Chapter 1: Chapter 1

It's late afternoon. The sun is shining directly in my eyes. I am so tired. I've been stuck on this stiff, uncomfortable seat for nearly two days. Despite the assault on my eyes, my only entertainment is staring out the window beside me.The scenery sails by quickly. A low rumble runs up the elbow I have resting on the window. It's shaking just little enough that I don't care to remove it, but just enough to be annoying. I despise traveling by train. Not least because I can’t get any work done when moving so quickly.

I look across the car for the umpteenth time and try to assess my traveling companions. Given that my destination is the next and last on the line, I can only assume that the two gentlemen seated several rows ahead of me are to be my coworkers on this assignment. The pair of them have been sitting together since they boarded.

The man in the window seat is the shorter of the two. His long dark hair is pulled into a ponytail which hangs well past his shoulders. The points of his ears mark him as being of elven ancestry. The olive tone of his skin and broadness of his shoulders tells me he must work outdoors. He appears to also be the more serious and intelligent of the two. When he barks, his companion listens.

The man in the aisle seat is a much taller sort. His head is shaved bald and his expression seems vacant when I catch a glimpse of it. What this man appears to lack in intellect, he more than makes up for with his bulk. He is broad-chested and burly. His arms look like he could break me in half with one mis-aimed swing. I can already tell he’s going to be a pain to work with. I don’t do well with unintelligent people. They get on my nerves. But I suppose even a bulwark has its uses if I can get it to follow orders.

Notably, neither of these gentlemen appear to be enlisted like me. Neither of them is wearing a uniform. In fact, it is quite the opposite. The elf wears some simple shirt with puffy sleeves and the human is in peasant’s garb. They might even be wearing the same pants but I can’t tell from here. I know enlistment numbers are low but I had no idea the State Militia was in such dire straits that I would be the only militiaman on this case. I will have to take charge early. I won’t have inexperienced mercenaries making a mess of my first investigation.

I debate with myself whether I ought to introduce myself now. After all, these two will be looking for me and I for them. But what if they’re just tourists and not actually my coworkers? What if they aren’t amenable to speaking about work right now? I can’t risk the embarrassment. Better to slip away on the platform and be introduced in a more formal setting.

I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. Maybe if I can get a nap in, it will pass the last leg of this journey or at least provide guidance or strength. I’m being rattled mercilessly by the train car, but I manage to slip into a dream.

I am in a wood at the base of a mountain. The leaves and branches above me are so dense I can only glimpse the sky beyond it. Light barely penetrates the tree cover and casts everything into a permanent night. Down here it smells of rotting leaves. There are no paths here. It is an ocean of overgrowth, ancient trees and strange chitters. As most people, I am not lucid in these dreams. My mind is bidden by some flight or influence and I can only watch as I perform what it intends to show me.

I pace through the underbrush, slowly. My feet are bare and I can feel every oddity in the ground; every pointed stone, every patch of mud and every thorn laid in my path. Despite the pain I am tranquil, self-assured. I know this is the righteous path. My foot lands squarely on some unsuspecting underbrush critter. I’ve caught it by the neck. I don’t even stop to consider the creature. Without skipping a beat I lean forward and my full weight crushes the thing. The critter screams and chokes in pain. I can feel it kicking out at me, trying to break free. I bear it no ill will; It was simply in my way and it paid the price for its obstruction. I don’t turn to check on the thing but I know it is dead.

I walk on. My attention is drawn by a particular tree. Something about it is oddly tantalizing. I do not have the presence of mind to identify the tree’s species. But I am intrigued by an irregularity in the tree’s thick, uneven bark. It’s hard to make out in the darkness but I run my fingers over the strange mark before me. Is it carved into the bark or has it naturally formed this shape? The knife at my feet seems to give me an answer. It is a simple blade, more a hunk of metal than a proper cutting tool. I kneel to better inspect it. The knife is plunged straight into the ground as if to mark a grave.

I wrap my hand around the knife. The leather wrapped handle feels right in my hand. I try to pull it up but it resists. The blade must be embedded in some buried tree root. On my hands and knees, I begin to dig up the spot marked by this mysterious knife. This grave is far from shallow. I clear the first couple inches of dirt with no sign of what is buried here. Every bit of dirt is a fight to remove as the tree roots below try to hold on to their prize. But I am determined. With much effort I uncover the root holding the knife hostage. I take hold and pull with all my might. I nearly fall backward when I finally overpower my adversary. And now my fervor is renewed. The knife is mine and I will have what it was guarding.

I begin to cut roots with reckless abandon, ripping and tearing them from their resting places. I’m losing myself in my avarice but I don’t care. With the help of the knife, I ravenously tear these roots asunder and cast them aside. Finally, after vigorous digging, my prize is uncovered. I’m not sure what it is but I want it. I’ve already put everything into obtaining it and I will have it. I wedge the knife against the last of the roots. With one final pull, the roots snap and release their grip on what is rightfully mine. Still clutching the knife in my hand, I lift the thing from its grave. I raise it to the sky in triumph.

It is a small object. Smaller than the palm of my hand. I can feel it is made of bone. The surface is polished smooth and I can just make out its dark purple shade. One end is jagged, as if broken off of some larger whole. The other end is sharp and the very tip is dipped in gold. It appears to be the end of some creature’s horn. I cannot explain why but I am buzzing with excitement. My heart is pounding; I can feel it in my ears. Something about this horn has made me unable to control myself. I leap to my feet and dance with my prize. I hold it aloft as my legs carry me this way and that. I’ve never felt such joy in all my life.

 

---

 

I awake to a horrible, thunderous grinding, like metal colliding with metal. I am thrown from my seat and land hard on the floor before being tossed to the opposite side of the train car. I feel the sharp pain of my shoulder being forced through a solid pane of glass. Shards dig into me mercilessly. I can’t hear myself cry out in pain over the screams of metal twisting and crashing. I can't even feel my body breaking against random seats and wooden floors. With one final, monstrous roar the noises come to a sudden halt.

I can’t move. I’m frozen. My mind is swimming.. It’s pitch black wherever I am. I can’t even think of what’s wrong, why this is happening. I realize I haven’t taken a breath in a while. I focus on that. It takes all my focus to see to the operation of my lungs. In.. Then out.. In.. Then out.. I have no idea how long I’ve been here or how long I will continue to be here. It’s my own little eternity, breathing in and out, in and out.

I come to my senses, eventually. It’s not quite dark anymore. Red has filled the train car. Emergency lights. I look up. There’s a bench suspended in the air, on its side. I look down. I’m laying in a pile of broken glass. I lay there for a time, putting the pieces together. The word, “crash,” passes through my thoughts like sand through a sieve. I continue to lay where I landed.To my right I hear.. Something. Grinding? Crunching? I can’t tell. I stare up at the bench dangling above my head. I don’t like that but I cannot connect why, nor do anything about it.

My pondering is interrupted by a serious face looming over mine. We make eye contact. He’s doing something, pulling on my arm, making me sit up. I think he’s talking to me but I can’t make sense of his words. I hear glass clatter to the floor when he touches my back. I feel him grab my hands and pull hard. I’m forced to my feet.

“Come on, you can rest outside.” His words finally connect with me. This is the elven man. His voice is just as serious as his face. My arm is slung over his shoulder for support but it hardly helps at all given how tall he is compared to me.

I feel a breeze on my face as I am led out of the harsh, red light of the train car, into the soft yellow light of a lantern. The elf helps me sit on a nearby rock. The elf takes off, leaving me with nothing but this lantern to keep me company. I take this moment of solitude as an opportunity to take stock.

Where am I? I’m not sure. Think smaller. What’s around me? I’m sitting on a rock. The ground beneath me is mostly dirt. Some smaller rocks scattered around. About a foot in front of me, the lantern flickers as the fire inside dances with the breeze flowing through this place. I look further ahead. I see the wheels of a train car. They’re hanging in the air and I realize I am looking at its under-side. I look to the next car back and it’s much the same. I look toward the front of the train and it’s a confusion of piled metal and stone. I can barely make out a huge bent wheel but nothing more. I turn and look around me. I’m surrounded by stone on three sides. With my eyes I follow the stone walls upward until they converge into a ceiling above me. I see now. This is a tunnel. I turn my attention back to the wreckage of the train. I try to trace the tracks and see what caused the derailment. I can’t follow them for long before they disappear beneath more metal debris.

Again my train of thought is derailed by a serious-looking elf. This time, his vacant companion is trailing along. They aren’t wearing what they were before my nap. Now both of them are clad in several layers of padding and armor pieces. The human is wearing a very simple half-plate. It’s extremely utilitarian to the point of indescribability. The elf is more decorated, though not overly so. The plate is pointed at the center beneath his chin. In the lamplight I can make out tiny horses picked out along the rim of his chestpiece. Even his greaves resemble the shape of hooves. The two of them couldn’t be more mismatched. The only bit of design that marks them as a pair are the badges latched to their bodies by leather straps. It’s the insignia of the State Militia sub-contract division. I don’t have time to remark.

“How are you feeling? Back on the plane of man, are you?” The elf is addressing me.

“Yeah,” I nod. “What happened?” I realize my tie has shifted out of position. I adjust it.

“Looks like the tunnel is blocked,” the human intones dutifully. "Both forward and back."

“Yes and worse yet the staff took the brunt of the impact. All dead.”

“Oh,” I remark impassively. “You’re with the State Militia?”

“Yes and it is our responsibility to take charge of the scene. See that these folks’ families are alerted and no more trains come down that line and add to the carnage.”

“I suppose that’s our duty once we find our way to safety.” I get to my feet. “I don’t suppose you collected my luggage when you went and got your own?”

The elf only looks at me strangely. He isn’t carrying a trunk or backpack but I can only assume he found his things given his costume change. I sigh and find my way back into the sideways train car. My boots crunch loudly as I walk along broken windows. Methodically I check each sideways row for my personal possessions. Several rows behind where I was seated, I find my luggage trunk. It’s taken a serious dent in one corner and the lock has popped open. I thank my past self for having the foresight to fasten a leather strap around the box. The thing is heavy as I remember. I miss the helpful porter who, at the start of my journey, took this trunk right from my carriage to the train. I get the trunk up to the emergency exit door on what was once the floor of the train car. I try to lift it the several feet up to the opening. I can’t do it. I climb up onto the trunk and lean my head out of the door.

“Excuse me, I need a hand lifting this.”

The elf doesn’t look up from what he’s doing. He’s crouched in front of a mass covered by a sheet. His hands are clasped together and his head is bowed. Instead, the human looks at me in recognition of my request. He seems unsure. He goes to say something to his handler but is quickly waved away. He comes over.

“What d’you need help with?”

“This!” I hop off my luggage and gesture at it. “I need you to carry this for me.”

Comprehension alights in his eyes as he is given a task fit for such a simpleton. He climbs into the car and lifts my trunk with ease, tossing it out of the emergency door in one smooth motion. I flinch when I hear it crash into the ground again.

“I’m Walter, by the way,” the man helpfully chirps while he climbs back through the emergency door.

“My name is Owen Goldenfist.” I wait for my surname to sink into Walter’s head. I am left waiting.

“Good t’ meetcha! You’re the militiaman we’re supposed to meet, yeah? I could tell by the uniform. Only I didn’t want to bother ya on the ride over. Ya looked like ya wanted to be left alone.”

He’s dumber than I thought. I’ll have to try again with the elf. “Yes, I thought you might be my underlings but you weren’t wearing your badges.”

“We wasn’t on the clock.” Walter gives me a wry smile and a wink.

I choose to ignore Walter for now. I climb out of the emergency door one last time. From here I get a better look at what the elf is doing. There are actually three sheet-covered mounds. All three are long and thin. It dawns on me that these are bodies. Must be the train crew. And the elf is praying over them. I take a seat on my luggage and watch him waste all of our time.

After several eternities, the elf lifts his head and stands up. "Right. I can feel a breeze coming through the cave. That means there's an opening somewhere. We ought to mark our path so we can retrieve the train crew."

I hop to my feet and pay Walter a mirthless smile. "Would you kindly?" I gesture toward my luggage.

"Sure thing, little buddy." I despise the nickname but I'll keep my complaint to myself if it means I don't have to lug that thing.

The elf frowns at us. "I see by your uniform you're our Militia contact. I'm Sidhion Sundermane. And it seems you and Walter have acquainted yourselves."

"Yes. As I said, I am Owen Goldenfist."

Sidhion's eyes reflect his complete non-recognition of my surname. "Yes well, it's about time you got to work. It seems it was just the three working the engine."

"Yes, yes. They'll be here if their corpses are recovered today or tomorrow. Let's focus on saving our own skin first." I don't wait for Sidhion's response. Instead I grab the lantern and begin to lead the group down the only opening in the tunnel. I can hear the clomp of their footfalls and the scratch of chalk on stone behind me.

This cave is oddly laid out. The natural formations regularly give way to square cut doorways, suggesting human intervention in their connectedness. Lucky for us, the cave walls don't fork off in any meaningful way. They just bend this way and that, terminating as soon as they begin.

We pass into another natural tunnel which bends sharply to the left. It's cramped and we can only walk single-file. Whoever created these passages did not see fit to widen this one enough for comfort. I can feel the walls closing in on me. Any moment, I know they'll collapse and shut me down here forever. I try to soften my footfalls in the vain hope it will avert this disaster. How could it considering how loudly my coworkers are walking? One of them must have chosen to wear tap shoes today. I try to walk a little faster. Get out of this section.

The cave squeezes tighter here. Our progress is slowed by two rock formations which nearly close off this tunnel entirely. With my diminutive stature I'm sure I can squeeze through. Walter however, may have to wait down here with the train crew. I look back at my coworkers. Walter is behind me and Sidhion is bringing up the rear. Wordlessly, we all understand what must be done. I squeeze through first. I am quick about it.

I watch Walter sling my luggage in front of himself. He holds it aloft. Surely, the concept of fitting a rectangle through a hole is mentally taxing. His eyes squint from the effort. I cannot contain a cry of shock when my trunk wizzes past me and clatters to the ground. It takes a third dent.

"You could have been more gentle, you know!"

"It was already broken from the crash. Might as well have some fun with it before you get a new one, yeah?"

"That isn't the point!"

Walter just gives me a smug grin as he forces his breastplate past the rocks.

Sidhion is quiet when he squeezes past the bottleneck. I'm too busy to bother watching him. Instead I am taking in the chamber in which we find ourselves.

For the first time, we appear to be in a proper room. The uneven stone behind us has given way to rough wood planks. On either side of the room two round tables are surrounded by mis-matched stools and chairs. The wall to my left is lined from end-to-end with a floating countertop. I look for any sign of use by people. No dishes or cups. Everything is coated in a disgustingly thick layer of dust. This place was likely abandoned, intentionally, many years ago.

"Right. We must be on the right track. If this is built by people, then they'll have built an exit." I motion the group to follow me through the doorway at the far end of the room.

You are reading story Fresh Cut Rose at novel35.com

We're back in a hallway. But this time there are many signs that the formation isn't natural. The cave is perfectly straight, if inelegantly carved. Every six feet, a wooden arch is constructed to support the ceiling. There are pitons hammered into the wall every few feet. A single rope runs along their length and extends in both directions. I examine this oddity. It can't be a handrail. The rope hangs loosely and can't support anyone's weight.

Sidhion steps forward through the darkness. "I see what this is now." He leans down and closely examines one of the pitons. "This is a mining complex. And this is the guide rope. The pitons have little arrows on them that point you to the exit. This way." Sidhion turns to his right and clops down the hall.

I let out an exasperated sigh and Walter claps me on the shoulder with a laugh. "Don't fall behind now." He walks past me. Disappointed, I follow.

The tunnel stretches a long way. I didn’t check my watch before we set off but I swear it’s been an hour of wandering these dark, abandoned halls. The guide rope curves this way and that. I lose track of my bearings and just hope the rope leads us to safety.

Sidhion stops suddenly and I quickly see why. Before us the tunnel abruptly ends. The guide rope we’ve been following disappears into the wall between several rocks. It’s a cave-in. We may be trapped forever. I can feel the air being drained from the room. Even Walter has stopped cracking jokes.

“Maybe.. Maybe we can try another tunnel. Back a ways we passed a doorway.” I’m trying not to let people’s spirits get too low before we elect to cannibalize each other.

Sidhion shakes his head, “It’s no good for leaving. Any guide rope from that tunnel will likely point here”

“Do you propose we dig then?” I make no effort to hide my venom.

“I propose you let me think before you run your mouth.” Sidhion’s snark is nonchalant.

“Now, boys, play nice,” Walter interjects. “You can bicker once we get out.”

“Our only option is to go back. We can raid the train for supplies and food. Make up a camp in one of the rear cars. Our absence will be noticed and someone will come for us.”

“Great plan. You’re gonna be first on the menu when we run out of food, not to speak of when we run out of air.” The very thought of this being my grave sends shivers down my spine.

Walter pats my shoulder, “Don’t be so pessimistic. Let’s split the difference. We’ll head back to the train and we’ll check that tunnel on our way,” Walter looks to his handler for confirmation, “Worst case, we’re a little hungrier at suppertime, eh?”

Sidhion just looks dire but he must have signaled some confirmation to Walter. “Fine.”

We turn around and begin walking. The other tunnel is about ten minutes back. We walk in grim silence. I take up the rear again and am the last to step into the unexplored tunnel. We find it isn’t a tunnel at all. This is some sort of living quarters? The room is spacious and brimming with empty beds. All save for one are plain mattresses on simple frames. The odd bed, the one at the end truly shocks me.

This bed is outfitted with a pillow and blanket. The cloth is pulled high over.. Something. The blanket rises and falls slowly as the something breathes steadily. Walter, Sidhion, and I exchange worried looks.

I point at Walter and mouth the word, "You," then point at the occupied bed. Walter looks taken aback at my order. His eyebrows furrow in non-comprehension. I lean in close and whisper to Walter so as not to wake the something.

"You wake it up and see if it's friendly. I have magic. I can cover you from a distance." I reach into the breast pocket of my vest and withdraw my arcane focus. It is a tiny golden hand mirror on a chain.

Walter gives a worried look to Sidhion who just nods. He sighs and rests his hand on the hilt of his sword. He slowly approaches the sleeping figure, assessing his options. He settles on gently nudging a spot near the pillow. "Hello?"

"My shift doesn't start for ten more minutes." The voice is breathy and hollow.

"Uh.. Mister? Or miss? I need ya to get up." Walter gently shakes what might be a shoulder.

The person groans and shifts in response. Two arms extend from beneath the blanket and stretch their full length. They are shorter than I expected. Then this person sits up, groggily. They are a dwarf, dressed plainly as a miner might be. Their feet swing off the bed to reveal the massive boots they are wearing. Murky eyes peer out from behind a long, brown beard and regard us with faint nonrecognition. "Who are you?"

"The name's Walter. My two pals back there are Sidhion and Owen. We're ahh.. Not where we're supposed to be."

"And how!" The dwarf hops to their feet. "Interuptin' my break because you wandered onto a work site."

"My apologies." Walter has resumed his chipper demeanor. "You're the only person we've found down here."

The dwarf spits on the ground to their side, "Lazy sods, all of 'em."

"We were hoping you could help us get out."

The dwarf points to the door. "Out that way. Turn right, follow the guide rope. Now if you'll excuse me.."

"We came from that way. There's a cave-in."

Now the dwarf's face contorts in an odd way. It's like Walter's words have struck a nerve. They shake their head and recover. "No. I would have heard a cave-in. I used that tunnel not an hour ago. You say it's blocked?"

"Yes. Blocked."

"Show me. If we're stuck down here, I'm your best shot at stayin' alive. I know these tunnels like I dug 'em." The dwarf grabs a mining helmet off of a side table and plops it on their head. "Name's Sandra by-the-by."

Sandra walks toward the door. For the first time she steps into the soft glow of my lantern. I feel my heart drop into my stomach when I realize. I can see through her. My mouth is agape and words fail me. I look at Sidhion. He's as shocked as I am. There's nothing for it. We wordlessly follow Sandra.

This time, I pay close attention to my watch. I am anxious for Sandra to find us an alternative exit. It's hard to tell when exactly we'll reach the cave-in. But I know it was ten minutes back. 11 minutes pass. Then 15. 20. Something's wrong here. But how could we be lost? There weren't any forks.

"How far down was this cave in?" Sandra has noticed the inconsistency. Suspicion is creeping into her voice.

"Hard to say. Not like we measured it." Walter appears to not have noticed Sandra's translucency.

"Maybe see a doctor when you get to the surface. Stray gasses can mess with your mind. And we got some of the best doctors in the country, bar none." Sandra seems relieved, if anything.

Sidhion almost looks like he wants to say something but Sandra continues. "In any case, my break is long over. I'll show you the way out. Can't be having civilians on a work site or the foreman'll have my ass."

The four of us walk in relative silence, following the guide rope as it stretches to freedom. The man-made tunnels give way again to natural formations. Sandra stops when we reach a particularly spacious cavern. A look of dread crawls across her face.

"I think.. I think you ought to go on without me."

"Wait, you said you'd take us to the surface," I exclaim with a tinge of panic. We’re past the cave-in but only because Sandra’s presence somehow let us pass through. I can’t trust that there won't be another.

Sandra lashes back in anger. "It ain't my job to babysit grown men. You already lied about that cave-in. The least you could do is stop bothering me and follow the damn guide rope."

“One second here.” Walter gets to one knee beside Sandra and looks her straight in the eye. "You can't leave, can ya?"

Sandra's eyes well with tears when she meets Walter's gaze. She shakes her head slowly. Walter nods.

"You don't worry about us. You did a good thing. You can go back to bed now."

"Wait just a darn minute. We need her. She's our ticket out of here!"

Sidhion grabs my shoulder, "Stop. We can manage on our own."

"Are you kidding? There could be a million more cave-ins further ahead."

Sandra looks up at the three of us. A single tear streams down her cheek. "No.. No there aren't any more. I didn't.. I mean.. I know there aren't more."

"What does that mean?"

"Please. Just go." Sandra's body and voice begin to fade. "I've done enough."

When she is gone, the three of us exchange worried looks.

"What did she mean by that?"

Walter just shrugs at me.

"Come on. We can figure it out once we get to town." Sidhion takes up the lead again and follows the guide rope toward freedom.

Soon we round a corner and all at once our hearts are set alight. At first all we can see is a small point of light far ahead of us. Walter cheers and breaks into a full sprint. He pushes past Sidhion who is too giddy to admonish him. The three of us sprint toward the exit, gasping for the fresh outdoor air. I’ve never been more relieved to see the sky. The sun hangs low on the horizon and paints the sky a luminous orange hue.

The cave let us out at an overlook from which we can see our destination laid bare before us. The land is swaddled by the mountain from which we came. A swathe of forest below us gives way to perfectly square fields of wheat, potatoes and pastures. Beyond that lies the town itself with its buildings all done in wood and stonework. Hardly a single roof is thatched, favoring instead more modern shingles and tiled options. The maze of buildings stretch all the way to the coastline where sails dance and sway in the wind.

This beautiful sight is our final destination, Two Rocks.

You can find story with these keywords: Fresh Cut Rose, Read Fresh Cut Rose, Fresh Cut Rose novel, Fresh Cut Rose book, Fresh Cut Rose story, Fresh Cut Rose full, Fresh Cut Rose Latest Chapter