The Plains of Kallanash

by Pauline M. Ross

They took the carts as near as they dared to the great hall, and then parked them in the last alcove. The warriors donned full battle gear. Dethin was assigned to protect the two women, while Walst was to take charge of small defensive groups providing cover for Tanist who would be exploring. As they walked quietly down the last stretch of tunnel, the light became brighter until it was almost dazzling. It was daytime, and great windows far above cast vivid bolts of colour into the vast space of the hall. The metal gates shone with silvery flashes as they moved forward, and even the floor was too brilliant to look at.

  “Let’s stop here for a moment, until our eyes adjust,” Tanist ordered.

  Hurst remembered how bright the outside world had seemed when he had first escaped from the tunnel. They were still underground here and yet the light was as strong as a summer day, and more intensely coloured than a flower garden.

  Tanist took Hurst, Gantor and Trimon on a full circuit of the perimeter, swords drawn. All the tunnel entrances were identical, with a different cluster of fiery dots above each one. Three quarters of the way round they came to a series of broad steps leading upwards to an archway high above. As they reached the foot of the stair, Walst emerged from the archway at the top and thundered down the steps to meet them, his boots sounding like hammers in the stillness. Hurst winced.

  “What are you doing?” Tanist hissed. “Can’t you be quieter?”

  “Sorry, Sir. Just investigating. It’s the boat entrance, through the door at the top.”

  “You opened the door?”

  “No, no, no – there are glass panels.”

  With a tsk of displeasure, Tanist trod more measuredly up the stairs, with Hurst following. Through the archway was a pair of solid wooden doors, flanked on either side by full length glass panels. Beyond was a small ante-room and on the far side an identical set of doors. Through the windows could be seen the small jetty, free of boats, as it usually was, for it was rare that anyone was permitted to approach the tower. Behind the jetty, the smooth surface of the Glass Lake reflected the great mass of the surrounding mountains. Hurst could make out domes and spires across the water.

  There was no visible lock on the door, and Tanist cautiously turned the handle. Smoothly, without a sound, it moved and the door opened a crack. They went through, but the ante-room was bare except for a couple of benches. Apart from the inner and outer doors, there was no other way in or out. It was surprisingly cold, and Hurst realised that the glowing tunnels and even the massive open space of the hall behind them were pleasantly warm. Unlike the original tunnels, none of them had needed their cloaks to keep the chill at bay.

  “So, it looks like anyone arriving by boat must come down into the hall,” said Tanist thoughtfully, as they made their way back down the steps. “There’s no other way into the tower. So we have to open those gates between the pillars.”

  “May I play with the locks now?” Gantor asked with a smile, and Tanist nodded.

  “Mia can help. She’s good at these puzzles.”

  While Gantor fetched Mia and began studying the locks, Hurst said, “At least we now know how Those who Serve the Gods came and went from the tower.”

  “Yes, no mystery to it at all. Straight down here and into the tunnels. I suppose food and everything else went in and out the same way.”

  “If they even live here at all,” Hurst said.

  “Oh, you’re getting as cynical as Gantor. That would be ironic, wouldn’t it? All this bother for a deserted building. But what I’d like to know is how they get into these tunnels from the Ring. We’ve passed no side tunnels or stairs of any sort since we crossed into the barrens.”

  “Why would they need to? They have access here.”

  “Think about it,” Tanist said. “The upper court is here at the Ring, out near the sky ship way. All those convicted murderers and whatnot to be transported down the tunnel to become barbarians have to be got into it somehow. They’re not brought here in boats, are they? And I don’t see anyone carting them through the mountains to the nearest Godstower. The Warlord – Crannor – was unconscious when he got here, poor boy, it would have to be a short journey. There’s got to be an access point somewhere, but I don’t know where.”

  “Maybe in one of the other tunnels?” Hurst suggested.

  “Possibly, but they do seem to be big on symmetry round here. I’d expect to see the same in every tunnel.”

  “Hmm. Maybe there’s a hidden door in one of those alcoves. That last one – where we left the carts – it was shallower than usual. There may be some mechanism…”

  There was a sudden commotion, quickly stilled, around one of the locks. Tanist strode across.

  “Come on, stand back, everyone, give them room. Who knows what might happen if the gate opens? Walst, you and your men patrolling the perimeter, if you please, we need warning if anyone approaches. What have you found, Gantor?”

  “These little knobs slide about like this into these notches, and you can twist them to lock them in place, see? So you can make a pattern. Then you twist this knob here—” There was a small clunk, and all the little knobs fell back down again. “So all we have to do is work out what the pattern is.”

  “That could take forever.”

  “Oh, it’s just a question of working systematically through the possibilities.”

  “Fine. You work systematically through the possibilities, I’m going to send someone to have a look at that alcove.”

  “Mannigor?” suggested Hurst. Tanist nodded and strode off.

  Gantor began positioning knobs again, with Mia’s help. Hurst moved closer, trying to work out what pattern they were creating.

  “There. Let’s try that.”

  He twisted the knob and the pattern collapsed.

  Then the floor opened beneath them and they were hurtled into the void.

  47: Puzzles (Mia)

  Mia screamed. There was the crashing sound of armoured men hitting something solid, mixed with groans. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t work out what had happened. Then Hurst’s face loomed over her.

  “Mia? Mia! Gods, are you hurt?”

  There was no real pain, she realised, just sore places where she would have bruises later. She shook her head slightly, all the movement she could manage. Above her, in the bright square of the open trapdoor Dethin’s anxious face appeared.

  “Mia? Are you all right?”

  “She’s just winded, I think,” Hurst called back.

  “We’re getting rope,” Dethin said. “We’ll have you out of there in no time.”

  From above Mia could hear shouts and booted feet running back and forth. She straightened herself out and when Hurst offered her his hand, allowed him to pull her into a sitting position. The narrow beam of light from above was enough to show that they had fallen only ten feet or so onto a raised platform. Narrow steps led down to a rough cave floor.

  From above, Tanist’s voice boomed down. “Any injuries?”

  “No, we’re fine,” Hurst said.

  “Good. What did you do?”

  It was Gantor who answered. “It was the third attempt to unlock the gate. One, two, three – bang.”

  “Well, at least no one thought of leaving a row of spikes down there. Just a warning, I suppose. No harm done.”

  “Not so sure about that,” Gantor muttered, flexing one arm.

  Mia rolled onto her hands and knees, and Hurst helped her to stand. The platform surface was soft, she found, with some give in it, even though it looked just like stone.

  “Strange, isn’t it?” Gantor murmured. “Shall we explore a bit, while our rescuers are getting organised?”

  They descended the steps to the cavern floor, perhaps another twenty feet below. A massive circular block of stone filled the gap between floor and roof, presumably supporting the tower above, and their platform was attached to it. As they looked around and their eyes adapted to the gloom, they could see other platforms, no doubt placed under the other gat
es. The stone looked very like the stone of the tunnel, except that it gave off no glowing light and was cool to the touch, not warm. All around, the cavern stretched off into the darkness, empty, silent. Under their feet the floor was uneven, littered with pebbles and patches of loose dirt, deep grey, almost black beside the pale stone of the platform. Large as it was, the cave was smaller than the hall above, the far wall closer, marked here and there with pockets even darker.

  “There are tunnels here,” Mia said, uneasy. “These walls are riddled with them.”

  “Too small for people to walk through,” Gantor said. “Crawling, maybe.”

  There was the tiniest noise to one side, a very faint scratching, sliding sound.

  “What was that?” she said.

  Two milky pale eyes appeared in one of the tunnels.

  Mia screamed.

  Several things happened at once. There was a sudden shouted warning from above. The eyes slithered further out of their hole and a mouth appeared, revealing rows of sharply pointed teeth. Hurst and Gantor drew their swords in unison. And then the trapdoor above them creaked, the two sides drew together and closed with a thunk, and the cave went black.

  The darkness was absolute. Mia could hear the thunder of her own heartbeat. Beside her, she heard the two men breathing heavily, and then, louder than before, the scratching sounds, coming from several directions at once.

  “Oh, terrific.” That was Gantor. “Keelarim.”

  “Mia?” Hurst’s voice. “Get back to the platform, we’ll hold them off to give you time.”

  She didn’t even have to think about it.

  “No.” She drew her dagger.

  He didn’t argue with her. “Aim for the eyes. Try to blind them.”

  “They live in pitch dark, they don’t use their eyes,” she said acidly.

  More slithering noises, closer now. A low hissing sound.

  “How do they know where we are, then?”

  “Smell. Hearing. Some other sense we don’t have.”

  There was a pause, all of them silent, waiting. No sound penetrated from above, and the slithering had lessened.

  Suddenly, Hurst gave a great warcry. Tension, she supposed. She could hear his sword swooshing back and forth, his armoured leather gear creaking. Hissing again, much nearer, a lot of slithering.

  “Stop, stop!” she cried. “No noise!”

  He was instantly still, and the creatures stopped too. So noise attracted them. All they had to do, then, was stand perfectly still and make no sound, until someone came to rescue them. But could they even get the trapdoor open again? Maybe once triggered it would refuse to open again.

  The minutes passed. It was surprisingly difficult to keep still. All those hours sitting motionless in the great hall hearing petitions, or in the temple, yet now she burned to move. Her nose itched and she dared not scratch it. The muscles in her arms and legs began to ache.

  Then, to her profound relief, the trapdoor sprang open behind her, and someone crashed to the platform with an “Oof!” of surprise. The sudden burst of light in the cavern made her gasp in horror, for the whole floor was a writhing mass of great bloated caterpillar-like bodies. As one, they turned towards the nearest noise, and began to crawl towards her.

  “Run!” yelled Hurst.

  She ran.

  It was fortunate that the creatures moved quite slowly, for all three of them gained the steps untouched and tore up to the relative safety of the platform. As Mia reached the top, sheathing her dagger, she saw that it was Dethin picking himself up.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, “I can deal with this.”

  It seemed an extraordinary claim to make, and Hurst took no notice.

  “We’ll defend the steps,” he said to Dethin. “You help Mia get to safety.”

  “No,” said Dethin quietly. “You take care of Mia. I will deal with – with these things.” There was authority in his voice, and Hurst nodded curtly, sheathing his sword, but with a flick of his head he signalled Gantor to watch the top of the steps.

  Dethin went to stand at the edge of the platform nearest the mass of keelarim below, head lowered, looking at them calmly. The hissing slowed and then faded away. The keelarim stopped moving forwards, and gradually they all turned their heads towards Dethin. One or two even shuffled about to get a clearer view, for all the world like people in a crowd watching a speaker. But he said nothing, and did nothing that Mia could see, just standing motionless.

  Then first one of the creatures and then another turned and began to inch back towards the hole-filled walls.

  There was some commotion and shouting above, and a rope snaked downwards. The keelarim began to turn towards the noise again.

  “Hush!” Gantor said, as loudly as he dared. “Not a sound!”

  For a long moment they waited, until Dethin had control once more and the retreat began again.

  Hurst motioned Mia towards the rope, and made climbing gestures. She shook her head.

  “I can’t!” she mouthed.

  He nodded, and began to fiddle with the end of the rope, tying a knot to make a loop like a stirrup. He indicated her foot. Carefully she put one boot into the loop and grasped the rope. Faces above disappeared and she felt herself being hauled slowly to safety.

  She was almost free, her head just above floor level, when the trapdoor began to close again.

  She screamed in terror, as someone – Mannigor, she thought – hurled himself onto the trapdoor as it rose. Sitting on one side, with his feet on the other, his weight just managed to slow its movement enough, and many hands grabbed Mia and tossed her unceremoniously out onto the floor. Walst grasped Mannigor’s arm and several others helped to pull him to safety as the trapdoor clunked shut.

  “Quick thinking,” Tanist murmured. “Someone get this thing open again.” No one moved. “Come on, someone must know how to do it.”

  “I do,” Mia said at once, getting up swiftly.

  She ran across to the gate, and began sliding and twisting, not caring about the pattern, then turning the larger knob. Once, twice the pattern collapsed, but before she could make the third turn, Mannigor was by her side.

  “I’ve got the hang of it. Get yourself clear.”

  She ran, and a moment later the trapdoor opened Mannigor was gone. Tanist threw down the rope and Hurst came climbing up, hand over hand. Down it went again, and this time Gantor came up, a little more slowly, puffing and blowing.

  “Come on, come on!” Tanist said. “Hurry! Now again. You two, get ready to jump on if this thing moves.”

  Mannigor came up next, but no sooner was he over the lip than the doors sprang shut again. Several people ran forward to the gate, and this time it was Walst who volunteered for the fall. It seemed a long time before he climbed back up, and the rope went down again for Dethin. Finally they were all safely back in the hall and the trapdoor closed, everyone laughing in relief at the successful outcome.

  “What the fuck was that?” Walst said, hands on hips.

  “Keelarim,” Gantor said. “Never imagined I’d actually see one.”

  “No, not them. Him!” And he pointed at Dethin. “What the fuck did you do down there?”

  Everyone turned and looked at him in silence. He shrugged.

  “Not sure how it works, actually.”

  A longer silence.

  “That’s it? These – things, whatever they are, these caterpillar beasts turn up that no one’s ever seen before, no one even knew existed, and you just happen to have some power that sends them crawling back into their holes?”

  “He knows what they’re feeling and – soothes them, somehow,” Mia volunteered. “He can do the same thing with lions.”

  Walst burst out laughing. “Lions? Gods! That’s mind blowing, you know that? From now on, I’m staying close to you.”

  After such a scare, Tanist allowed everyone a short rest, with only a small group patrolling the perimeter.

  “Well, now what?” he said after a while. “We
obviously can’t just stand around trying combinations until something works.”

  “We might be able to rig up some sort of harness attached to the gate higher up,” Hurst suggested. “Then whoever’s doing the trying won’t go shooting down below.”

  A little experimentation soon squashed that idea. Any rope tied to the metalwork of the gates fell off at once. It was as if the metal melted underneath it. Even hands lost their grip.

  “Well, that’s downright weird,” Hurst muttered. “That’s not normal at all. Come on, Gantor, tell me it’s just an odd sort of metal with strange properties. Because that looks a lot like magic to me.”

  “This was called the Tower of Mages once,” Gantor said with a smile. “Maybe the mages left protective spells.”

  “Pfft,” Tanist said. “Magic or not, we can’t climb on the gates or suspend anyone from them. So we’re buggered until we can work out the code.”

  “It can’t be too difficult to set,” Mia said. “Those who Serve the Gods must come through here quite regularly, so it must be some nice easy code, not too fiddly. Dondro had nothing on him with a code, did he? So it must be written down here somewhere.”

  “Or else they remember the code,” Tanist said.

  “Not a code,” Gantor said. “It’s a pattern. It’s not like the gates in the tunnel, where each lever has to be in the right place. These gates have thirty six positions, but any knob can go into any position.”

  “A pattern?” Mia said. “Oh, but then – it’s dots, isn’t it? The dots are written over each of the tunnels.”

  She jumped up, and strode across to the nearest gate. The others followed.

  “That’s too easy,” Gantor said. “But which one? Each tunnel has a different pattern.”

  She turned so that her back was against the gate. “That one,” she said, pointing at the tunnel directly opposite. In growing excitement, she noted the pattern and quickly moved the knobs into position. Then, in total confidence, she turned the large knob.

  The little knobs clattered to the bottom again. She groaned in disappointment.

  “I was so sure…”

  “No, you’re right,” Gantor said. “Look!”