She Drinks

- There is no violence, mature content, language, gore, or monsters. It's just a little disturbing. I'm getting back into writing, and may tell more of this story eventually. Who knows lol - 

Seventeen days since she last saw the sky. She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to steady the shivering in her left leg. Maybe it was from the lack of water or the unexpected heat of these tunnels. It had been like this since she passed the third marker two days ago, and lately, it seemed to be getting worse. And the dizziness. That made her nervous. Pressing her head against the cool stone walls helped a little, so she stopped every few hours. Whenever she’d get back on course, she found herself muttering a raspy thanks to Kyanos for the map that woman had given her. The woman said it would get her as far as she needed to go. Without it, she surely would have gotten lost in all the identical black rock. It didn’t help that every tunnel was barely three spans across. The worst one she’d found had narrowed to barely one and a half across and five tall. She’d for once been thankful she hadn’t eaten much, and barely slipped through.

If the map was right (Praise be to the Rider) she should make it to the reservoirs in the next day. If not… Aminta didn’t like to think about that. She glanced at the leather bag strapped to her belt and pursed her lips. She didn’t like having it bouncing against her hip as she walked. Frankly, she didn’t like having it within five spans of herself. She didn’t like a lot of things about this arrangement. But it paid enough to have her and her father out of the slums for good. That was more incentive than she needed to ignore the hollow feeling in her chest whenever she thought about what the contents of that bag could be.

She shook off her apprehension and pressed on. After walking for about half a day, the tunnels widened into increasingly large caverns. Stalagmites littered the floor, some only as tall as her thigh, and others towering into the gloom at the top of the caverns. The caverns of the latter looked like they never stopped rising. They have to stop somewhere, she thought. Otherwise, I’d be able to see the sky. She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat at that thought. Now was not the time to develop claustrophobia.

After hitting the caverns, she made quick progress. The map led her true, and soon the walls narrowed until she was walking down another tunnel. It was a comfortable size, five spans across and six spans high. Not too cramped. After about an hour of walking in the same tunnel, she began to notice a gentle dripping noise echoing from up ahead. It must be the reservoirs! A surge of energy pushed her into a run, her heart racing at the prospect of being halfway done, and the promise of water. A flash of light danced on the ceiling of the tunnel in front of her. She raced towards it, skidding to a halt where the tunnel ended. Aminta frowned.

The mouth of the tunnel opened, not into a cavern or larger area, but into air. The stone at her feet ended, and a perfectly circular hole burrowed into the ground, maybe ten feet across. She stuck her head out of the hole where the tunnel ended, curious about where the light was coming from. The hole continued upwards, cylindrically. She felt prickling tears in her eyes at the sight of daylight. She’d be out soon!

A splash startled Aminta from below. She glanced down and found ripples playing along water twenty feet below her. She ran her tongue along the cracked surface of her lips and swallowed. It was too far to reach. Clenching her jaw, she pulled a deep breath in through her nose, pushing down the rising panic in her chest.

This is fine. You can handle the journey back without water. You’ve held out longer before.

Her heart slowly eased back into a calmer rhythm and she slid to sit on the cool stone floor. Yes. This is nothing. These tunnels have nothing on the chokingly humid mine shafts at home. There are no floods here.

Aminta eyed the water’s surface, biting her lips. She winced at the taste of iron, fingers coming away red from the split skin. She wiped them off on her trousers, fidgeting with her favorite patch. It was faded now, but when her father had first mended these, that swath of fabric was a dusty blue speckled with roses. She smiled at the memory.

Her father’s glasses glinted in the dim glow of their rented lamp. It was boiling in their room, but his legs were covered with the same cotton sheet they always were, no matter the season. Not that the seasons changed much. Her eyes were glued to his hands, fluid and flashing, moving the needle and string faster than a fish in a stream. She wasn’t sure where she got that metaphor from; she’d never seen a fish. Or a stream. But she supposed her father would talk about them, and how much fun he had catching them as a child in Katres. Katres. When he talked about his homeland, it sounded so wild and beautiful and full of life, so different from the endless desert and rusted city they lived in now.

Aminta curled her hands into fists. When she got home, they wouldn’t just leave the slums. She’d take her father back to Katres. They’d sneak out of the city at night, and bribe a caravan to bring them along. She could work as a guard, and he could mend clothes. Things would be better there, no matter what everyone said about the Underdwelling.

A sharp pain brought her back into reality. Her lip had started bleeding again. She glanced down the hole again, eager to start her journey home. Aminta unclipped the leather pouch from her belt, grimacing. All the way here, she’d never once been tempted to open the little bag and she wasn’t any more eager to try now. But what must be done, must be done.

She loosed the tie and dumped the contents of the bag into her palm. A single pearl rolled out. She blinked and held it up to the light between her finger and thumb. It was completely smooth, perfectly spherical, and reflected a bright, rich light onto her sallow skin. It was, in all explainable ways, extremely beautiful. Aminta felt sick.

She dropped it back into the pouch, setting it on the ground in front of her. She had the inexplicable urge to scrub her hands clean of the thing. It glimmered in her mind’s eye, taunting her. Bile rose in her throat, and she bent over, knees pressing into the rock. She tried to retch, but her stomach was empty, and her exhausted muscles wouldn’t comply. She curled into a ball, her back against the tunnel wall, eyes boring into the tiny bump in the pouch. What she had to do was simple enough, but every cell in her body was screaming for her to just leave it there and go home. There was no way the woman would know she hadn’t completed her whole task.

No. That woman had ways of knowing things that made Aminta’s skin crawl. She couldn’t risk it. She swallowed, feeling sweat bead on her forehead. She forced herself to pick up the leather pouch, pour the pearl into her palm, and walk to the edge of the tunnel.

She peered into the shining black water. She held her hand out over empty space. A tear rolled down her sunken cheek. Aminta opened her hand, palm down and released the pearl. A tiny plop told her it was in the water. She spun away from the edge, not bothering to see where it had fallen.

Aminta ran. She snatched up her satchel, leaving the pouch on the ground, and raced back down the tunnel. Her shoes slapped against the ground, echoes bouncing off the walls as she went. She ran and ran until she felt a larger mass of air on her face. She bent over, breathing hard. After a few minutes of recuperation, she opened her eyes and looked around her. She was back in the last cavern, stalagmites standing tall to welcome her. She pushed air out of her nose, attempting a laugh. The worst was over. All she had to do now was walk.

She looked around the chamber, spotting four or five tunnels to other caverns. Which one was it again? Aminta reached into her satchel to grab the map, thankful for her innate ability to see in extremely dim light. She blinked. What?

She turned the map over. Blank. Both sides are blank. She turned it again. That’s not possible. It can’t be blank.

Blank.

It’s blank.

Aminta reached into her satchel again. Did I grab the wrong parchment? No. I only brought the map, the pouch, a bit of water, and a little food.

“This map will get you where you need to be.” The woman’s voice echoed in her mind, reverberating against her skull until she thought her head might split.

“No. NO.” Her voice shattered the pressing silence of the cavern, grating on her ears.

“No.” This wasn’t real, this wasn’t happening. Any moment now I’ll wake up. I’m dreaming. I’m back in the first cavern resting. This is a nightmare. It’s all okay.

She threw her satchel down, running from each tunnel to the next, eyes raking over every inch of stone. What can I remember, which tunnel is it? Aminta ran for hours, for days, for months, it felt like. If I can just remember.

Aminta ran. Aminta cried. Aminta screamed. She raged. Aminta traced every path. Aminta got lost. She found the cavern again. Aminta slept. Aminta cried. Aminta sang. Aminta ripped her nailbeds on the walls. Aminta screamed. Aminta slept. Aminta slept. Aminta slept.

The girl was so thirsty. She used to be tired. She used to be hungry. She used to cry. The girl is thirsty.

She goes to the water. She looks up and sees the light. She sings. She smiles.

She drinks.