The Covenant Rising

by Stan Nicholls

He caught a glimpse of Serrah. If the prospect of entering such a confined place worried her, she was hiding it well.

  “We have to go through it bent double, maybe on all fours,” he explained. “So I hope you’re not wearing your Freedom Day best. It probably isn’t going to be that pleasant in there, but according to the map we don’t have to put up with it for long. Are we ready?”

  There was a mumbled chorus of assent.

  The group paddled over to the outlet. Caldason told the others to go up first. He wanted to check on Serrah again, no matter what she’d said.

  Two band-members gave the first a leg-up, then he hoisted them after him. Kutch was next.

  While that was going on, Reeth looked to Serrah. She gave him a brief, emphatic nod, and he acknowledged it before she clasped outstretched hands and was pulled up.

  Reeth jumped and caught the edge of the drain. With the others hauling and him scrambling, he soon joined them.

  He’d been right about the size of the tunnel they’d entered. They could only move through it single-file and bent very low. They set off, loping like apes. But before long they came to something unexpected and unspecified on the map.

  The tunnel suddenly became even smaller.

  Serrah, in front of Reeth, looked over her shoulder at him. Her expression was unreadable, but he could guess what she felt.

  They had to proceed by crawling, and the tunnel was so much tighter that their heads still only just cleared the ceiling. Progress slowed greatly. The crawl seemed to go on forever, and Reeth could only imagine what Serrah was making of it. He was ready to reach out a comforting hand, if need be.

  In due course there was a whispered exclamation from up ahead. It sounded positive. Soon after, the tunnel joined another passing it at a right angle, a much larger one it was possible to stand in.

  Once they were out, Serrah took deep breaths and stretched. She didn’t speak, and Reeth didn’t say anything to her.

  Kutch looked askance at the muck on the front of his breeches and the sleeves of his coat. “Are we nearly there?” he asked.

  “Not far now,” Reeth said. “And according to this –’ he waved the folded map “– the rest of it’s nothing like what we’ve just been through.” He noticed Serrah staring at him, and thought he detected relief on her face. In the poor light he couldn’t be sure. “We go round this bend here on the left.”

  He started off. The group followed.

  They found themselves at the confluence of two more tunnels.

  “There,” he said, indicating the next stage of their journey.

  As they walked towards the fresh tunnel, Caldason took the opportunity of seeing how Kutch felt.

  “You all right?”

  The apprentice nodded. “Fine. You?”

  Caldason nodded back. “Your part in this hopefully won’t take much longer. There’s just one thing. If you had to find your own way back, could you?”

  An alarmed expression came to the boy’s face. “Yes, I suppose so. Do you think I’ll have to?”

  “No, don’t worry. Just covering all the possibilities. But it makes sense to note where we’re going. Just as a precaution.”

  “I think I’m all right with it so far.”

  “Good. Not long now.”

  Kutch thought again of telling his friend what he’d seen yesterday, but immediately realised this was definitely the wrong time and place.

  The tunnel they entered had a flat roof consisting of stone blocks. It was low enough that they had to stoop slightly. They hadn’t gone very far when it made an acute turn to the right. Caldason stopped them.

  “What needs doing next has to be fairly accurate,” he spelt out. “According to the map, from this corner it’s between twenty and thirty paces. Obviously we’ll call it twenty-five. That should take us directly under where we want to be. Let’s be sure about this. I’ll start pacing; a couple of you do the same.”

  He began a deliberate walk, counting his steps. When he arrived at twenty-five the others were right behind him. There was no argument about the spot.

  Reeth looked up. He was almost exactly beneath a square roof block. “That one looks as good as any. Let’s get started.”

  They got out the tools they’d brought: mallets, chisels and crowbars. Then they set to chipping away at the join around the block, a task made much easier due to the low ceiling. Mortar and stone chippings began to fall.

  Eventually they were able to insert crowbars in the fissures they’d made. After a brief struggle the whole block suddenly fell, shattering loudly on the sewer floor. Everyone kept absolutely silent for a moment, listening. Apparently there was nothing to hear.

  Inside the opening they could see planks of wood. They went to work again, chiselling their way through them, passing down chunks. When that was removed they found another layer of planks, supported by joists.

  “That’s the actual floor of the building,” one of the band-members confirmed.

  “This is the acid test,” Caldason said. “If Karr’s informant’s to be trusted, there’s nobody up there. If he’s wrong, or lying, we could be walking into a trap. Stay alert, and be ready to fight or run.”

  In ten minutes they’d exposed a layer of thick, coloured fabric.

  “Presumably that’s a carpet,” Reeth judged. “We’re just a cut away now.”

  “I’d like to be the first one up,” Serrah volunteered.

  He imagined that was because she was anxious to get out, but asked, “Why?”

  “That hole looks a tight squeeze. I’m the smallest here, and maybe the most agile, so it makes sense. The smallest bar Kutch, that is, but I’m assuming he’s not frontline.”

  Kutch started to say that he’d be glad to do it.

  “No,” Caldason interrupted, “Serrah’s right. We need an experienced fighter for this, just in case. Your skills are too precious to risk.” To her he added, “You’re first up, then. But straight back if there’s a sign of anybody up there, right?”

  “Right.”

  Two of the band-members crouched so she could clamber on their backs. She went up with a knife and started cutting. Scraps of carpet dropped down.

  “I’m through,” she reported.

  She poked her head through the hole. Shortly, she bobbed down again. “There doesn’t seem to be anybody about. I’m going in.” Her legs and feet disappeared.

  A moment later her head popped through the hole. “It looks clear. Come on.” Once more she vanished.

  “Right, everybody up,” Caldason ordered.

  His crew scrambled through the hole.

  They emerged in a grand hallway decorated with marble pillars and wood panelling. A mosaic of the Gath Tampoor dragon emblem occupied a section of wall, giving the lie to this being a place of worship – unless it was the worship of colonial masters.

  Serrah was at the hallway’s far end, examining a pair of huge doors that presumably led to the outside. There were a number of other doors in the hallway.

  “I don’t want anybody going too far,” Caldason decreed. “Not until we’re a little surer of what the set-up is. Kutch, time to earn your keep. Can you sniff around for alarum glamours, sentinels, booby-traps, that kind of thing? And be careful!”

  Kutch started to creep along the hall, gazing about intently.

  Reeth turned to the three band-members, and picked one. “I want you to guard our exit. If anything happens try letting us know. Use a wailer if you have to. At some point I’ll be sending Kutch back here. When he arrives get him out, quick as you like, and get away yourself, too. Got it?”

  The man nodded.

  “You can amuse yourself by spreading your oil around the place.”

  “You’d think there’d be some kind of security in here,” one of the others remarked.

  “It’s guarded on the outside. That’s where they’d expect someone to try something. Anyway, don’t assume there isn’t security. There’s bound to be, and in a place like this it’s going to be g
ood.” He looked around. “There’s supposed to be a guards’ station here somewhere.”

  “It’s over there,” Serrah reported. “Deserted. Kutch’s checking it out.”

  Even as she said it, the apprentice reappeared.

  “Well?” Caldason asked.

  “I haven’t spotted anything yet. But I’ve only checked this hallway and the guards’ station.” Up close and quietly he added, “Remember, Reeth, I’m still only a novice at this. I can’t swear I’d spot everything.”

  “I know. But we’re still a damn sight better off with you. Now just relax and do your job. We’ll check the rooms down here first.”

  He insisted that they stick together for this, while the guard remained at the hole. They took the doors right to left, from the end of the hall where the street doors were back to where they’d broken in. The first couple opened onto nothing more interesting than offices and other mundane utility rooms. Kutch detected no hint of magical duplicity in any of them.

  The third door, a double set, led to something a little more striking. A huge room filled with clerks’ benches and high-backed stools, hundreds of them. It was an administrator’s paradise.

  “Karr was right about the bureaucracy,” Serrah remarked.

  They entered other doors and found nothing special. All the rooms were without windows, and none of them were locked. Serrah commented on this.

  “It confirms that they’ve concentrated all their defences on the outside of this place,” Caldason thought. “They didn’t consider an attack from within. As you said, the bureaucratic mind.”

  The last set of doors opened onto a wide staircase.

  “It seems we were informed correctly,” Caldason said; “upstairs is where the records are kept. Be extra alert, all of you. Kutch, you’ll lead with me.”

  Kutch looked a little daunted, but he was game.

  They started up the staircase. It curved, so their destination couldn’t immediately be seen. The walls were lined with impressive glamoured portraits of empire dignitaries – generals and admirals saluted, royal luminaries and politicians struck courtly poses.

  As the party turned the bend they saw that the stairs terminated on a wide landing. On either side of the top step were two tall, square pillars of pinkish stone, decorated with gold stencilling.

  “Wait,” Kutch said.

  They froze.

  Caldason laid a hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice that the boy was shaking. “What is it?”

  “Has anyone got a knife?”

  “Of course,” Serrah replied.

  Kutch eyed his comrades and the small armoury they toted. “Oh, yes. Silly of me. Do you have one of your throwing knives, Serrah?”

  She plucked one from her sleeve scabbard. “This do?”

  “Could you hit that door up there, opposite the top of the stairs? And can you throw through the pillars?”

  “Sure.” She drew back her aim and lobbed the blade.

  The throw was true, and would have struck the door. But as the knife soared between the pillars something like lightning instantly crackled out of them. Undulating crimson whips seized the knife in flight and annihilated it with a loud report.

  “I think you just earned your place in the band,” Serrah told Kutch.

  “What’s the extent of the thing?” Caldason wanted to know. “Are we going to have to climb up another way?”

  “I don’t think so,” Kutch replied. “Serrah, can you oblige again, please?”

  “Another knife? This is getting expensive. These are good blades, you know.”

  “If I’m right, you won’t lose this one. Try throwing it low this time. Get it to go through the pillars about knee height.”

  She went up a few more steps and threw again, underhand this time. The knife reached the pillars and carried on through, embedding itself in the door.

  They resumed their climb and, one by one, went through the pillars on hands and knees. Now they faced the door, from which Serrah retrieved her knife. It was the only door in the corridor, although the corridor was very long.

  “Picking up anything here, Kutch?” Caldason asked.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  They found that the door was locked.

  “Careful now,” Reeth cautioned as the band-members moved in with their crowbars.

  Everyone stood ready, weapons drawn.

  The door opened with no trouble. Behind it was a dimly lit corridor with another set of doors at its end. They headed for them.

  “Do you get the feeling this mission never seems to get anywhere?” Serrah wondered.

  “Wait!” Caldason exclaimed.

  They stopped, blades raised.

  Kutch was puzzled. “What is it, Reeth?”

  “Down there.” He pointed towards the floor.

  Kutch couldn’t see anything until they turned their glamour globes on it.

  Then a thin, almost invisible strand of wire stood out, stretched across the corridor at ankle height.

  “Obviously not all the traps here are magical,” Reeth said. “Everybody back off.”

  They retreated a few paces.

  He stepped over the wire. Nothing happened. He beckoned and the others queued to skip it.

  “I wonder what it does?” Kutch said.

  “I’m glad we didn’t find out. Let’s try and remember it on the way back, shall we?”

  They reached the second door and repeated their careful procedure for opening it. It wasn’t even locked. That took them to an iron balcony, part of a walkway that went around the entirety of the massive room they were looking down into.

  It was filled with hundreds of rows of shelving. Every available area of wall space was shelved. There were shelves up on the balcony level where they stood, floor to ceiling. All these shelves and racks were crammed full with what looked like books. But they were entirely uniform: tall, bound in brown leather and with neatly labelled spines. They numbered many thousands.

  The Gath Tampoorian imperial emblem was here too. This time it covered a large part of the ceiling, probably because there was nowhere else to put it.

  “I think we’ve finally arrived,” Caldason said.

  The walkway they were on had a number of staircases joining it with the records hall below. He started out for the nearest.

  “Stop!” Kutch yelled.

  Everybody froze again.

  “The floor,” the boy explained, pointing ahead of them. “It’s not right.”

  “It looks real enough to me,” one of the band-members reckoned.

  Kutch reached over and pulled one of the bound books from a shelf. It was obviously heavier than he expected. He threw it at the floor. It went straight through. For a fraction of a second the glamoured surface disappeared before reforming itself. Long enough for them to see that the drop was much further than just to the next level. There was some kind of shaft or well directly beneath.

  “The gods know what’s at the bottom of that,” somebody remarked.

  “As long as it isn’t us,” Reeth said. “Well done, Kutch.”

  They turned around and made for the next staircase. Everybody moved very carefully.

  Once they were down in the hall, the enormity of the place struck them fully. The towers of shelving and endless files crowded in.

  Caldason told Kutch to examine the place as thoroughly as he could, and sent the two remaining band-members to accompany him.

  That left Reeth alone with Serrah. He took the opportunity to ask how she was feeling.

  “Not bad. Thanks for being considerate about…’

  He nodded. “It’s all right.”

  They took in their surroundings, trying to make sense of the mountains of information all around them.

  Kutch returned. “Everything in the immediate area seems all right. But it’s a big place. I can’t guarantee I haven’t missed anything.”

  “We have to get out of here soon anyway. Why don’t the three of you prime for a fi
re? You know where best to put the accelerant. We’ll take care of this end.”

  Kutch and the others went off again.

  Reeth and Serrah began throwing the liquid around. They sprinkled it on files, books, piles of parchments, anything that might burn.

  Kutch called out, from not far off. They jogged over to him.

  They found him and the other two men staring at a blank wall.

  “The fact that it had nothing on or against it was what attracted my attention,” Kutch explained. “Must be the only bit of blank wall in the place.”

  “A deception glamour,” Serrah said.

  Kutch nodded and started to walk towards it. “Come on, I’ll show you. It’s safe.”

  He led them through the wall. They felt no more than the gentlest breeze as they pierced the illusion. They discovered a big recess, fenced in with bars. Inside the cage, there were more racks of files. Several hundred at least.

  “The special stuff,” Serrah reckoned.

  There was a gate in the cage, but it didn’t stand up to their battering. They went in and had a quick look around.

  Reeth read some of the labels on the spines of files. “Practically nothing here means anything to me,” he admitted. There was a murmur of agreement from the others. “Anyway, we haven’t got the time, interesting though it might be. Let’s get on with it.”

  The others moved out. He lingered for a moment, splashing the inflammable liquid around. As he was about to leave, a small rack of bound files caught his eye. They were in alphabetical order. ABBROM, ADAZE, BARAMAK, BEKKLE, BURR, CAID…

  CALDASON.

  He slid the file from its shelf. His full name was written on the front. Sweeping a table of its clutter, he laid it down and opened it.

  All the pages had been cut out.

  He pulled a couple more for comparison. They were complete. He stared at his.

  “Reeth!” Serrah shouted. “Come on!”

  Caldason scattered the last few drops from his flask and left the cage.

  They were waiting for him near the staircase.

  “Serrah, help me set the fuses. The rest of you go. There’s nothing more you can do here. We’ll meet up later.”

  Kutch started to say, “Are you sure I can’t –?”

  “No. You’ve done well. Now follow orders and get out. And all of you: watch for those traps on the way back.”