The Secret of the Golden Gods Omnibus Edition

by Pedro Urvi

  He got the same negative reply. Ikai tried to open the bars of the sphere, pulling with all his might, but was unable to.

  “You… won’t be… able…”

  Ikai tried again, but had to give up.

  “I wouldn’t go very far… anyway…” she said, gesturing at her withered legs.

  “I’m looking for my sister, she was Summoned with others. Haven’t you seen them?”

  The woman swallowed and nodded. “Yes… They were in the deepest blocks.”

  “They were?”

  “Yes, they’ve been taken away... They passed by here on their way out.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The woman nodded again and lowered her eyes.

  “When was that?”

  “A little while ago… I couldn’t say how long… it’s hard to tell time here…”

  “Do you know where they’ve been taken?”

  The woman looked at Ikai. In her eyes was a dark well of sadness.

  “I don’t know where they took them. Out of here, I think…”

  “Out of here? How do you know?”

  “They took them in the same direction you’ve come from, that’s where the way out is, that I do know… Down the other end, down that tunnel, the dungeon blocks continue,” she said, pointing towards where the Executor had gone. “The deeper they are, the worse the punishment. Nobody ever comes back from the deepest dungeons…”

  “Were they… were they all right when they came past?”

  “They were better than us… that’s for sure…”

  Ikai examined her. She was covered in bruises and sores. She had been severely beaten, and her legs had taken the worst punishment. He clenched his fists on the bars and tugged, in the grip of a terrible rage and impotence.

  “How can I help you?” he asked her when his strength was exhausted.

  “Get out of here alive… and don’t forget what you’ve seen… there are many of us in here… suffering, every day, waiting for the end in a long agony that never ceases… many…”

  Ikai stroked her face, smeared with dried blood, and smiled kindly at her. Then he took both her hands and kissed them lightly.

  “I won’t forget you and I promise I’ll tell, you have my word.”

  The woman smiled at him.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Ikai, my name is Ikai.”

  “Go now, Ikai, and tell our people that you met Mada in the Dungeons of Oblivion, and that there are many like her down here, suffering a terrible fate, forgotten by all.”

  Ikai nodded. A sound reached his trained ear. He looked towards the mouth of the tunnel. A figure wrapped in a black hooded cloak was watching him. In his hand was a short bow.

  “Damnation!”

  Ikai turned into the tunnel on his right and began to run.

  10

  Kyra writhed and kicked with all her might, but it was useless. She could not break free. She was on a hard surface, tied down by her waist, feet and hands. She stopped trying to get free and tried instead to see what was around her. Nothing. There was total darkness. She sniffed like a dog and a familiar smell came to her nostrils: sulfur. There are Enforcers here.

  She calmed down and waited, listening carefully, but there was not even the sound of the monsters breathing. Suddenly she heard footsteps, and there was light. Kyra strained her neck to look around. She was in a triangular chamber with black alabaster walls, and in each corner was an Executor on guard, armed with a spear. In the center of each wall a torch was hanging, lighting up the hall with a dancing flame. In the center of the chamber beside her she saw the three horribly burnt girls. Kyra stretched her neck to see them better. They were not moving. They must already be dead. They were held down like her, lying on slabs of polished red marble. Kyra’s instinct screamed at her desperately: Sacrificial altars!

  She twisted her neck and saw the same red marble under her own arm. She started cursing to herself. They’re going to sacrifice me! With a soft buzz, a round door opened at the end of the chamber, moving to the top of the wall and disappearing into it. Kyra’s mouth dropped, but before she could guess how an enormous golden door could possibly rise by itself, an Eye-of-the-Gods emerged through it from the darkness. When she saw him Kyra felt an icy chill, as if an icicle were sliding down her back.

  The Eye came up to her and stood beside her without making any noticeable sound. The sinister helmet bent over Kyra’s face. Fear clamped her stomach, but her terror allowed her to find strength.

  “Let me go! Let me go!” she shouted furiously, struggling against her own fear.

  The Enforcer of the Gods stared at her for a moment, erect and defiant. He took a ceremonial dagger from his belt, with strange runes carved on its sharp edge. Terror made Kyra lose her voice. I’m going to die! she thought, and she was so sure of it that she was unable to scream.

  The bony hand of the Enforcer held Kyra’s forehead firmly, pushing her head down against the cold marble. She tried to struggle, but it was useless. She stared at the brownish ochre of the horrible creature’s skin, the swollen black veins, the smell of sulfur coming from him, and her stomach turned. The dagger passed before her eyes, and on contact with a beam of light from one of the torches it gave out a flash which dazzled her. She closed her eyes. He’s going to cut my throat! Terror weighed on her chest so heavily that she could not breathe.

  The intense pain of a deep cut on her forearm clouded her mind. Kyra opened her eyes wide and glanced down at the unexpected source of pain. Just above the Ring was a bleeding cut. Kyra tried to get free again, using all her anger, twisting her body under the ligatures. The Eye held her neck with one hand and pressed hard. Air stopped reaching her lungs. He was strangling her! She tried to breathe through her nose, but the air was not coming in. And she stopped struggling.

  After a moment, the Enforcer released the pressure and she was able to breathe again.

  “Stay still, slave!” he ordered in that strident voice which hurt her ears.

  Kyra did not move another muscle; slowly she filled her lungs with the precious air and focused on a single thing: survival. The Eye brought out a crystal disc, the size of an apple, and placed it over the blood flowing from her wound. It was flat and perfectly circular. Inside, in its very center, was a tiny nugget of gold. Kyra eyed the strange object fearfully. On contact with her blood the disc emitted a long golden flash which spread across the walls of the chamber. Kyra’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Surprising… very surprising,” murmured the Enforcer. He raised the strange disc and studied it carefully.

  He placed it back over the wound, and something truly unusual and worrying began to happen before her astonished eyes: the disc began to show an infinity of intricate veins around the golden pebble, which slowly turned red as it absorbed blood from the cut. The blood flowed from Kyra’s body into the interior of the disc, filling and coloring the thousands of crystalline veins.

  What the hell…! What’s this? It’s drinking my blood! She was so frightened and confused that she could not respond in any way. The Enforcer removed the disc, which by now had turned completely red. Kyra felt weak and a little dizzy. She thought it might be because of the amount of blood she had lost, but it had not been very much. She had lost blood before, from cuts and falls, much more than now. No, there was something more that had been extracted from her body… her own energy? This left her baffled. What was going on? What did this monster want from her? What had he done to her?

  The Eye ignored her completely. He turned round and carefully stowed the disc away in his wide black sash. Slowly he went up to the first of the three women on the marble altars and placed his hands on either side of her head. He pressed hard. There was a tiny, almost metallic sound, like two swords clashing in combat. The Eye took away his hands and stepped back from the altar.

  Kyra eyed him in puzzlement. What was he doing? A whitish light began to issue from the altar. After a few moments the altar began to change color until
at last it had turned completely silver. It now shed a silver light of absolute purity, so that it hurt to look at it. It bathed the girl’s body, as if it were passing straight through flesh and bone. While the light still bathed the first girl, the Eye went up to the other two and repeated the process. Kyra did not understand what was happening, but her instinct told her the three girls were being purged in some way, for some macabre purpose. Why do it if they’re already dead? The silver light stopped radiating at last. Kyra blinked hard to accustom her eyes to the brightness.

  “Noooooooo!” came a scream.

  Kyra turned to her right and saw the girl beside her: eyes wide as saucers, mouth hanging loose. Kyra’s heart was beating furiously. The girl had woken up. She was not dead! But not only that—her blackened left side was normal again. Kyra stared in astonishment. There came a second scream, then a third. The two other prisoners were waking up. The Eye went up to them and examined them carefully. He brought out a book bound in silver and seemed to note down something in it with his bony index finger. When he was satisfied he left the chamber in silence. Kyra watched him go, then looked at the three girls, who seemed to be waking from a gruesome nightmare. What on earth had happened there? What had the henchman of the Gods done with them? What were they wanted for? Her gaze lingered on the three Executors guarding the chamber like stone custodians, and she knew she would get no answers that day.

  Idana was asleep beside Yosane when the Executors burst into the prison-chamber. She woke up, anxiety clamping her chest. She stood up and looked at Yosane. The girl’s face gaped in surprise and fear. Idana spread her arms and Yosane sought the warmth of her hug.

  “What will they do to us?” Yosane asked. She was eying the Enforcers fearfully.

  Idana felt the girl trembling like a leaf in her arms and tried to encourage her. “I don’t know, keep strong.”

  “And Kyra?” she asked, looking around.

  “They haven’t brought her back… it’s been almost three days…”

  The Executors crossed the barrier which kept them captive and came in for them. All were taken amid shoves and blows. Idana felt as though they were cattle being taken to slaughter. The labyrinth of tunnels and underground chambers they were made to stagger through was so vast it was impossible to know which direction they were going in. The light of day blinded Idana as soon as she set foot on the long grass and left behind the hatch which closed the exit chamber. She covered her eyes and for a moment felt stunned. Everything around her was dazzlingly bright, and she could feel the soft grass under her feet. The rustic scent of the fields suddenly filled her nostrils, and she was deafened by a horse’s neigh very close by. Her senses were hit, sharply and unexpectedly. For a long time they had known only shadows and darkness, damp and rancid smells, cold, hard floors, and the cruel silence of suppressed crying.

  Idana waited for her senses to grow accustomed to her new environment and at last dared open her eyes. What she saw left her both surprised and stunned. Before her lay a wide plain covered with grass and wild plants, with a forest of elm trees to the left and a dirt path to the right. Half a dozen carts, pulled by heavy horses, formed a line on the path. The carts were large and sturdy, and the back of each consisted of a rectangular cage with black bars. Sitting at the front of each cart and holding the reins were two Executors. Idana stared at them, and her spirits wilted like a wild flower without water. At the head of the line of carts was a different one, smaller, lower and semi-circular, with an open back. It was golden, and an Eye-of-the-Gods was standing on it. A hand clutched Idana’s arm.

  “It’s a slave caravan!” Yosane said under her breath.

  “To the carts!” came the strident voice of the Eye.

  A murmur of mingled fear and sobbing rose in the clearing. The prisoners eyed each other fearfully, their hopes dashed by the prospect before them.

  “Come on, quickly!” the Eye shouted impatiently.

  The Executors around them started to push them towards one of the carts, using their spears without any restraint. Idana felt a blow on her back and began to stumble. Yosane hastened to her side and took her hand, and Idana smiled gratefully at her. When she saw the fear in her friend’s eyes she realized how scared she was herself. Idana was deeply grateful for Yosane’s support, since no matter how scared she might be, it helped her to dispel her own growing fears. They were herded on to the last cart, and Idana made herself as comfortable as she could against the bars. Yosane sat down next to her in silence, and they all waited. Idana had no idea what gave her that impression, but she sensed that the atmosphere was getting tenser.

  “Look!” Yosane cried suddenly, her voice excited.

  Idana followed her pointing finger and saw three girls coming through the hatch. They were the wounded girls, the ones she had examined, and yet they appeared to be fully recovered now. She was flabbergasted. They were walking toward the last cart, guided by an Eye.

  “Kyra!” Yosane shouted, waving her hand through the bars.

  Idana saw Kyra come out, escorted by two Executors. She looked well and was walking very erect, looking defiant. She saw them and nodded. A tiny smile appeared on her face and she winked at them. One of the Executors saw it and hit her.

  “Don’t hit her, please!” Yosane begged.

  In response they hit Kyra again. Yosane fell silent. A tear slid down her cheek and her hands tugged impotently at the bars. Kyra was put on the last cart with the other three girls.

  “You’d better not say another word,” came Lian’s voice from the cart in front. Her domineering voice and blonde hair were unmistakable. Beside her was Urda, together with two other girls who now followed her everywhere, alert to everything she said, as if they were her servants. Yosane stared at her.

  “That one’s going to get us into a mess, and we won’t get out of it alive,” Lian commented.

  “Let her be,” Yosane defended her.

  “Tell your friend not to try anything or I swear Urda will pull her head off.”

  “Mind your own business!” Idana said.

  Lian waved a finger threateningly at her. “That’s what I’m doing, apothecary. Keep her quiet as a lamb.”

  “Quiet, all of you!” the Eye ordered them. There was silence immediately. The Executors checked the locks of the cages.

  “All ready,” said the Eye at the end of the group.

  “Let’s go!” replied the Eye in the leading cart, and spurred the horses. The golden cart set off, and behind them the prison-carts. The caravan was on its way.

  They went on for days, crossing plains and forests, following a vaguely visible path amid the vegetation. Yosane had confirmed this to her.

  “We’re going north-east all the time,” she had said on the second day.

  “How do you know?”

  Yosane pointed upwards. “By the sun, but mostly by the stars. My father taught me to read the night sky and find my way by the stars. I’m not very brave, or determined, I know” —she glanced down— “but I have a quick mind and a good memory. My father even says it’s excellent, but I don’t believe it. He’s my father after all and I’m his only child, so what else would he say…?”

  Idana had smiled and stroked her arm to cheer her up a little, because it was a terrible situation to be in whether your heart was brave or not. She watched her clever companion, swaying at her side with the movement of the cart. She had already noticed that the girl was bright. Idana had always wanted to have a sister, someone she could lean on, someone to share joys and sorrows with. Watching Yosane, she felt the same feeling again. Idana was an only child; her home had not been blessed with a large family and on top of that she had lost her mother at an early age.

  She remembered it well; it had been a few days before her tenth birthday, so that the date for her was forever a day of mourning. The terrible sadness it had left her with, the feeling of loss and impotence, her poor father’s grief: all these had left a mark burned on her heart forever. The poor woman had been sick fo
r three seasons, fighting to survive, fighting not to have to abandon her and her father. She had fought to the end of her strength, every day, against the fever which was slowly consuming her. Her father, an honest, dedicated apothecary, had pawned everything he had to pay the surgeons, and nearly lost it all. But they had not been able to do anything more than prolong the agony, until at last the fever took her. Idana had been by her side up to the last moment.

  She could still feel the touch of her withered hand at the moment of her final farewell. Idana had cried inconsolably for days. She understood that her father’s medicines had not been able to cure her, for many people were dying of the same illness in the city and it was spreading throughout the county. What she could not understand was why the surgeons had not been able to cure her. That was their job; they were not limited like her own father, who was a simple apothecary. Surgeons studied the body, they knew about illnesses and how to treat them. Why had they not been able to stop this plague that had taken so many lives? If she had been a surgeon herself, if she had had the chance, she would have saved them. Since that fateful day all she wanted was to become a surgeon, so that she might be able to save lives, like that of her poor mother.

  “Idana… you’re very quiet, what are you thinking about?” Yosane asked her.

  “I was thinking about my mother… about how she died when I was a little girl and there was nothing we could do to save her. I was thinking I would give my soul for the chance to become a surgeon… to get hold of the knowledge to save helpless people.”

  Yosane gazed at her thoughtfully. “I understand. Only the most privileged families have access to that position…”

  Idana nodded and swallowed with difficulty.

  “An apothecary is a very good profession. Well respected. It’s really you who heal people, not the surgeons. They only look after the wealthy. You’re doing good and healing people.”

  “Thank you, Yosane. But a surgeon’s knowledge is much more advanced, and it lets them heal wounds and illnesses that an apothecary can only dream of curing. Many’s the time my father has had to give up in the face of problems a surgeon would have been able to deal with.”