Thorgar's Arc

Chapter 13 of 13

The boat drifted under the ledge. Kjell scraped the last spark from his coins, and Thorgar looked up. The gold sat high on the stone, well above his reach. Water still climbed the tunnel walls. It had risen a hand's width since the beast died. Thorgar measured the gap with his eyes. No handhold. No ledge below it. And the roof came down toward them. "We can't reach it," said Harek. He held the tiller and watched the waterline. "And the water beats us. Soon it fills the cave." He wasted no words. He never did. Thorgar knew what he meant. Reach the gold or drown, and no time for both. Gunnar pressed a palm to the rock beside the ledge. He rapped it twice with his knuckles and listened. Thirty years at a forge had taught him to hear metal and stone. "Cracks here," he said. "The face is loose. Rotten." He struck it harder. A chunk broke free and splashed. "It won't hold a rope. But it might come down." Thorgar understood. He could not climb to the gold. So he would bring the gold to him. He gripped his one remaining axe. The other lay in the deep with the beast. He set his boots wide in the tipping boat and swung at the rock beneath the ledge. Steel bit stone. Chips flew. Gunnar caught his rhythm and drove his hammer beside him. Two dwarves, hammering the mountain, while the water rose past their knees. "Faster," Kjell said. He stood in the bow, throwing knives ready, watching the black water for another beast. "Roof's close." He did not shout it. He said it flat, and that was worse. The crack widened. Thorgar felt the ledge shift above him. He struck once more, low, at the last shelf of rock holding the gold. It gave. "Back!" he roared. Harek shoved the tiller. The boat slid clear as the ledge broke loose. Stone crashed down. Gold rained with it, coins and cups and chains, hammering the hull and the water. The boat rocked hard and near swamped. Thorgar dropped his axe and grabbed with both hands. He hauled dripping fistfuls over the side. Gunnar bailed and scooped. Kjell dragged a chain thick as his wrist across the bench. The rockfall settled. The water was black and choked with dust. Thorgar sat in a boat half full of gold and half full of sea. It was not all of the hoard. Much had sunk. But the benches gleamed with more wealth than any crew had hauled to Ironholt. Then he looked up. The rockfall had brought the roof lower. Where the tunnel opened ahead, the gap between water and stone had shrunk to less than a foot. And the tide still climbed. "Row," Harek said. "Now. Or we're sealed in with it."