Amber crystals, far larger than any natural specimen he'd ever seen, shed a jaundiced light on the immense stone wheel he faced. Around the wheel was a city created in a way no one could guess. There were no straight lines--anywhere. The place was all curves, imitating nature's gracefulness and including symmetry and patterns Martik had seen in the world around him. Men had been exploring the city for weeks. It appeared no people had ever actually lived there. There was only the detritus left by whatever had lived in the darkness.
All that was just a distraction to Martik. The wheel beckoned him. It was a puzzle waiting to be solved, and he was the perfect person to solve it, yet he had to question his motivation when Trinda was the beneficiary. Whatever mighty tool or weapon the ancients had left them, he would be delivering it into the hands of one plotting for war. That did not sit lightly on his gut. He didn't have much choice but to guide his crew closer toward freeing the giant wheel. When the crew retired for the day, he would make good his escape along with Strom and Osbourne. Together they would find their way to the Firstland. It all felt like a crazy dream, far from what his childhood on the family farm had prepared him for. In other ways, that life had prepared him for everything. It had taught him to be a problem solver, and that was what he did best.
His men struggled with mining tools to clear the debris from the wheel, and progress was painfully slow. They had originally thought the job would be easy since everything had been laid out for them. The wall leading up to the stone wheel was taller than three men, but it had circular holes alternating from side to side, providing toeholds for easy climbing. They soon found the rock cylinders strewn across the valley floor. Each one appeared to have been cut to fit within the holes along the base of the wheel, but his men had been able only to get them to slide part of the way into the holes. This had created a convenient ladder and platform once a few planks were added. From that point, they had all been grateful for the holes and cylinders but paid them little more mind.
Martik took Wendel Volker's advice and looked at the entire construction from a different perspective. Where else were there cylindrical holes within Dragonhold? he asked himself. It didn't take long to think of the water channels. Nowhere else, though, did they find these stone plugs. He wondered if perhaps these were the by-product of cutting the holes, but that still didn't explain why they were found only there. Near the bottom, one rung looked out of place. It was too low to be useful as a step, which made Martik further question its purpose. The stone cylinder wiggled free without much effort. The first thing Martik realized was the cylinder was made of a darker stone than the stone in which the shafts had been bored. These stone plugs had been made for a purpose, and Martik was feeling more and more confident that purpose was not to act as a ladder or platform.
Using his knife, he checked inside the circular depression and found it quite thoroughly clogged. After working at it for a while, he managed to clear the channel, and as he lay there breathing, a breeze cooled his skin. It wasn't emanating from the channel but rushing into it. It had to be!
Grabbing the stone cylinder, he wiped it as clean as he could and slid it into the channel. It was a nearly perfect fit; there was just enough play to allow the cylinder to slide in. When only a couple hand widths protruded from the hole, the shaft moved on its own. There was a sucking sound followed by a thud. Just enough shaft remained exposed to allow Martik to pull it back out. It resisted at first, but then came free with a sucking whoosh. Nothing else happened. He inserted it once again, and the suction pulled the shaft back, firmly locking it into place. This was it.
One of Trinda's guards was watching him a little too closely, and Martik realized his thoughts must have been written on his face. He had to make the decision in that moment whether or not to reveal what he'd found. Though part of him worried over the consequences, Martik could not resist.
"You men come down from there! And bring the planks!" he shouted to the crew, and the guard gave him a look that said he knew Martik was a traitor. It took much of the fun from what Martik was about to do. "You might want to get Trinda," he said to the guard.
"Queen Trinda," the man said. "And you don't want to test it first? You want me to drag the lady down here on your hunch?"
"Are you saying I should start the wheel turning without her here?"
The man glared at him for some time. Martik's crew was reaching the bottom of the stair. Finally he sent another guard with word for Trinda. He specifically did not look at Martik after that, which was not such a terrible result. It would take some time for Trinda to get there, but there was still work to be done.
"Remove the ladder stones, starting at the top. Hand the stones down and carefully stack them with the others," he said. "Do you understand?"
"Yes," Bradley said.
He was a good man whom Martik and Chase trusted. Though he normally served as a part of Trinda's guard, he'd been assigned to assist Martik in his efforts. Their friendship was no secret.
Martik stepped away from what he no longer considered a ladder; it was a lever, a gate, or maybe switch was the better word. The work proceeded more slowly than Martik would have liked, and he wondered why he had even opened his mouth. Sometimes his temper and ego got the better of him, and he reminded himself to keep his emotions under control. "Emotion destroys what logic builds," his father had always said. "Martik knew there was a place for emotion in his life, but he took his father's point: it could rule or ruin your life if not kept in check.
When Trinda arrived, she was carried by a well-muscled guard. She sat in his arms as if he were a throne, and the man did his best to descend loose stone slope with grace. There was a dangerous look on her face, and Martik hoped he was right. If not, his ego could have gotten him into serious trouble.
"I am not to be summoned," Trinda said before the man carrying her came to a stop before Martik.
"You asked for word should I have any progress, and I believe we've made significant progress today."
"I'm told you haven't actually done anything yet, as evidenced by this," she said, gesturing toward Martik's men, who were still working."
"I did not want to deprive you of the chance to see the wheel turn for the first time," Martik said, suddenly wishing he had no tongue. Now either the wheel turned, or he'd be a failure who had summoned the child queen to witness his disgrace.
"Yet you had no trouble depriving my guard of any of the details."
"I--"
"You deprived me of the information I needed. Don't do that again."
The words were said in a pleasant enough tone, but a chill enveloped Martik; he didn't want to "fall into the river."
The men proved why he considered them his best crew. The stone shafts were neatly lined up on the stone at the wheel's base. Feeling like a fool, Martik flushed and moved to the long, cylindrical stones. "These shafts are cut from a different type of stone; and they fit almost perfectly."
Trinda looked unimpressed.
Sliding the lowest shaft halfway in, Martik began re-creating the ladder, and even his men looked at him strangely, but then one sucked in a deep breath, the realization finally hitting him. With his crew handing him black stone cylinders, Martik reached the last hole, and this was the first shaft he pushed past the halfway point. He put his hands in the air and let everyone see the shaft get sucked in the rest of the way. There was an audible thunk when the stone was seated. Now those in attendance watched with a bit more anticipation. Martik's spirit soared but he did not want to get overconfident.
Stepping back down a rung, he pushed in the shaft he'd just been standing on, and so he backed down the ladder, collapsing it as he went. With each shaft drawn into place, as if by magic, Martik's crew and perhaps even the guards came to believe. Every shaft brought them closer to solving a great mystery, and Martik couldn't help but smile. Then, though, he came to the last shaft, one he'd already tested. He knew it would work. It just had to work. When he tried sliding the stone into place, it resiste
d for an instant, and Martik swallowed, but after adjusting the angle, it slid in without resistance until being pulled from his grasp with a firm, almost greedy thunk. It was quiet and no one moved.
Nothing happened.
Someone coughed and Martik stood from where he'd been kneeling, his prayer unanswered.
Trinda glared down at him. "Do not summon me again."
* * *
"What were you thinking?" Strom asked Martik, his voice louder than he may have intended.
"I can't help it when something suddenly makes sense to me," Martik said.
"Quit pouting," Osbourne said.
"Trinda's guard has been watching me," Martik said. "Closer than I thought. He's not just watching me; he's reading me. And he knew the moment I figured it out; only I guess I really didn't figure it out."
"Stop whining," Osbourne said.
"I think they're going to try to stop us when we leave. I think they know," Martik said in a rush.
"They do," Strom said. "But they don't know when, and I'm betting they won't expect tonight."
"That's insane," Osbourne said.
"You're really not being helpful, you know," Martik said.
"Moving the conversation along . . ." Osbourne said. "You really think tonight, right after Martik's utter disgrace and humiliation in front of all those people, is the best time to make our escape?"
Martik stuck his tongue out at Osbourne.
"Our man is working the barges tonight," Strom said. "We just have to time it right. We still have time before the change of guard, and we know the day guard has had quite a day. I say we go."
Martik swallowed. It hadn't been real to him before, but now they were talking about actually trying to escape Dragonhold. Given how his day had gone, his confidence wasn't high, and he thought he might be sick. Osbourne didn't look a great deal better, no matter how much sarcasm he poured on it. Strom appeared determined but there was the slightest hint at the corner of his eyes: fear.
"How long do you need?" Strom asked, his voice low.
"I'm ready," Martik breathed. Nothing he owned was worth the risk.
"I'm ready too," Osbourne said.
Supplies already waited in the Upper Chinawpa valley. Beyond what they were wearing, they would be leaving their entire lives behind. In a way, their lives had been taken from them long before, and perhaps they would now take them back.
"I'll go first," Strom said. "Wait half a turn of the sand clock, and one of you follow. Then the other another half turn after that. Get to the docks, and we should be free. Deep breaths. Relax."
With that, Strom strode out as if nothing were amiss. Martik wasn't certain he could match the feat, and he had serious doubts about Osbourne.
"You go next," Osbourne said. "I'll be right behind you."
"You're not giving up already, are you?" Martik asked.
Osbourne laughed. "No. But I know I might give myself away. I'm not very good at hiding things. Strom has gotten better at it over the years."
"It helps to have arms like dragon jaws," Martik said, and Osbourne couldn't argue. Strom wasn't a man to be tangled with.
Half the sand had passed through the sand clock, and Martik let it run. With a nod, he walked into the hall, still unsure if Osbourne would follow. Shadows cast by the torchlight danced and taunted Martik as he walked. Gone were the days of herald globes lighting the halls. Those had been hoarded and stashed somewhere perhaps only Trinda herself knew. It was another puzzle. Did the girl hoard them to keep others from using them or so she could use them herself? Her alliance with Allette indicated she might be amassing a deadly arsenal for her own military purposes.
Martik realized he was mumbling to himself as he passed people in the halls, and he wondered what he might have been saying when people passed by. He would have to pay more attention. It was his nature to fixate on problems and ignore everything else, especially, as in this case, when his subconscious was handling the walking. Passing through the great hall made him feel as if everyone were watching him. They could easily see he was on his way to escape from Dragonhold, and surely he would be intercepted at any time. Every step caused his heart to beat faster, and sweat was running down his cheek by the time he reached the archway leading to the God's Eye. This would be the easiest place to stop him, and a man was moving in his direction. With every step, he wanted to go faster, to run, but he could not. That would ruin everything. He had to remain calm. The man was not someone he recognized, but when their eyes met, Martik quickly looked away, something he instantly regretted.
The man passed by the archway and moved back toward the kitchens. With a deep breath, Martik entered the hall, unable to appreciate the architecture as he usually did. He prayed with every step. When Strom saw him, he let out an audible sigh then looked embarrassed for having done so.
"Sound carries over water," Martik said softly.
Strom flushed and nodded.
Waiting for Osbourne was torture. Strom had turned over a sand clock when Martik arrived, and he frequently checked it. When half the sand had run out, Osbourne was not there, and a barge appeared. They would get but one chance at this, and Martik looked at Strom.
"I can't leave him."
Martik nodded. Either all of them went or none of them went. A moment after having that thought, Martik let out an audible sigh of relief. Strom gave him a look that said, Really?
The barge landed as Osbourne walked up, and they boarded without his ever stopping.
"Go," Strom said to the bargeman, whom Martik didn't recognize.
The man responded by pushing them into deep water. Every instant of the journey was etched in Martik's mind; he'd never been so frightened and exhilarated at the same time. They were so close to their goal, he could barely contain himself.
Strom grabbed his arm and leaned in. "Easy."
Martik hadn't even realized he'd been stepping forward and back as if about to make a running jump. Taking deep breaths, he did what he could to release them slowly. After what felt like ages, they reached the pocked stone shoreline. The bargeman said nothing as the three men disembarked. He simply poled back into deep water.
A single pair of guards was all that stood between them and the Chinawpa Valley and their freedom. Strom led the way, and it was clear he intended to fight if necessary. Martik followed with a bit less conviction, and Osbourne nearly outpaced him. They were at the checkered hall, which was what they now called the hall where Kyrien had entered and exited the hold with his dragon ore saddle on. The stones had left crisscrossing gouges in the otherwise smooth stone. It was a poignant reminder.
The guards' silhouettes came into view, and Martik could hear nothing over the pounding in his ears. Strom approached the man on the left and nodded in greeting. The man nodded back, and Strom walked into the valley beyond. Osbourne took another tentative step on his way outside, and nothing barred his path. Martik nearly sighed with relief again, but instead a hand closed over his mouth.
"You disappoint me, Martik Tillerman," Trinda said from within the cavern; the light of many herald globes her guards held hurting his eyes. It was an exaggerated show of force. A single overcharged herald globe would have been plenty. "First you failed to impress after you summoned me and now this. What am I going to do with you?"
Strong hands marshaled Martik back to where Trinda stood, and she spoke over his shoulder. "As for the two of you," she said. "You may never return."
Chapter 5
Words can cut as deep as a blade.
--Morif, soldier
* * *
The mighty wheel mocked Martik. He'd been so certain only days ago the shafts were the keys, and he was starting to realize they were perhaps one of the keys. The presence of a vacuum, that inrushing breeze, made him envision moving water. A river ran through this mountain, and it could be the suction's source. Those thoughts would have continued if not for heavy debris being cleared from atop the wheel. This irregularly shaped rock had not been created by the ke
ep's crumbling. All the stone around it was smooth once the debris was cleared. This debris had been placed there to intentionally jam the mechanism, Martik knew. Someone had worked hard to make certain this wheel would stay as it was.
"Clear below!" Bradley shouted from above.
Martik moved to a safer place. The debris had to be thrown, or in this case pushed, from high above, and there was no guarantee it would fall where they intended. The wrong bounce on the way down could send it toward those gathered at the mighty wheel's base.
"Clear," Martik called back once he was satisfied his people were as safe as they could be.
Jagged rock appeared, only the tip at first, and it moved slowly before toppling over all at once and racing down the wheel's face, never touching the smooth stone. Hitting bottom with terrible force, it sent stone shards flying in every direction, some screaming as they went.
"Help!" someone shouted. "Man down!"
Martik cursed himself for not moving people farther back and pushed through the crowd.
"Stung me good," a man named Adger said. "But I'm all right. I think we should use that rock to make a wall we can take shelter behind."
Martik laughed. Leave it to someone from the Godfist to use the very problem itself as the solution. "Adger's right," he said. "Do as he says."
The man gave Martik a grateful nod but said nothing. Instead he just started moving rock. The others followed suit and placed their loads where he pointed. It proved something Martik's father had once told him. "Men of few words speak through their work."
The Fifth Magic (Book 1) Page 5
