added with a smile. “There is no monster here but our own imagination. Think, instead, of the fresh air this wind brings. Rest and enjoy the marvel that surrounds you.”
The army had quietened. Now Reivan heard soldiers mimicking the noise or mocking those who had spoken their fears aloud. A Servant approached Reivan.
“Thinker Reivan? The Second Voice wishes to speak to you,” the man said.
Reivan felt her heart skip a beat. She hurried after the man. The other Voices regarded her with interest as she reached the ledge.
“Thinker Reivan,” Imenja said. “Have you discovered a way out?”
“Maybe. I have found a tunnel through which the wind is rushing. That wind may come from outside, but we will not know if the tunnel is passable until we explore.”
“Then explore it,” Imenja ordered. “Take two Servants with you. They will provide light and communicate to me if the tunnel proves useful.”
“I will, holy one,” Reivan replied. She traced the symbol of the gods over her chest, then moved away. Two Servants, a man and a woman, strode forward to meet her. She nodded to them politely before leading them away.
She found the tunnel again easily and entered it. The floor was uneven and they had to climb steep inclines in places. The moaning grew louder until the sound vibrated through her. The two Servants smelled of sweat though the wind was cold, but they said nothing of their fears. Their magical lights were perhaps a little too bright, but Reivan did not complain.
When the sound was at its most deafening she was dismayed to see the tunnel narrowed ahead. She waited for the wind to diminish, then moved sideways through the gap. The Servants stopped, looking uncertain.
The gap shrank until rock was pressing against Reivan’s chest and back. Ahead it curved into darkness.
“Can you bring that light in further?” Reivan called.
“You’ll have to guide me,” came the reply.
The little spark of light floated past Reivan’s head, then stopped.
“Where now?”
“A bit to the right,” she called back.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” the other Servant called. “What if you get stuck?”
“I’ll get unstuck,” she replied, hoping she was right. Don’t think about it. “Forward and a bit more to the right. That’s it… now left—not so fast.”
With the light near the end of the curve, she could see that the tunnel widened again. It might narrow later, but she wouldn’t know until she got there. She pushed on, felt the constriction ease, shuffled around the bend…
… and sighed with relief as she saw that the tunnel continued to widen ahead. Within a few steps she could stretch her arms out and not touch either side. Ahead, it turned to the right. Her surroundings were no longer illuminated by the Servant’s magical light, which was still within the narrow gap behind her, but by a faint light coming from beyond the turn. She hurried forward, nearly tripping over the uneven ground. As she reached the turn, she gasped with relief. The tunnel walls ended at a patch of green and gray.
Rock and trees. Outside.
Smiling, she walked back to where the tunnel narrowed and told the Servants what she had found.
Reivan watched as the army spilled out of the tunnel. As each man and woman emerged they paused to glance around, relief written in their faces, before starting along the narrow trail leading to the top of the ravine. So many had passed she had lost count of them.
Servants had widened the tunnel with magic. The White Forest, as Imenja had dubbed it, would no longer be haunted by moaning winds. It was a shame, but few in the army would have been able to wriggle through the narrow gap as Reivan had.
A team of slaves began to emerge. They looked as pleased to be out of the mines as the rest. At the end of this journey they would be freed and offered paid work. Serving in the war had earned them a reduced sentence. Even so, she doubted any of them would boast about their part in this failed attempt to defeat the Circlians.
Defeat is probably far from anyone’s minds right now, she mused. They’re just happy to see sunlight. Soon all they will be worrying about is getting across the desert.
“Thinker Reivan,” a familiar voice said from close by.
She jumped and turned to face Imenja.
“I’m sorry, holy one. I didn’t hear you approach.”
Imenja smiled. “Then I should apologize for sneaking up on you.” She looked at the slaves, but her