The Valley of Despair
Page 8
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The man returned to his work in the quarries far beneath the city foundations where he and his fellows mined gold and diamond and sapphire and other riches for export for use by the good citizenry of Deneb. Whereas the miners might not pass beyond the boundary of the time influence in their delvings still they could dig to nearly half a kilometer in depth; and this the Denebians seemed determined to do. At great depth he and Argos and a handful of others chiseled in a long disused branch of the mine where Erik made a discovery.
The man had noticed that although artistry and statuary remnants from the original occupiers of the city abounded he had yet to see even a single example of their writing, its distinct lack causing him to wonder if the people who built the city might not have been illiterate. Every ancient city he ever visited, from Rome to Egypt, had been replete with chiselings in the builders’ native tongue – yet not here.
Deep in the primordial shaft they came upon the remains of a bronzium door of elaborate make. Long disused, this particular tunnel had likely not been trod since the days of the original builders. It had been due to a problem with a ventilation shaft in another section where they were to have worked their shift that brought them here instead.
Given their instructions at the entry to the shaft by a Denebian detachment and led by Argos they made their way into the dark recesses of a tunnel in which they hoped to find diamond or platinum. Reaching the head of the shaft they began clearing debris when Erik uncovered the door. Covering portions of the hammered paneling were the familiar artistry, examples of which abounded in the city far above their heads. But in addition to ornate imagery he now for the first time discovered narrow, vertical lines of hieroglyphs the sight of which caused him great excitement.
In style the symbols reminded him of the Egyptian writings he’d seen in Cairo and Luxor. Yet these were so different he could assume no relation existed, with any apparent kinship to Egyptian being strictly in arrangement and not in the actual characters. This did not discount the fact he found them to be remarkably familiar, as though he’d seen examples of the style and that recently.
“What do you make of it, Argos?”
“I wish you hadn’t found it,” the Greek replied. “We need to dig, not puzzle over mysteries that were centuries old before we were born.”
Erik agreed. Still, a feeling of recognition driving a sensation of deep familiarity would not allow him to completely force thoughts of the bronzium door and its mysterious hieroglyphs from his mind. He felt sure he had seen them before, he just couldn’t put his finger on when and where. Setting the door to one side the miners continued their work, excavating a gold seam they discovered instead of the platinum they sought.
Later in the same work cycle he and Argos and the others of their party took a scheduled respite from their labors to break their fasts. Instead of squatting in the narrow confines of the dusty tunnel in which they labored they returned the short distance to the entry where the bronzium door had been discovered; here the space was wider and the air not so stale and dusty. The troupe of some fifteen men sat, the men eating mostly in silence for they were weary. Once again Erik studied the perplexing door.
At the end of their short break a trio of Denebian guards waded through their midst, goading the men to return to work per the shift schedule. Their sudden appearance reminded Erik of Lafalldor’s entrance of a few days past when he was being tutored by Peenemünde in her quarters. The recollection also brought a searing memory of what followed after Lafalldor and his men vacated the beautiful girl’s rooms.
But just now it was not the few moments of bliss he shared with Peenemünde upon which his mind focused but rather the scribblings she made in her papers where she wrote, in Denebian, updates as to his progress – in hieroglyphs nearly identical to the ones on the bronzium door. With that grunt of satisfaction that all experience who strive to recall something elusive and unexpectedly catch the vagrant memory, he sat up and looked at Argos with a grin.
“I know where I’ve seen the hieroglyphs!” he hissed, careful a guard didn’t overhear.
“What are you going on about?” asked his bearded companion disinterestedly.
The men stood and formed lines preparatory to returning to the site of their labor. “The writing on the door, Argos! It is the same as I’ve watched Peenemünde write in her records – which she records in Denebian.”
Erik’s excitement, however, was not infectious. Instead of replying Argos only shrugged as he made his way back through the dark tunnel, using a primitive firebrand to light his way since the guard’s disdained allowing use of their more technical light sources, these being of some chemical make. Once out of earshot of the guards who remained behind in the larger chamber Erik took up his argument once more.
“It eluded me at first as to where I’d seen those markings,” he began.
“Let me guess – because you were staring at Peenemünde and not at what Peenemünde was doing,” Argos suggested drily.
“No! I mean—well, you might not be so far off base about that, actually. But also there are subtle differences in the writings – sort of like comparing two-thousand year old Hellenic characters to those of modern day,” Erik hinted.
Argos harrumphed. “Now it is you who are talking riddles.”
“Oh, come on Argos! Do I have to spell it out for you?” Erik burst, vexed.
Argos cast a beetle-browed look back over one shoulder. “Although you cannot see it for my great beard, there is a brain between my ears.”
“Argos, it is beyond the pale to believe modern Denebian writing has such similarity to these ancient writings left by the builders of this city and the two not be related!”
“Then I’d guess the Denebians made the door – there’s your explanation.”
They’d arrived at the head of the tunnel and the men began picking up their tools.
“The Denebians don’t create murals and statuary,” Erik replied, exasperated. “And you know it!”
Argos grinned, but said nothing. After a bit, however, the bearded Greek eyed the young man working at his side. “I advise you to drop this fascination you have with this, Erik. Digging into this city’s past – into the Denebians’ past? Nothing good can come of it, my friend.”
Erik made no reply. He found himself unable to think of anything else. When they left the mine that day he shuffled out last, pausing by the prehistoric relic once more to study the writings, memorizing many of them. Over the next several work periods he was able to study them further, furthering as well the deep aggravation of Argos for whom such things held no interest.
At last it dawned on him to ask for pieces of parchment of Peenemünde and, sneaking several pieces of burnt cinder from a cook fire, he was able to make rubbings of the writings. When Erik was again taken to the girl’s chambers for tutoring he smuggled with him the rubbings he made, these including examples as well of the embossed artwork. The girl was amazed.
“You’re right, Erik, they are indeed the same! See here.” The girl pointed to a line of hieroglyphs on the scratching he brought to her. “Here is their word for gold. Here it says the door was to be used to seal a gold seam, marking it to be mined at some later point in time. Apparently they never returned to it as you have said the vein is yet virgin, with only the walls showing the signs of chiseling but the gold remaining untouched.”
As the two secretly studied the hieroglyphs Erik discovered on the bronze door, the door appearing as ancient as the city itself and causing them to guess it had been engraved by the builders of the city, and compared these writings to the modern derivations of the gray creatures of which Peenemünde was conversant, they began to harbor a certain suspicion. They now believed the horrid beings of Deneb were somehow the original builders of the city - the ones who had lived here and whom had supposedly gone extinct or otherwise mysteriously disappeared. Now they had cause to believe them to be one and the same.
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nbsp; “I tell you, Peenemünde,” he said excitedly one evening at mealtime. “How else might one account for the similarities between the written language of the people who built this city and the modern hieroglyphs of these strange creatures? Consider this hypothesis: the ancient builders stumble by pure happenstance onto this diabolical path to another world. They migrate to Deneb for some unknown reason, possibly out of simple curiosity or to flee some enemy, no one may say. They then found themselves unable to return, eventually forgetting their natal world – the Earth.”
The girl nodded her head in agreement.
“And as I have heard them say, they discovered the opposite end of the gateway inside a volcano on their world. What if that volcano erupted after a mass migration from here took place, marooning them on Deneb? It would explain much. And then, an incalculable amount of time later, they rediscover the gateway on their end and return here after the city had fallen into ruin, whereupon they began harvesting dumb brutes for slave labor, little knowing that these are their fellow descendants of Earth they enslave. But Erik, what of the strange appearance they now have? They look nothing like the beautiful people in the paintings and statuary. And the bizarre language they speak? There is no tongue like it on Earth.”
“I am no physician,