“I haven’t, but some megatraths did, and they died shortly afterward. Though it is unclear whether or not the fish killed them, we have determined that the spirit of fish was not intended for our consumption. Thus we avoid it whenever possible.”
“But you have served it today.”
“Only when we have guests—non-megatrath guests, that is. The flesh of fish will not harm humans. Thus we serve it.”
“Just as our desert can kill you but will not harm us, so is the way of fish with humans.” Vectra looked into another basket and pulled out an oblong fruit almost five feet in length. “This is Prapra, a delicacy among my species, but to humans it is deadly.”
“Curious. How do you know it is poisonous to us?”
The megatrath grinned a toothy smile. “An adventurer once came through this way and partook of my predecessor’s hospitality. During the meal he was warned that the spirit of Prapra was poisonous to all except desert dwellers. As I’m sure you have figured out, he tried it anyway. Then”—Vectra snapped her enormous fingers—“he died.”
“And who was this traveler? Do you know his name or where he came from?”
Vectra squinted at her and cocked her head to the side. “Come, let me show you something.” She lumbered toward one of the tunnels.
Before following her, Oganna reassured her aunts. “Don’t worry about me.” she whispered. “We can trust her.”
Caritha frowned at first and then nodded. “You may go.” Her mouth formed more words, and Oganna read her lips: “You have your sword?”
Slipping her hand to her side, Oganna activated Avenger so that the blade turned crimson. She turned away and followed Vectra down the tunnel.
In the dimness, Oganna struggled to put one foot before the other without stumbling. She drew her sword and used it and the glow of her silver dress to show the way. The tunnel’s stone walls were smooth and polished from centuries—perhaps even ages—of use, so much so that they could not have been smoother if an ocean had carved the passage. She ran her hand along the stone as she walked, feeling every dip and rise in its surface.
Ahead, Vectra spat a flame into a channel on the rock wall. It sparked in the oil and blazed, the flames spreading over a section of wall about twenty feet high and at least that broad. The firelights helped illuminate the upper interior of a vast cavern, but the cavern floor fell away in front of her into depths cloaked in shadow. How amazing that such a place existed. The air smelled damp, old, and somewhat stale.
Vectra stopped, her body rigid, her head held high as she looked, or waited, for something. From the dark abyss ahead of them rose a silver disc. It looked fluid, like water running over polished metal. It began to revolve clockwise, and various colors streamed from its edges. The stone under Oganna and Vectra’s feet glowed pink in the shape of a rose.
From the shadows beside her a voice chuckled softly enough for only Oganna to hear. “I think I’ll wait back in the dining chamber with the dragon’s daughters. You have good instincts, child. This creature is no threat.”
Oganna grinned into the shadows. Specter! She should have known—he had followed her through the desert and probably watched the entire battle. She heard his robe swish over the floor as he returned to the tunnel.
Kneeling on all six legs, Vectra rumbled deep in her throat. “We must respect the ancient spirit that guards this place, Princess. For it alone grants access to the Tomb of the Ancients.”
Oganna stepped forward. “What is the—”
“Look at the rose!” Vectra’s tail twitched. “Read the marks upon its petals. Then follow my example, and bow to honor the dead.”
The marks etched on the rose’s petals were foreign and she could not read them. She sheathed her sword, allowing her silver garb to dissipate. “I do not understand these runes.”
Vectra turned in surprise. “Surely you must, for this is the original script of the Common Tongue, which both you and I speak.” After a pause, she snorted a yellow vapor. “You speak the truth, Oganna. I can see that. But,” she pounded a fist on the floor. “But unless you come over here and kneel, the spirit will not open the tomb, and I will be unable to show you what we came here for.”
Above the depths of the cavern the silver disc continued to hover in silence. Its lights mesmerized Oganna, and her curiosity grew. What was this strange contrivance? What was it guarding? At last she knelt. Then she waited.
“Princess, your head! Put it down.”
Her head? Oganna looked in puzzlement to Vectra and observed that not only was she kneeling, she was bowing as well. Realizing her error, she tipped her head forward.
It was just in time too. The silver disc descending to the depths stopped and then rose to its previous elevation, spinning erratically. Vectra’s eyes remained lowered during the process. Oganna kept her head lowered, too, but raised her eyes. That disc was no spirit.
The opposing cavern wall, once ordinary stone, now began to transform. Its face slid away, revealing the front of a building carved in the stone. Eight white pillars, four on either side of a broad doorway, fronted the structure. The pillars nearest the doorway radiated blinding white light, forcing her to look away.
She glanced back to the tunnel through which they had come. A rusted steel door started to slide from above, blocking it off. Before the door had fully closed, she caught sight of her aunts rushing through the tunnel with their glowing swords in hand. They were stopped short of the door by an invisible barrier. The door closed and Oganna turned back to see the wondrous cavern. She was alone now, with a megatrath, but she felt no need for concern. Vectra was a creature of honor, and she seemed to know this place like the back of her massive hand.
“Princess, the Tomb of the Ancients awaits us.” Vectra was floating over the abyss in the place where the disc had been.
But no, she only had the appearance of floating. Just as the Warrioresses had bumped into an invisible barrier, so there was an invisible walkway stretching across the depths.
Taking a cautious step forward, Oganna set her foot upon the smooth, cool surface. Was it glass? She leaned down and tapped the surface with her fist. No, glass would feel firm, and this did not. She struck it but heard no resulting sound. It was as if it was there, yet not there. She stood, smiling reassurance to Vectra as she walked over the level surface toward the creature. The sensation felt odd—surreal. Each step felt lighter, and each stride sped her passage.
“Come.” Vectra plodded forward.
They walked down the white path to the entrance. The megatrath growled and threw its weight against the hefty doors. The doors groaned inward, and Oganna breathed in sharply as she stepped into an endless corridor. The floor was stone and the ceiling gleamed of an unearthly light emitted by innumerable crystals implanted therein. Heavy wood beams crisscrossed high above, supporting the ceiling. This ‘tomb’ rivaled the splendor of a palace.
She pointed down the endless corridor. “How far back does this go?”
“I don’t know. Some of us have tried to find out, but though we walked for hours, we never even glimpsed its end.” She pointed to an inscription on an overhead beam. “And that reads, ‘Some secrets are best left hidden.’ From this we gather that we must be content with the knowledge we have and not venture into the depths of this place.”
Oganna doubted that the inscription was supposed to be interpreted exactly that way. Nevertheless, since the issue did not matter, she did not pursue the subject. “Vectra, you call this place the ‘Tomb of the Ancients.’ Why?”
“The runes that you cannot decipher were passed on to my people by the remnants of the ancient humanoid race that built this place. We know little about them except that which has been passed down to us in the form of legends and myths told us by our ancestors. According to our stories, the Ancient Ones gave our ancestors this underground world as a reward for good deeds and taught them their language. As you entered this place, did you not see the writing above the doors?”
Oganna shook her head.
“Above the entrance is an inscription that reads, ‘Tomb of the Ancients.’ On the doors are several lines of verse that I have memorized:
Forever may the spirit of this tomb watch over these dead,
And forever may they rest in peace.
To those who come in hither:
Pray that the spirit herein enchained will not awaken.”
A shiver ran up Oganna’s spine at the final line. “Sounds kind of creepy.”
“And it should,” Vectra said. “Our stories tell of an evil creature of great might who was pulled into the depths by a creature of great good and chained in the darkness by the Ancient Ones. It is said that one day he will arise and avenge himself on Subterran.”
“Who was this creature that brought him down? What was his name?”
Vectra sighed, her eyes moistened, and she smiled. “His name is too sacred to utter and too revered to be written.”
Oganna inspected the tomb more closely. Numerous doorways flanked by marble pillars along the arching walls led from the endless corridor into darkness. No doubt the entombed remains of the ancient people that had built this place lay somewhere within the connecting chambers.
“Here, in this protected place”—Vectra’s feet thudded on the stone floor as her gaze roved over the high ceiling—“my ancestors have been buried along with anyone else we put to rest. Beside this, Oganna, you might have already guessed that the Tomb of the Ancients holds not only our remains and those we have buried here, but also those the Ancients buried.” Ducking through a doorway, she led Oganna into a dark tunnel. Along the way she blew flames to ignite the many torches nestled along the walls.
When they arrived at one particular chamber, Vectra sat back on her haunches. “Notice that the floor is inscribed. It says, ‘Here lie strangers.’ Observe that the room is nearly a perfect circle. And these tablets—” She indicated stones set in the walls. “These mark the graves of the strangers that befriend us and die among us.”
Oganna listened with rapt attention.
“Remember that adventurer that I told you about? The one that ate Prapra?” She pointed a claw at a stone tablet. “Well … that’s him.”
“Really?”
“Yes. This particular chamber is reserved for those who are not megatrath. Here the adventurer will be preserved for all time by the spirit of this place.”
Vectra pressed a fist against the stone, and it slid forward. Inside, a peculiar sarcophagus coated in a translucent material lay on a stone slab. Clearly visible through its convex surface was a middle-aged man, lying as if in sleep. A smile was on his face, and his body was clothed in a snow-white robe.
“He does not look dead.” Oganna ran her hand over the abrasive sarcophagus, lukewarm to the touch. “It’s as if he is sleeping.”
“I know what you mean, for I too have had that feeling. It does not matter who we bury in this place, or what their expression is at the moment of their death. When the spirit covers the body a smile lights the entombed one’s face. All the dead can be seen as whole as the day they were laid to rest. They are dressed in the same white apparel, and they have the same joyous expression. It is a mystery I do not pretend to understand.”
“How many of your people have been buried here?”
The creature shrugged. “The number is beyond reckoning. We are not even sure when the Ancient Ones gave this tomb to our forebears.
“Maybe a thousand years, maybe more.”
Leading the way, Vectra returned to the endless corridor. She proceeded a couple dozen feet down the corridor, then turned to lumber through a larger doorway to the side. She spat flames against the walls. Torches flashed while the tunnel grew in proportion to the larger door. Instead of a small chamber, a vast room opened before them, its walls rising hundreds of feet high. Here the enshrined megatraths had been buried. Four circles inset in the ceiling shone down pillars of light to illuminate the area.
Oganna could see that the ancient architects had designed this room as a gift to their megatrath friends. Here the creatures’ remains had not decayed. Within these walls they were safe. Here no tomb robber could enter and strip the creatures of their dignity.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Vectra scratched the floor then continued. “Someday I too will be buried here, but not until I have subjected all megatraths under my leadership and have led them to peace with one another. When my kingdom is greater than my forebears, I will rest here among them.”
Oganna folded her hands over her abdomen. What did Vectra mean by subjecting all megatraths under her leadership? Were the megatraths a race divided into nations that Vectra wished to conquer? Oganna decided to wait and ask the question later when Vectra was not so preoccupied with thoughts of the past.
“Well, Princess, now that I have shown you the Tomb of the Ancients, it is time to leave.” She led the way out of the tomb and closed the doors behind them.
Oganna looked at the doors. Yes, the inscription was there just as the megatrath had said. She turned and briskly walked off the edge, expecting that the invisible surface was still there—but she plunged foolishly into the dark abyss. Soon her fall slowed, and she ricocheted off an unseen force. In an instant she found herself standing where she had been.
She looked down the path at Vectra. The creature slammed shut the heavy doors. Oganna about faced. Not ten feet in front of her, a duplicate of herself stepped toward the precipice. Oganna dashed forward, grabbing for her duplicate’s shirt, but her other self plunged into the dark abyss. She looked back at her guide. The megatrath seemed oblivious to what had happened. Vectra loomed beside her and knelt, again awaiting the tomb’s ‘spirit.’ Oganna glanced over the precipice—into the deep shadows that played between barely visible cliffs and boulders. What had happened? Where had her other self fallen? Or had she somehow been thrown back several moments in time? She shivered and knelt beside Vectra. She’d had enough excitement for one day.
The silver disc rose, the lights shone, and once again they walked to the other side of the abyss on an invisible surface. Behind them the tomb’s entrance was again sealed off, replaced by the wall of uncut stone. The silver disc descended into darkness, and the steel door that had blocked escape from the cavern now opened.
Oganna walked into the tunnel and greeted her aunts as they rushed toward her. They couldn’t disguise their worry. Their foreheads were knit and their eyes were narrowed. Their hands sweated as they fingered their sheathed swords.
She wondered if she should tell them what she had seen. If she did, would they believe her? She decided that, for the time being, she would sort out the mysteries in her own mind and tell them no more than necessary.
14
PART DRAGON
Oganna felt as though she had walked among gods and partaken of their former glory. Vivid recollections of her experience in the Tomb of the Ancients passed through her mind, and in her heart she understood more profoundly how little she really knew of the world.
“This ancient race,” Oganna said to Vectra as they walked alone through the cavernous depths later that day, “they taught your ancestors to read their language?”
“Yes. We are not certain why. Some of us believe they wanted to leave clues for us to follow, clues that could lead us to a greater, more meaningful existence. Others among us say that the Ancient Ones simply left it with us as a way to understand how to bury our dead in the tomb.”
Oganna stood still and looked into another seemingly bottomless cavern. “What do you believe?”
The creature smiled and peered into the cavern along with her. “You are very inquisitive about us.”
“Yes, I suppose I am.” Oganna turned her blue-gold eyes away from the depths and looked at the megatrath. “This language of the ancients—the script on the tomb—could you teach me to read it?”
“But you already speak it. Surely you are able to read it as well.”
“It is true that we speak the same language. However, I do not under
stand the ancient script—”
Vectra swatted the air. “Perhaps, then, you use a different set of runes. Maybe our runes are simply another characterization of that which you are used to.” She brushed the dirt from a section of flat stone and scratched twenty-six figures into it. “This is A,” she said, indicating the first figure. From that point she recited the remainder of the alphabet for Oganna.
Beside the strange characters Vectra had written, Oganna scratched the letters that were familiar to her. Vectra was right—they had the same alphabet, just different characters to represent each letter. The ancients had not written in a foreign tongue; they had likely created one alphabet or the other as a code to confuse their enemies. It was either that or the Ancient Ones’ runes were the originals, and her people used a modernized script.
A palm-sized granite stone lay nearby. Oganna picked it up and copied the cipher from the wall. “Now I can read the Ancient Ones’ symbols and understand what they say.” She slipped it into one of her pockets.
“Vectra, what did you mean at the Tomb of the Ancients when you said that you will ‘subjugate’ all megatraths under your leadership? Are there other megatrath nations with their own leaders?”
Vectra chuckled deep in her throat. “You are an inquisitive one, aren’t you? You seem to remember every word I speak. And that is fine with me; in fact I welcome a keen mind such as yours.” She paused before continuing. “There are several other underground megatrath nations, none of them equal in might to mine. They are scattered enough to make it difficult for me to reach them all. You see, in order to unite them I must prove myself to be the strongest in each of those nations, either by our nation conquering theirs in war or by me dueling their leaders. This takes, as I am sure you can imagine, a very long time.
“These caverns in which we stand were once ruled by my great grandfather, an exceptionally powerful megatrath. He was the last in a long line of strong-willed leaders who held the many factions together as one nation. After his death there were five megatraths of equal strength who fought for the kingdom, but none of them could overcome the others. So an agreement was reached that allowed each of them to rule a portion of the kingdom so long as they left the others alone.
Offspring (The Sword of the Dragon) Page 23
