The City Under the Mountain

by D. W. Hawkins

  “Control your mount, little one.”

  “Right. Sorry.” She placed a hand on Tirrin’s neck and the horse calmed. “What do I need to understand about fire?”

  Dormael narrowed his eyes at the girl, debating on whether to elaborate. Bethany still had problems narrowing her focus, which made her magic unpredictable. When she grasped things with her Kai, she often cracked them like a giant that didn’t know its own strength. If Dormael explained how to create magical flames, chances were good she would go off and attempt it, even against his wishes.

  Especially against my wishes.

  “I’m not sure how much I should tell you.” He paused as Horse stepped over a pile of scree in the path. “You'll go off and burn down the forest by accident.”

  “I won’t burn down the forest.” Bethany sniffed and lifted her chin. She straightened her back and put on a haughty expression. “I’m ready. I can handle it.”

  Did Shawna teach her to act so superior, or do all girls know it by instinct?

  “You could also boil yourself alive. Burn your hair right off your head. You still need practice before you can manipulate something as dangerous as fire.”

  Bethany let out a dramatic sigh. “I’ve been doing nothing but catching rocks and meditating for weeks. When do I get to learn something good?”

  D’Jenn snorted from where he sat his mount ahead of them. Dormael snickered, prompting a glare from Bethany. Hearing those words come out of her mouth brought back memories.

  “I used to think the same thing when I was your age,” Dormael said. “All I wanted to do was call up storms and toss around balls of flame.”

  Shawna laughed from behind them. “And what’s changed?”

  “See? Shawna agrees with me.”

  “Not true—I agree with your father.”

  Bethany turned in her saddle and scowled at Shawna. “You don't even know what we’re talking about.”

  “I don't care. I agree with your father.” Shawna returned Bethany’s grimace with a bland expression. “The look on your face won’t change my opinion.”

  Bethany must be on edge. She’s never this snippy.

  “Don’t be rude, little one.” Dormael tried to keep his tone friendly but firm. “We’re all in this together.”

  “Sorry.” Bethany turned and went back to staring at the valley. Dormael opened his mouth to say more, but decided to let her brood for awhile. He’d always hated when his own father had pursued arguments past what was necessary.

  She’ll get it on her own. She’s a smart girl.

  The valley spread out below the slope like a river of green running through the mountains. Mist clung to the treetops with wispy fingers, which the northern wind did little to pry loose. D’Jenn was leading them along the spine of the southern mountain face, keeping the valley on their right. It provided Dormael with ample opportunities to study the overgrown valley and wonder at the creatures living below.

  You know what’s down there—Garthorin and more Garthorin.

  Thunder rumbled from the clouds blowing into the valley from the north. The wind picked up, biting into Dormael’s skin. It brought the wet smell of rain and the scent of the old forest below. Dormael pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and looked to Bethany, who was wearing nothing but her shirt against the weather.

  Shawna spoke before he could open his mouth. “Get out your cloak, little one. It’s going to get cold up here.”

  Bethany scowled at the trail ahead. “I’m not cold.”

  Dormael gave Bethany a chiding look. Color rose to her cheeks at the glance and she leaned forward to rummage through her saddlebags. When Bethany had turned to her task, Dormael shot a confused glance at Shawna over his shoulder.

  Shawna replied in the Hunter’s Tongue. Let her be. She’s just in a mood.

  “We’ll be into the valley before long,” D’Jenn called over his shoulder. “I see the mountain.”

  Dormael squinted his eyes into the distance. To the northwest, across the valley, lay the misty silhouette of the flat-topped mountain. It was as silent and mysterious as it had been before.

  “I’ve seen plateaus before,” Allen said, nudging his horse forward. “But that looks out of place.”

  Dormael nodded. “I told you, it’s man-made.”

  “What could shear through the top of a mountain?” Shawna nudged her mount closer to Dormael. “Could you do that?”

  Dormael shook his head. “City walls have mortar and joints. A mountain doesn’t. I’d have to shatter the stone somehow, maybe—”

  “Not interested,” Allen said, cutting him off. He spurred his horse ahead of them, winking at Bethany as he went by. Bethany smiled and followed her uncle.

  “I just wanted to know if you could.” Shawna peered at the mountain in the distance before turning a smile on Dormael. “The magic used to frighten me, but now…”

  “Now it makes you wonder what other tricks I have?” Dormael winked at Shawna, who answered him with a roll of her eyes.

  Allen made loud vomiting noises from ahead of them, making Bethany titter with laughter. Shawna sighed and rolled her eyes again—this time in Allen’s direction—before nudging her horse down the trail. Dormael shook his head and followed.

  The storm rolled over the valley like an ocean tide. Rain whispered as it fell upon the lowlands, though the heights were still free of precipitation. Dormael’s eyes were drawn to the flat-topped mountain, seeking its silhouette through the rainy haze in the valley.

  “Are you still having dreams about the armlet?”

  Dormael jumped and turned a surprised look on D’Jenn, who had fallen back in line to speak with him. The question brought the memory of the woman with the silver eyes, making Dormael shiver. For a moment his mind was full of her moon-touched skin and bloody fingernails. His own skin itched where she had touched him in the dream.

  “Sometimes.”

  D’Jenn nodded. “Do you think the dreams are having other effects on you?”

  “Like what?”

  D’Jenn shrugged. “Feeling emotional? Seeing things? Hearing voices?” D’Jenn’s eyes darkened. “More voices, anyway. You’ve already got an extra passenger.”

  Dormael sighed. “Nothing I've noticed.”

  “Anything new from your friend?” D’Jenn tapped the side of his head.

  “No. Not since Orm. I still don’t know why he shows up when he does, and the things he does say rarely make sense.”

  D’Jenn nodded. “I can’t believe you named it after your dog.”

  “Couldn’t think of anything else.”

  “You’ll tell me when he does show up, though?”

  “Aye, maybe I’ll ask him to visit you instead. It would save me the trouble.”

  D’Jenn’s face grew pensive. “Do you think he could do that?”

  Dormael turned a surprised look on his cousin.

  “I suppose I could ask. Maybe he can come by for dinner one night. We’ll all have a good laugh.”

  “You’re awful casual about having a demon whisper into your mind.”

  Dormael snorted. “It’s not a demon.”

  “When did it find you, exactly?”

  “After I killed Jureus.”

  D’Jenn nodded, narrowing his eyes. “When you were close to the Death Sleep. Doesn’t that give you pause?”

  “Everything about it gives me pause, D’Jenn. How would you deal with it in my stead?”

  D’Jenn looked at him for a moment. “I’d start by writing down everything it told me. You could look over it afterward and see if anything reveals itself in the words.”

  Dormael blinked. “I hadn’t thought of that. Alright.”

  “I would try and remember the days it had contacted me, to see if there were any correlations between time, place, circumstance—”

  “Would you have me study the phases of the moon and movement of the sun as well?”

  “Couldn’t hurt.”

  Dormael shook his head. �
�I’ll start with writing things down. We’ll see about the rest.”

  The first raindrops fell on Dormael’s head, carrying a sharp chill. Dormael shrugged deeper into his cloak and pulled the hood over his head as rain hit his shoulders. D’Jenn spurred his horse farther down the trail and took the lead, leaving Dormael with his thoughts.

  D’Jenn turned north and led the party on a winding path down the side of the saddle. The banter trailed off as everyone followed D’Jenn. Moving over the untamed terrain was difficult, and everyone watched the footing with care as their horses picked their way over loose scree and twisted underbrush. Dormael kept his eyes on the forest below, scanning for movement.

  As the ground leveled out, Dormael closed his eyes and reached out with his Kai. The rain made it difficult to sense anything at a distance—each raindrop registered a quiet tone in his magic, making it hard to focus. He tried to peer into the trees with his senses, to pierce the shadows beneath the canopy and discover what lay inside.

  “What’s wrong with the trees?”

  Bethany’s question startled Dormael. He opened his eyes, letting the ether recede from his senses, and looked up. The party had come closer to the tree line while Dormael rode with his eyes closed, and everyone was pulling their horses to a stop. D’Jenn sat astride his horse a small distance from the edge of the woods, staring up at the trees. Dormael nudged his own mount forward to get a better look.

  The trees themselves were ancient. They reached toward the sky with crooked limbs, tanging their leaves together in a thick canopy. There was little in the way of underbrush in the darkness under the trees, just a mat of dead vegetation. Dormael could feel old, quiet energy resonating in his magic—the low melodies of things that had been living for centuries.

  Knotty protrusions were sticking from the tree trunks, or twisted into the upper limbs like macabre fruit. Some were pale, bleached by the sun, while others were the color of polished wood. It was hard at first to discern their shape—many were tied to the trees with crude twists of spidery limbs, or vines taken from only the gods knew where. Every single tree was festooned with the things like festival decorations.

  Shawna cleared her throat. “Are those—?”

  “Skulls,” D’Jenn said. “Garthorin skulls.”

  ***

  Bethany kept glancing at her shadow.

  It was hard to find in the gloom beneath the tree canopy. The rain had done well to hide it on the ride down the slope, but the darkness of the forest was worse. When she was able to find her shadow, it was only for fleeting moments when they passed below a break in the canopy. Bethany wished someone would risk summoning a light.

  Is it still out there, watching me? Bethany was sure of it, even if the thing hiding behind her shadow had only shown itself once. She had seen movement, blurry forms at the edge of her vision, but the monster had only revealed itself on the first night she had seen it—after her father had burnt the temple at Orm to the ground.

  Everyone was silent as they picked their way through the trees. There was plenty of space to ride, even if the footing was bad in most places, but the open space only made the woods more frightening. Even Tirrin let out anxious little whinnies, and Bethany could feel the fear in his muscles. It echoed the fear trapped in Bethany’s stomach.

  The skulls did nothing to make Bethany feel better.

  They were everywhere—smiling down from the limbs above, stuck teeth-first into the trunks themselves, or hanging over the ground from vines woven into the canopy. Bethany couldn’t look anywhere without seeing one. She wondered if their ghosts were watching her pass, staring through the lonely eye sockets of their own weathered skulls.

  I wonder if they can see the shadow.

  She ignored most of the hushed conversation her friends made. Dormael and D’Jenn muttered back and forth, discussing their path through the woods. Allen made little comments here and there trying to make Bethany laugh, but she wasn’t in the mood for laughter. Shawna was silent, eyes trying to look everywhere at once.

  Dormael peered at the trees. “We need to turn west.”

  “Why?” Shawna glanced around at the trees, hand moving to one of her swords.

  “The skulls here are fresher.” Dormael pointed at one of the trees. “There’s a bit of meat hanging on that one. Off to the west, the skulls were older.”

  D’Jenn raised an eyebrow. “That amount of decay is weeks old.”

  “They’ve been getting fresher the farther we’ve come in this direction.” Dormael glanced around at the forest. “I’d rather not find any more recent than these.”

  “We’re taking the shortest route across the valley. If we turn west now, we’ll spend longer under these trees.” D’Jenn peered through the canopy at the failing light above. “I don’t want to be lost down here when it gets dark.”

  Allen fingered the hilt of his saber. “Me either.”

  “Did the Garthorin do this?” Shawna gave one of the trees a distasteful glance. “Is this a graveyard? A boundary marker?”

  “Maybe both.” D’Jenn peered into the trees. “They had to have done this. There’s nothing else up here.”

  “I just want to leave.” Bethany was tired of all the skulls looking at her. The longer they stayed under the canopy, the darker it got. “I don’t like this place.”

  “Seconded, little pig,” Allen said. “Can we get moving, already?”

  “West.” Dormael shared a look with D’Jenn. “What if these things made their home near the river and we’re walking right into their midst?”

  D’Jenn grimaced at the woods to the north. He was silent for a few moments before nodding to Dormael. D’Jenn turned Mist to the west and nudged her into motion, prompting everyone else to follow. Allen and Shawna trailed after D’Jenn but Dormael remained behind and caught Bethany’s eye. His hands began to flash in the Hunter’s Tongue.

  Are you alright?

  Bethany nodded. I don't like this place, that’s all. It feels wrong.

  It does. Dormael tapped his chest. Open your Kai, keep it ready. Listen for anything moving around in the woods. Your Kai will find it before your physical senses will.

  Bethany nodded and Dormael gestured for her to follow the others.

  Riding with her magic singing in her ears didn’t make her feel better. She could hear the trees whispering through the ether. The forest muttered like a mean old man, whispering dark promises to Bethany’s magic. She resisted the urge to pull in power—her father wouldn’t like that—but all she wanted to do was summon the brightest light she could muster.

  The light would only bring the shadow.

  D’Jenn led them through the woods for longer than usual, until it was hard to see into the trees. They always made camp before dusk, especially since passing into the Gathan Mountains. D’Jenn said the Garthorin were more active at night, and slept during the day. Tonight, though, D’Jenn kept going.

  “When do we get to the other side?” Bethany patted Tirrin’s neck. “It’s getting dark.”

  Dormael kept his eyes on the shadows. “We’re trying to make it to the river.”

  “Why?”

  “Something from Lacelle’s book.” Dormael shrugged. “The Garthorin won’t go into the water. Maybe they can’t swim.”

  Bethany furrowed her brow at the hanging skulls. If the Garthorin could do something like that, why wouldn’t they be able to swim? Swimming was simple, and she’d seen all sorts of animals do it before. She’d seen kids drown before, too—even with no good reason.

  “Are you sure?” Bethany gave Dormael a skeptical look. “That sounds weird to me.”

  Dormael shrugged and went back to peering at the shadows. Bethany heard his magic humming through the ether. She returned to listening to the twilight with her Kai and trying to ignore the empty stares of the skulls.

  Is the shadow out there right now? Is it watching me?

  Dormael hissed in warning, causing everyone to pull to a stop. Bethany froze, trading wide-eyed g
azes with her friends. Dormael sat with his arm extended, ears focused into the distance. Bethany held tight to her reins.

  Should I listen with my Kai?

  Bethany sent her senses outward, creeping between the ancient trunks of the trees. She ignored the old, menacing noise they made, and pushed farther still. Her mind strained with the effort—she had yet to try listening at a distance. The sensations returned by her Kai grew harder to make out the farther she pushed.

  There was movement to the north. Her Kai returned a series of tones that materialized into shadows of light against the gloomy background of the forest. Large, muscular forms stalked through the trees. Bethany couldn’t tell how many there were. When she opened her eyes, her friends were whispering back and forth.

  Dormael leaned out of his saddle and gestured to the north. “They’re between us and the river. We need to go west!”

  “How many?” Allen gathered his reins in hand.

  “More than we want to meet in the dark,” D’Jenn said. “We need to be quiet.”

  Shawna gave the trees a suspicious glance. “Can’t your magic do something for that? What happens if they catch our scent?”

  “I can do a little,” D’Jenn said. “But I can’t work the spells and navigate at the same time.”

  “I’ll do it.” Dormael gathered his reins. “I can keep an eye on the Garthorin and lead us wide of their position.”

  “What happens if they find us anyway?” Allen said. “Any plans for that?”

  D’Jenn snorted. “Run like Six Hells.”

  “I’ll take the lead, then,” Dormael said. “Bethany—stay with me. I want you right beside me if something happens.”

  Bethany nodded.

  Dormael led them to the trees at a walk. It was hard to go much faster in the dark, even though Bethany could sense everything around her. Tirrin had no magical senses. Bethany kept one hand on the horse’s neck, trying to keep him calm, and her eyes on the woods.

  The moments crawled by in oppressive silence. At one point a distant crashing noise quickened the horses’ steps and sent chills of fear down Bethany’s spine. The noise died after a short moment, leaving Bethany to wonder what it had been. Her mind conjured images of gnashing teeth and tearing claws, which made her ride closer to her father.