Torches were flaring into life down below and disappearing beneath a lip of stone. Before many more steps had passed Bahadur, too, was stepping under that lip, and one of the other guardsmen was holding out a torch to light his own. The pool of light created by the torches spread around the great room and cast strange shadows. In places the stone itself seemed to look at them through living eyes, and then one of the torch-bearers would shift and it was nothing more than stone, or perhaps stone with flaking paint, once more.
Then they were moving further in, the scholars speaking in hushed tones amongst themselves. Their whispers echoed without meaning against the stone walls.
They walked past uncounted empty doorways and side passages, most so small the light only illuminated their shape for a moment before passing on. Here and there a fluted column still stood mostly untouched by time, but more of the columns were broken than whole. Their capitals – now littering the floor – were elaborately carved with pomegranates and beaded garlands. In other places the columns were replaced by carved figures of ascetic men and women, sometimes draped in clinging robes and sometimes nude, but each and every one displayed a mudra of teaching and one of benediction. The most severe were carved with sunken eyes and protruding ribs. These sent shivers down Bahadur’s spine and he hurried past, trying not to imagine that the statues were watching as their expedition moved deeper into the city.
A small group of torches broke off from the main group. Word was sent back, and several more men moved forward only to break off almost immediately with another light from near the front. Bahadur was in the final group: Scholar Fravardin’s group.
“This is the first day out,” Fravardin began. “It is highly unlikely we will find anything of interest today, but stranger things have happened. Keep your wits about you, follow my instructions, and we should all make it back in one piece.” The corners of Fravardin’s mouth curled, and his teeth reflected the torchlight.
Then they were off again, with instructions to fan out in front of Fravardin such that there were no shadows between the lights. Bahadur took up a position in the left front. They moved in this way for what seemed like hours. Every once in a while one of them would be sent off alone to investigate a side passage or a room. Generally they returned shaking their heads and the group moved on. Bahadur was pointed off to investigate what lay behind a larger-than-average arched doorway.
The tiled room beyond the arch was in good condition, but largely empty save for a bit of rubble in the corners and another, possibly larger, arched doorway in the back.
The tile was extraordinarily smooth as Bahadur walked across the room, his footfalls echoing in the chamber no matter how lightly he tried to step. A form began to emerge from the shadows as he approached this second archway, although he could not quite make out what it was. He lifted the torch higher and stepped into the second chamber with its vaulted roof. Now he could see the form. A shout forced its way past the sudden constriction in his throat.
The light first caught on a giant pincer the size of his torso washed blood-red by the light of the torch, then a second. He thought he saw, in the recesses of the shadows, the stinger that went with those claws. The creature was impossibly still. Still as stone, really. He heard running footsteps coming from behind even as he was catching his breath.
“What is it? What did you find? Is everything all right?” The order of Fravardin’s questions did not go unnoticed. The other guardsmen arrived moments later. Gratifyingly, some of them shouted, too.
“Sorry. It startled me.” Bahadur gestured with the torch at the unmoving beast. Just a statue. But, why is this here? Now that the surge of adrenaline was winding down, he could see another statue, somewhat larger than life-size, of three people and a monkey facing down the creature. One of them carried a trident, but it couldn’t be Khubranta. It only had one pair of arms.
“Well, this may not be what we’re looking for exactly, but I’ll be salted if it isn’t a find of itself. Not bad, for a beginner.” Fravardin clapped Bahadur on the shoulder as he hurried deeper into the room. While Fravardin made notes and sampled and measured and sketched the room and its location in the fourth city, Bahadur took a look around on his own. The tile on the floor was age-darkened, but the bronze grout still glittered dully where their feet had disturbed the dust. The walls were plain stone with carved pillars. There were also a few of these pillars throughout the room, supporting the ceiling, and the tops of these were hidden in shadow. The other guardsmen all clustered on the far side of the room with the statue of three between the giant ant-scorpion and themselves.
He looked from across the room at the wall the other men were clustered nearest. Rather than a central support pillar it had a great trident carved in relief, the blade tilted upwards and towards the side of the room the monster was on. Running across the wall in the opposite direction was a great black fissure. By all that is right and just, what is that? Bahadur couldn’t tell if Fravardin had noticed, but he had no way of explaining without saying too much. He tried not to hurry as he rejoined the other guardsmen, far too close for comfort to the crack in the wall.
* * *
Bahadur was expressly chosen to venture down into the fourth city every day. On the fourth day, the boulder that tumbled down and nearly crushed him was shown to be the deformed head of a statue and therefore a ‘find.’ He nearly quit on the spot, and never mind that he would have to find his way back to Vidyavana alone and with no pay. It was as much the knowledge that he would not be paid as the lingering mystery of the room that stopped him. He still hoped to find a clue as to the why of that room, even knowing he probably wouldn’t recognize the link. On the sixth day, an idea occurred to him.
“Scholar Fravardin, just what are we looking for down here?”
“An entrance to the fifth city, of course. A staircase, if we’re lucky. More likely a hole in the ground.”
“Would it have to be down? Could there be some hidden area on this level? The first city was built next to the second, and if people living when they built the fourth city remembered the fifth…”
“An interesting question, my boy. I suppose it is possible that they would be on the same level… Not a bad idea at all. You weren’t perchance thinking of the giant crack in the wall of the Shrine?” Why he had settled on ‘the Shrine’ as the name for the room with the statues Bahadur didn’t know.
“I was.”
“Pay it no mind. We know what’s behind that wall. The crack was probably caused by a tremor. They happen sometimes.”
“Ah.” A tremor? Maybe, but that doesn’t explain the symbols… Stop it. This is real life, not some adventure story.
“Come, come. I know just the place to start looking.”
* * *
Fravardin directed them towards an area that Bahadur thought was roughly under the second city.
“All right. Keep your eyes open for shifts in the architecture or the style of the statuary, or defensive walls. If our clever friend’s idea is right, this may just be the day. Keep your wits about you; this area is known to be treacherous.”
And the other areas aren’t? He hardly noticed the statues of ascetics now, although they were no less unsettling when he let himself actually see them. Fravardin had decided Bahadur should walk on point, so he found himself glancing up almost as much as looking ahead. Occasionally the sound of tumbling rock could be heard in the distance, and every time it set the hairs on the back of his neck on end.
“Wait.” Several minutes past the landing and staircase up, Bahadur stopped in his tracks. “The statues are different.” The emaciated ascetics were gone, and in their place were figures with pot bellies and only the suggestion of faces, often carrying urns and sometimes pouring from them. Water had long since ceased to flow, if it ever had, and these new statues were as disturbing in their way as the ascetics had been.
“I believe this style was characteristic of a cult that was waning in the early days of the fourth city,” Fravardin m
used. “I would call this suggestive but not definitive. Are any of you exceptional climbers? No? Well, a pity.”
Did he really expect any of us to volunteer to climb a column, even if we are? There were just as many downed capitals here as there were in the explored portion, and they were still carved in the same pomegranates and garlands. Fravardin motioned them on, and another stretch of minutes passed.
“Stop here. You.” Fravardin pointed at a young man in the middle of the right flank. “Go take a look in there.” The building he indicated featured the arched doorways of the Shrine, but was otherwise unremarkable from the avenue. The man called back a commentary as he went through.
“Entry room has a mosaic tile floor. Too dirty to see the pattern, but the grout is reflective. Not much here but some urns in the corner and… is that a suit of armor?”
“We’re coming in.”
“I’ll wait here, then. There are two passages leading back from the main room.”
“Excellent. We’ve certainly found something, boys!” Fravardin’s grin was audible.
The room he led them into bore a striking resemblance to the Shrine’s anteroom. In fact, except for the remaining art objects, it could have been a duplicate. Bahadur would have been curious to find out if the tiled floors used the same pattern, but he had not thought to clean off the tile in the Shrine to compare. The grout, with its flecked bronze spiderwebbing across the floor, was a match, at least. The urns in the corners were massive, their lips rising as high as Bahadur’s chest, and ornamental handles. No man would be able to lift even the most delicate stonework of that size – and delicate was the wrong word for these.
The item that drew Fravardin was the armor displayed on a lifelike statue of a well-formed man in the center of the back wall. It was a shirt woven of some form of iron that did not appear to have rusted. The cap was also woven of this strange metal, and the statue held a stone-carved spear with its butt against the ground.
“Scholar, may I ask a question?” Bahadur spoke up.
“You may always ask.”
“All the statues lining the avenue outside seem deformed, but the ones in the Shrine and the one in here are lifelike. Why?”
“My assumption is that it’s a matter of religious iconography in the public sphere and good taste in the private, but I’ve never found anything definitive on the matter. It’s good to have an inquisitive guard for a change. An outsider’s perspective is useful from time to time.” Maybe, just maybe, Fravardin wasn’t quite as pompous as he made himself look. Or maybe he loosened up when he was immersed in his subject.
“Why don’t you lot spread out and look around the rest of the building. I’ll be a bit longer, and we don’t have time to waste.” Or maybe he just thought of his guards as intellectual children with muscle. The guards split off into two groups to explore the passages in back.
Bahadur was on his own several rooms back of the antechamber when dread gripped his insides. There had been no clatter of rocks in the distance – no sound at all, that he was conscious of – but a sour smell and the memory of the beasts crawling through Q’uungerab’s salt mines was suddenly inescapable. He forced a calming breath before allowing himself to walk out of the room, back towards the rest of the group.
* * *
“Well, gentlemen, I believe we are on the right track at last. This afternoon we found a much older portion of the fourth city, and in the morning we should all spread out in that direction. We only have a few days left before we must head back, so let’s be bold and make the most of them, shall we?”
Bahadur couldn’t tell if Fravardin’s pep talk was meant for his fellow scholars or the guards. They had been here nearly a week already, and the fatigue was beginning to show on scholar and guard alike. Tempers had not yet begun to fray, but it was only a matter of time.
“Fravardin, we’ve already found as much as both of the previous expeditions put together, and now you want us to go bury ourselves under the rock?”
And that would be the first thread. Bahadur recognized this tension in his shoulders.
“It’s nowhere nearly as bad as we’ve been lead to believe, Zubin. Just be mindful where you walk, and it’s almost as safe as what we’ve been looking through.” Fravardin sounded calm. He would not be the one to start it except by obliviousness.
“Hey.” Feroze spoke from behind him. “Relax. No sense being on edge up here.”
“It feels like there’s a fight simmering over there.”
“Among the scholars? You’re crazy.”
“I’ve broken up enough fights in my time to know the signs.”
Feroze shook his head. “They argue, all right, but I’ve never once seen a punch thrown. They’d probably hurt themselves if they tried.”
“This is your expedition, and losses come out of your pocket.” The words drifted over from where the scholars were speaking amongst themselves.
“See?”
“I suppose so.” Bahadur shrugged. “My old guardsman’s instincts serve me pretty well most of the time. Most of the time.”
Feroze just nodded.
“So how often do they actually explode at each other?”
“Depends on the group. Usually at least once, and once they do there’s no understanding them at all.” Feroze chuckled, and after a moment Bahadur joined him.
* * *
As Fravardin had declared, all the scholars led their teams off in the direction Bahadur had suggested yesterday. If they grumbled, the noise of it did not reach the guards. His fellow guardsmen, on the other hand, grumbled and cast dirty looks Bahadur’s way once it got around that this was his idea. They were half-hearted at worst and more often cursory. He thought he even caught a grudging respect from some of them.
Bahadur was called off by Zubin today, as was Kamboja, and they split off early into the unexplored section of the fourth city. Scholar Zubin was a hawk of a man, one of the scholars Javed hadn’t been able to tell him about.
Zubin directed them down a narrow side street most notable for the lack of columns and statuary lining it. For once Bahadur did not feel like he was being watched. Only, what are we likely to find down such a street? This time he kept his mouth shut.
The tiny street wound on for far longer than its size had suggested. They had to change out torches once before they came to a large gap between the buildings on either side. Scholar Zubin stopped and sent his guardsmen off in pairs to explore and report back their findings. Bahadur and Kamboja chose the forward-right, and held their torches high as they walked into the blackness.
This gap between buildings they walked into was larger than any other road they had crossed. Could it be a city square? It seemed large even for that. Too bad Feroze is stuck on guard duty today. He shared a look with Kamboja in a moment’s pause before they pressed on still further.
The foundations sprang up as suddenly as they had dropped off, and now more of them were broken and tumbled over than not. So far as they could tell in the torchlight they were made of the same mud brick as all the other buildings down here. On either side of what must once have been a gate stood a pair of guardian statues, well-formed young men with four arms apiece. The upper arms were extended in welcome, but the lower arms brandished a spear, on the right, and a khanda and shield on the left.
“What is this place?” Kamboja’s voice was quiet, as though he merely breathed and the words formed of their own accord.
“Your guess is as good as mine. But Zubin’s going to want to see this.” Bahadur could feel his heart racing, but could not explain why. Even as they hurried back Bahadur had a hard time pulling his eyes from the strange pair of statues. They looked familiar, somehow, and the alarm bells of Q’uungerab sounded in his mind. A whiff of vinegar caught in his nose. Off-guard, a rock shifted under his foot, turning his ankle and nearly pitching him on his face. Idiot. He grunted and went on, ignoring the twinge of a bad twist. He didn’t think Kamboja had noticed, and he wasn’t about to draw attention to it.
They could see individual people in the globe of light surrounding Zubin now; most of the other guards had returned already.
“Scholar Zubin!” Kamboja called out as they closed the distance.
“Oh, there you are. I was wondering if I needed to send someone after you.”
“We found something, we think.”
“You think?! Was it there or not, man?”
“After a long open space, we saw a number of broken walls and a pair of four-armed guardians. I don’t know exactly what we were looking at, but it was big.”
“Show me.”
“But, Scholar Zubin -” One of the other guards protested.
“Unless you found a signpost declaring itself the ‘entrance to the ruined city’ it can wait. This is either the biggest thing we’ll find on the whole expedition or the smallest. We’re looking into it first.”
“Of course, Scholar.”
Zubin left the man who had protested and his partner to wait where they stood and maintain their light as a beacon. The rest of them followed Bahadur and Kamboja back to the tumbled-down section. There were audible gasps from some of the other guards when the statues came into sight.
“I thought we might have just crossed a large square and that could be a palace gate -”
“No, no, no, my boy. This is much, much more than that.” Zubin cut Bahadur off. This was the first time he could remember hearing awe in the voice of any of the scholars of Vidyavana. “Merikh, Shadi, go back and tell Ranj and Varti that we’ve found our signpost. They can go, or you can, but one of you needs to go find Fravardin.”
“Yes, Scholar.”
“Looks like Fravardin’s right about you, Bahadur. You must be lucky.”
A sound caught on the edge of his hearing, and it wasn’t clashing rocks. The back of his neck prickled. “I’m not so sure about that, Scholar.”
“You are far too modest. Kamboja, you wait here until the rest of the group arrives. The rest of you, come with me. We’re going in.”
Advent of Ruin (The Qaehl Cycle Book 1) Page 25
