The scent of mushrooms. Decaying leaves. A chill like a damp autumn night. Darkness he could only imagine if somehow moons and stars vanished forever.

Esmiel sat up on the mound of dirt that had broken his fall. His back ached. His knee throbbed. Yet mercifully he could move all his limbs.

Water dripped nearby. A whistle resounded, akin to wind passing through a drafty window during a storm.

He wanted to call out. Were the others down here? Had they made it uninjured? Was Īberenth okay? He feared any sound would alert Carliss to his exact whereabouts. She might know of another way down. She might be able to see in the dark. He had no idea.

He cautiously rose to his feet, with subtle movements, stopping the moment he felt he was going to lose his balance.

How could he navigate through blackness? He would have to feel his way along, one careful step at a time. But toward what? To what end?

Carliss. Who was she? Why would she reveal her name? Was it supposed to have some meaning to Esmiel? How could she talk about safety when she had an army of demons and a hulking goon with chains?

How did this all happen? How did he end up here?

He couldn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry. Just as he defied his grandmother, who was always waiting for him to break down in the face of her insults. And her slaps.

Hum softly, Esmiel. He tapped his chest in the exact spot his mother told him she would always inhabit.

Instinct told him to follow the sound of the dripping water. It meant an opening somewhere. Maybe. At least it was a destination. Something tangible. He knelt down, and reached out. He felt stones arranged in a pattern. A pathway? Or a cobbled street? How could it be, down here, beneath a cave? He dropped to his hands, and crawled forward. His shoulder banged into something hard. He brushed it with his fingers. A rough surface, but not rock. Something with an edge. A wall, or a corner of a structure. A pedestal, perhaps. Carved or hewn.

He crawled another few feet.

A squeeze of his right arm. Nails pressing in.

Esmiel gasped. His body shuddered. He jerked away. All so fast, so reflexive. Only when he heard the voice did he seem back in control of his body.

“Sh. It’s Amelme.”

Esmiel bowed his head. He sighed in relief. His heart stopped pounding.

“Tobiah found light,” Amelme whispered.

Esmiel caught his breath. “I thought I lost all of you.”

“We were afraid we lost you.”

“Is Īberenth—”

“Bruised. But nothing broken.”

“Where are we?”

“It looks like…a kind of city,” Amelme said. “Come on. Follow behind me. Use the walls on your right to guide you along.”

*   *   *

Beams of sunlight shone down from above a large hole above. Īberenth sat cross-legged on the ground, Nicolai on his knees behind his brother. Tobiah paced back and forth, deep in thought.

The twins smiled upon seeing Esmiel and Amelme emerge from the dark passageway.

A stone sphere, chipped in several spots, rested on a pedestal adorned with sculpted leaves and branches. Surrounding this were four buildings. They were possibly temples of some kind, with ornate columns and gilded doors.

Esmiel stared up at the hole in the ceiling. Too uniform in shape, he thought, to be natural. Someone must have carved it out.

“We heard you jump,” Nicolai said. “Are you all right?”

“Sh! Keep your voices down,” Tobiah whispered. “Amelme, can you read these words over here, too?”

“Amelme’s deciphering,” Īberenth said, pressing his right arm into his chest, in obvious discomfort.

“Sh!”

“I whispered, Tobiah!” Īberenth said, not whispering.

Amelme circled the pedestal, furtively studying each of the pediments of the temples. “The word is similar to ‘deity’ but not exactly. Maybe a…I don’t know. A sub-deity? But there are four.” He pointed to each of the temple pediments in turn. “This one says Astah. Protector. This one Honarth. Nurturer. Over there, Eriki. Enslaver. And this forth one, Carliss. Destroyer.”

Esmiel drew a sharp breath at the exact moment Amelme said, “Eriki! The Erikian cult!”

“I know her!” Esmiel shouted. “I saw Carliss! She spoke to me!”

Tobiah threw up his arms. “Voices low, idiots!”

Īberenth moved the palm of his right hand toward the ground as he stared at Tobiah. “Low, low, low. I…am…using…my…lowwwwest voice.” He paused. “So what is this? A city square? A praryer site?”

“Two good, two evil, opposite each other,” Amelme said. “I…I can’t tell. The other words inscribed here…there’s nothing else I recognize.

“I saw Carliss!” Esmiel pressed.

“Stop yelling,” Tobiah pleaded.

Nicolai stood. “Where did you see this Carliss?”

“Stop,” Tobiah said. “No games. This is serious.”

“I’m not playing games! I’m not lying!”

“The cult must have come from this,” Amelme said, more to himself. “Eriki. The Erikian movement. But…I’ve never heard anything related to these other names.”

Fists clenched, Esmiel stepped forward. “Will someone believe me?”

Nicolai nodded. “I believe you.”

“Me too,” Īberenth said, glaring at Tobiah.

A general, marching in frustration, unsure of his next move was the image that came to Esmiel as he watched Tobiah.

“I don’t know what any of this is,” Tobiah said, “but I want out.”

“Maybe up there?” Nicolai suggested, pointing to the hole in the ceiling.

Tobiah shook his head. “Too high.”

“Not if we climb to the roof of one of these temples.”

“There’s light down there, Īberenth said, pointing to his right. “Coming in sideways instead of down. See the pattern on the ground?”

“Bringer of war,” Amelme said, walking from temple to temple. “Renaissance. Re…animate. No, populate. I’m recognizing the words on this side of the building.”

“I see it.” Tobiah stared at the beam of light on the ground. “It looks like a slit in a gate…or a big door. Just above that pile of rocks. See?”

“The women are carved in the door!” Amelme said.

They all glanced in the direction Amelme pointed. The sunlight moved across the figures of the sky and the water women, carved in perpendicular rows along the rope-tethered wooden slate comprising the door.

“Who built this?” Amelme asked. “Why here? Was it always underground like this I wonder?”

Tobiah jogged toward the door. He scrambled up the pile of rocks, knocking one to the ground as he slipped. He quickly regained his balance. He leaned over, and used his left hand to brace himself against the cracked wood. He used right hand to scrape out dirt above the frame of the door, where the light was filtering in. The light increased with each clump of dirt that fell to the ground.

Īberenth rose to his feet, guided by his brother’s helping hand. When he was stable, Nicolai walked over and drew Esmiel into a hug. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he said, softly.

The contact surprised Esmiel. People weren’t like this back home, especially toward an Enn Sarnthe. Shocking, yet comforting, this contact. Esmiel returned the hug.

“Freedom!” Tobiah’s voice, for the first time, revealed a hint of happiness. Light poured in from the hole he’d carved out, large enough for each of them to maneuver through.

Esmiel glanced about at the details the increased illumination now revealed. The temples were constructed from large blocks of gray stone with streaks of deep blue, and specks of pearl white. Smooth black stones in concentric circles radiated out from the base of the center pedestal.

Amelme slid an index finger along the letters chiseled into the columns. “I think it’s a story,” he said. “Begin…To begin with, there stood four….”

“Never mind!” Tobiah shouted. “Come on. We can all climb through this hole. I see blue sky and a field!”

“But this…this is part of my people’s heritage!” Amelme said. “My grandfather used this same dialect. And look, look! Two of our holidays are mentioned here!”

“Who cares?” Tobiah said. “I can’t get out of here fast enough.” He lifted himself up to the top-most rock, clawed into the soil at the base of the hole, and propelled himself forward. His form soon disappeared as thin streams of dirt rained down, twinkling in the sunlight.

“We’d better follow,” Īberenth said. “We don’t know how stable this place is. I don’t need to experience another collapse.”

Amelme wound his way around the columns. “I want to figure out this story.”

“That could take forever,” Īberenth said. He stepped over to the rock pile and studied the escape route. “You’d better go first, Nicolai. I might fall back on you.”

“I’ll catch you. Come on, Esmiel. You go before Īberenth. You’re smaller. I’ll help you up. Amelme, you can’t stay down here.”

So intense was Esmiel’s concentration as he scaled the rock that the conversation among Īberenth, Nicolai, and Amelme echoed in dream-like tones, indecipherably muffled and wavering in volume. The warmth of the sun, the scent of the grassy air, the breeze gently tossing his hair about did feel, to use Tobiah’s term, like freedom.

Esmiel rolled down a small hill after his feet had cleared the hole. He lay on his back. Soft brown blades of grass tickled his face. He smiled up at the sky, and moved his arms and legs back and forth, back and forth. His heart stopped racing. The scene reminded him of picnics with his parents, the secluded spots they often found on the hiking trails outside the village.

This sense of calm, this elation, vanished suddenly. He gasped, bolted upright, furious at himself for this elation. He was once again a target for the winged women. For Carliss. He scanned the sky. Thankfully, only a few puffy clouds drifted overhead. He searched the terrain. He spotted Tobiah atop a tree stump along the banks of a wide river.

Behind Esmiel, they emerged, one by one: Nicolai, Īberenth, then Amelme.

Īberenth brushed bits of mud from his shirt. “Now what?”

“Water. And food,” Nicolai said. “We need both. Soon.”

Esmiel outstretched his arm, to indicate the river. “The fish market is open.”

“I’d eat anything at this point,” Īberenth said, clutching his stomach. “I didn’t realize until now how hungry I am.”

“You hate fish,” Nicolai said.

“I’m starved. This is survival.”

“Forget fishing,” Tobiah said, pointing to his left. “Look!”

They all walked over to where Tobiah stood.

On the shore opposite them, gleaming in the sunlight, were the roofs buildings that comprised a port city.

“Civilization!” Īberenth shouted, performing his joyful dance once more.

“But how to get there,” Tobiah said. “That bay is too wide to swim across.”

“Not to mention we could get…scooped up…by one of those—”

“Don’t, Esmiel,” Nicolai pleaded. “Don’t say it. I was just started to forget all about those…creatures.”

Īberenth placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “He’s just being realistic.”

“Well, you know me. I’m all about fantasy.” Nicolai nudged Tobiah. “Right?”

Tobiah stepped to his right. “Don’t touch me.”

“I wonder,” Amelme said, “if we’re on an island, or a peninsula?”

“There’s nothing but sea,” Tobiah replied. “What do you think?”

“But that way,” Amelme said, gesturing to his left, “we can’t see how far the land goes. Maybe it connects. Or maybe there’s a bridge. We don’t know.”

“I know it’s quicker getting to other side from here. If we can just figure out a way.”

“Are you sure we can’t swim it?” Īberenth asked.

“I sure couldn’t make it,” Tobiah said. “And if I can’t, none of you stand a chance.

Īberenth clapped his hands. “We can build a raft. Just like they do in those mythology stories.”

Tobiah indicated the virtually treeless expanse before them. “With what, idiot? Grass? Rocks? Air?”

“Why are you so mean?”

“Never mind, Īberenth,” Nicolai said. “It’s his problem, not yours.”

“It’s all of our problem if you don’t start using your heads. Stupid suggestions, and wanting to stay in some buried city to read folk tales. If all of you want to get back home, you have to start thinking logically. Acting rationally. This isn’t play time.”

“I think I can swim over,” Nicolai said. “Īberenth and I could both do it.”

“I bet there’s a map, or some guide, back on those temple walls,” Amelme said.

Tobiah shook his head. “I think walking along the shore makes the most sense. Maybe this is a peninsula. Or if it’s an island, maybe it’s closer to the other side at a certain point.”

“Or farther away,” Īberenth said.

Esmiel studied the gleaming surface of the water. “I couldn’t make that swim. I know I couldn’t.”

Tobiah started walking. “I’m following the coast. The rest of you figure out what you want to do on your own.”

They stood silently as Tobiah’s form shrank off in the distance.

“Should we follow?” Esmiel asked.

“I’m going back to the temples,” Amelme said. “There must be something there that can help us.”

Esmiel fixated on the water. “Swimming is a bad idea. Please don’t try it.”

Nicolai sighed. He stared off in the direction that Tobiah headed. “Maybe we should split up. You and Esmiel could head back to the temples, and Īberenth and I can follow Tobiah.”

“How would we ever find each other again?” Esmiel asked.

“Leave Tobiah on his own,” Īberenth said. “Let’s all head back and see if Amelme can decipher something.”

Esmiel’s stomach tightened. “We can’t do that. We can’t leave Tobiah on his own.”

“Why not?” Īberenth said. “He’s been nothing but mean to us this entire time.”

“He carried me from the beach,” Amelme said. “Don’t forget that.”

Esmiel started along Tobiah’s path. “I’ll go. I’ll follow him. He’s…he’s from my home. I think we should stay together.” He hoped perhaps the others might follow. But they stayed in place. Esmiel stopped walking. He felt so torn. So confused.

“Stay with us, Esmiel,” Nicolai called out.

“But I’m scared!” He didn’t mean to say it. He didn’t want to sound so childish, so weak.

Nicolai approached him. He caressed Esmiel’s arm. “I’ll be scared for both of us again,” he whispered.