of the shadows, as if they had waited for Crow’s signal, poured a great cloud of chittering bats, their leathery wings rustling like leaves in a storm. Humans screamed and shouted and ran, and the smell of their terror was overwhelming. In moments, there was not a human in sight. Little Fur was astonished that little blind peeping bats, with their gentle inquisitive natures, could give rise to such fear. Truly, humans were strange.

  “Come,” said the black dog.

  Little Fur followed her up the steps. She was reassured to feel that earth magic flowed through them, for they were cut into living rock. At the top, she saw an astonishing thing. A set of gleaming silver steps rose swiftly as a flying bird toward the surface of the world.

  “There is no earth magic in the metal of the moving steps, but the wall is true rock and it flows there. All you need do is touch it,” the black dog told her.

  Then she stepped onto the moving stairs and was carried upward. Little Fur might not have had the courage to follow, except that she saw the fox was slipping again. So she took a deep breath, reached out to the wall, and stepped onto the metal stairs. Keeping one hand against the stone wall, she mounted the steps on shaking legs until she could reach out her free hand to steady the fox. Thus they rose through the layers of earth as swiftly as Crow and the cloud of gleeful bats.

  The stairs stopped, vanishing mysteriously into the ground. The companions found themselves in another great hall. Again the bats wheeled and swooped with Crow over the heads of the few humans. In minutes, the big space was empty.

  “Come. Keep your hand on the wall,” the black dog cautioned.

  They passed along the one living wall in that great human cavern and entered another tunnel. It was short, and to Little Fur’s delight, she felt the sweetness of wind laden with the heady scents of green and growing things.

  And then they were outside!

  The rock wall ended in a patch of green grass under a tree with low branches dense enough to provide some cover. Not that there were any humans about. Little Fur stopped, dizzy with the pleasure that ran through her at feeling green grass beneath her feet. She would have reached out to greet the tree, but her eyes came to rest on the fox and her elation faded.

  “We should lay him down and let him die with the earth magic flowing under him,” the black dog suggested in her deep, rumbling voice.

  CHAPTER 17

  The End of Sorrow

  Little Fur knew
that the black dog was right, yet she could not bring herself to lay Sorrow down and let him die by the side of a foul-smelling black road, within scent and sight of the humans who had done so much hurt to him. She would have liked to take him to her own beloved wilderness and lay him among the roots of the Old Ones, where he might have their comfort as he waited to join the world’s dream. She had no hope of healing him now, not even there, where the flow of earth magic was so strong. That he had not died already was the doing of his spirit, which even now fought to hold him to life.

  “I would take him to the beaked house,” Little Fur said to the black dog, blinking back tears.

  “Very well,” the black dog said. “But he might not live long enough to arrive.”

  Little Fur shook her head, unable to speak. She could hardly bear it that having gone through so much, the fox would die just when his spirit had begun to heal. The black dog went on, and Little Fur followed, sensing that Crow was flying overhead and would warn them of any approaching human.

  Little Fur found herself deeply confused by the mingling of newly strengthened troll blood with her reawakened elf blood. So compelling was the conflict between her two bloods that it seemed only a moment before they were within sight of the beaked house. By then, Little Fur’s troll blood had again given way to her elf blood.

  The dog carried the fox to the tree that grew by the far side of the beaked house. Little Fur carefully eased him down onto the thickly fallen leaves. She had not dared to use her senses, fearing that he must be dead, but when she laid her hands on him, she found that he lived yet.

  Little Fur lifted his head gently onto her knees, wondering why this one death filled her with such terrible sadness. All things died and came to the world’s dream in their own time, and she did not fear death for herself or any creature. Perhaps it was the story the fox had told in the troll cavern, of a life that had been stolen before it could be lived, but it seemed to Little Fur that the fox’s death would be a terrible wrong. She plucked some dew-drenched leaves and wiped them over Sorrow’s swollen tongue.