And so the Arch and the Pillar became the greatest holy symbols of Il’kinik theology, and spiritual deliverance is granted by a water-deity. The Arch, the Pillar and the Dim Sea are The Protectors, bestowed upon the eyeless people ages ago by the self-proclaimed god they worship, Kechekenibek, who is none other than the White Whale of many legends.
- The Diviner
Chapter XXIII
Raven
After at least a day spent mostly in hiding and no further visits from guards or wraiths, the compartment door creaked open. I sparked up the bog stone. A Gloom stood facing the opening in a watchful way, dried blood smeared from his cheek to the bristled eye socket above it. He hooked the chain dangling above his head to the door handle and let the metal slab relax, suspended. His voice was coarse and he seemed to struggle with every syllable.
“Out
It was a welcome change from the words that had kept me huddled in darkness, my only companion a stuffy, stinking corpse. “Guards hall
I peeled off the hood of Holly’s cloak and dispensed with the scrap of scented cloth that I had been given to breathe through; it was a thin disguise for the deathly odor in the confined space. I crawled past the fallen Harrowian and slid out of her compartment onto the floor. My head ached with the motion and my legs felt nearly as stiff as those of my bunkmate. I walked it off, giving each leg a shake to get the blood flowing. The room had been put to order again, fully restored since the ransacking.
While in hiding, I had heard the Il’kinik occupants squabbling over something unknown to me. Now that I was out of the cavity, they all bunched together, nearly nose to nose, muttering clicks and clacks punctuated with excitable chirrs and trills. No doubt, my presence had much to do with it. I stood aside to let them sort it out, whatever it was, and to stretch my tight muscles and make myself limber again. When the argument was over, they split up and got busy on a new task. The room, so neat and tidy, quickly began to come undone again, as each seemed bent on fouling the majority of the substances and implements in their stores.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked the one who had set me free.
“Now
We scattered powders onto the floor, poured liquids down a central drain, and pulled up the floor grating to drop metal instruments down the hole it covered. The cadavers they left untouched.
A small collection of dusty old books lined a shelf built into the back wall – books none of them could ever hope to read. Even so, when an angry looking fellow began tearing out pages, another stayed his hand and delivered to him an earful of sharp and piercing ticks. Instead of destroying the volumes, the intervening Gloom loaded them into a carrying bag and slung them over his shoulder.
As the demolition continued, I was drawn to one of the bodies laid out on a table, the only one uncovered and ready to be worked on. She wasn’t much beyond a girl by the shape of her face and the youth still showing in her skin. Her long dark hair contrasted the palest complexion. She did not look as dead as she did asleep. A sleeping giantess, I thought, for her length surpassed that of normal Men and Outlanders. She slept with her eyes open though. And a noblewoman, I gathered, by the refined features of her face and the gentleness in her hands. The native blood of the Dim Lake Tor Lords once coursed through her veins, to be sure. Just to convince myself she was not alive, I reached out and touched her peaceful arm – it was not warm, but the skin was still soft and supple. I wondered what had brought her to such a place and what procedure had been in store for her.
By the end of the endeavor, the Bound Ones had smashed or otherwise rendered useless all of their holdings, and packed up those items deemed worthy and transportable – a serious act of defiance. If caught, the wraiths surely would slaughter them. Satisfied, one by one they exited into the hallway. Before leaving, I checked the spotter’s cloak top to bottom, as carefully as I could in a hurry. The lasso maneuver had done a number on the garment, and several areas appeared to warp the background. It will have to do though, I decided. I donned my hood and adjusted the cloak as best I could. It got me this far.
On my way out, I gently closed the giantess’ eyes, then left her behind. In the hallway outside the chamber, the wall sconces were lit and the walls had resumed their familiar pattern of ominous shapeshifting – no eyes. I checked both ways – all clear. Before departing, one of my companions spoke to me.
“Isotopia… go,” said the Gloom. I believed this one to be a “she,” but the conclusion was not obvious. The Gloom was a little taller and thinner than the others, or maybe just stood straighter, and was also fine featured. Thick white hair stuck up in tufts on the top of her head. She motioned with her hand for me to lead the way.
“Raven,” I said, pointing at the first Il’kinik that I had spoken to earlier, the one with the spotted head. He stepped forward and “looked” me over – scanned is more like it.
“I don’t know the way,” I said. “But if you help me out of here, I will find your Isotopia. I promise. I just need to get to the surface.”
Raven stepped back with a flurry of protesting chirrs, shaking his head and waving his arms at me. I stood there for a long moment, puzzled. But then I remembered the words of Nekenezitter. The Gloom with eyes had alluded to the answer; the source of Raven’s unease. It had to do with the surface world: why would Isotopia – the “Land Promised” – have anything to do with his people’s version of “Hell”? I tried to put him at ease.
“There might be clues about Isotopia in books, or in stories passed from one generation to the next, or in other records,” I said.
Raven motioned to his companion’s book bag. I nodded.
“Lots of things are in books,” I explained, “and there are rooms full of books on the surface. Books are not bad, are they? Maybe that’s why the answer is so hard to find – no one thought to look for Isotopia in a book.”
Raven went still. “
“Yes,” I said. “But it doesn’t have to be hidden. And there are books you can read by feeling the words. Maybe one day…” I trailed off with the thought.
“
“Yes,” I said, “…for Il’kinik.”
The Gloom raised his index finger to one side of his chin, snapped two rapid and sharp high-pitched clicks, and then followed with a low, popping sound. “I get it,” was my guess. I started back the way I had come.
“Not
Marching on through the torch-lit passages, the company of Glooms proved to be less than gloomy company. Their spirits seemed high, this despite their trials with terrible wraiths, the dissention among them, and the danger looming over them by helping me. The Il’kinik clung to a kind of persevering hope – hope that their troubles might some day fade into the distant echoes of some long forgotten cave; hope that the future would give way to a sweet resonance of freedom and prosperity.
We met other groups of Il’kinik in the halls going about their business, and came upon two tower guards for a frightful minute. Without issue, we passed them all by.
As we made our way deeper into the heart of the tunnel system, the usual clicks and clacks of Gloom conversation matured into something more entertaining. The chatter took on a life of its own as streams of chirps and pops and other sharp sounds began to coalesce into a rhythm, picking up the pace of our march and bringing out the spring in our steps. Despite wanting to pass without notice, I could not help but to join in as best I could. My companions turned their heads to me one by one, quizzically. I supposed they were wondering what exac
tly to make of my nonsense. Slowly though, I deciphered bits and pieces of their language. Perfect memory is a great help in that regard.
After a drawn out stretch that lacked any features worth mention, the path began to slope downwards, eventually coming to a three-way branch. Raven led us through the left passage. Even I could tell it was older. The walls were still of stone block construction, but fragmented. There were no more doors, only open tunnels to lead us deeper and deeper underground. The floor became uneven and slick in places, with no shortage of fragmented rock to stumble over. The Glooms seemed better equipped to navigate the fallen debris than I did.
Without warning, the walls turned to eyes again. I kept with the middle of the group, silent, and carefully drew the cowl of my hood as tight as it would go. I did not even breathe. The Il’kinik simply carried on as usual, at unawares. The wall eyes searched for a long minute, and then faded away into the swirling backdrop.
At last, we came to an iron door, double locked by bar and key. Raven produced the key, wrestled the bar up and held the door open as the rest of us stepped through. On the other side, the stonework transitioned from well-ordered blocks to roughly hewn rock. The ceiling dropped about two feet. A full-sized man would have to stoop to make his way through.
“
There were no torches within and the walls did not bear the swirling patterns of Taradin’s Catacombs. No more eyes, I noted. I flipped off my hood and used the bog stone to light the way, but only sparingly, sparking it up in slow, regular pulses – just enough to catch a glimpse of the coming passage. It just so happened that my pattern of flashes closely matched the rhythm of clicks emitted by my companions.
Wispy strands of long abandoned spider webs matted the sides and ceiling in the passage ahead, and they spanned every nook and crevice. We pushed through, passing many grimy cave openings, small and infested. By the looks of the place, and by the scurrying sounds around us, the place was a nest of vermin – probably mice, rats, spiders, centipedes and other crawlers. We kept to a slightly worn path along the middle of the passage. The Glooms refrained from singing and returned to their usual clicks, except faster.
Eventually, we reached an area of the cave under construction. A work crew had partially widened the opening to a side tunnel, and then abandoned their work. Raven stopped and bit his upper lip, then shook his head in disappointment. Discarded chisels and hammers, open backpacks and personal items lay strewn about the area in front of the opening. There were enough tools for a good half dozen workers to chip away at the rock. It seemed they left in a rush. Raven made his way through the opening and beckoned the rest of us to follow. Hesitant at first and looking about nervously, the other Glooms gave in after a series of encouraging clicks from Raven.
The inside was less a cave and more the bottom of a tall and very narrow fissure in the rock. Sparse rays of natural light filtered in from far above. Dripping wet walls, unscalable, glistened red as Raven led us along the rubble-strewn path. We all struggled to keep our footing. At length, we arrived at a sharp divide in the passage – the meeting of two fissures. Before entering the new branch, Raven motioned with his hand and a single sharp tick for us to stop. Through it was a chamber, glowing red with torch light. I sheathed my stone. The Glooms went silent.
With slow and careful steps, Raven moved ahead, skillfully disguising his soft clicks in the plopping sounds of dripping water from above. Then he stopped, “peered” in with a short burst of clicks, and waited. A few moments later, he motioned us forward.
The coast clear, we followed him into a large, oval cavern with a high ceiling. Burning torches lit the way, supported by sconces of a familiar design – the same twisted faces of anguish witnessed in the hallway outside of Taradin’s chamber. Jagged pinnacles of rock spiked out of the floor like the grey fangs of some great beast. The largest seven had flat tops and served as pedestals for statues. Again, ocean themes dominated. Each statue possessed a basin of some kind to catch the drips of the cave icicle hanging above it. Some held clam or cone shaped basins, filled with colorful stones and glistening coral skeletons. One statue featured a pool inside the gaping maw of a sharply inclined whale. It was the white whale again, carved with smooth, elegant curves, mathematically precise – a common feature of Harrowian artwork.
“
Indeed, that is exactly what it was. Offshoot tunnels, seven in all including the one we entered from, fed into the cavern at varying angles, sizes and heights along the craggy wall. The Nexus Chamber’s tunnels branched out in all directions: there were stairwells leading up, some smooth and some roughly hewn, together with a passage leading down, and many level to the polished floor.
On the far side of the chamber, a grand, gold-rimmed doorway stood at floor level as the main attraction. Runoff water flowed down hewn channels on either side into clamshell basins, each bearing in its waters the likeness of a shiny black pearl the size and shape of a man’s heart. The doors themselves were plated with a golden whale motif and fastened shut with a short bar latch. Elegant script along the arch spelled out, in golden letters, four words of a phrase I had heard many times on my journey.
He knows the Way.
One of the seven passages – a main throughway by the size of it – stood out as being skillfully worked and lavishly decorated. A curved set of ornately carved stairs led up.
I turned to Raven and pointed to the stairs. “Is that the way out?”
“Up,” he said. “
I reassured him. “It’s not that bad,” I said. “You can come with me. You wouldn’t be the first.” I stopped myself from saying more, remembering the veil of secrecy under which Nekenezitter had traveled. He gave me a quizzical, head-tilting look.
“Go?” I said, pointing to the stairs.
“No. You go to Surface,” he said, innocently, meaning “Go to Hell” in his parlance.
I grabbed the Gloom’s wrist and tugged at him to join me. It was for his own good. But Raven would have none of it. He jerked free, threw his arms up and shot out an ear-piercing buzz with a razor-sharp edge to it. The sound struck me as an emphatic “No way! I’m not crazy! Go to Hell by yourself!” I was getting good at deciphering Gloom talk.
Chapter XXIV
Song and trance
The Gloom stood still as stone. With his blank, grown over eye sockets, he could have been a grey statue. Had he been hunched over a little more, he might have passed for a gargoyle. I had one more thing to say to him.
“Raven,” I said.
“Yes,” he replied.
“I’ll get you out of here.”
He tilted his head, quizzically.
“Isotopia?” he replied.
“Of course,” I said, “Isotopia.” It was a bit of a white lie, but one I could live with. Isotopia seemed to be just about the only topic capable of releasing the Bound Ones’ deep passions. It could just as easily sharpen their focus as cloud their judgment. Isotopia brought out the best and the worst in them.
I donned my hood and adjusted it so that it fit snug. Holly’s scent lingered in the fabric, warm and reaching, woven in with the freshness of crushed pine needles early in spring and the slightest hint of a smoky seasoning underneath. As the soft material brushed over my face, I could almost taste her companionship.
“Can you keep an eye – I mean an ear – out for a special friend of mine while I’m gone?” I asked. “Her name is Holly. She is being imprisoned, unjustly.”
“Bound
I nodded slowly, conscious of Raven’s measured tempo of ticks. “Yes.”
“She’s about my height, with a sweet voice. Say my name to her, if you can. Please tell her I am coming for her and that I will not be long.”
“Holky?” he said.
“That’s right,” I said, “Holly. Remember, my name is Nud. Tell her that Nud will not rest unt
il she is free.”
“
That would have to do. I nodded three times, slowly. Raven chirred again.
“The Council will act when they hear of these… atrocities against the Il’kinik. And the Bearded Hills will express outrage about what is happening here for sure – they’re all Stouts, like Kabor. You’ve met Kabor. They get things done.”
Given the two people’s shared interest in mining and the mysteries of the underground world, I had in mind that Stouts would find it worthwhile to take the Bound Ones in as they would their own long lost kin. It wouldn’t be Isotopia, but it would be progress. But even as the words came out, well-intended words, I knew a handful of smallfolk villages were powerless against the might of Harrow. The only true way to effect change would be to engage Gan or perhaps even Fort Abandon… if they were to sympathize, then maybe the Bound Ones would stand a chance – just maybe.
Raven nodded, slowly just as I had, and then tapped his head. “You know the way,” he said, perfectly. I bade him farewell and began my climb. There were many, many stairs.
*
Softly, I crept up the helical stairwell, continually peering around the next bend as I went. Nearing the end of my climb where the stairway straightened, I first glimpsed a far wall of the next level and the very tip of what must have been the doorway leading out. From what I could see already, the room at the top of the stairs was grand and stately. The walls shone of polished stone and bore proud tapestries, the ceiling was high-arched and intricately carved, and the room itself was bright with natural light.
I peeked over the top stair for a more revealing look. The room was filled with casual loungers and lush furniture, guards in formal dress, and impressive statuettes. But that was not all. Two pairs of warning black eyes stared back, right at me. A throaty growl cut through the air. Twenty feet in, two black dogs with thick heads gawked at my position, ears perked. My heart raced and, for a moment, I doubted the cloak. Then one scanned a little to the left and a little to the right, licked its lips and sniffed the air.
SPARX Incarnation: Order of the Undying (SPARX Series I Book 2) Page 21
