Forge of Stones

by Vasileios Kalampakas

  Under a livid sky

  When they had eaten and after Amonas conferred with Philo, the burly man said he would be back soon. Hilderich had relaxed somewhat, but he could not for the life of him fathom the two men. It might be just as well, he thought. He wanted to believe that when he had seen whatever it was they wanted to show him, perhaps they would stick true to their word and release him, let go of him and consider him a friend. The chances though, were slim.

  He wasn’t sure exactly how a person who planned heretical plots to overthrow rulers of divine authority could afford to just tell people and then let them go and trust their good souls to tell not. He had a nagging feeling it involved some kind of pain and extortion, or simpler techniques involving knives or falling down.

  It just struck Hilderich as odd. He felt he could trust this man, but his mind reeled at the prospect. ‘I must be going slightly mad,’ he thought to himself. He was starting to think of ways he could snatch the keystone and make a run for it, but the more he thought about it the more stupid he felt. They had already outran and outsmarted him once. Certainly he was no match for either one of them in single, even unarmed combat. He now belatedly wished he had taken some time to practice his body rather than spent most of the time knee-deep in curatoria.

  He decided his best chances lay in playing along, seeing what it was that they promised would change his mind and heart forever.

  The faint dusk had just given way to a pure, clean night. As he lay there in his cot, he noticed Amonas had lit a large candle and was reading what seemed to be letters. He noticed the man had been rather drawn into his reading material and decided against indiscretion on his part. Amonas through the corner of his eye though was aware of Hilderich’s mild scrutiny and without lifting his head from his reading, he said to him in an inviting, conversational tone:

  “From my wife. She’s carrying our child.”

  “I didn’t mean to intrude, I just noticed you were very much occupied,” said Hilderich almost apologetically.

  “Still thinking of how and when to escape Hilderich? You are more lively than you already know, friend. There will be no need.”

  Amonas looked at him levelly, his gruff voice adding an air of authenticity Hilderich hadn’t noticed so far. There was an unknown likeable quality to the man. Hilderich thought that perhaps he was being afflicted with a disease of the mind, something in the food.

  But he felt alright otherwise, he did not believe he was poisoned or otherwise tampered with. He just could not believe he was somehow starting to like a person who was either mentally deranged or emphatically dangerous, a man who confessed to heresy nonetheless!

  Hilderich’s thoughts were interrupted by Philo who entered the small room wearing a hood on his head. He nodded to Amonas, who in turn said to Hilderich:

  “Come. You shall see for yourself soon.”

  Hilderich stood up and Amonas offered him a hooded cloak, somewhat finer and more elegant than most. As soon as he wore it, Amonas was instructing Philo to lead them on and out into the city. Amonas would be trailing, and Hilderich would be in the middle, evidently a small precaution on their part should he feel a sudden urge to run like hell.

  Philo lead them through somewhat shady alleys, light from far away lamps barely reaching them. They angled left and right, as if trying to evade unseen stalkers. Hilderich thought that perhaps they had caught whiff of someone he couldn’t. He would not be able to see or smell anyone until it was too late in any case. So he trudged along. His knowledge of the city streets was perfunctory at best, but even he could discern that they were walking towards the Disciplinarium’s hill. Even from a distance the sounds of music and festivities could be heard, and a light show of fireworks seemed to be underway as well.

  Hilderich mused despite himself:

  “Are we invited then?”

  Amonas smiled wryly and urged him forward with a gentle nudge, while Philo turned his head around and stabbed Hilderich with his eyes. His attempt at humor had gone unanswered.

  The more they approached the Disciplinarium, the more careful they were in their approach, triple checking alleyways, hunching over shadows, their feet as light as cat-feet, not a sound other than shallow breathing. Hilderich was trying his best to follow the two men who seemed at ease with such practices. If he indeed attracted unwanted notice and they were caught, there was nothing to support he was an unwanting accomplice to their endeavor. Even if he could, he wasn’t sure that would make much of a difference.

  When they reached the base of the Disciplinarium’s hill, Philo signaled them to stop dead in their shoes. He let a guard patrol vanish behind the curve of the hill’s base before urging them to rush for a certain part of the slope, where the shadow of the aqueduct overhead should conceal them.

  They did so with a dancer’s grace and reached the grassy part of the slope Philo had indicated. He took out a small knife from his belt, and Hilderich watched in still surprise as he dug out a small piece of tuft. A metal dial was to be found underneath, which then Amonas proceeded to twist left and right accordingly to some whim or unknown sequence.

  Without making a single sound a small tubular opening appeared above the dial, large enough for a man to fit inside, but only in a prone position. It led into a shiny metal pipe or tube of some sort with a downward inclination whose other end was obscured in darkness. Judging from the light stream of air wafting through, it was a long pipe indeed.

  Philo nodded to Amonas and said:

  “I’ll go on ahead.”

  Amonas patted him on his left shoulder and grinned:

  “Are you sure you’ll fit?”

  Philo was already sliding inside the mysterious and intriguing metalwork, and muttered in a low voice what must have been a friendly obscenity. Amonas then ushered Hilderich inside, imparting a word of advice:

  “Keep your arms glued on your body. Count to thirty and then take a deep breath and hold it. You’re not afraid of water are you?”, Amonas’ low gruff voice barely revealing a hint of worry.

  “Water? Why count to thirty? Do you mean fast or slow?”

  “Go on then!”

  Amonas had to shove Hilderich inside, whose protests became dangerously loud:

  “You really plan to kill me!”

  Hilderich’s terror was evident in the shrill quality of his voice. It had all happened too quickly to try and hold back, so when Amonas pushed him down the tubing he tried to follow his advice: he held his arms stiff to his body and started counting to thirty.

  The tubing angled downwards pretty soon and Hilderich felt he was riding a children’s slide, with the slight difference that the end of the slide was nowhere in sight, and mad, possibly delusional, quite certainly heretic thugs, were shoving you down into one.

  Hilderich heard a splash echo dimly in the metal tubing, and was suddenly reminded of Amonas instruction. He wasn’t sure if he had counted past thirty or not, but his terror and anxiety mixed with his confounded thoughts was a recipe against keeping calm and cool-headed. He filled his lungs with air as long as he had time anyway, and just when he started to think he had grievously mistimed his breath, he splashed into water.

  The feeling was one of quiet shock: the cold water encircled his whole body, seeping through his clothes. It assaulted his ears and nostrils, as it tried to enter his body without warning. His eyes had closed instinctively but then he opened them slowly, searching for the surface. His hands wobbled uncertainly, before a small primal fear of running out of air urged him to swim upwards, towards what seemed to be a faint source of light.

  Within moments his head was clear of the water. He exhaled momentarily, then breathed in gasps until he could return to breathing normally once more. An outstretched hand seemed to be offering to help him out of the water. As soon as he realized it belonged to Philo he heard another splash of water roughly behind him, and turned his head to look even as Philo pulled him to somewhat dry land.

  It was Amonas who as if he were intimately
accustomed to the area needed no help and within seconds was among them, tiny rivulets of water still running down his leather vest, thick drops falling from his forehead.

  “Let us move. Hilderich, I would beg your silence. We are relatively safe as long as we are silent,” Amonas said in hushed tones while holding Hilderich by the arm in a friendly gesture.

  “As if I’ve been screaming my lungs out. I’ll keep my mouth shut. Are we near whatever place you think will change my mind? Are we below the Disciplinarium, by any chance?”, said Hilderich while vainly trying to squeeze off some of the water in his clothes. Amonas responded promptly:

  “We are. But we still have some way to go. Come now, you will dry yourself later.”

  They had fallen inside a natural cistern in a small rocky cave. Strangely enough, light seemed to seep through some cracks in the walls. With a closer inspection, Hilderich saw the cracks were more akin to lichen, faintly wet to the touch but rough like rocky sand. A sort of crystal formation seemed to lie underneath such spots. Philo nudged him onward, cutting his examination of the peculiarity short. It reminded him of some lesser kind of curatoria that his master was not particularly interested in, and thus were only lightly studied.

  But the light they gave off was indeed enough, even though only barely, to walk the gently curving twists and turns of what seemed to be an extensive network of caves, an almost ant-like structure deep underneath the Disciplinarium’s hill.

  He noticed the steady, purposeful stride of Amonas before him and the dim blue and violet light that imparted a grim hue on everything around, including themselves. A feeling of eerie wariness started to seep in Hilderich. After some time had passed, he tapped Amonas shoulder, who paused in his gait to turn and look directly at Hilderich, a look of expectancy on his face but not a sound coming out of his lips. Hilderich asked in a low voice:

  “Are we lost?”

  Amonas did not answer but rather resumed his walk, taking them through caverns small and large through a path that could not be retraced unless one had a detailed map. The further down they went, the warmer it felt and soon walking in the caves felt like a warm summer night. Hilderich had by now lost track of their approximate depth, direction, or distance of travel.

  Perhaps they were not lost but he essentially was and thought he would be unable to find the way back on his own if the opportunity ever presented itself. On a second reflection though, Hilderich thought it would be of little importance, since the tube was meant to go down and not up. Just as he let out a sigh of hopelessness, he could discern light pouring out from the next corner and feel their slight descend leveling out. By now his clothes felt almost dry with only a slight feeling of dampness remaining in his feet and arms. If anything at all, it was an improvement in the state of his affairs.

  The light grew more intense, clear like sunlight. Hilderich knew it was impossible to find sunlight so deep under the earth, especially at night. They were only a few paces away from a corner in their path that shone with light. Amonas threw up one arm with his palm open, indicating a halt, and Hilderich followed Philo’s example and stopped. Amonas leaned over the corner, and peered carefully for almost a minute. Hilderich assumed he was making sure it was safe for them to enter, though he doubted there was the possibility of a real threat against them in such a system of caves.

  Amonas nodded to indicate that everything seemed as it should be, and walked out into the light pouring from around the corner. He blinked, his eyes flinching as they adjusted to the brightness and then gestured with his hand to Hilderich before he said:

  “Come. We are here.”

  Hilderich stepped forward as well, the bright light forcing him to instinctively cover his eyes with his right arm, its small shadow the only shelter against such sudden illumination. A fragrant waft of air rushed around them, and as Philo joined them as well all three of them were slowly walking towards the light. As Hilderich’s eyes finally adjusted to the light, he could see the rocky cave all around them give way to a smooth white surface that at first glance seemed much like porcelain.

  These strange walls seemed to extrude themselves from the strata of the cave rocks, as if totally alien and utterly old in origin. Then Hilderich’s eyes wandered a bit more, his gaze resting on the center of a huge chamber apparently made from the same ivory white material. The chamber was cylindrical in shape. From top to bottom stood a wide pillar which incredulously seemed to be made of pure light, a view that defied Hilderich’s sense of sight and filled him with astonishment.

  “What is this place?”, Hilderich asked Amonas awestruck, his gaze still locked on the pillar of light.

  “This is the first pillar of truth, Hilderich,” Amonas said while edging closer to the pillar. Hilderich stood a couple of steps behind him with his face brightly illuminated, but his eyes unflinching. Philo stood at the rocky entrance to the chamber, with his back indifferently turned to the wondrous sight in front of their eyes.

  “The truth? What is this, Amonas? Is it Ancient?”

  Hilderich’s tone had a far-away quality, as if he was mesmerized, his mind off to some deep trench of thought.

  “It is, my friend. A working piece of technology of the ancients, buried deep under the Disciplinarium. What does that tell you, friend?”

  Amonas was looking intently at Hilderich’s calm and entranced face, his every word glistening with expectation.

  “Only what it should. This must be preserved. Documented. Studied. A Curatorium has to be built around it, scholars from around the lands should visit and-”

  Amonas grabbed Hilderich violently from both arms demanding his total attention, his voice free of constraints:

  “Studies! Scholars! Can’t you really see what this means? Think of your Mythos! Think of your precious vaunted Law!”

  Hilderich was visibly shaken as if coming around from a waking dream, eyes rolling around trying to come to grips with his surroundings and the man with the gruff voice in front of him was shouting at him, as if he was ready to snap him in two if he said the wrong thing.

  He asked him to think of the Mythos, and the Law. The Law was the established religious canon that had replaced traditional secular law hundreds of years earlier. The Mythos was the recorded history of the Gods handing down the Law unto the forsaken race of man, to save it from destruction and withering, to help men reach their Gods at the Time of Conjugation.

  The Law instructs man that those the people knew as Ancients were the manifestation of evil. That any tool or work of art or science whose workings cannot be seen with the naked eye or touched by naked hand are containers of evil. That there is only this land, and none other. That the lights in the sky were put there by the Gods, to make nights more bearable. That death is irrevocable and permanent and those who do not uphold the Law, will be shunt forever, their souls kept away from the Gods.

  That any man, woman or child upholding belief in the Ancients or their works is a heretic, a vessel of corruption. That the Ministers, uphold and teach the Law to the people. That the people in turn, devote themselves and their lives to obey the Law. That the Patriarch declares additional Law as he sees fit, and he alone chooses his successor. That a Castigator rules above all: a man of wisdom and strength to lead the people, protect them; enlighten the heathens, punish the lawbreakers and the heretics, and offer praise and glory to the Gods.

  That is what the Mythos and the Law say. Hilderich, though he did not consider himself the religious type, had always been careful not to attract the ire of the Ministers. He had memorized the Mythos and the Law as part of his training and education, as is the case with most who are fortunate enough to be allowed to read and write. He was fortunate enough to become apprentice to a Curator, a guild of men with a special dispensation to hold and maintain approved artifacts from times past. Some of those artifacts were of nefarious origins, and strict indices of what was stored where were kept.

  Only ministers and certain officials of the Disciplinarium or the Army and then
again only after special permission is granted for expressed purposes, can be allowed to even view a Curatorium from the inside. To think that now, he was looking at what seemed to be a working example of heretical technology was breathtaking. What troubled him was that he actually marvelled at it.

  “They know about this? The people in the Disciplinarium know?”, Hilderich asked feebly.

  “Of course they know Hilderich! They have always known! Do you think this is the only place they have access to with an artifact of such origin? I’m sure there are many other places like this one.”

  “But, what does it do? And what proof do you have they know about things such as these? Much less use one?”, Hilderich was being argumentative but slightly unsure of his words, his voice wavering as if he was shaking from the cold.

  “Always the hard way, eh Hilderich?”, said Amonas and shook his head in silent disappointment, nodding to Philo who winked back an acknowledgement.

  Hilderich was considering the magnificent simplicity and awesome sight of the pillar of light in front of him. It was a bright pillar of sunlight not as blinding as the suns though, with a hazy rainbow of all colors on its edges, and a pulsating haze of tiny pin pricks rushing through some sort of invisible shell. He was interrupted somewhat violently by Amonas who neatly but decisively pushed him towards the pillar of light.

  “What are you doing? Is this safe? Wait!”, Hilderich seemed to protest in principle only, his mouth voicing concern but his feet offering little resistance.

  “Don’t really know, it’s only my second time through one.”

  At that answer Hilderich’s face took on an expression of exacerbated disbelief but only for a moment, because an instant later both his and Amonas’ figures were vanishingly thin and elongated ghostly forms. In the next instant, all that was left of them was a smooth scent of uwe stew. Philo turned and looked at the pillar of light, gave a derisive rough kind of snort, and continued his vigilant watch, unperturbed.

  The first thing that Hilderich felt was a sinking sensation like the inevitable pull and grasp of a whirlpool, the dreaded voids of the sea that claim ships and men alike. He saw an explosion of light, swirling walls of light running up to meet him face on. Nothingness ensued for what must have been less than a heartbeat. Light filled his senses totally, even his smell. He could have sworn he could smell the light. His eyes seemed to adjust to the radiant sea of white enfolding him, and he could make out the outline of his hands. Then he heard a gravelly voice with serious undertones: Amonas’ voice.

  “Take a step forward Hilderich. Don’t be afraid now.”

  He did and was left standing there. His eyes insisted that he was outside, on what seemed like a clear summer sky. How he could have in an instant walked past an underground cave as well as the grasp of night, he was unable to answer, not without gibberish coming out of his mouth. After a few more moments had passed, while playing back what had just happened, Hilderich was finally able to ask where they were.

  Amonas grinned, pointing at the single pale blue sun in the sky, and simply said:

  “I’d love to find out.”