Thorgar's Arc

Chapter 11 of 13

The boat drifted into black water. The gap behind them had shrunk to a bright slit, then closed. No light reached here. Thorgar could not see his own axes. He heard water lapping stone on every side. Somewhere ahead, three tunnels split the dark, but he could not tell which one ran deeper toward the hoard. Choose wrong, and they would row into a dead pocket while the tide rose and drowned them all. "Tide's turned," Harek said from the tiller. He built this boat and sailed it through ice, and he did not soften bad news. "Water's climbing. We pick a passage now, or we sit here and fill up." Gunnar, the smith who read ice by ear, leaned over the side. He struck the hull with his knuckle and listened. He did it again, turning his head. "Three throats," he said. "Left one's tight. Sound comes back fast. Short cave." He listened again. "Right's the same. Middle's open. Water's got a long way to run in there." Thorgar could not see to trust his own eyes. He had to trust Gunnar's ears. "You're sure." "No," Gunnar said. "But the middle breathes. Feel it." Cold air pushed against Thorgar's face from straight ahead. It carried the old-meat smell, stronger now. Kjell stood in the bow. The monster-hunter had bet his own axe on this voyage, and his hand went to the teeth strung in his beard. "Middle," he said. "That's where it lives. That's where the gold is." He said it flat, like a fact he'd already paid for. Thorgar weighed it. A wrong turn stranded them. The right one led to the thing that stirred below. He took up the oar. "Middle. Row." Harek leaned the tiller. Kjell took the second oar. Thorgar drove his blade down and pulled. The boat slid into the center tunnel. The walls closed tight on both sides. He could reach out and drag his fingers along wet stone. The air kept moving out at them. That meant open space ahead. Gunnar had read it true. Then the oar knocked something below the surface. Not rock. It gave, then pushed back. Thorgar froze. Behind them, water surged up the tunnel with a low roar. The tide had come in fast, sealing the branch mouth. There was no rowing back now. The boat rocked. Something slid along the hull, heavy and long. Kjell drew a throwing knife by feel. "It's here," he said. Thorgar planted his boots and gripped both axes. He could not see it. But the tunnel had led them true, straight to the guardian and the hoard behind it. The water rose to the gunwale. The thing rose with it. "Light," Thorgar said. "We need light. Now."