RAVEN'S GAMBIT | Part 6: Blind Faith
The moans came first.
Then the coughing, followed by gasps and panicked voices in the clearing outside White Plume Mountain.
Group One, once thought comatose or worse, began to stir in the medics' tents hastily erected near the perimeter. Kale "Whisper" Stonemarch blinked against the light, his face taut with confusion and rage.
“What happened?” he rasped.
“You dropped like marionettes with cut strings,” said Thalia Emberbranch, her tone dry as usual. “If it weren’t for the Gynosphinx warning us, we’d still be guessing.”
As the warriors of Group One were debriefed by the more stable members of Group Two, emotions boiled over. Some were humiliated, others terrified. Varek punched a nearby tree until bark gave way to blood. Kael sat in stony silence, his jaw locked. No one liked feeling helpless—especially not elite warriors.
Meanwhile, as another hour passed with no word from Group Three, it was time for the the next group.
Group Four lit their torches at the edge of the stone stairwell, the shadows playing across their faces.
Leading them was Ranger Kaelen Thornstride, hood drawn low, pet hawk Needle perched dramatically on his shoulder.
“The forest doesn’t forget,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Following behind was Tavrix “Whisper” Malen, fingers twitching with eagerness and ego after rehearsing every riddle he'd ever read. Next was Veronica “Vee” Sinclair, effortlessly glamorous even in armor, adjusted the lapel of her custom cloak and pouted into a compact mirror. Next was Deputy Mercy Whitlock, calm-eyed and unspeaking, surveyed the group like a silent shepherd herding sheep through a storm. Then came Elowyn Mosswhisper, who whispered encouragement to a nearby lichen patch. Taking flank was Talen “Whisper” Marr, who hadn't spoken since breakfast and had only blinked once the entire day.
Together, they descended into the throat of the mountain.
Down the rusted spiral staircase they went, feet sloshing into a foot of tepid, algae-choked water. The air was heavy, as if the mountain held its breath around them. Once they were down the spiral staircase they walked two-by-two.
They reached the Gynosphinx Etrusca, who sat unmoved atop her throne of bones. Her golden eyes glared as if daring them to test her patience.
“Which path do you choose?” she growled.
Kaelen stepped forward, flanked by Tavrix. “Which path did our allies take?” he asked.
“That is irrelevant. Their choice was theirs. Yours is yours.”
Kaelen looked to the others. Quiet conference passed between glances and nods.
“We’ll take the west path,” he declared.
Etrusca’s wings shifted slightly as she intoned the riddle:
“I have a mouth but never speak. I have a bed but never sleep. I run smoother than any rhyme. I love to fall but cannot climb.”
Tavrix’s eyes lit up. “A river.”
The sphinx scowled. “You may pass.”
Group Four bowed politely and entered the western corridor, their torchlight flickering off glistening walls of lichen and damp stone.
Thirty feet in, the tranquility broke.
There was a splash—then silence. Kaelen and Tavrix vanished beneath the surface of the water. The hawk Needle screeched once, fluttering off Kaelen’s shoulder into the tunnel above.
“Kaelen?! Tavrix?!” Vee cried out, halting the others.
Their torch had gone with them. Darkness enveloped the corridor like a shroud.
“I hate this mountain,” Vee muttered.
In the rear, Talen whispered to no one, “Keep quiet. Wait for sound.” Then he crouched, rummaging in his soaked pack, trying to shield his flint and steel from the water. After a tense eternity, a spark caught, then flame. A single torch flared to life, casting light into the abyss.
Just in time.
Kaelen Thornstride burst from the water, dragging Tavrix with him. “Grab him!” he barked. Mercy and Elowyn lunged forward and helped pull Tavrix onto dry footing.
Both men gasped and shivered—but it was their eyes that alarmed everyone most.
Milky-white. Glazed and distant.
“I—my head hurts,” Tavrix whined, coughing up water. “And I can’t see…”
“Never admit weakness,” Kaelen snapped, spitting out another mouthful of murky water.
“You’re blind,” Vee said, kneeling beside them, checking for injury. “Both of you.”
Kaelen didn’t argue. His clenched jaw spoke for him.
“Then we return to camp,” Vee said flatly.
“No,” Kaelen growled, turning toward the pit. “We figure out how wide it is. Swim across if we must.”
Mercy finally spoke. “If more fall in, we’ll be blind and leaderless.”
“I’m already blind,” Kaelen replied. “Doesn’t change the mission.”
Tavrix whimpered quietly. Talen looked down into the murky black, then back toward the others.
“The trick isn’t crossing,” he said, voice low. “It’s doing it without losing anyone else.”
Vee stood and crossed her arms. “Great. Now the bird’s in charge.”
As Group Four stared into the darkness, wondering how many more traps lay hidden beneath the water, somewhere above them, the god Raven watched.
He smiled.
The mountain had tested cunning, courage, and endurance.
Next, it would test trust.