4. The Slumbering God

CASCADE

CHAPTER 4

Cascade wanted to comfort the young man. He knew he'd come to at some point during the night. He had even fought against his restraints for quite some time. It had made dragging the sled he was bound to difficult. But after a while, he'd tired himself out and settled down. He grew quiet and still once more.

Harlak had set the fires the night prior against his father's orders. They'd even been forced to retreat in disarray as the flames spread out of control, consuming most of the village. Cascade had been furious at his uncle's wanton cruelty, and in protest, he'd done the only thing he could to make things right: he'd saved the man his uncle had meant to leave for dead amongst the flames.

The sled was heavy, but the grassland here was flat and even. Daunting mountains loomed on the horizon, promising both an increase in the strain of his effort and the hope of home. Cascade knew the journey ahead would be arduous, filled with unknown challenges, but he was determined to face them. He glanced uneasily at his unwilling passenger. The man was still, but he could hear him sobbing faintly again. He was clenching and unclenching his bound hands. It pained Cascade to see his distress, so he avoided looking at it.

Ahead, the few dozen who had escaped the failed raid dragged similarly masked burdens. His father led the way. They hadn't spoken once throughout the long night. It was dawn by the time his father came to a stop.

"We will rest here!" he bellowed.

There were grunts of relief as they came to a halt.

"Feed your captives and treat them with honor," the chief boomed.

Cascade gently set his sled-bound passenger down and carefully removed his mask.

The man's eyes were crazed and bloodshot. He flinched fearfully as Cascade leaned in to check the wound on his head. To his relief, it had stopped bleeding. He could tell the man was trying to get his bearings. They'd traveled many miles in the dark, zigzagging this way and that. The plan was to disorient the captives so thoroughly that they couldn't find their way back home even if they wanted to. That, like so much of this, had been Cascade's design. He could tell by the confused look on his captive's face that it was working as intended.

"You're alright. Easy now," Cascade soothed.

His captive stared at him fearfully.

"Here, have some water," Cascade said.

He offered his skin to the man, pulling out the bone stopper and drinking a swig to show him it was as advertised. His prisoner looked at him uncertainly, then tilted his head back and parted his lips. Cascade gave him a thin smile and tried to pour the water as accurately as he could into the man's mouth.

"See, just water," he murmured.

The man drank greedily, and the water spilled and splashed across his broad lips as he gave in to his thirst. Cascade used a bit of it to wash away some of the blood that had dried and cracked on his face, though he didn't seem to appreciate that. Then, Cascade set his leather pack down on the ground and unclasped the toggle. He removed a bit of dried fish and apple he'd brought from home.

"I'm sorry about all of this," he said in a low voice, not wanting the others to hear his apology.

"Where are you taking us?" the stranger demanded weakly.

"To Mountainhome," Cascade replied. "Just follow orders, and you'll be returned to your tribe when this is over. I promise."

The man said nothing.

"Here, have some food. You must be hungry. My name is Cascade, by the way."

Cascade cautiously ripped off a hunk of meat and attempted to offer it to the man.

One of his tribemates had lost a finger to his own captive doing this exercise. He'd watched it happen a few nights ago. Feeding them was meant to build trust. After all, they'd need to learn to depend on each other when the fight against the Wolves finally broke out. The notion of this strange man ripping the flesh from his bones made Cascade shiver. But from what he could see, the man's eyes were fearful, not aggressive. Cascade sighed, then took a bite of the jerky before offering it to his captive.

"I swear I will not harm you," Cascade implored.

"Then release me. Let me go!" His captive groaned, wriggling against his restraints.

"I'm afraid I can't. Eat. And save your strength. You're going to need it."

Cascade presented the jerky again as he had the water, but the man still refused. He turned his head away and closed his eyes.

"You'll have to eat eventually," Cascade warned.

He took another bite of the meat. It was salty and chewy, and the crackle of the scales and crispiness of the skin were a welcome reprieve from the hard labor of towing the sled. Cascade's stomach rumbled as he began to fill it with salmon and apple, and his thoughts gained clarity as his strength returned. He looked at his miserable companion, who was still facing away from him, eyes still firmly closed.

"Your friend is alright, by the way—the woman you were calling for back in your village. Aiel, is that her name?" Cascade asked.

The man grew still.

"She will be treated with as much care as I treat you," Cascade promised.

But he knew that wouldn't be the case. Harlak had claimed her. Even now, beyond his captive's line of sight, Cascade saw that his uncle was getting far too comfortable with his newest conquest. He winced.

"Look, we've got a long journey ahead. I really would like you to eat something. I'm sorry my uncle struck you. I… I know it seems impossible, but I don't mean you the harm you imagine. You will be treated with the same dignity as any member of our tribe while you stay with us."

To Cascade's great relief, the man finally turned his head to him and opened his eyes. He looked at the meat in Cascade's dirty hand like it was the furthest thing from food he could imagine. But then his lips parted, and Cascade cautiously placed the salmon into his mouth. The two locked eyes. To his surprise, Cascade found his heart was beating rapidly—not just from the danger of having his finger so close to one of the man's remaining hazards. It was a relief to see him eat, though. Feeding him was the least Cascade imagined he could do after what he'd been forced to put him through already.

"My name is Entin," the captive finally said when he was done chewing.

"It is an honor to meet you, Entin," Cascade obliged.

He took another bite himself, then fed Entin some apple. To his relief, the man was more willing to accept the nourishment this time. But suddenly, none of that mattered. The ground began to rumble, and the slice of dried fruit fell out of Cascade's grasp as the shaking grew increasingly violent. He watched, consumed by animal panic, as trees in the distance swayed this way and that. Some even toppled to the ground. Cascade found it impossible to keep himself upright. Though seated, he was forced to steady himself with both hands to avoid losing his balance entirely. Nearby, one of the other captives cried out. Cascade instinctively held on to Entin's bound hand as the rumbling continued.

After a time, though, the trembling subsided as abruptly as it had begun. Cascade realized he had been squeezing Entin's hand far harder than he meant to and quickly and embarrassedly let it go. An uneasy silence spread across the meadow they had bedded down in. Even the animals and birds had fallen quiet. An eerie, awed silence lingered for some time.

"Perhaps the gods are gathering to punish you for your sins," Entin said after a while.

Cascade had nothing to say to that. He didn't believe in the gods. Though, he'd never felt the earth shake before. The thought of being judged for what they'd done unsettled him, and he did his best to dismiss the notion.

He hadn't managed to sleep much during their break, partly because of the rumbling of the earth and partly because his captive seemed unable to sleep either. Every time Cascade had closed his eyes, he'd heard him straining and grunting against his bindings. Occasionally, Entin would whimper in frustration or discomfort. It took every ounce of Cascade's willpower not to cut him free and relieve him of his suffering.

By now, they'd traveled many hours since that break. The sun was low in the sky behind them, casting growing shadows as they finally dragged their captives out of the grasslands and into the mountains.

"You know, this would be easier for both of us if you just let me walk," Entin complained.

His voice was muffled from the mask.

"You need to understand," Cascade huffed, "if you speak to me like that and the others hear you, I'll be forced to punish you."

He heaved the sled up a particularly steep incline, wondering how all the others seemed to manage more effortlessly than he. He'd fallen behind and was struggling to close the distance between himself and the rest.

As they ascended the hills, the trees grew taller and more numerous. The landscape here was severe—high, rock-faced peaks arced up all around them. The path had narrowed, and they had been forced to travel single file for some time. Up and up and up they'd climbed, until they reached the cliffside pass he'd dreaded all day.

"The section ahead is treacherous. I must ask you to remain as still as possible, for both our sakes," Cascade said.

"Was the section before this part safe? I must have misunderstood my situation," Entin muttered.

But to Cascade's relief, Entin quieted his near-constant protestations. The trees thinned as he dragged the sled toward the narrow traverse. This section had given him pause when they'd passed through it before. Now, hauling the sled, he feared he might stumble and fall down the steep embankment.

To one side, the slope fell away for a bit and then abruptly ended in a sheer cliff. On the other, it was a vertical rockface that towered above him. Hundreds of feet below, the tops of pine trees carpeted a vast mountain valley. The hillside around him was rocky and covered in a scree field of granite shards. The trail across it was barely wide enough for a person to transit. Cascade knew pulling the sled across it now would be hard, nail-biting work. He removed Entin's mask, deciding they'd traveled far enough that it was unnecessary.

Encouragingly, nearly all the tribe had made it across without issue. Cascade could see them passing back into the forest on the far side. He set down his sled for a moment and wiped his forehead. Still on the traverse, he could see Harlak, the second-to-last of their convoy. He was dragging Aiel along unceremoniously and was already nearly halfway across the most treacherous section of the span. At the far end, his father had set down his charge and was resting against the cliff face.

"You've got to be kidding me," Entin groaned.

Cascade looked to him and noticed he was staring down the steep embankment.

"Don't worry. I'll get you safely across," Cascade assured him.

"Can't you just let me walk? I'm not going anywhere. I don't even know where we are. Just. Let. Me. Out," Entin grunted.

With each of the last four words, he yanked at his restraints. The effort caused his sled to hop perilously close to the cliff edge.

"Stop! You'll hurt yourself!" Cascade grabbed the sled and recentered it on the path.

Entin began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Cascade asked, confused.

But he'd never get his answer. The ground began to shake for the second time that day. And this time, imagining that the slumbering gods were awakening felt unsettling. The loose pebbles Cascade was standing on began to clack against one another faster and faster as the shaking increased. The sled's handles became impossible to hold on to, and he inadvertently dropped Entin.

"Bastard!" Entin hissed.

But Cascade didn't have time to apologize. He lost his traction with his left foot and began to slide down the hillside toward the cliff. He floundered but grasped an exposed root and began to haul himself toward Entin. Cascade heaved himself back onto the trail and hurriedly dragged himself and Entin against the cliffs. Entin's eyes were wide with fear once more, and his lips were pursed together in a tight grimace as though he were holding in a scream, but he looked alright otherwise.

"Look. I'm going to cut you free. Please, don't make me regret it," Cascade said through gritted teeth.

His teeth chattered from the ongoing vibrations. He pulled his cutting stone from his leathers and made to free Entin, but a shriek from out on the ledge interrupted him. His uncle, Harlak, had abandoned his sled and was racing toward the safety of the far side. His charge, Aiel, was shrieking as a torrent of small pebbles began to rain down on her from above. The earthquake had finally reached its zenith, and far below in the valley, mighty trees crashed to the ground, uprooted by the tremors. Cascade watched helplessly as Aiel's sled began to slide off the trail.

He wanted to help her, but he feared that if he didn't hold on to Entin, the same thing would happen to him. He grimaced and watched as his cowardly uncle made it to safety. The rest of the tribe had departed the ledge and disappeared into the forest vale beyond.

To his relief, his father appeared near his uncle. The two began to scream at one another. There was some shoving and some indecipherable words shared between them, and then his father charged out to rescue Aiel. It was the natural thing for him to do. He had always been an honorable man. He pulled her back onto the path, and her shrieking finally subsided. Cascade felt tension release within him as he watched his father be the hero he'd always known him to be.

"What's going on? Is that Aiel screaming?" Entin cried over the noise of the quake.

"Nothing. Don't worry, your friend is safe. My father just rescued her," Cascade said.

But as he spoke, a massive chunk of the cliff began to tumble away from the mountain. It crashed down the cliffside, obliterating the pass he needed to traverse to join the others, leaving a ruinous scar of stone in its wake. The landslide grew wider every second. Entin finally let out the scream he'd been holding in.

Cascade scrambled to his feet and tugged the sled away from the growing rift. It spread wider and wider, boulders and mountainside continuing to slough off into the valley below. Then the earthquake ended abruptly, and the only vibrations now came from the landslide itself.

Cascade dragged Entin toward the dubious safety of his side of the traverse and watched helplessly as his father and uncle resumed their conflict. There was more shoving. A punch was thrown. And then, to Cascade's horror, Harlak drew a stone blade from his leathers and stabbed his father in the neck. Even from this distance, Cascade could see the crimson fountain of blood erupting from the wound.

"Father!" he cried out.

He was forced to watch, helpless, as his uncle shoved his father's staggering body off the trail and down the slope, where the tumult of boulders and debris quickly swept it over the cliff's edge and buried it from sight. Cascade stared in abject horror as his father disappeared. Then he looked to his uncle and Aiel, and he knew that Harlak must have seen him. He wasn't near enough to make out the expression on his face nor hear whatever he might or might not have said. The path between them was severed. And so was any blood that bound them.

Cascade watched in numb shock as his usurper uncle turned from him. He heaved Aiel's sled up and continued into the woods without a second glance his way—no doubt planning on telling the rest of the tribe that he and his father had died together in the landslide. If anyone journeyed to the base of that cliff to find his body, that was likely the conclusion they'd draw. Cascade's way home was gone—if he could still call the caves home after what he'd just witnessed. He looked down dumbstruck at his captive, who he noted had soiled himself in the pandemonium.

"What is it? What happened? By the gods, release me!" Entin cried.

"I… I…" But Cascade couldn't find his voice.

He stared at the cliff edge his father had tumbled over, then at the path that had been destroyed, and then at the distant woods the others had all disappeared into. Finally, he settled back to Entin. Cascade wordlessly drew his cutting stone from his waist and slashed the twine that bound him.

His prisoner was now freed, but he didn't move. Silence pooled out between them. The sounds of pebbles tumbling down the slope and the wind whistling through the nearby trees were all there was for some time. But then came a single, enormous boom. It was the loudest sound Cascade had ever heard. The noise was deep and resonant. Much like the drums had been—only deafening and very, very wrong. Cascade searched the direction the disturbance had come from for its source.

On the horizon, the tallest peak of Mountainhome had begun to smoke like a bonfire. A thin wisp of black curled from its tip and drifted lazily across the horizon. Cascade watched, transfixed, as the familiar mountain—the most sacred of all the peaks in his people's valley—did something he'd never seen any mountain do before: it came alive. It was as though the great, immovable mass was stirring awake before his very eyes. In his growing unease, the superstitions he had always dismissed so readily began to grasp at him with renewed purpose.

The only thought he could form was that Entin might be right after all: perhaps the gods really were judging them for their sins. Without looking away from the smoking mountain, he handed Entin his cutting stone—willing that if fate didn't compel the man to take his life, Cascade would spend the rest of it seeking vengeance for his father.