A Lady in Crystal

by Toby Bennett

  “You all right?” Akna called over the body, still keeping a wary distance from the fallen hulk.

  Roga spat out a mouthful of sand and slime, “That depends on how you define 'all right'. I’m still breathing but I think my shoulder’s borked.”

  “Can you still do your part or should we call in some help?”

  “Help would have been nice a second ago.”

  “I did what I could.”

  “Didn’t look like much from where I was,” the Ash-man paused, “where I was, hanging in the air like a toad waiting to be gutted for bait.”

  Akna shrugged unaffected by Roga’s tone, “I need to know if you can carry on or if we should go back for some extra men.”

  “And have them picking through the loot with their sticky fingers? You know the agreement, we pack it up and only then do we call them to ship it out.”

  “But will you be able to pack?”

  “Better than you, you useless…” Whatever else Roga had been going to say was lost in a groan of agony as he rose to his feet. “Any more bright ideas?”

  “Go back and get the torches.”

  “Now you’re starting to develop a sense of humour? You whore son.” The sound of Roga swearing echoed down the corridor as he went to retrieve the torches. Akna didn’t take any of it seriously, the chances were that the only thing keeping the Ash-man on his feet was anger.

  “So are you too lazy to get these for yourself or do you think that big bastard might still be dangerous?” Roga asked, as he warily approached the golem that lay between them with a torch in either hand.

  “Well mostly I wanted to make sure that you could still use both hands but I don’t see any point in risking more trips past it than are necessary.”

  “Well hump me like a Delonian catamite, if it doesn’t look like I get to be the first bugger to test if there’s still some juice in it.”

  “You could just stay there and I’ll go and see what I can find.”

  “Not so fast, you’re not going anywhere without me.”

  “I’d rather not go anywhere without my lantern. So if you’ll join me.”

  “Don’t hurry me.”

  “Of course, we have all the time in the world or until the tide comes in.”

  “I’m coming, just let me know if you even see it flinch.”

  Roga made it past the golem and back up the rest of the corridor but having felt the strength of the golems, he was wary of getting too close to any of them, even the ones that hadn’t made it out of the main burial chamber. A life on the rough end of crime and poverty had given him a tremendous capacity to persevere and the treasures laid out before him were almost enough to make him forget the sharp pain in his shoulder; they also stopped him looking back when he entered the chamber after Akna. If he had looked back, Roga might have caught a glimpse of the shadow that flitted down the corridor and slipped into one of the side passages,waiting there until Akna left. He was too intent on gathering up the precious things strewn around him, to notice that he was not alone until the razor edge of a dagger opened his throat and ended pain forever.

  Akna made his way down into the deeper parts of the tomb, as quickly as he could. The water that continually threatened to rise over his boots was a constant reminder that Nisgul might reclaim the tomb at any time. The passages that ran off the main corridor to the official burial chamber were narrow and twisted, the architects had done all they could to disorientate anyone who might dare to search for the Hierophant’s true resting place. Akna kept each turn in his mind, as well as scoring marks into the heavy slime that coated the walls, to help him find his way out should he get lost, if the water started to come in there would be no time for making mistakes.

  The first burial chamber Akna stumbled upon was a poor affair, no doubt the unfortunate that had been strangled in the room as part of the pre-burial ceremonies had been one of the Hierophant's lesser body servants. Only the shapes of scattered bones in the sludge covering the camber floor, gave any indication that the servant had ever lived, Akna had no interest in the grizzly scene at his feet, instead he searched the carvings on the wall for any subtle clues. Once he was sure that there was nothing that might indicate a hidden door or any significance in the twisting reliefs of heroes and lesser gods, he hurried on to the next room.

  He heard something moving before the lantern revealed the bulk lying on the submerged flagstones. The creature’s skin was dark almost black but where the water had not been able to reach, it the smooth hide was criss-crossed with white edged cracks. The thing thrashed, tipping its broad cylindrical body towards Akna and displaying a mouthful of wicked teeth. Had the water still been high the effect would have been truly terrifying, the creature was a monster by any measure and in its own element, it would be a beast to be reckoned with but with only a few inches of water beneath it, it seemed more pitiful than anything else. Akna skirted it at a distance, ignoring its strange mewling and the attempts of its blunt flippers to propel it towards him. It had given up before he left the room, feather like gills expanded and tried to submerge themselves in the shallow water, but the brute that had ruled these depths for so long, was dying in its own lair. Too heavy to move, too heavy to breathe out of the water.

  More than an hour passed in the darkness and he began to wonder if he should begin to turn back. He had thoroughly searched nine rooms so far and gone deeper in to the complex than he would have liked, the water was now over his boots and his instincts warned him that he did not have too much time left. Akna was on the verge of starting back to see how Roga was doing, when the tip of his knife found a narrow seam in the stonework. The crack was too narrow for more than the tip of the blade to enter and when it was first fitted it had probably been narrower still but time and tide had done their work and some scraping revealed the outline of a door. Akna hit the stone with the pommel of his dagger. The door was made from a heavy panel of stone and even when struck, gave no hint that there was a space beyond. It was possible that the shape of a door was simply another cunning distraction; Akna was not sure that he had found what he sought, only that if it were not behind the door, he would not find it before the lake swallowed the tomb once more.

  The barrier was too heavy to be moved by hand, which indicated that there had to be some mechanism to shift it. If he hadn’t seen the golems moving Akna would have given up then and there but if there was even a chance of getting to the treasure that Zenker was so sure could be found here, he had to try. He scanned the slime encrusted walls for some hint of where the trigger mechanism might be but there was nothing that could be shifted or manipulated in anyway. He removed his boots and began to pace the room, feeling the ancient flagstones beneath the water with his toes. Sure enough one of the stones was cracked and shifted under his weight. Akna ignored the shock of the chill water and knelt down to feel out the edges of the large flag stone. He slipped his dagger into the gap and began to lever the stone up. The stone stayed in one piece, despite the crack in its surface and it took all his strength to raise it. Finally after an effort that left his arms shaking as much as the freezing water, he was able to tip it over and reveal the cavity beneath it.

  He felt within for the trigger that would release the door, all the while mindful that he might be tinkering with a trap of some kind. His hand closed over a corroded handle; after a momentary pause, Akna pulled as hard as he could and snatched his hand back. An ominous groaning sounded through the chamber and Akna darted towards the exit, but the collapse he feared did not happen, instead the heavy stone door slowly began to lift. The block of stone rose, until it was a foot above the floor then came to a grinding halt. Gears protested and metal screamed from within the wall. Silence returned to the tomb; pale light poured out through the gap, dancing over the water that covered the chamber’s floor.

  Akna grimaced at the prospect of having to crawl through the cold water to get to whatever lay beyond the stone but it was only a momentary reservation; if the treasures Zenker suspecte
d had been hidden in the tomb were behind the secret door then it might be enough to buy back that part of himself that the little thief had hidden from him all these years. He tried to remember the last time he had dreamed but it only brought his pain into focus. Despite all his talent, Niskaan’s realm had been closed to him for three years, if he was healing, it was as a man who had lost a limb. However he had learned to survive, Akna knew he was not whole; the chance to find even a fraction of what he had been was worth almost any risk.

  Akna scrambled under the block, as quickly as he could, his senses strained for any hint that the massive weight above him might be about to move but just when he was sure it had to come plunging down, he was through. Akna was dazzled by the light on the other side. Eventually his eyes adjusted and his lantern hung limply from his hand, as he stared in wonder at the scene around him. Blue skies stretched in all directions and a hawk’s call resounded from chill peaks. Akna found himself standing on a wooded mountainside. He was high enough up for the air to seem thin and the scent of pine was thick and sharp. Even in his dreams, Akna had never seen anything like it. The sun was a traveller’s tale to the Asylum bred acolyte, he had been so long without a dream and now he had stepped into a fantasy beyond any he had ever entertained.

  Stone pillars lined the path ahead of him and led up to a squared off pyramid of white stone. Akna glanced behind him, to see the dark gap that he had crawled through, it was the only indication that the tomb he had left was even real. It strained the mind to imagine how the huge, gold-veined blocks had been brought up so high or the mechanics involved in putting the structure together. The only explanation for any of it was that he stood in a dream, more than a dream. The scene around him was no mere fragment brought back from beyond the veil, rather it was as if he had stepped from the physical world into Niskaan’s realm. Such a work of art was beyond anything he had ever heard of. Akna had no doubt that, should he choose, he could climb down from the mountain and onto the next peak and that he would find many wonders on his journey. He stood in a self- contained world, that had been fashioned in tribute to Niskaan’s chosen prophet. It was small wonder that the dead god had grown jealous and swallowed it in dark waters. Even that had not been enough, no water could find its way in, Takiaza had forged a small heaven beyond the reach of man and daemon.

  It seemed like an age before Akna was able to do more than stare in wonder at what the Hierophant had wrought. There was no telling what effect the living dream might have had on someone who still had dreams of their own, perhaps the sight was so overwhelming because Akna had been so long separated from Niskaan’s realm, perhaps anyone else would have never moved again, a final trap woven into the dream to stop the greedy; whatever the case it was the thought of the water that might already be flowing beyond the narrow portal that finally got him moving again.

  Akna bounded up the oversized stairs that ran up the side of the pyramid and stepped onto the broad roof of the structure. Four elaborately carved pillars, decorated with gems and mother of pearl held up a high vaulted canopy of milky stone; a sarcophagus lay at the centre of the pyramid, surrounded by exquisite treasures that revealed how little the trinkets, which had so impressed Roga, were really worth. There were rare crystals of types that Akna had never seen and rare tomes, displaying titles Akna had only ever heard mentioned in the most obscure texts. A perfectly preserved copy of ‘Akreth al kenkaz’ was flung, casually, amidst a twisted pile of silks and golden statues that depicted the very daemons, which anyone who owned the book had once been able to summon to the mortal world. Daemons were long gone, fallen or lost like the Lord of Shadows, in a time before human history; nonetheless the book was priceless and might still contain power for those who knew where to look.

  Akna was so distracted by the wealth before him and thoughts of what he would be able to take, that it took him a second to notice movement in the sarcophagus.

  “Welcome, I have waited a long time alone,” a strangely accented voice said. The voice was not loud but it tore through the silence of the shrine like rolling thunder; Akna stared in wonder as a white haired man of indeterminate age, rose from the sarcophagus and began to walk towards him.

  “It seems longer than I had planned but the time must have finally come for me to return, has an appropriate vessel been found?” A white gem pulsed on the white haired man’s chest, even at a distance Akna could feel the power contained within it.

  “He has not come to release you, My Lord.”

  Akna started at the second voice from behind him and his sabre cleared its sheath before he had even turned round.

  It was hard to make out the features of the figure standing on the last step that lead up to the top of the pyramid, her voice marked her sex but with the light behind her, Akna could only make out the outline of her form. The levelled crossbow was what held most of his attention, he edged towards the shelter of the nearby pillar.

  “Stay where you are, thief,” the woman warned, “and drop your weapon unless you want this to end now.”

  “Thief?” The white haired man looked alarmed, “what thief dares to enter this place? And how has he managed to get past the guards? Strict orders were given.”

  “My apologies, Your Holiness, I was sent to deal with the problem.”

  “Then by all means take him away and end him, but keep his blood away from my resting place.”

  Akna could not help but laugh at this. “This is not your resting place shade! Your flesh rots in an unmarked grave and your name is forgotten; all you built was drowned centuries ago.”

  The white haired man looked stricken at the news.

  “Is this true?” He asked the woman. “Is that why it seems so long?”

  “Would you believe a thief who came to steal your treasures, Holiness?” the woman raised the crossbow. “I warn you thief, any more from you and I will leave you as dead as your friend. I only allow you to live now because I do not wish to profane the Hierophant’s resting place.”

  “Or because you do not want to alarm the poor ghost before you have a chance to steal the stone about his neck.”

  “She would not presume!” the white haired man hissed.

  “There are many who would presume far more than that. Whoever sent her will make that stone your prison.”

  “I warned you!”

  “Yes, you warned me but the warning is empty is it not? Or will you shoot me, despite your professed concern for this sanctuary? I think the only reason you have not shot me already is that you know better than to spill blood in a place like this. The veil might be thin enough here that I would not completely die.”

  “And what would that be to me, I fear no ghosts or vengeance from beyond the veil, if you could even leave a place such as this, once entombed here.”

  Akna re-adjusted his grip on his sword but even if he was being optimistic, he doubted his chances against the crossbow. He decided to play the only card he could, without forcing things to violence.

  “Are you so sure? I have not dreamed in three years, I might leave you here with little fear but would you really have me stalking you from beyond the veil? I am familiar enough with Niskaan’s realm that I could make good on my promise to return for you.”

  “You are a common thief I do not fear you.”

  “So you say, but then why don’t you shoot? Perhaps you are afraid I am faster with a sword than you are with your own weapon? Do I only imagine that you have the advantage? Or is it that you do, in fact, fear to spill blood here, to be haunted by a vengeful ghost.” Akna paused for effect and looked to the ghostly Hierophant, “I could, of course, be wrong on all counts; it might be that profaning his holiness's resting place might mark you for as much a thief and vandal as you claim I am. Ask yourself, Your Holiness, would one of your faithful spill blood in this sacred place, after you have given the order that it not be soiled? She names me 'thief' but she is not your servant, she came here with one purpose, to enslave you and steal your secrets.” Akna heard the
woman’s grip tighten on the crossbow.

  “Shoot then,” he said, “we will see which of us is faster, though should I fall, I tell you I will not be a senile shade you can control as you would this one.”

  The woman frowned and to Akna it seemed that she struggled with some unwanted thought, hopefully the one he had planted for her. No doubt she was not used to dealing with a victim that was so unconcerned by threats of death.

  “Is this true? Are you not my servant either but another interloper?” The Hierophant asked. Whatever thought had given the woman pause was quickly thrust aside and she spoke, her voice unhurried and calm, speaking more for the benefit of the panicked Hierophant than from any need to answer Akna’s assertions.

  “He will not be controlled, he will be reborn. He speaks only partial truth, Your Holiness. It has been longer than you had planned but a vessel has been found. Since you will be leaving soon, I ask that you let me dispatch this miscreant here. What do you care for the fate of mortal flesh or even your tomb when you will soon be given new life after so long?”

  Akna was not sure exactly what they referred to but it was clear that the Hierophant was taken by the idea of this new life. The chances were that the woman was simply more knowledgeable about the circumstances surrounding the Hierophant’s entombment and knew that this ‘vessel’ was a gambit, which would appeal to the shade. She was clearly professional and knew the history, so she had probably been sent by someone in the Asylum. Akna could not credit that anyone might still be working for someone so long dead and surely it was pure nonsense to think that a shade such as this could live again, after so long, but if the woman needed the shade's trust, it might be just the lever to shift its objections to blood being spilt.