Now the hard part.
He stood before the massive lock, a block of solid stone protruding from the door more than a foot. He studied his notes, then the lock, then his notes again.
“Andrasta?”
“Just a minute more.”
Shafts from the spears began to crack as another blow struck the doors.
“We don’t have a minute. Get over here and grab the packs. Lela?”
“Here.”
He looked down. “Stay close.”
She nodded.
Rondel took a deep breath and began the sequence he felt most confident in.
Nothing happened.
He swore and tried a different sequence, changing two of the glyphs. “I think that’s it.”
The markings glowed brightly, then faded. The lock didn’t move. A small hissing sound came at the room’s edges.
Andrasta investigated, moving closer to the wall with her torch. “Smoke.” She coughed and backed away quickly. “It smells awful.”
“Don’t breath it!” said Rondel. “It’s probably poisonous. I did something wrong.”
The hissing grew in volume as the smoke entered the room faster than before. The pounding from the door continued. Spear shafts broke. The swords jammed through the handles rattled loudly with more room to move about.
He almost tried another sequence, changing three glyphs instead of two from the original pattern he attempted. Instinct stopped him and he reconsidered.
He stared at the patterns. The shaded half circle, a symbol of the eclipse, caught his eye. A thought struck him. “Lela, come here. Hold my notes in front of the torchlight so it doesn’t shine on the glyphs directly. I think the pattern needs to be entered under dimmer light.”
Lela took his notes. He re-entered the first pattern. It hadn’t worked initially, but it also hadn’t triggered any smoke like the second pattern. When finished, the pattern didn’t blink or glow. It went dull so it looked like a normal piece of rock rather than the polished stone all around them. Clicks and creaks sounded in the walls on either side of the doors. A low groan echoed as the stone lock slid up and across. A crack of light formed at the door’s seams. They slowly swung outward.
Rondel breathed a heavy sigh. “No problem.”
CHAPTER 24
Mira tried to put aside mourning her brother. It wasn’t easy, but she needed her wits about her.
Beladeva’s small army led the way on foot as carriages rolled through the gate of the wall surrounding the tower. The bodies of dead guardsmen lay throughout the path leading to the entrance. Vendor stalls stood empty on either side, heightening the ominous feel of the plaza.
The carriage stopped at the tower’s base. Moments later Gulzar tugged at her arm, guiding her through the night air. At least ten men beat against the exterior doors with material confiscated from vendor stalls. A small crack sounded from inside. The men worked harder and eventually it gave way.
Men rushed in.
They were barely in for half a breath before the group ran back out hacking and coughing. A strange green smoke drifted outside. Several of Beladeva’s men clawed at their throats.
Gulzar guided her back several steps, away from both the smoke and the men.
Beladeva appeared. Despite the struggles of his men to speak, he drilled them with questions about what they had seen inside. The first two tried to speak, but couldn’t stop vomiting. The third managed to croak something about the room being empty before passing out.
Gulzar grunted beside her. “I didn’t think they’d make it in.”
Mira said nothing. She stared blankly as a man on hands and knees wiped dripping snot away from his nose and mouth. He looked miserable.
But not miserable enough. They killed my brother.
“No comment, Princess?” Gulzar prodded.
She gave him a look. “Why would you do this?”
“Beladeva—”
“Stop. I don’t want to hear technicalities of who did what. Why did you betray Bashan? Why did you betray Minander? And why would you even work for Beladeva?”
“Money and power. After my father died, I made some rather poor business decisions and was without either. Beladeva came to me. Work for him and get what I’ve always wanted, or don’t, and be left with even less than what I already had. An easy choice. The rest was just me fulfilling my part of his plan.”
“Part of what plan?”
“I thought that would be obvious by now, Princess. Beladeva wishes to rule Bashan, but he doesn’t want to do so publicly. With your brother, I was able to persuade him to make the decisions Beladeva wanted and all the while Minander thought they were his own ideas for doing what was best for Bashan.”
“So, the talk of war was really Beladeva’s doing?”
Gulzar nodded.
“Why?”
“Money and power.”
“But thousands will die and Kindi will never be the same.”
“Beladeva doesn’t care about thousands of strangers or about a country’s future.”
“What about you?”
Gulzar shrugged. “I’m young, but I won’t live forever. So long as I enjoy my life, then the future means nothing to me.”
“You sicken me,” she snapped.
“Hopefully, not too much. I’m wondering if I still might be able to convince Beladeva that you and I should wed.”
Her stomach turned. “Do you really think Beladeva will get away with this?”
He laughed. “He already has. Look around. With all this fighting, you’d think the watch would be here investigating, but they’re not. Beladeva owns most of them. By tomorrow morning he and his men will be back in the shadows and no one will ever know what truly happened tonight.”
“The other houses—”
“Are nothing. You know that.”
“Not Brahma.”
“Not yet.” He gestured over to another carriage. “Who do you think is in there? Not even someone as wily as that old man can put up much of a fight bound and gagged.”
Her stomach twisted in knots. She scanned the area as Beladeva shouted orders at his people so they could go after Rondel and Andrasta.
“Why is Beladeva interested in the jewel?”
“Come on, Princess. Do I really have to repeat those two words again?”
CHAPTER 25
All three stepped inside to escape the thickening gas. The doors ground to a halt. Something clicked and pulleys turned inside the walls. The doors reversed course. The two blocks of granite thudded closed. A scraping sound followed.
“And there’s the lock,” Rondel said through their coughs. With no immediate threat that he knew of, exhaustion washed over him. Safe at least from one threat. “Everything out there should look just as it did before we got inside.”
Andrasta moved her torch to study the seam between the floor and door. “No sign of the smoke getting in.”
“I don’t see a way to open the door from the inside. How are we going to get out?” Lela asked.
“One problem at a time,” said Rondel. “First we worry about getting through the tower.”
“You want me to scout ahead?” Andrasta held her torch out and squinted into the cool darkness. She seemed antsy and ready to move.
“No. We’ll stay together. Too dangerous to get separated.”
He sat on the granite floor and began shuffling through his notes. In the meantime, Andrasta tended Lela’s damaged feet with salve and cloth wrappings. He had dozens of questions about the little girl but they would have to wait as he tried to focus on the information in front of him.
“Isn’t the first guardian about a path that always moves?” asked Andrasta.
Rondel gave her a smile. “Good. You remembered.”
“What guardian?” asked Lela.
Rondel answered, “The tower is said to have five guardians or protectors in place to prevent people like us from stealing the jewel. Based on what I’ve read, the word guardian is usually used in
its singular form, but it may just as easily represent many people or things rather than a single being. Simply put, a guardian is something deadly protecting a particular level of the tower. Now, as for the first one,” He paused, clearing his throat.
“Step skillfully on the sharp path.
It moves, but stays the same.
Be careful from those above.
They flock to the success of one’s aim.”
“Is that a riddle?” asked Lela.
“Something like that,” said Rondel. “Just some clues.”
“Not another blasted song like the Blood Forest?” asked Andrasta
“No. It was pure luck that we figured out how to use that song to our advantage. It was never meant to be used as we did. That song was written to convey a story, not provide a survival guide.” He looked down at his notes again. “Besides, this riddle, or whatever it is, lacks the lyrical flow of a good song. I mean who uses ‘success of one’s aim’? Amateurish at best. Lazy writing at worst.”
“Where did you get it?” asked Lela.
“The library in Zafar. Most of the clues supposedly came from a former servant of Thalamanak. They were first passed down orally until put to paper by the servant’s great grandson. There’s a chance they aren’t completely reliable. But it’s the best information I could find.”
“Why did he word the clues like that?”
Rondel shrugged. “It probably helped him remember what was in the tower without having to write it so plainly. According to the tower’s history, that same great grandson was the first person to actually get through the door we just crossed.”
“Seems odd that as powerful as Thalamanak was, he would have allowed the information to leak out at all,” said Andrasta.
“He wasn’t perfect. Remember, he did lose his empire shortly after winning the Sorcerer Wars.” He stood. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Thalamanak is dead, and this is what we have.” He gestured to Andrasta. “Let’s go.”
They had walked only a few minutes before coming across the first sign of those that came before them. A skeleton sat with its back against the wall. The hilts of two small daggers protruded from the skull’s eye sockets.
“That’s one way to get the job done,” said Rondel. “I guess it’s safe to say someone in his own group did him in.”
Andrasta yanked the daggers clear.
“What are you doing?”
“They’re in good shape, and he doesn’t need them. You can never have too many knives.” Andrasta held them out to Lela. “Do you know how to use these?”
Lela extended her hands slowly. “I think I can figure it out.”
“Good. Here.” She turned to Rondel. “Any idea where this person was from?”
“Hard to tell. Nothing left of the clothing, and what little armor he wore is brittle.” He glanced at the dagger hilts that Lela turned over in her hands. “The engraving near the blade looks like a rising sun behind a giant oak so I’d guess they were made in the Kholask Empire. That collapsed over fifteen hundred years ago.”
Lela gave him a look. “How do you know all this stuff?”
“What stuff?”
“Languages, history, clothing, songs, poems.”
“What can I say? I like to read and I’ve traveled with a wide variety of people. I’m usually pretty good about retaining what I’ve learned. So long as it interests me anyway.”
“C’mon,” said Andrasta. “At the rate we’re going, we’ll die of old age long before something kills us.”
* * *
Andrasta led the way down the long, dark hallway. Unlike before, the walls were completely smooth, void of any nick or crack, let alone the symbols that adorned the area on the other side of the door. Seamless floors and ceilings of the same golden-hued granite surrounded them.
They had been walking for what seemed like hours, far longer than reason allowed, considering they went neither up nor down. The length of their path was unfathomable considering the size of the tower from outside.
And this is only the beginning. She sucked her teeth. Blasted sorcery.
“It’s a good thing Thalamanak is dead,” said Andrasta.
“Why is that?” asked Rondel.
“If he wasn’t, I’d be looking to kill him for the way this tower was designed.”
She halted at the faint sound of metal clinking. She gestured for the others to be still.
“What is it?” whispered Rondel.
She held the torch out while squinting up ahead. “The floor almost looks like its shimmering.”
“Moving?”
“Could be. Hard to tell with the torch.”
“Switch to the lantern in your pack. It won’t flicker as much.”
She pulled the lantern free and lit it. Looking ahead again, not only the floor, but also the walls and ceiling rippled like still water disturbed by a thrown stone.
“Definitely moving,” said Rondel.
“What’s causing it to do that?” asked Lela.
Surprisingly, she didn’t sound scared, only curious. It was the first thing the girl had said in some time.
Maybe she’s pushed the stuff about Kunal aside for now.
“Only one way to find out,” said Rondel. He extinguished his torch and handed it to Lela. “Here. Carry this. I’m sure we’ll need it later.”
They continued forward until a yelp came from Lela. “Those are bugs!”
Andrasta stopped, inadvertently placing her foot down on one of the insects. A metallic pop sounded, followed by a loud crunch. She lifted her boot and examined the remains of a bug that had drifted away from the others. Its shell was silver and resembled light plate armor. Parts of it had embedded itself in the bottom of her sole. The yellowed insides smeared on the underside of her boot resembled decaying fat. It smelled like spoiled milk.
No way we’re sneaking up on anyone while carrying this smell. She tried to scrape the underside of her boot off with a knife.
“Lovely,” said Rondel. “Let me borrow the lantern.”
He took it and slowly inched forward. He unsheathed his sword and lowered it to the floor. A minute later he shuffled backward with one of the creatures crawling along the blade’s length. Its torso reminded Andrasta of a small armadillo, yet it had eight legs and an oval head with large black eyes and small antennae like an insect.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Studying it. I know the shells are hard, but there has to be something more to them we’re missing.”
“What do you mean?”
“They just don’t seem dangerous enough.” He nodded to Andrasta’s boots. “With the right protection even a fairly sharp shell shouldn’t matter too much.” He turned the blade over in his hand watching it crawl up and down its length. “Let me see your dagger.”
Andrasta gave it to him.
Rondel began tapping the insect’s exterior. It clinked. “There has to be more. Things here are supposed to deter us from going forward, not to just protect themselves.” He paused. “Hmm, I wonder . . .”
He took the bug further away from the others, set it on the ground, then blocked its escape. Using Andrasta’s dagger, he pricked his finger. The insect froze. Its antennae grew thrice its normal size. Rondel let a drop of blood fall. The creature’s head extended several more inches out of its shell. A mouth that couldn’t be seen before expanded until it was over two inches in diameter. Razor like teeth appeared as the insect dove on the drop of blood that had fallen to the stone. Its teeth scraped granite. A sucking noise followed. It straightened, antennae moving about. Then it darted toward Rondel.
Rondel slammed his boot down. Another metallic pop followed.
“How’d you know it would do that?” asked Andrasta.
“Purely a hunch. The hard shells reminded me of these flesh eating beetles that I heard live in Jotswan. So, cover up any cuts and be extra careful walking over them. They’ll swarm on the fresh blood and eat you alive.”
Andrasta turned
back to the reflective ceiling and walls. She took off her pack. “We’ll need to throw something over our heads and arms in case they drop down on us too.”
“Good point.”
“What about me?” asked Lela. Worry lined her voice.
“We’ve got enough stuff to throw over your head and shoulders too,” said Andrasta.
“I meant my feet.”
They looked down at her bare feet wrapped in cloth. Hints of dried blood adorned the tops of the bindings.
Rondel said, “Someone will have to carry you.”
Andrasta grunted. Which means me. “You’ll have to carry my pack,” she told him.
“All right.”
Rondel went first. Andrasta followed with Lela on her back. Despite every inclination to rush through the insects, they took their time, stepping flat footed to minimize damage to their footwear and ensure their balance remained solid. The smell of spoiled milk intensified with each step until Andrasta wondered if she’d ever get the odor out of her nostrils.
Halfway through the hall, a huge lump of the silver beetles fell from the ceiling beside Andrasta. It crashed like a sword against shield. Lela yelped and shifted her weight. Rondel jerked at the noise, brushing into Andrasta. The contact caused Lela to tense further. Andrasta choked out a swear as Lela squeezed her neck in fear.
“Not so tight,” she hissed. “I have to be able to breath.”
They continued on slowly until the floors, walls, and ceiling dulled and only a few outlying insects remained.
“Just a few more steps,” said Rondel. “All right Lela, you should be able to get down now.”
With some extra urging, the girl released her grip and eased herself to the floor.
“That wasn’t too bad, now was it?” asked Rondel.
“Says the person not carrying Lela,” said Andrasta.
“Here, take your pack back while I review the information about the next guardian.”
The Tower of Bashan Page 21
