Forge of Stones

by Vasileios Kalampakas

  The Sleeping Man

  The first sense to return to Hilderich was smell. He could make out the distinct sharpness of metal lingering on his nostrils. He sniffed some more air and felt its freshness enter his lungs. His breath was easy now. He opened his eyes and his sight adjusted to the ambient dim light. He felt his ribs with a hand and could feel no pain. It seemed like what had transpired seemingly moments before was not a dream. He was feeling fine; his broken ribs seemed to have mended miraculously.

  He saw the place they were in: It was a small nondescript room with walls colored in greenish hues all around. It was hexagonal in shape and the relatively high ceiling was etched in shadow. There was no obvious source of lighting, nothing in the way of a lamp or a torch. It was as if faint light somehow seeped through the walls and the floor, as if starlight somehow crept inside this strange chamber. Amonas was lying right beside him unconscious or perhaps sleeping. They were both sitting on what seemed to be a circular dais with a glassy surface made from a material that only cast the tiniest of reflections and seemed to absorb what little light there was in an uncanny manner.

  Hilderich felt refreshed and invigorated. He stood up to gaze around the chamber. He was curious of their new surroundings and believed that they had probably arrived at what that voice had called the centron. It was quite a long stretch taking the words of a disembodied voice seriously, but he felt he should put some trust in something that could mend his body without pain so easily in what seemed to have been mere minutes. What really mattered right now to Hilderich though was that they were off that accursed place that came close to claiming his life. They were not quite where they were hoping to be, but they were well on their way it seemed; that felt like a truly blissful achievement.

  The room was otherwise uninteresting; it sported a single door barely recognizable by its very thin frame, probably made of the same material as the walls. As he was searching the room for anything that might pique his interest, he heard Amonas beside him grunt and moan slightly. He turned around to look at him and smiled brightly:

  “You’re up. I didn’t know whether you were knocked out or just sleeping so I let you be. We’re at the centron now, I think. I don’t think we’re seeing all this in our heads. If anything, I’d expect something more stylish,” Hilderich said while gesturing to the bleak green walls around him with his hands.

  Amonas looked disoriented and dizzy as if he had been very recently hit on the head with something quite painful but non-lethal. He managed to ask Hilderich with his usually gruff voice sounding even more coarse:

  “Where did you say we were?”

  Hilderich sounded quite exuberant:

  “Here! The centron, if the voice we heard is to be believed. I for one, cannot think otherwise; my broken ribs are mended and my lungs feel fine. Better than ever actually. I even think I am a bit lighter, in a way. Would you say I needed to lose weight?”

  Amonas looked around him, soaking up his surroundings. He flexed the muscles in his hands and head with deliberate motions. His face wore pained expressions at moments, as if he had been injured and in pain. Hilderich noticed and asked him:

  “Are you feeling alright? You seem a bit jaded.”

  Amonas nodded slightly in agreement and replied:

  “It feels as if my head is about to pop open. I have this throbbing headache and a dull sensation. Exactly like being hit on the head with a club. You feel fine, though?”

  Hilderich rocked himself back and forth on his toes and heels, his face beaming with health and good spirits. He replied with a grin:

  “Does it show?”

  Amonas returned his grin with a faint smile and nodded. He said to Hilderich with genuine bonhomie:

  “It does, Hilderich. It really does. Quite a change in events that we have here.”

  “Indeed. But we’re not quite back home yet. And I’ve been thinking only just a few moments ago.. My master’s work were the keystones. He had this theory.. Well, many theories, but I was not privy to the bulk of his work. I was supposed to find this man that held all the answers I could ever hope for. Indeed, all the answers our world could hope for. This man, the Stoneforger as he had come to call him, I believe is here.”

  Amonas looked at Hilderich with some disbelief. With his head throbbing from a pain that had not subsided the least, he asked Hilderich with a puzzled voice:

  “I knew Cimon was working on something concerning the keystones for a long time. He was quite reticent about it. I never knew much about it myself. Then again, we rarely contacted each other, even more so lately. But, what are you exactly trying to get at?”

  “Please, hear me out. I believe this person, the Stoneforger, is not a myth, and if there’s one place I could ever hope to find him, it would be this place. I believe that the voice that spoke to us and tended to my wounds is indeed what it claimed to be; from what I could gather, an ancient technological marvel. Do not easily ascribe such wonders to things as magic and Gods, Amonas. You were right to believe our world is built upon heaps of lies and deceit. I do not know what you saw when you stepped into that pillar of light the first time, but this time that pillar of light brought us here. I believe all the evidence you will ever need to show me is right here in this place, the centron.”

  Amonas was staring at him now with a frown, his silence a clear sign for Hilderich to continue:

  “There is vast knowledge and certainly intelligence of some sort at work here, Amonas. It must be this man, this person I’m seeking. Though my reasoning is that he is so much more than a simple man. But he exists. He should exist. Everything points to that logical assumption. My master had devoted most of his life searching out for more clues to prove the existence of a place very much like what we are standing in now. It would cause him to gape in awe and astonishment surely, because he believed such a thing could only belong to an era long ago forgotten, to a civilization totally extinct. He believed that if he would ever find anything, he would find relics, artifacts, ruins. But as you’ve seen, there is much more to that. Inane artifacts like stone and marble and brick do not speak with disembodied voices, Amonas; that much is certain.”

  Amonas shook his head and replied to Hilderich as he stood up, his gaze now bearing tension. He still wore a pained expression on his face, only this time it was mingled with wariness and suppressed annoyance. He believed he was beginning to understand what Hilderich was about to propose and he did not relish the thought. He asked him tersely:

  “So?”

  “All I know is that the keystone is what has enabled us to reach this place. A keystone that was in the care of my master, who had spent years of his life trying to connect the existence of the keystones with other devices, and an extinct civilization of extreme sophistication. The pillars of light, the pyramids, the keystone, the voice; all we’ve seen so far are indeed proof of the concepts and theories in his studies.”

  Amonas sighed and exhaled deeply before asking Hilderich with an increasingly exasperated look on his face:

  “Meaning? Get to your point, Hilderich.”

  “I could never have hoped to happen upon such marvels by mere perseverance, Amonas. I would have spent my days around arcane texts and chronicles, researches, studies and dusty volumes written by men who had lost their minds in the process. A process that would take me years, perhaps decades to carry through myself; analyzing and cross-checking references, names, places, and artifacts. It would have claimed the better years of my life. And it would have proven a futile endeavor just like the one my master had embarked upon.”

  At the mention of Hilderich’s master, Amonas brought to his mind the image of Cimon, always a thoughtful person, gentle and kind. A good friend with which he had spent many nights discussing the finer points of drinking. He was soothing for the soul, Cimon. And Celia was his offspring; she could not have been without him. He owed him so much more than a fleeting memory of a gone friend. His face mellowed somewhat, he even felt the headache had subsided as well. H
e asked Hilderich with a calm, friendly voice this time:

  “What more do you know of his work? Of the war waged against him? Somehow, he always managed to change the subject. Surely, as his apprentice you must know more about something so pivotal in his work.”

  Hilderich shrugged with some hesitation, before replying as frankly as he could:

  “Even though he was the first Curator to assemble enough evidence to support such a theory, when he presented his work he was met with derision, laughed upon as another half-mad fool. Sadly, only a few of his friends and colleagues supported him in public and pleaded for him to maintain his status as Curator, albeit on the condition that he would burn the bulk of his work and renounce it as a work of fiction. He had never broached the subject during my apprenticeship. I learned about it from my surreptitious ventures into his personal study. To tell you the truth, I did not believe him either, and sided silently with those who considered him a little less than deranged. I was sorely mistaken and the proof came in the worst of ways the day my master died.”

  Amonas nodded thoughtfully, looking for a moment away from Hilderich, biting his lip with a hint of consternation, as if sudden angst filled him. He then shot an even gaze to Hilderich and asked him:

  “What have you been trying to tell me Hilderich? Speak your mind plainly.”

  Hilderich returned the stare and the words came out of his mouth as of their own volition:

  “If it was by fate or chance alone I do not know, it really matters little to me now; but we have gone through a bewildering journey to end up in a place where myth meets reality. In a sense, stepping through that pillar of light was both a blessing and a curse. We’re here now, Amonas, closer than ever. I need to find him. Not just for my sake, or my master’s sake. It would be a revelation that could change the world.

  Don’t you see? We have to find him first and foremost before we do anything else. Answers to everything you could possibly imagine, Amonas. Everything is here. Everything began here. It must have. This is the place of legend man has locked out of his mind, but has kept it in his soul. A world that is somehow connected to our own. A world steeped in technology that is undreamt of. The links to a past that we had thought only existed in stories, and tales. But it’s real enough, Amonas.

  We have to find him, or his people. Their history, their lore. We must have access to it so we can learn of our own past. Don’t you see? We walk into a pillar of light and then end up in another world with no night and the wrong suns! And now we’re here, somewhere. Going back and finding the Stoneforger, those two quests have become irrevocably intertwined I’m afraid.

  We can’t go back unless we unlock some of the mysteries behind all these wonders we’ve witnessed. Whatever makes this place, this world even, tick, we have to find out about it. Let’s find him, Amonas. Only then will we be able to go back. Unless you think we could just open up that door and be right where we wanted to be.”

  Amonas stood staring at Hilderich’s eyes, a tiny glitter barely visible in his pupils. He felt compelled. The words rang true to his ears. He only believed he was doing the right thing when he at length said to Hilderich, gesturing with a slight nod:

  “Like most of the time, you’re right Hilderich. After you then.”

  They were now walking through a stupendous underground cavern of exquisite beauty. Huge crystals of many colors and large clear-cut facets hung from the ceiling, mirroring their walking figures with pristine clarity, sparkling from the faint light that filled the vast space with remarkable ease. Some of their reflections were large enough to see clearly, even though the roof of this gigantic enclosure was improbably high.

  Simply looking at it filled them with awe but disoriented them as well, making them feel queasy after a while. They had been walking on a narrow gangway that connected two crevices on opposite sides of the cavern. Far below their feet, furious swirls of white hot and molten red rock churned with rage, their incandescent light gracing the thought-defying towers that seemed to vanish into the infernal abyss with an eerie glow.

  The cavern had stunned them with its wild, harsh beauty when they first laid their eyes upon it. The towers were another unfathomable wonder that imagination would have failed to conjure. They rose from the depths of the inferno of molten rock and lava up to the level of the unique gangway that traversed the astounding cavity.

  Their surface was matte black, almost obsidian-like. It very much seemed to resemble the material the bullhorns were made of, but it seemed to lack the same level of refinement. It seemed as if it was more coarse in nature, more suited to the harsh environment they were set in. Indeed their foundations seemed to lie in a hellish sea of fire where nothing could ever hope to remain intact.

  Yet, these towers endured. A thin lattice of glass-like pipes connected them, forming a grid. Bright white light seemed to flow through them with slow, deliberate pulses. A marvel of technology, certainly a feat of engineering only a civilization hundreds of thousands of years old could hope to achieve.

  They had passed through various corridors along the way, not all of them uniform in appearance and size. Some were brightly lit, sporting white paneled walls of porcelain-like material; others were much more dimly lit, in the fashion of the room they had woken up in. Some were pitch black, none of their features visible.

  Most were in pristine condition, like people lived in there and dutifully kept it clean and polished, but they had not met a single soul. Their senses informed them that this place was void of life, deserted, and abandoned. No smell or sound gave away the presence of living men. But there were no cobwebs, no dust, and no grime to call this place abandoned and forlorn.

  It seemed uncannily void of life, as if everyone around had left in a hurry, no detritus of their existence left behind. But surely men must have walked past these walls, for though they varied, they seemed designed and engineered to accommodate people. Men like them; not giants, demons, or Gods.

  It was a strange mix, this network of corridors and passages. As if it had been built by different people at different times, adding, removing, restructuring as they saw fit; by whim or necessity, it was impossible to know. Hilderich had been filled with enthusiasm at the thought of systematically mapping these passages; thousands of questions had formed in his mind seeking answers, in-fighting for a quota of attention and musing time.

  From the moment they left the chamber where they woke up in, they followed an almost random course generally preferring lit paths whenever possible. They had ended up in dead-ends, mostly doors that would not open of their volition like most of them did. They had backtracked and chosen alternate tracks. Marking the walls was impossible, as they seemed impervious to Amonas knife, unable to even put a slight notch on their surface, irrespective of the force exerted and the effort spent. Hilderich had been uncannily able to remember where they had passed from before, and thus they managed to not get lost in the irregular maze.

  It had paid out in the end. Their path had taken them to the crystal-roofed cavern, with a brightly lit gate on the opposite end of the gangway. The gangway itself was as nondescript as the walls they had seen so far but what had genuinely picked Amonas’ interest, apart from the immensity of all that surrounded them was that the gangway did not possess any guardrails, as if it was impossible for someone to trip and hurl himself down to certain death.

  Amonas shared his concern before they had even made the first steps, cautious as ever. Hilderich briefly pondered such a scenario and with a wild grin on his face, before Amonas could react he had tried to simply walk off the gangway into the churning lava below. He had stopped in mid air with a silver sheen suddenly adorning the wispy air around his leg and knee, as if an invisible wall stood on each side of the gangway.

  Amonas had sighed and scolded Hilderich in a fashion that made Hilderich laugh with all his heart. Amonas did not perceive the whole incident with the same amount of good humor and for quite some time he wore an expression of mild exasperation. If one did no
t know better he could have mistaken him as having his feelings genuinely hurt because of Hilderich’s lack of consideration. It was dangerously immature, Amonas thought, for someone to behave so precariously in such a place of unknown dangers and roaming uncertainty.

  Hilderich seemed impervious to anything less than the magnificence of the wonders, both natural and technological that surrounded them while on that gangway.

  While they were walking on the gangway with an easy pace, almost casually in fact, Hilderich asked Amonas without turning to look behind him:

  “Impossible to imagine, isn’t it?”

  Amonas did not answer him, and remained silent as ever. He was not gazing around him like Hilderich did, woolgathering. He seemed preoccupied, lost in wary thoughts about their imminent future. He could still remember stepping on that pillar of light, and could certainly remember their tribulations in that hot steamy world.

  But this place, this centron, where was this place if not on that same world? Where were they now? Until he would find these answers, his mind would not cease to worry. He tried to remember more of what the voice had been saying to them, but he had been utterly confounded by its meager explanations. His mind was still jarred by the headache and though it had subsided considerably, a sting of it still lingered and made his thinking muddied and unclear, his most recent memories a blur.

  It troubled him most that Hilderich’s mind seemed to wander freely. He had turned from a reserved, cautiously inquisitive young man into an enthusiastic juvenile that would not leave a rock unturned until he had satisfied his insatiable lust for knowledge. Amonas on the other hand felt as if he had been forcibly restrained, not free to speak his mind.

  They had found nothing to drink or eat, and every door that they had been able to open lead into what might have been living quarters, or other utility rooms. Some chambers contained metal crates they could not open and frustration had built up inside him. Hilderich was so excited with each new little discovery that he seemed unperturbed by the fact that like all living things, they needed food and water, and they had found naught. As if the people that used to live here in ages past conjured their food out of thin air. To Amonas, this place was even harsher than the lush wilderness they had left behind. At least there, they could find something to fill their bellies.

  And what of their vaunted attempts at gaining knowledge, Amonas mused with aggravation. What had they found out so far that they could use? Almost nothing of import. All they knew was that they were somewhere deep underground it seemed, and that they had only found out when they ran across the cavern.

  He sighed and looked at Hilderich in front of him, who seemed to be filled with vigor and an enthusiasm he thought to be unbecoming of the situation in hand. Perhaps he was rushing his judgment on this matter. It was in fact an unfortunate series of events that had led them there, to a bleak place that seemed to offer little, but they had been there for mere hours. He supposed it was too early to expect much from their meandering search. But soon they would have to worry about sustenance, purely in a practical sense. Amonas decided to let it be for now, but he felt his unease would only grow given time.

  Soon, they were standing at the end of the gangway with a small plateau opening before them. There the large gate stood, set against a jutting rock wall that seemed to crash upon it like a granite waterfall frozen in time.

  Hilderich was marveling at the dimensions of the gate. It seemed large enough for a siege engine of the army to pass through, almost three stories high. Hilderich wondered what manner of things, machines and people, had passed through these gates. It was indeed larger than any other gate he had seen. What manner of need had led to it being designed and built to these dimensions? Another mystery for him to solve when time allowed it, he thought.

  Amonas spoke then, his voice sounding somewhat distant, as if his mind was removed elsewhere and he was merely glimpsing what surrounded him:

  “What of it, now?”

  Hilderich took notice of the strangeness in Amonas voice, but he did not pay too much attention to it. It was probably the aching headache that did not seem to go away. He turned then and replied to Amonas:

  “Are you feeling alright? You seem.. distracted.”

  “It’s this headache. Won’t leave me be. And I could use some water. Something to eat as well. Don’t you hunger? Don’t you thirst?”

  There was a certain degree of exasperation in his voice now, which was focused, harsh, and suddenly almost menacing.

  “Yes.. You are right. We should make that a priority once we get past these gates.”

  Amonas shook his head as if trying to clear his mind, as if his vision was blurry and his mind fumbling to find the words. He nodded then lightly, his gaze drifting away from Hilderich.

  “Alright. I see. How do you propose we go about that? Are there any levers? Any wheels to turn? Should we knock?”

  Hilderich’s face showed his wariness. He did not know what to make of Amonas’ strange behavior. These mood swings and the evident trouble he had concentrating, these were things he would have to ask him about soon. Preferably when they had something to eat. He was indeed beginning to feel famished. It was the endless fascination and enthusiasm that kept him going, the tension, the thrill. He noticed Amonas’ was looking at him with an aggravated, expectant look, and answered him in an excusatory tone:

  “Ahm. No, though it might come to that. Knocking, that is. There seem to be no visible controls, which would suggest that this gate can only be opened from the inside. Or, that it’s just another large door that opens up on itself like the ones before. We’ll just have to see now.”

  Amonas grunted with restrained disapproval and nodded. Hilderich had known Amonas to be circumspect at times, taciturn and almost spartan with his words, but he had never showed feelings of dislike or animosity towards him. He was beginning to feel that had somehow changed since they arrived in this place, the centron. Maybe he was having second thoughts about their change of plans. Maybe this place made him uneasy because of its otherworldliness, its antiquity. Maybe it was because they were still alone, not a soul in sight. With the exception of that weird voice of course, if it indeed had a soul.

  After his brief inner contemplation, Hilderich stepped on the flattened plateau of rock. It seemed to be cut cleanly and then carefully smoothed, just short of turning its surface slippery. He took a few more steps and stood before the gate, gazing at its minimalistic features. It seemed to be made out of a dull gray, not a single ray of light reflected off its surface. It almost looked like stone, but it had no pores and no cuts to speak of.

  Hilderich looked at it with one eye. Its flat gray surface reminded him of bricks made of argyle and ash. The borders of the gate were different, though. They were a uniform white material, almost porcelain-like and glossy with a smooth reflective quality. The two pieces did not seem to fit together at all. Hilderich thought there should be some sort of adequate explanation for that, but whoever had built this gate did not seem available for answers. Hilderich conjured the image of the builder of the gate being asked why the colors in his gate seemed all wrong, and the childish thought brought a grin to his face.

  As much as he looked, Hilderich indeed could not discern any sort of controls, levers, ropes, weights, or wheels; nothing a gate could be associated with in his experience. Then again, it would have been almost ridiculous to expect such crude forms of mechanisms in such a place after what they had witnessed. But it never hurt to check the obvious things first, so he simply leaned against the door, standing smack before the middle of the gate and pushed.

  Nothing seemed to happen. He turned around and looked at Amonas, shrugging. His was an apologetic look, and after a while he said to Amonas:

  “I’m sorry. Nothing you would expect in a gate of this size. I guess we should try knocking after all.”

  Hilderich thought Amonas had a very strange expression on his face. To him, it looked as if Amonas had felt incredibly stupid somehow, perhap
s like if he had tried to cut a rope with his knife still sheathed or poured himself a glass of wine from an empty bottle and drank it anyway. It was the look of a deeply dumbfounded man. Hilderich was suddenly worried, believing the man to be sick and in need of aid. Even though he seemed unable to speak, Amonas managed to point with his hand to the gate.

  Hilderich turned around and to his great surprise saw the door had vanished, a sight that assaulted his vision.

  He was now standing in front of a hall of sorts, only the word ‘hall’ did it no justice at all. It was a gargantuan circular chamber of immense radius, nothing short of a small plain. It must have been the area of a small township, complete with the surrounding fields. It would probably take them hours or the better part of a day to walk across it. Its dimension in height was almost impossible to measure. The walls ran seemingly as high as the sky. And there was something about the lighting that seemed recognizable.

  His feet moved of their own volition then, guiding him to enter this vast space proper and see better, even though sight alone was incapable of handling such a view. Air wafted down upon him, as if from an overhead opening. It was dry and chilly, almost cold. Instinctively he looked up, expecting to see some sort of mind-boggling roof structure, something truly awe-inspiring as the rest of this vast enclosed space was.

  With a mix of terror, bewilderment, joy and disbelief that contorted his face in an almost painful way, what he saw was clear blue sky set between the circular edges of the walls, as if looking down a very long pipe. The distance was immense, unimaginable. Sunlight shafted down in an angled column overhead and its reflections on the surface of the walls gave this place this familiar ambient light. As he looked up, he saw the bright ring of the sun appearing over the edge of the walls. In a moment or two, the column of light would fall on him bathing him in sunlight.

  He turned around to Amonas who stood where he was, transfixed. He called out to him, gesturing wildly with his hands to come and see for himself. Amonas shook suddenly, as if waking up from a living nightmare, almost trembling. He shook his head, and came to Hilderich’s side with a brisk pace. His gaze wandered around as if this was a strange hall or just another chamber, unable to feel mesmerized at the impossibility of the scale surrounding them. He just said then:

  “It’s.. big. Very big. Huge, indeed.”

  Hilderich spared a moment to look at him sideways. The significance of Hilderich’s furrowed look was lost to Amonas, who looked extravagantly out of place, acting almost nonchalantly, indeed very much unlike him. Hilderich did not press the matter and instead pointed at the sky, the bright rim of the sun glinting at the far edge of the wall. He pointed upwards and said:

  “Look how far these walls reach. This is colossal. The sun can barely reach this far down this sort of, shaft, for lack of a better word.”

  “Hmm.”

  Amonas suddenly looked thoughtful, as if contemplating not what Hilderich had said but rather as if he was trying to come up with a better word than ‘shaft’. Hilderich was about to ask him about this sudden rush of strange behavior but then the sun shone upon them momentarily blinding them, causing them both to squint and use their hands to block it out.

  In that small sliver of shade that allowed them to peep sheepishly at the sun, Hilderich could see its ring grow, the bright sphere grow larger. It looked strangely familiar though. The sun did not seem to have that blueish hue. It looked.. normal, Hilderich thought. And then, he saw a sight that had sorely been missed. As the sun grew whole, another ring appeared over the edge of the wall, at that other end of this huge shaft. A second sun. The second sun. There were two suns. They were home.

  The realization struck Hilderich like a sledgehammer and he physically reeled from the place he stood. He was frantic, his gaze switching between Amonas and the sky with cataleptic speed. He opened his mouth as if to speak but he simply managed to gasp. All the while, Amonas was still looking at the suns in a sort of peaceful gaze, the falling streaks of sunlight adding a glow to his face that made him look more splendid and grandiose than ever despite his disheveled look and ragged appearance.

  Hilderich then shouted with glee:

  “We’re home! Can’t you see? Two suns! Right there, up on the sky! Our world’s two suns, Amonas! We’re here alright!”

  Amonas turned to look at him slowly, almost indifferently, as if Hilderich had barely nudged him and asked for directions in the street. It was beginning to feel eerie to Hilderich, this behavior that was very much unlike Amonas. He looked as if he were someone lost. They were home, Hilderich thought, and he was simply standing there looking back at him as if he had nothing better to do. Hilderich grabbed him by the arm and shook his entire body, as Amonas offered little resistance. He looked him in the eye with an accusing stare and shouted in his face:

  “We’re home! Like you wanted! Like we wanted from the start! This place is somewhere on our world! Why aren’t you at least excited? What is the matter with you, Amonas? You’re acting like, like.. Like a stranger! Speak to me plainly!”

  Amonas looked at Hilderich almost impassively with a look as if behind a fog, his mind seemingly wandering off to places without any connection to reality. It was as if he was in a dream haze, unable to wake up from the slumber of a mystic.

  “Amonas! Don’t look at me like that! Tell me, what is wrong with you! Don’t you see, we’re finally here!”

  Amonas did not even flinch. He had actually remained quite motionless, his hands limp on his side and his face stuck in a slight grin, as if constantly mocking someone. This could not be good, Hilderich thought. He shook him with both arms, trying to snap him out of whatever had enthralled him so. He shouted, cursed, he even slapped him twice. But it was all to no avail. It was as if the man’s mind was gone. As if he was not there at all.

  Hilderich realized with horror the truth of it. For some inexplicable reason, Amonas seemed to have lost his mind. It was there, carved upon his face. A glazed look, a deep blur set in at the center of his eyes, unmoving. His face had started to lose its color, and his mouth seemed locked in a half-smile. It was the face of an idiot unaware of everything going around him, lost in a sea of reality’s debris none could hope to help him navigate. It was heart wrecking to see a man’s mind lost in moments.

  Had it been the simply immeasurable vastness of the vista around them, this huge shaft that no mind could lay claim to even imagining it? Was it the sudden realization of having returned home in a most inexplicable, wondrous, and even uncanny fashion? Was it the combination of both? What had weakened his strong, determined mind? What had broken a man who was ready to give up his life for his unborn child, for a different, if not a better future? Hilderich could not tell, and only thought that it was an ineffable loss.

  They had seen marvels none had ever dreamt before and had taken most of them in their stride, their sanity intact. It was almost a laughable joke to think that Amonas would lose his mind at that moment, after all they had seen. And yet here he was, a little more than a breathing mass, completely disassociated with his surroundings. It sank his spirits right when they should be laughing with all their heart, crying with joy from the release of the tension from so many days of hardship and uncertainty.

  Hilderich for a moment thought that it might have been better if Amonas had died somewhere along the way. He would have at least had his body and mind as one, his soul intact. Now, he looked as if his soul had departed and left an empty mind to rule over a hapless body. It brought tears to Hilderich’s eyes. But he held them in check.

  He had been mended before, when the voice spoke to them. There was proof that the ailing of the body could be treated with unsurpassed excellence by something or someone that seemed to dwell around here. That could also stand true for a sickness of the mind. For what was madness, catatonia, or whatever else that had befallen Amonas, other than a sickness of the mind? For every sickness there should be a cure Hilderich thought, and his face brightened up a little, hope returning to his eyes.


  It seemed that their quest kept redefining itself. Now, he owed it to Amonas to make him whole again. And he should better get an early start. That meant he had to focus his mind, accept some harsh facts, and make decisions that would lead them out of this very unfortunate situation.

  He took Amonas by the arm like he would have done with a small child, carefully and softly. He did not seem to respond in any way, his posture unchanging and his gaze fixed to a point beyond his sight. Hilderich tried to pull him by the hand and with a slight lurch and a small misstep, he began to walk behind him, as if he were a blind man being led around by a trusted friend. Half that much, Hilderich thought, was true.

  He could be moved around then, Hilderich thought bitterly, albeit as if he were indeed an invalid. It all felt wrong to him. Seeing Amonas in such a state was almost devastating. If such a man could be brought so low without warning, whatever else could happen to lesser men, Hilderich thought. He hoped Amonas’ mind was so far gone that he at least did not perceive himself through Hilderich’s eyes or had any sort of knowledge or awareness of what had befallen him.

  If that was the case, Hilderich doubted Amonas could ever return to his normal self again; a tragically traumatic experience such as this one would be enough to break him by merely remembering. He thought Amonas was a stronger man in every aspect that really mattered. If he was subject to such a downfall, then why not himself? For the first time in the past few days, real fear gripped him.

  Not anxiety, not worry or wariness but simple primal fear. The piercing fear of someone’s shadow behind your back. The fear of a man’s knife, a howl into the night; fear of thunder and lightning. Pure, instinctive fear. He was alone, by himself. If he had been alone on that pyramid, if he had made it that far, he would have died with broken ribs sun-burnt to death before anything else, if it wasn’t for Amonas. And now, he had to repay that life debt.

  The suns were now shedding their light higher on the walls of the shaft, their bright spheres gone from Hilderich’s sight. He had to address an issue that seemed to lack an easy solution. Where could one find food and water in this immensely vast space? He looked around him at the landscape stretching out in front of him. The floor was blue-gray and metallic. Various thin lines seemed to criss-cross it, as if forming a pattern. In fact he noticed that despite the immensity and the curved geometry of the walls, he could make out some shapes on the floor.

  He let go of Amonas’ arm for a while, and with a certain degree of trepidation made a few steps forward in order to examine such a curiosity. A relatively thick band of blue light seemed to seep through the floor. It went on and on around the whole shaft in a very large blue circle. Giving little thought to the matter he stepped on it, and momentarily nothing seemed to happen.

  But then he felt a brush of air on the back of his neck, and turned around to see that the gate had been shut again. Not only that, but only a few feet in front of him the floor started to ripple with intensity, turning into a molten pool of what looked like quicksilver or mercury. Light flickering off it with intensity, Hilderich’s figure grotesquely reflected in a constantly shifting mirror surface.

  He stepped back instinctively, fear gripping him, the fear of losing his mind like poor Amonas had. The pool of molten metal rose like a geyser of sorts, bulbous shapes forming over its surface. It grew as if a column of mud had been raised from the floor, only it was silver and mirror-like. Then it suddenly took form in mere moments, each step distinct but inhumanly quick.

  Hilderich could make out now the forming of metal upon metal, the joints between what looked to be plates. Whatever this thing was, it’s form seemed to derive little inspiration from the human body. It was shaping itself into something oblong, almost like an egg. In its final steps of transformation from a pool of metal into a much more tangible existence, it seemed as if an inner blue light faintly lit its top and bottom parts, a thin band of what seemed to be black opaque glass running through it from top to bottom, as if it was made of two halves joined by that very glass.

  Once it was finally formed it hovered in the air right in front of Hilderich, barely touching the ground. The whole process had taken less than it would take a man to draw his sword in a misunderstood attempt at would probably have been futile defense. Something that could appear out of a metal floor in such a place in such an astounding way, did not leave the impression it could be killed with a mere sword.

  And then a terrifying sound assaulted Hilderich’s senses, a terrible high-pitched screech that boomed and echoed like the primordial lightning storm that bore the universe and all of creation:

  “DANGER WILL ROBINSON! DANGER!!”

  Hilderich tried to put his hands to his ears but he was frozen half-way when the world-shattering cacophony ended abruptly and was replaced by a buffeting silence, his ears still buzzing from the loudness. Then the metal egg or machine, whatever it was, bobbed slightly as if trying to mimic a human’s bow. It spoke in a pleasantly toned voice, that seemed to be gibberish.

  Hilderich’s brow furrowed and though his fear had somehow subsided, he was feeling terminally uneasy. Amonas was standing behind him, slack like before, the signs of a slight drool beginning to show on the corner of his mouth. Hilderich looked with puzzlement at this construct, and could find nothing to say. It seemed to be unable to communicate with him. After a brief pause, the machine started spewing forth an uninterrupted series of sounds that could have been words in rapid succession, as if it was searching for a certain word, a certain sound, and was trying them all. Hilderich couldn’t be sure but he thought that perhaps it was trying to communicate. At length he decided to try and say something. He thought the most apt thing to do, was greet it. And so he did, with some hesitation and a slight feeling of fear that he might be making a fool of himself to an invisible audience:

  “Greetings. My name is Hilderich D’Augnacy.”

  The construct stopped babbling incessantly in unknown tongues and suddenly spoke in perfect Helican:

  “Greetings? What tree did you fall off? Sorry about that little scene just a minute ago. It was a joke. You should have seen your face. Maybe not. Get’s boring around here, I hope you understand there’s not much to kill time with. You guys seemed fair game. Hope I didn’t scare you to death.”

  The construct bobbed again and wiggled its large round base a little. The emotion that it intended to convey was completely lost to Hilderich. Nevertheless he thought that actually communicating was wonderful indeed so he didn’t give it a second thought and smiled. He looked somewhat restrained, but genuinely polite.

  “A joke? No, I’m fine. I did not think it was funny though, but please don’t take that as an insult. From what I’m told, I’m quite humorless.”

  The egg-shaped metal hull boomed with a knowing voice:

  “So you must be in accounting? Or is it taxes?”

  Hilderich simply blinked.

  “It’s another joke. Wow, you’re a hard audience. Anyway, Hilderich, was it? You can call me Centron. Or Ron. Or Prosops. Whatever you do, just don’t call me Jack or Hal. Especially not Hal.”

  Hilderich blinked once more unable to fully understand, but managed to ask:

  “The Centron? This place? It’s you? ”

  The construct made another weird motion. This time it reminded Hilderich of a child trying to dance to a tune it had never heard of before.

  “I’ll give you the straight answer. It is me, it’s all me. Technically, it’s the other way around. Meaning that this is just a construct I am using to speak to you, instead of talking straight to your mind, or appearing as a flaming God or some other of my past avatars. It’s not the most successful one, I know, but I think it’s quite elegant, for an avatar that is. Sleek, aerodynamic. Well, even fluid dynamic. Get it? Air is a fluid? I’m not getting through to you at all, eh? Sorry. Got carried away again.”

  “You are a strange.. What should I call you? Are you another person, talking through this device? Are you something else en
tirely? Are you simply a voice, like the one that talked to us right before we got here?”

  Amonas was sitting at the floor now with legs sprawled, hands on the floor keeping him upright. He was looking upwards through the shaft, as if something really interesting floated high up above them.

  “Who? What? I’m a person, I have rights, feelings, emotional problems, everything that comes with being a perfectly normal highly-evolved AI stuck on a shitty job.”

  The metal egg stood right on the ground, perfectly balanced now.

  “I do not know what hei-eye means. But I understand I can address you as I would any person. You speak of a job? What kind of a job?”

  “It’s a job alright and someone has to do it. I thought I’d give it a swing. You know, a world at your fingertips, battles raging, years going by, changes in the scenery. But this latest one’s been a drag. I mean, someone should seriously think about abdicating. I mean this is getting ridiculous. Actually it has been ridiculous for at least two thousand revolutions around the binary. That’s forty-two standardized universals. Man, forty-two standard!”

  The egg flashed with a bright blue glow from its black band and shot upward about a foot high suddenly. Hilderich thought that was to stress his point. It failed to do so quite completely though, because he could not understand the real significance of those numbers. He did make a mental note though that forty-two standards was too much.

  “I’m baffled at all this. I’m sure that you could explain them in a much more detailed fashion, but before you do that, I have to ask your help. My friend over there, seems to have regressed to a catatonic state of mind. I fear he might have lost it completely.”

  “Lost it completely, you say? Did you check his pockets?”

  The avatar of Centron made another motion that could resemble someone giggling, but after looking at Hilderich’s red-faced expression he spoke with much more sobriety:

  “I won’t do it again I promise, sometimes just I can’t help myself. I know I’m not good at it, but can you blame me? I got no one to practice with. So, about your friend. Well yeah, I might seem flashy and really bad at making jokes but I think I can find out what’s wrong with him. We’ll have to get him to the Den though. Can’t do delicate work with avatar-quality fields. You wouldn’t want your friend to make like a duck happily for the rest of his life, would you?”

  Centron’s avatar flashed a blue glow running up and down his black band, probably an indication of laughter or something to that effect. It did not carry through to Hilderich.

  “Well, then. Enough dicking around I guess. Hop on, we’ll be there shortly.”

  In only a few moments in a fashion similar to the one before, the avatar turned from an egg into a multi-wheeled vehicle with a single seat, and what seemed to be a stretcher at the back. There appeared to be no controls. There was a sort of tent or awning as well, perhaps in order to offer some short of shade from the sunlight, but Hilderich thought it was quite superfluous. Though transforming at will to any shape imaginable was certainly an ability that shunted necessities and favored whim and fancy above all. Perhaps he could ask more about it later.

  The vehicle went to the side of Amonas, and gently carried him off his feet and onto the stretcher, all the while maintaining his posture. Even if he hadn’t lost his mind and knew where he was standing at, Amonas would not have been troubled the least. Once he was laid down on the stretcher, the vehicle-avatar spoke to Hilderich:

  “Come on. Get in. On. Whatever, I’ve got no doors anyway.”

  Hilderich indulged the avatar with a smile and took his seat. Then, it said with a gleeful note in its voice:

  “Look, no hands!”

  And then they zipped off with an unprecedented feeling of acceleration, like being swept by an angel indeed, Hilderich thought. There was no other uncomfortable sensation, like the forceful rush of air against his face. Indeed, it was barely possible to notice they were moving with dazzling speed and that was only if one took very careful notice of the shaft above. Hilderich asked, sitting comfortably, while being quite pleasantly bewildered and not at all wary:

  “So, where are we going now?”

  The reply came with a slow quality, as if mocking someone of visibly lesser intellectual capacity:

  “To the Den. Duh.”

  “What is that place?”

  “It’s the Den, man. The game room. His den. The Sleeping Man’s den. Top medicare, for free! It’s a limited time offer thing though, don’t bring in your other friends as well.”

  “The sleeping man’s den? Won’t we be intruding?”

  “Yeah, right. Like you’re gonna wake him up.”

  “He is in a very deep sleep then? A slumber? Is he going to help us? Help Amonas?”

  “Man, the Sleeping Man’s always asleep. How is he gonna play anyway?”

  “Play?”

  “Yeah, you know play the game. The end game. The final. I thought you guys were here to watch.”

  “Watch.. the game?”

  “You’re spectators, right? Visitors? You know, for the final game.”

  Hilderich was suddenly silent, as if contemplating heavily his next few words. The avatar said before he could answer:

  “Well you had a ticket, you got in. How could you not get in without a ticket. You’re not one of those loonies I get from time to time, are you?”