by Ethan Spears
“That sounds like bad reasoning to me.”
Reggy smiled. “Well, there’s only one way to find out: put your hand on the door.”
Mergau nodded. She stepped before the door, Cadalei and Reggy moving aside to give her room. She reached out, gingerly placing her fingers on the stone door and found it warm, almost hot to the touch. She let her palm flatten, splayed her fingers, and held her breath.
Nothing happened. She waited for a solid fifteen seconds before turning to Reggy. He stared back, looking worried himself. Just as Mergau was about to make some comment, there was a deafening crack. Mergau hastily withdrew her hand as a long fissure appeared that ran down the center of the door. With a deep rumble, the door shook apart, the red stone crumbling to powdered chunks and sinking to the ground. In mere moments, the entrance yawned open to them.
Reggy whistled. “Nice.”
“I really am one of her descendants, then?”
“Don’t let it go to your head. Like I said, most if not all Astranese orcs are related to her by now. You’re just one of thousands.”
“Thanks for killing the magic, Reggy.”
“Anytime.”
“Kind of hard to close the door behind us now,” she noted.
“Well, the door was bound to fall eventually. It looks like her magic alone was keeping it together.”
“A spell that lasts for twelve thousand years? There’s still so much I do not know.”
“You’ll learn. Go on and head inside.”
She turned back to the two lizard men, having been lost in looking through the dark orifice. “Are you not coming with me?”
“It would be gravely disrespectful for us to enter. We’ll head back to the village and wait there. Besides, we have other things to do.” He waved towards Cadalei, who was etching a rune into the stone face. “When you’re done in there and wish to return to the village, just play some fire across that rune and someone will come get you.”
Mergau turned and looked once more into the dark cavern. “Fire, huh?” She lifted a hand, a small ball of fire appearing above it. She sent it floating down the hallway so she could see within, but the blank walls stretched on for some distance. She straddled one foot tentatively over the threshold of fallen rock, feeling like she was committing sacrilege on a holy site. She cast a glance back at her guides, who both watched and waited patiently. Slowly, she passed over the rubble of the door and made her way into the hallway proper.
She took two steps in and examined the walls and floor, finding them unremarkable stone. She took another half-dozen steps before being startled by a deep rumbling behind her. She spun around, but already the entrance had sealed behind her, a new door having filled the gap. She moved toward it and reached out but paused just short of touching it. She would be able to open the door again just fine, she assured herself, otherwise Hetipa herself would never be able to leave. She didn’t want to let panic ruin what was shaping up to be an incredible journey of discovery. She turned and continued down the tunnel, pressing deeper into the blackness without looking back.
Chapter 28
Answer and Truth
Aoden’s estimate of forty humans was shy of the mark. Their home was nothing short of a city. It was an ugly, lopsided city, but it was a city. The forest had been even and thick the entirety of his journey, then simply dropped away to reveal one gargantuan clearing containing the bustling human settlement.
How in the world so many humans ended up in Verka, Aoden couldn’t guess. He had always heard the lizardfolk never let anyone through the isthmus, but if that shield was from Azurcourt as he suspected, then that was no longer true. On their way into the city, they had passed several stretches of farmland—fallow in preparation for the winter—that were large enough to provide for thousands, if not tens of thousands.
As they passed through the outskirts, mostly rude huts and ramshackle hovels, he got looks of terror and hatred from those he passed. Why was he getting that reaction? He had lived among humans for fifty years and never faced such complete disgust. Sure, there was always someone who couldn’t stand a mix-breed, but most had been indifferent. This was far different from his past experience.
With all the evil looks, he expected to have something hurled at him, but they marched deep into the city without incident. The men from the forest left and real guards, fully armed and armored, took over for them. Questions and comments were soundly ignored, so Aoden spent his time looking around. There wasn’t much to see, however; even the larger wooden buildings in the city proper were crude and tightly packed together. The clothing looked well-worn, but the people at least seemed clean and fed.
The crudeness of the buildings made more sense the longer he moved through the city. His estimates of the population kept going up. There could be as many as sixty thousand here. With that many people living in this frigid area, buildings had to be erected with incredible haste, especially if they fled here en masse after the Fury as Aoden suspected.
There were far more survivors than he ever thought possible.
They must have forced their way through the wall. It was the only explanation that made sense. Giant walls and illusions meant nothing when a host of rampaging monsters was at your back, and eighty lizardfolk weren’t about to hold them all off. All it would take is one seer at the right place to get them past the first wall and sheer numbers to pass the second. Aoden doubted there was even any bloodshed.
And that brought him back to the hastily built city. There was a distinct lack of the smells and sounds he expected, almost no smoke rising above the houses to hint at fires, no squeals or bays or barks of animals, and no merchants calling out wares for sale. In fact, aside from the scrape of feet on the ground, the chatter of the people, and a modicum of hammering from carpenters, cobblers, and smiths, there was very little noise.
The guard holding the rope tugged, directing Aoden toward a building with a curtain at the entrance instead of a door. There was no hearth or fire, leaving the inside barely warmer than the outside. The building was one giant room, but a series of iron bars that ran from the floor to the ceiling divided it into several smaller cells. It was a jail.
A middle-aged man was dozing at a desk, wrapped in several layers of fur. The guard cleared his throat pointedly, but the man didn’t respond.
“Sir!” The soldier bellowed, causing the man to jerk awake, papers stuck to his drooling face.
“Gods, my heart,” the man said, clutching at his chest. “Can’t a man rest in peace?”
The guard dragged Aoden forward, presenting him to the man. “This elf was caught sneaking around in the woods to the north. He’s been brought here for justice.”
“An elf, you say?” He looked at Aoden, blinking, uncertain he was seeing properly. “Do we have anyone who can speak Elvish?”
“The elf speaks Krik.”
The man shrugged. “Let me get the admittance forms.” The man—the jailor, it seemed—gathered come paper and a chunk of charcoal, getting ready to write. “Name?”
Bloody paperwork, Aoden thought. Even in this ramshackle refuge, the humans were still fond of their bureaucracy. “Aoden Halfelven,” he answered.
“What are the charges?” the jailor asked the guards.
“Trespassing, assault, and attempted kidnapping,” one of them answered.
“Oh, that’s nonsense,” said Aoden.
“Sir,” said the jailor tepidly, “you’ll have the opportunity to dispute these charges in front of a crowd of your peers.” He examined Aoden. “Well, maybe not peers, but it will still be a fair process, I assure you.”
“Somehow I doubt that. No one listened when they arrested me.”
“That’s not their job, but the judge’s. Any evidence you wish to submit?”
“I’m tied at the wrists! What evidence could I possibly have on me?”
“Any witnesses that you can name?” the man continued.
Aoden sighed. “I suppose those three children. I believe th
eir names were Jon, Arin, and Maddy.”
The jailor paused. “Maddy? As in Madelaine?”
“Maybe? Is Madelaine a severe-looking girl in a red cloak?”
A look passed between the jailor and the guards. “Madelaine it is, then.” He made a mark on his paper. “Any personal notes you wish to add?”
“How about ‘these charges are hokum’?” The jailor paused again and looked at Aoden. “Oh, sorry. H-O-K-U-M. You can just put nonsense, garbage, or crap.” The jailor nodded and wrote it down.
“That will be all for now. Please place the prisoner in that cell there.” One of the guards nodded and escorted Aoden to the other side of the building. Along the right wall were a row of low benches for visitors. On the left were the cells. There were five in total, each bare save for an uncomfortable-looking wooden bed and a bucket for relieving oneself. Aoden was reminded of the time he was imprisoned by the elves during the first Fury and was at least thankful for the bucket, though commenting aloud that he had seen the inside of worse prisons was probably not the wisest choice.
The guard opened the door to the cell and led Aoden in, then untied the rope from his wrists. The guards, their duty done, bid the jailor farewell and left.
“So, jailor,” Aoden called to the man who was already putting his head back down on his desk, “what happens now?”
The jailor looked up. “Now you wait for the court to be called into session and for you to be brought before the judge. I suggest getting as comfortable as your cell allows.”
Having nothing else to do, Aoden sat on his hard wooden bed and waited.
***
The hallway had been moving downwards steadily for some distance. Mergau didn’t doubt that she was not only deep within the plateau, but under it as well. With such a long entryway, Mergau couldn’t imagine that Hetipa left this cave frequently.
She walked for a solid five minutes, followed a turn in the path, then walked five more. While she was as uncomfortable with these natural stone walls as she was with the castle’s artificial ones, the fact that this was Hetipa’s home made the journey bearable. She had grown nearly apathetic of the closeness of the walls when the hallway finally opened into a small chamber.
In the chamber was a cushioned chair pushed in under a dark wooden table, both of which sat on a fine rug of rich red material, a small wooden case full of books and scrolls, and a brass lamp fixture hanging from the ceiling, the oil within still burning. The air here was damp and musty, but the furniture looked unaffected by wear or rot throughout the long years they sat abandoned. Mergau moved to the bookcase and touched a book, finding it dry and solid. She pulled it out and flipped through the pages. The ink hadn’t even faded.
Marveling, she put the book back. There were four passages leading out of this room. One was the hallway from which she had emerged. She moved off to the one on the right. Here she found a large porcelain tub, so large that it couldn’t have been navigated down the narrow hallway. Mergau wasn’t sure what method had been used to move it here, but she knew it would have been impressive. Above the tub was a chute and a cord. Mergau pulled the cord and, as expected, water began to run down the chute and spill into the tub. At first, it was black and brackish, but after running for several seconds it cleared up, becoming pristine. She ran a hand through the falling water and found it hot. She released the cord and the water ceased, the rest circling down the drain to go who-knows-where.
Besides the tub, the room also contained several towels, a silver mirror, a cabinet of herbs and unguents, and a hole in the ground, the stains around which told her it was used by Hetipa for relieving herself.
The next room had a huge bed in it, one made of a soft, silky material. It was the finest bed she had ever seen, including the one in her room at the Blue Embassy. There was a small end table near the bed, a trio of lit lamps on the wall, a standing wardrobe that was disappointingly empty, and another cabinet that she didn’t immediately recognize. When she opened this mystery cabinet, she found it stuffed with various foods that were, like everything else in the cave, completely undamaged from age or moisture. Knowing the food was twelve thousand years old made it unappetizing, however.
Leaving this room, she headed for the last. She didn’t know what to make of what she found inside.
The room was devoid of furniture. Instead, it was occupied by a large structure of some sort. It was either a natural part of the cave or had been crafted from the ground itself, but whatever the case, the rock floor sloped upward into a wide, waist-high circular rim before dipping down into a bowl. It was too shallow to wade into, being perhaps knee-deep at the deepest point, and didn’t have a drain to empty it or chute to fill it like the tub. She reached down and touched the bottom of the bowl, hoping for a surprising display of magic, but nothing happened.
Unable to ascertain the bowl’s purpose, she walked back to the center room. Hetipa’s home was isolated and lonely, but there was no doubt it would be comfortable. Mergau did not know how long she would stay here, or whether she’d have to delve into those magically-protected food stores, but she was confident that whatever answers she was seeking would be in the books and scrolls in this room.
Only now that she was thinking once more of the duties that Ezma had unfairly laid at her feet did she realize Reggy once again sent her off without telling her everything. He said the lizardfolk already knew this information, so why was she being left to discover them herself? She was sure there was some reason behind it, but Reggy would never tell her. It would just be another batch of secrets.
She would think about her next course of action while she bathed. As she pulled the cord and let the warm waters run, she wondered if Aoden was having as interesting an afternoon as she was.
***
Aoden sat huddled in his cell, his thin blanket wrapped tightly around him, shivering. The jailor said he was going to retrieve some furs that Aoden could wear, but that had been an hour ago and the jailor had yet to return.
While the jailor was gone, a large crowd of people gathered in the jail, looking through the bars at the captured elf. They gawked like they were watching a caged monkey. To their credit, a few people seemed outraged by his imprisonment, some because he was at least part human, others because elves were former allies, and others because they believed that he had done no wrong. The majority, however, simply stared, curiously or angrily, though those expressions were little different to the elf. He turned away from them and stared at the wall.
A voice cut through the crowd. “Out of the way! Move! Go on, get!” A man carrying a large wool sack and wearing a suit of leather armor and a high ceremonial hat pushed his way through the crowd, followed closely by a guard with a length of rope. The door was opened and the guard slipped in. Aoden offered up his wrists without being ordered. The guard tied them together quickly, motioning for Aoden to follow. They passed through the crowd and out of the jail, most of the people following a short distance behind.
“You’re something of a spectacle,” said the man in the high hat.
“I take it you haven’t seen a half-elf in a while,” Aoden said.
“We haven’t seen anybody for a good, long time.”
“Since the Fury?”
“More or less.” His tone was far more conversational than a man’s should be when leading a prisoner. “I’ve read your paperwork,” he added. “You’ve named my daughter as a witness.”
“Oh? So that rapscallion Maddy is your daughter?” The man nodded. “She’s quite brave. She didn’t think twice about confronting me, even though many here seem strangely terrified of me. Being a soldier yourself, you must be proud.”
The man didn’t look much like a soldier in his hat and thin armor, but he held himself and marched with a correctness that was unmistakably military. Nevertheless, he frowned at the comment. “Not really. I’d prefer if she stayed at home. She gets that more from her mother than me.” He leaned in. “You, erm, didn’t hear that from me, okay?”
&
nbsp; “A fiery woman, eh? Lucky man.”
“I wouldn’t say that, no.”
Aoden was quickly certain of their destination, for as they wended their way through the rough buildings of this city, they were consistently heading towards a towering square building to the west. The building was obviously of better construction even at this distance, standing at four stories and easily four or five fields across. It must have been near the heart of the city, for as they closed the distance, more and more people were milling about, large crowds moving past each other as people went about their day, completing whatever tasks that people in this shanty refuge performed.
The crowd following Aoden grew, people joining it either because they, too, were interested in the elf, or because they merely wished to be part of the large crowd. Aoden was led across a large, mostly empty market square in front of the large building and by the time they reached the other side, the square was packed with curious onlookers.
This building had a proper door, which a guard out front held open for them. Two more guards joined him inside, escorting them through the building.
Aoden was brought down a hallway to the right, then another to the left. Halfway down, they reached a door. A guard produced a key, unlocked the door, and pulled Aoden away as it was opened. The man went inside and opened the wool sack, pulling Aoden’s belongings from within and placing them on a table. Aoden’s ralat rested among a slew of other armaments, while his various pouches, including the one carrying the golden idol, were placed on a table nearby. As he stepped back out and locked the door, he said, “Your items shall be returned to you on the occasion of your innocence.”
Aoden wondered if the idol would react badly to being taken from him. If it was bad luck to wrest it from its owner, several farmhands and soldiers were in for a rough time.
