the Thinkers pointedly before turning away and leading the army into the enormous space.
Reivan looked at Hitte and the reason for Imenja’s meaningful glance became clear. His forehead was creased with worry. As she watched, the Thinkers moved away from the line of people entering the cavern and began talking in hushed tones.
She moved closer and managed to catch enough words to confirm her suspicions. Hitte didn’t know where he was. He had thought to avoid further traps by entering natural tunnels, where interference by a saboteur ought to be more obvious, but the tunnels hadn’t joined with manmade ways again as he’d hoped. He feared they were now lost.
Reivan sighed and moved away. If she heard any more she might say something she’d regret. Winding her way through the formations, she found that the cavern was even larger than it first appeared. The sounds of the gathering army faded behind her as she made her way between the columns, climbing over uneven ground and wading through puddles. Imenja’s light cast all into either brightness or inky shadows. In one place the floor widened and pools had formed curved terraces. Reivan took note of openings that might be tunnels.
While examining one of these a low, wordless sound came from somewhere behind her. She froze and cast about, wondering if someone had followed her. The voice grew louder and more urgent, turning into an angry moaning. Was it the trap-layer? A local out for revenge—unable to attack an army but not afraid to deal justice out to an individual? She found herself panting with fear, wishing desperately that she hadn’t left the army or that her magical Skills weren’t so small she could barely make one tiny, pathetic spark.
If someone had followed her with ill intentions, however, they wouldn’t announce their presence by moaning loudly. She forced her breathing to slow. If this wasn’t a voice, what was it?
As the answer came, she laughed aloud at her own foolishness.
The wind. It is vibrating through these tunnels like breath through a pipe.
Now that she was paying attention, she could detect a stirring of air. She stooped to wet her hands in a pool, then moved toward the sound, holding her hands out before her. A breeze chilled her wet skin, leading her to a large opening at one side of the cavern where it became a stronger current of air.
Smiling to herself, she started back toward the army.
She was surprised to find she had wandered a long way. By the time she reached the army all five sections had arrived and were crowding about the formations. Something was wrong, however. Instead of wonder and amazement, their faces were tight with fear. For such a large garnering of people, they were too quiet.
Had the Thinkers let slip their situation? Or had the Voices decided to tell the army that they were lost? As Reivan drew near, she saw the four Voices standing up on a ledge. They seemed as calm and confident as they always did. Imenja looked down and met Reivan’s eyes.
Then the moaning sound came again. It was fainter here and harder to distinguish as wind. Reivan heard gasps and muttered prayers from the army and understood what had frightened the men and women so much. At the same time she saw Imenja’s mouth tighten with amusement.
“It is the Aggen! The monster!” someone exclaimed.
Reivan covered her mouth to hide a laugh and noted the other Thinkers smiling. The rest of the army appeared to give this idea credence, however. Men and women crowded together, some crying out in fear.
“We’ll be eaten!”
“We’ve entered its lair!”
She sighed. Everyone had heard the legend of the Aggen, a giant beast that was supposed to live under these mountains and eat anyone foolish enough to enter the mines. There were even carvings of it in the older mines with little offering alcoves below—as if something that big could be satisfied by an offering that would fit into such a small space.
Or survive at all. No creature as big as this Aggen could possibly live off the occasional foolish explorer. If it could, then it was a lot smaller than the legends claimed.
“People of the Gods.” Imenja’s voice rang out in the chamber and her words echoed into the distance as if chasing after the moaning.
“Do not fear. I sense no minds here other than our own. This noise is only the wind. It rushes through these caves like breath through a pipe—but not as tuneful,” she