by Tom Lloyd
‘Just like that, eh?’ Anatin said with a snort.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t like it and we could be risking more’n you appreciate, but down here there’s no room to argue. So long as you arseholes follow my orders the rest o’ the time, I’ll swallow this one.’
Deern grinned and nudged the man next to him, Varain. Before he could make a comment the huge hand of Reft slapped over his mouth and smothered the words.
‘Very sensible,’ Anatin commented with a nod. ‘Let’s leave the shooting to the enemy. Himbel, how long?’
‘Not long,’ the surgeon commented, already at work. ‘It ain’t gonna be pretty, but it’s a better chance than being left behind. Toil, he’ll need that walking stick.’
Toil handed her staff over, a solid length of oak that had accompanied her on a dozen trips underground, as far as Lynx was aware. ‘Fast as you can,’ she commented. ‘Those flying things can smell blood – so can maspids.’
‘If they’re the biggest of our problems,’ Anatin declared, ‘I’ll throw you a fucking parade.’
‘They ain’t.’
‘I know. Deern’s still alive after all.’
Chapter 37
Seeing off the maspids won the Cards a period of quiet. Lynx didn’t catch sight of them again as they skirted the great chamber and descended the far spiral ramp.
Maybe the noise attracted something bigger and nastier, a traitor voice at the back of Lynx’s mind suggested. He shoved the thought aside and concentrated on doing his job. None of the Marked Cards could let themselves be distracted. It was their eyes that would keep the rest of the company alive, if anything could.
Even with mage-touched eyes, the darkness loitered menacingly. Not close enough to send spiky waves of panic flooding through his head, but Lynx was still far from having fun. Evidence of fighting was visible in several directions. Discarded cartridge casings, gnawed remains and smears of discoloration from spilled blood.
As they paused just short of the chamber floor, checking to see if it was safe, Lynx noticed a difference to the previous times he’d been underground. The still, hushed air was the same, but there was a faint scent on it now. More than just cold stone, dust and dirt. Barely noticeable at all, he only realised when his stomach growled. There was an organic note that reminded him of the Wisp light garden they’d stumbled into. Alien but more alive than most parts of a ruin.
‘How’s it look?’ Anatin whispered to Toil.
‘Suspiciously clear,’ she replied.
‘I’ll take it,’ he said. ‘Won’t last long so let’s move.’
She spent a few more moments casting around, lantern held up high, before nodding.
‘Just in case, get ready to unveil those white-light spheres,’ Toil said, beckoning. ‘Aben, Safir, Suth, Layir, Lynx – up front with me. Sitain and Atieno, you keep close behind.’
She moved out across the chamber floor, which Lynx could see now was part of a huge mosaic. For a moment, only Aben and Lynx followed. The remainder moved after a pause, slightly shame-faced. The huge chamber still looked empty, the picture underfoot seeming to stretch all the way across and made of stones so tiny Lynx could barely feel them underfoot. The mural on the far wall was still too hard to discern much of beyond its shape. The curve of the stone was clearly intended, Lynx could see that much. It was too regular to be otherwise, and to those on the floor it loomed oppressively.
‘Toil,’ he whispered. ‘Does the top o’ that wall look like it’s leaning inward to you?’
‘Pretty sure it’s fine,’ she said. ‘It’s lasted this long after all.’
‘That’s not what I’m talking about.’
‘What then?’ she demanded in an angry whisper. ‘Better be bloody important, we’re not sightseeing here!’
‘I dunno – it’s just out o’ place, isn’t it? These ruins, they’re normally sealed from water and such, no?’
‘So?’
‘So I’d expect outer walls to curve the other way.’
She paused at that and peered at him, her expression that particular form of irritated which meant she was having to catch up with someone else’s thoughts. ‘True,’ Toil mused before falling quiet a little longer. ‘Something about it bugs me too, now you mention it.’
‘That’s not good,’ Aben muttered.
‘Eh?’
‘Toil’s got the best sense of direction I’ve known,’ he explained, turning to her. ‘Without it, you’d never have crawled out of your first city-ruin, would you? But it’s not just that, you can hold the map of ’em in your head – all points on the compass with up and down too.’
Toil scowled, nodding as she did so. ‘I’ve no idea with this place, but yeah, you’re right. That ain’t normal.’
‘Just made me think of the Labyrinth,’ Lynx commented. ‘That’s why I mentioned it. That was contained in a huge open space, mage-carved and curved walls.’
Toil turned back to the huge, half-seen wall across the chamber several hundred yards away. ‘And if that’s pushing out up there, it’s bigger at the top.’ Abruptly she shook her head. ‘We don’t have time for a mystery. Let’s just do what we came for.’
No one argued. The company followed her in a thin column as Toil walked purposefully across the mosaic floor. They slowed at the tunnel entrance but kept moving – guns raised. The tunnel itself was ornately carved, ten yards wide and rising to a peak that only Reft would be able to touch with his gun muzzle. The stonework was ancient and badly scored, but each side appeared to be decorated with swirling columns of water or wind that met at the top.
Toil advanced cautiously inside, but they found nothing waiting for them beyond a shallow rising slope. The Cards filed in as best they could while Toil took her advance group slightly clear of the others.
‘What is this place?’ Lynx asked as quietly as he could. The smooth rock walls felt uncomfortably close now, the air warmer, unless that was just his own imagination. There were no routes leading off it, the tunnel simply ran away until it turned out of sight.
‘Some sort of private estate, I’m guessing,’ Toil replied. ‘Duegar lived close to each other, no point tunnelling too far, but the rich ones had sealed tunnel systems for their household.’
As though to bear out the thought, they emerged into a square chamber that had a curious stone projection from the opposite wall and tunnels leading off in three directions.
‘Now what?’
‘We sweep for danger,’ she replied.
It turned out to be not so time-consuming after all. Two of the tunnels were smaller and led to a narrow series of chambers that Lynx guessed were servant quarters of some kind. Those were self-contained too and that left them only with the largest and grandest exit, which took them up further. Again it opened up, this time to five side rooms around a tall room – two of which lay below a mezzanine that could have served as the landing for many a palace staircase.
Beyond that, Toil stopped abruptly at another tunnel entrance. Lynx felt a ghost of breeze as he moved up behind her, but it was the glimmer of light that halted them. The stonework was increasingly ornate inside this estate. Much depicted a range of animals both known and unknown in addition to large tracts of Duegar glyphs. The more ornate work stopped abruptly at a series of grooved depressions, something rather more natural than Duegar carving.
‘Stonecarver burrow,’ Toil whispered, crouching.
She kept her gun raised but seemed more intent on the ground beneath the lair entrance. Lynx could see nothing there beyond a few bugs so small they wouldn’t trouble anyone unless they were suicidally malevolent.
‘Earthers then,’ Aben said, quickly reloading. The others followed suit, realising Aben was likely the only other one there to have ever seen a stonecarver.
‘I think this is old,’ Toil replied. ‘Gimme one of those white-light lamps.’
When it was passed forward, the sudden brightness feeling painful to behold, Toil cursed and blinked for a while before rollin
g it forward across the mouth of the nest. The shadowy opening in the stone seemed to yawn and shift until the glass sphere stopped, but that was the only movement. Toil crept forward to inspect the circular tunnel that seemed to have been chewed out of the very rock, then retrieved the lamp, holding it high. Aben and Lynx followed, looking down the short tunnel at a few indistinct brownish humps by the far end. The walls were blackened by fire and fractured down one side.
‘Charnelers cleared it out,’ Toil said. ‘Small nest, never had a chance to get established.’
‘They get bigger?’
Her grin was ghoulish as she passed the white-light lamp back for it to be tucked away out of sight again. ‘Little bit, yeah.’
Toil set out again and they ascended a shallow slope, one that widened considerably before reaching a chamber. They could smell death there before they saw it. When they did, the Cards didn’t need to be told to keep clear. Whatever had died there, it had done so recently enough that the scavengers weren’t finished. And violently enough that the whole section of rock was cracked and brutalised under the gunfire that had killed the monster.
Lynx could only see a mess of angular limbs and a protruding bifurcated spine, ragged flesh still attached, while pale winged creatures fluttered over and a whole variety of horrors wriggled and ate within what remained of the corpse. They moved quickly on, resisting the urge to waste a burner on the unpleasant scene. Before long they came to a rather taller tunnel that had been more intricately constructed.
In the light of their Duegar lanterns the walls had an unusual glow. Rather than gleaming blue seams of mineral pinpricking the rock like the night sky on the clearest of nights, this had been crafted. The walls followed some arcane flowing design that blended threads of red and golden yellow into a single artwork, encompassing the whole of the peaked tunnel.
Occasional glyphs were working into a pattern that, to Lynx’s untutored eye, moved seamlessly between flowing water, trees and fire, among other things he couldn’t identify. It was unequivocally beautiful, more so than anything he’d ever seen produced by the Duegar. When the tunnel ended, Lynx knew instinctively that something dramatic was waiting for them.
Toil took no chances as she edged into the room, but like all the others it was bare and almost empty. Not as large as the great mosaic hall, but it was still a good seventy yards long with a boulder at the far end. Lynx paused and looked again. As his eyes adjusted to the space Lynx realised that the rolling lumpen shape was too regular to be just a boulder. The chamber itself sloped slightly upwards, narrowing slightly at the far end too. Finally, he understood that it was a huge stone throne facing them, surrounded by ancient carvings.
The artistry continued all around this throne room. The sky was like some sparkling fantasy of the night while the walls and floor twisted through a dozen intertwined patterns. One symbol dominated the room, however, even in the feeble light. The symbol that crowned the throne. Toil approached it wordlessly, not even bothering to look for traps as she gaped at the huge representation of the sun that shone with a golden fire in the darkness.
‘Veraimin’s throne,’ she gasped. ‘It has to be.’
‘Hold on,’ Anatin said. ‘Ain’t this mountain called Insar’s Seat?’
‘Not by the Duegar,’ Toil said. ‘And this can only be a room dedicated to Veraimin – screaming hells, look at the walls!’
She pointed at a series of glyphs that took pride of place on the right-hand wall, picked out in red and white. As Sitain moved closer with her lantern the colours seemed to shift and pulse in response – some parts dimming while others intensified.
‘Let’s pretend we don’t all read the language of a dead race,’ Anatin called in exasperation.
‘It praises Veraimin’s glory,’ Toil said simply, glancing over then freezing. ‘Deepest black …’
‘What? What is it?’ They all had their guns up, scanning for threats, but Toil simply stared at the wall with the writing on. ‘It’s reacting to you,’ she said in a hollow voice. ‘The words have changed as you got closer – it speaks to you as an acolyte of Insar.’
‘Then it’s gonna get a fucking earther in the teeth,’ Sitain snapped. ‘Inanimate object or not.’
‘Don’t you see? It can sense your magic! I’ve never seen such a thing.’
‘Best I keep clear then,’ Atieno said, stepping a little further from where Sitain stood.
‘You do that,’ Toil said. ‘In the meantime …’
She turned away from the wall and they all headed towards the throne, relic hunters in the lead. When they reached it, Aben paused to inspect the markings, but Toil couldn’t resist temptation. She ascended the flight of stairs that led to the very seat of a god and with one check around she sat down. The mercenaries could see a broad grin on her face.
‘Getting a god’s eye view, eh?’ Anatin muttered as he walked. ‘Finally, she’s where she thinks she belongs.’
‘So you don’t want a turn?’ Lynx asked.
That made the company commander laugh. ‘Okay, you got me there. But to be fair, being in command o’ you argumentative bastards is hardly a dream of unfettered power and slavish obedience. If anything I deserve a go more than anyone.’
‘Yeah, we’ve always said you were a victim o’ your own authority,’ Safir muttered from behind them. ‘All of you better take your turn ahead of me though.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m gonna take a shit on Veraimin’s throne,’ the exiled nobleman said firmly. ‘If the other gods have throne rooms here too, I’ll do the same on those.’
Anatin and Lynx both opened their mouths to speak then exchanged a look. They closed their mouths again.
‘Not like it’s going to be the most profane thing we intend to do today,’ Lynx said with a shrug.
‘Mostly I’m just annoyed I didn’t think of it first,’ Anatin admitted.
‘You all look like ants to me,’ Toil called. She settled back against the stonework for a short while before standing again, uncomfortable in a seat never designed for a human body.
‘You think she means in general or just from up there?’ Anatin asked.
‘Best not to ask,’ Lynx said. ‘Just in case.’
Before they could take a turn on the throne there came a hiss from Aben. He pointed frantically at the wall behind the throne, out of sight for all of them. With a jolt Lynx realised what the man meant. There was a light shining there. Nothing large, but a wavering streak of lamplight that was only noticeable because their own lamps were covered.
At once, the Cards knelt and took up firing positions, but Aben didn’t wait for the threat. From a steel box at his hip he pulled a grenade and inserted the firing pin. Waiting one moment to listen for footsteps, Aben tossed the grenade over the back of the throne.
Lynx waited, tense against the shattering roar that would come. Still he flinched when a savage crash slammed against his eardrums. Stark flashes of light ripped the darkness apart at the far end of the throne room. There were screams and shouts, but the Marked Cards were already moving.
In the gloom they could see far better and flanked the throne with practised speed. The cries were still going when Lynx saw the first Charnelers, lamp-oil spilled and wrapping their legs with yellow flames. Varain struck one in the head with a burner and a burst of fire erupted all around as the soldier dropped.
Others reeled away from the shot only to have other gunfire come from the far side. There were bodies on the ground but Lynx couldn’t count them in the chaos that ensued. Lynx shot another Charneler and then the rest were running. Back through a triple arch entrance that stood some thirty yards behind and down the tunnel beyond it. Some of the Cards followed, Layir abandoning his mage-gun to cut two more Charnelers down with elegant sweeps of his sword. The rest escaped into darkness and the Cards let them go. Their lamps were broken and Lynx guessed there was only a handful left. If they were the vault guards they would retreat there. No need to go chasing when the Cards were
already heading that way.
‘Any salvage?’ Anatin asked as Layir returned from pursuing the Charnelers, checking they had indeed fled. The rest of the Marked Cards had picked over the bodies and Aben held up a few mage-cartridges in response, but that was all. The grenade had done for all the remaining ammunition.
Lynx checked his own case. It was still mostly full. The ammunition stores at the pass defences had provided enough to ensure that – even if a rogue shot could wipe the whole company out. He loaded a sparker and they moved on.
Beyond the pillars was a tunnel as ornate as the rest. Their lanterns illuminated a faint golden path to follow. It split after twenty yards, the left-hand fork leading up to a broad avenue. That followed a shallow curve as though it was part of a huge loop around the heart of the mountain. They investigated only a short way there, the muddy ground betraying no sign of fleeing feet in either direction. There was a breeze there too, one that carried more normal scents of the surface. From that direction they could see faint traces of light, the darkness not quite so absolute, and a quick investigation revealed fissured rock and debris.
With the elements having clearly penetrated the northern face of the mountain, Toil retraced her steps to the fork where she’d set a guard. The right-hand path led to a curious cloister-type hall, perhaps forty yards across with signs there had once been a garden in the centre. Three or four chambers overlooked the garden from left and right, but even as they checked those for life it was clear the Charnelers had fled directly across the hall.
There stood a large double door, almost the first Lynx had seen in such a ruin and certainly not one of Duegar origin. The cloister was decorated in fantastical fashion, all following the sun and fire theme of the god Veraimin. The original cloister-hall had been constructed with more magery and artistry than even Toil had ever seen, but right now all eyes were on the heavy bronze doors that had been set into a Duegar archway ahead.
As though they needed confirmation, the doors sparkled with light – a swirling human script intertwined with glyphs and symbols Lynx recognised. Even an illiterate could recognise the moon and stars symbols, common to half the temples to Insar across the Riven Kingdom.
