Elhan darted into the gaping mouth of the passage, but Sapha eyed it with apprehension.
“You can’t be serious,” she gasped. “This passage was not made for giants of any size.”
“We’ve no time to argue, hurry and get inside,” insisted Jackabo.
“What is that smell,” she shot back as she bent over to look inside the passage.
“Sorry for this, my love,” said Jackabo, putting his foot on her behind, giving her a shove that sent her sprawling headlong into the passage as he shut the opening behind them. He could hear the confused voices on the other side of the wall, looking in vain for them even though their tracks were fresh. Sapha grabbed Jackabo by the shirt and would have slapped him in the face had he not put a hand over her mouth and made a signal for them to be silent. The soldiers stood but a few feet away. Lighting a torch from the wall, Jackabo motioned for them to follow as he navigated the small passage within the city wall. When they had traveled far enough, he breathed a sigh of relief and motioned for them to rest.
“How did you know about this tunnel?” asked Elhan.
“Trade secret, I’m afraid. But rest assured, the priests that ran the temple district, once upon a time, knew well how to make use of it to move their donations safely,” laughed Jackabo. “That wonderful aroma you smell is the sewer. These tunnels were originally used for maintenance in the old days of the empire, but over the years, most have forgotten about them entirely.”
“There were no giants working for the city because these tunnels are too small,” sneered Sapha.
She moved through the tunnel bent over at the waist, bumping her head on the ceiling and scraping the skin off her elbows on the walls.
“I’m afraid in those days a giant would be floating face down in the sewer, not working over it,” he said.
“Does this tunnel connect with the palace?” said Elhan.
“No, but the sewer underneath us does,” Jackabo answered uneasily.
“If we can get some information on Conner’ plans, we might be able to assist in ending this plague before it starts,” said Elhan.
“Do you realize how damn crazy that sounds,” insisted Jackabo.
“Maybe so, but I can’t stand by and do nothing while the whole world dies,” Elhan persisted.
“Fine, but Sapha stays out of it,” said Jackabo.
“I can speak for myself,” said Sapha as her giant-blood started to boil. “I’m not sitting by helplessly.”
“Okay, there is a sewer junction a hundred paces from here. We can access the sewer from there,” said Jackabo, mumbling under his breath.
They moved as quickly as they could, realizing that someone in the temple square would tell the soldiers of the hidden door as soon as the price got high enough. Slime from the walls stuck to their skin and stank of the dank, musky mold that hung from the ceiling of the passage. Moments seemed like hours in the dim recesses of the passage, but finally they came to large iron floor grate leading to the sewers below. An imposing six by six foot grate lay at their feet with bars large as a man’s wrist. Looking at it with concern, Elhan gripped the bars, braces his legs and heaved. Nevertheless, pulling with all his might only managed to budge the ironwork for an instant.
“What would you do without me,” Sapha smiled as she clutched the bars, heaved them up and set them aside.
“Down you go,” quipped Jackabo as he jumped into the opening, falling into the murky water below with Elhan and Sapha right behind him. Tunnels and pipes surrounded them on all sides, making navigation impossible for someone who was not already familiar with the workings. “Stay close.”
Wading through brackish hip-deep mire, Jackabo led them upward through pipes that made Sapha, due to her size, crawl on hands and knees for a time, barely able to keep her face from the reeking water. After several minutes of crawling, the pipe finally joined with three larger sections, giving them the room they needed to stand once more. Without warning, Jackabo held up his hand for them to stop. Cocking his head to one side, he listened intently. After a minute, the faint sound of splashing began to echo through the pipes along with a light rasping noise like a wind blown tree branch scraping against window glass. The noise made Sapha uneasy as it grew louder, and then, without warning, she felt something scratching at her legs. She screamed and bolted past Elhan and Jackabo in a panic, swatting at her back and legs as fast as her hands would move. Jackabo grabbed her hand and pulled her into a connecting pipe, running at full speed with Elhan on their heels. Echoing sounds of the rat’s claws rasping on the pipes behind them kept them running until their lungs gave out.
“They’ll not give up easily,” said Elhan, bent over and gasping for breath. “Do you have any strong wine on you?”
“I always have time for a good drink,” said Jackabo.
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” said Elhan.
“No,” Jackabo said as the sound of the rats grew louder.
“Give it to him,” insisted Sapha.
“I’m saving that for us.”
“Give it to him – now!”
Jackabo reluctantly took a flask from his boot and handed it to Elhan who immediately began sprinkling the contents in all directions. Then, he struck flint to steel sending sparks flying like wayward fireflies.
“You’re going to burn it!” said Jackabo in disbelief.
“Go ahead of me. I’ll be there in a minute,” Elhan stated.
Sapha understood and went ahead up the pipe, pulling a dumbstruck Jackabo behind her and leaving Elhan to his work. Elhan scattered the liquor into the flowing water around him, careful to get as little on his clothes as possible when he poured. The liquid was thick and floated on the surface of the water like oil, but gave off an alcoholic smell that could have knocked a horse unconscious. He stood upstream so the liquid flowed away from him and toward the pursuing horde of rats. He could see them now with their red eyes flashing in the dark and their claws scraping the pipe as they advanced toward them.
On his last strike, the fire took hold. He ran as fast as his feet would carry him in the slippery water, but nothing could have prepared him for what happen next. A sudden rush of air blew past Elhan when the fluid ignited, sending a whirling fireball flying in both directions in the pipe. It scorched the walls as it moved and threw him to the floor. The smell of burned rat filled the air as the smoke filled the pipe with noxious fumes. Elhan, rattled and scorched, struggled slowly to his feet but quickly caught up to his companions.
“What’s in that stuff?” he asked.
“It’s better you don’t know,” said Sapha. “It’s a special giant brew that Jackabo has become attached too.”
“And you drink it?” asked Elhan.
“Sometimes,” said Jackabo. “It has other uses as you can see.”
“Indeed,” Elhan shook his head in disbelief.
After more crawling, they finally reached the main junction leading to a central channeling chamber. Fresh water from the Arnon flowed in from above, mixing with the refuse and giving the sewer the level of water it needed to cleanse itself as it moved toward the Falls of Forever. Several feet below them, the bottom of the chamber churned and boiled like a large cesspool as pipes from several directions dumped their reeking contents into the pool. Carefully, they moved along a narrow ledge that skirted the walls around the pool, trying not to slip on the slime-covered rock. Elhan grit his teeth with each step until reaching the access tunnel on the other side. To their right, a larger pipe connected to the pipe they traveled and Jackabo signaled to stop.
“This is the junction tube for the palace,” he said.
Red brackish sludge ran from the pipe and stank of death so strongly that Sapha covered her face with a cloth to keep from gagging. Within the brown noxious slush, bits of bone and flesh surfaced, floating to the top with horrifying results.
“This pipe goes under the dungeon in the lower levels of the palace and is the main way enemies of Conner leave,” said Jackabo, tryi
ng to bring a bit of lightness to a grim situation.
As they drew closer to the dungeon, shrieks and screams of the tortured and dying echoed in the pipe causing the hair on back of their necks to stand on end. Requests for mercy went unanswered as whips cracked, hot irons seared quivering flesh, and racks tore muscles from bone, bringing ghastly screams to the lips of the souls in torment. Neither gender nor age mattered to Conner, and even less to his torturers, for he took pride in their job and in every whimper that escaped from their victims. Elhan clinched his teeth, trying to hold in a murderous rage at the travesty unfolding above them, cursing Conner under his breath with every footstep, but Sapha could not hear the pitiful sounds of agony without weeping quietly to herself. Light from the torches beamed through the large iron floor grating underneath the torture chamber, letting through a steady trickle of muck flow unhindered into the sewer and giving the three a glimpse of the horrors unfolding above. Within a few paces, Jackabo saw the wooden outline of the trap door above them. But even if he hadn’t seen it, the pile of dead bodies under it would have given its location. Sapha stifled a scream as a dead man’s hand mechanically grabbed at her ankle as if looking for some form of comfort in its last moments. Light from fires above flickered off the glassy blood-shot eyes of the dead that lay at their feet as the fires above hissed and sizzled, unfolding a vision of hell in front of them. Jackabo waited until a torturer above took a break to relieve himself. Then, reaching through the grating, he grabbed the man’s feet and pulled with all his might, toppling him head first into an ironwork tool rack. In an instant, they popped the trap door and stood ready for battle in the chamber, but to their amazement, no attack came. The torturer lay dead on the floor, his head transfixed through the eye by a metal poker from the rack.
“You got off easy,” spat Sapha, giving the limp torturer a kick.
Just then, the sound of iron shod footsteps echoed down the corridor toward the chamber, and a guard called out.
“Krakos, you ready for a break,” called the guard.
Jackabo whispered quietly to Sapha whose face suddenly took a crimson hue as she slapped her betrothed across the face. He shook his head, whispering again to clear up the misunderstanding. She then slowly nodded in agreement even though her face was twisted with disgust. Sapha began to giggle loudly in a sensuously high tone as Jackabo attempted a lower pitch in his reply.
“Go away, I’m busy,” Jackabo rumbled.
There was a moment hesitation that made Elhan grip his axes in each hand, ready for anything. Then came the reply.
“They’ll be demon’s to pay if you’re caught. I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” said the guard, and then the sound of retreating footsteps echoed in hallway as they sighed in relief.
“Which way now?” asked Jackabo.
“I used to know this palace like the back of my hand, but this area is new to me. It must have been put in when Mano took the regency,” said Elhan, “but I’ve come this far.”
“Let’s check the holding cells. Perhaps someone there can be our guide,” said Sapha. They rounded the hallway, turning down a dimly lit corridor filled with rows of thick oaken doors fitted with small iron barred windows. Carefully keeping watch for guards, Elhan took a torch, went to each window, and put his face to the bars as he whispered for an answer. Nothing met his ears but the pitiful sounds of groaning and someone scuffling to the other side of the room, so he went to the next door, and the next, until all the cells on that wing had been tested. Yet, no one answered his call. There, hope and health were gone and all that remained was pity and death. Almost giving up, Elhan turned the bend and one lonely cell presented itself in the corner. Darkness leeched into the corners as a dimly lit candle flickered on a table near the door. Elhan approached the cell with caution, realizing this prisoner apparently earned an extra measure of hatred from the palace officials. Holding the torch high to gleam light into the blackened room, he beckoned to the occupant.
“We will free you if you will guide us,” whispered Elhan. A bedraggled shape approached the door just out of reach of the torchlight.
“Free me?” questioned the prisoner. “You can’t even free yourself.”
Without warning, the prisoner gripped the bars of the window and thrust his bruised face to the bars so hard it distorted his features. His eyes were wide with the telltale signs of a broken mind and rolled in his head from Sapha to Jackabo and back. Even so, Elhan recognized the prisoner. It was Regent Mano. In a fit of sudden rage, Elhan rammed his fist into the face of the regent as hard as he could, sending Mano sprawling back into the cell. Elhan wrestled with the lock on the door in an attempt to get at the source of his long kept rage. Without warning, a squad of palace guards surrounded the group as spears stretched toward them held with quivering fingers, waiting to run them through at the slightest signs of resistance. From behind the guards, another familiar voice echoed in the hallway, sending ice running through Elhan’s veins.
“I never expected you to do something this stupid,” said Malkandia.
Elhan raised his hands in submission as the guards took their weapons and bound them with chains.
“I see that your selfishness has reached a new high, witch whore,” spat Elhan. “Did your master weary you that much?”
Malkandia measured his response for a moment. She gingerly ran her thick fingers through her long black hair before approaching Elhan and slapping him across the face with a force that brought blood to his lip.
“We will see who the master is, won’t we, pig,” hissed Malkandia as she turned on her heel with the grace of a dancer and retreated down the hallway. As she departed, she threw a casual remark over her shoulder. “Take them to the chamber – Conner will be there shortly.”
Twenty-Eight
“Cleaning Pages…”
Nathan found himself on hands and knees as darkness mingled with light, whirling past each other before his eyes. He felt himself transported to a place where clouds and light danced with each other in a starlit sky while melodious sounds hovered around him.
“Take off your shoes. This place is sacred,” said a voice behind him.
“Is this paradise?” Nathan asked as he removed his shoes and stood to his feet. Turning, he saw no one behind him, but the voice continued.
“Is your name in the book?”
“I have to get back to my friends.”
“What good are you to them?” said the voice.
“I don’t have the time for this,” pleaded Nathan. “Show yourself.”
“Time isn’t where you are,” said the voice, “and I’m not hiding.”
This statement drew Nathan’s rage to the surface. His thoughts went to his friends in the ancient city and he wondered if they were all right.
“Where are you?” spat Nathan with fire in his voice as he scanned his surroundings. He stood on what appeared to be a slab of glass or crystal with twirling light shining up from beneath his feet. Except for the place he stood, stars surrounded him on a blanket of dark sky.
“You’re too large for me to see then? Are you God?”
“No,” said the voice, “and don’t use His name so casually.”
“Then, I don’t understand,” said Nathan with frustration.
“And that is the first thing you’ve said that shows wisdom,” laughed the voice in a tone that echoed through the air like a distant thunder.
“Wisdom?” said Nathan.
“Yes,” it said. “She is my heart and my love. I walked with her in the Garden of God in the days before the cursing. So here is a saying to consider. I have told you who I am, and the answer is before you.”
“Enough stupid riddles,” said Nathan.
“Then perhaps this will help,” said the voice.
Immediately, Nathan felt a horrible burning sensation and fell to the floor holding his foot. He began to search the cause of the pain until he came upon a tiny ant near his ankle. Next to the insect a livid red bump grew and began to throb. Natha
n moved his hand to kill the creature.
“There, now that I have your attention,” said the ant. “I am Asa, Eldar of Ariel.”
The young seer stared at the insect in disbelief.
“I’ve come for the answers,” said Nathan in a low tone.
“Why,” asked Asa.
“I want to…” Nathan’s voice hesitated as he considered the question.
“Kill someone?” asked the voice.
“Yes.”
“Will that bring you riches?” asked Asa as a horde of golden coins and jewels appeared around them. It was more wealth than Nathan ever knew existed, and yet he shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Will it bring you power,” said Asa, as Nathan saw an army appear before him in gleaming armor, waving banners and chanting his name.
“He has killed so many, brought so much pain and death,’ Nathan whispered.
“Perhaps, you want to kill someone as you wanted to kill me a moment ago. Is it revenge you want?” said Asa, as a vision of Conner appeared. His image was beaten, tied hand-and-foot and begging for mercy. Nathan felt a knife in his hand and hate filled his eyes. “Take revenge on the murderer of your friend. He deserves it. It will certainly bring you happiness when he’s dead.”
Nathan took a few steps toward the image before stopping the knife just short of Conner’s throat. With tears in his eyes, he dropped the knife on the floor, took the star-cloth from his shirt and held it out in front of him. Staring at it for a moment, he pressed it against his face and tried to fight back his loss.
“What is that cloth to you?” asked Asa.
“It’s been my guide,” said Nathan.
“Nonsense,” said the ant. “Conner has been manipulating you with that thing sense the day he gave it too you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think, young man, think. If that is the Seer’s cloth, then how did Conner ever get his hands on it in the first place?” asked Asa. “He has used that cloth to lead him here – to the sacred city.”
The Last Refuge Page 28
