“I promise,” Tyler said. “Did you understand what the old ghatu meant? About something living at the bottom of this hole?”
“A wyloth,” said Haranio. “Fisherman often unwittingly stew them with their day’s catch of eels when young, but time has no meaning to such a creature, and over the centuries it can grow to be enormous. I have seen the destruction caused by one in a forest.”
There was a frightened cry from outside, very far away. Slowly its volume intensified until it was silenced with a soft whack.
Despite himself, Tyler smiled. “Sounds as if the ghatu are having trouble staying on their ledges!” When the echoes had softened enough, Tyler spoke again. “Do you know why the ghatu are each so different, Haranio? I’m beginning to suspect Varkon might have been considered strange for having only two arms and a head!”
“Ah yes, that is fascinating business!” said Haranio with the enthusiasm of a scholar. “You see, their natural home is not the mountains.”
“I know, Varkon told me about the Grey Lands.”
“Ghatuan history would be best told by a ghatu, I’m sure. So you know that they were unable bear the light of the lands further south?”
“Varkon told me he couldn’t see as well in the light, but he never mentioned anything about his skin.”
“Imagine spending all day with your head tilted back, staring directly into the sun. A ghatu’s eyes are so poorly adapted to sunlight that they physically hurt when open during the day. They are designed to collect as much light as possible, not to deal with too much of it.”
“At least we have the satisfaction of knowing that Varkon’s last few weeks were not pleasant,” said Tyler, surprising himself with his cruelty.
“Yes, they would have been painful indeed. But Varkon would have had to deal with another burden, too: his skin. In the Grey Lands the ghatu were nomadic and would trek great distances to seek out food. The lands would thus change as they travelled. Red hills would shift into plains of tired green, for instance. To aid their hunt, the ghatu found it beneficial to blend with their surroundings, and so with time the ghatu began to be able to alter the colour of their skin. Not by much, only enough to take on a shade of whatever background colour they inhabit. Unfortunately for the ghatu, this chameleon-like nature was not as useful away from their home. Over long periods of weeks and months especially in the snow, their skin would become ever paler and would thus burn.”
“It must take a long time indeed,” said Tyler. “Varkon was hardly affected.”
“But he was! You may not have noticed, but in another week or two, he would have begun to develop a few nasty burns.”
“But what exactly does this have to do with what I asked before? The reason why there are so many different types of ghatu?”
“Everything, lad. In the night lands the ghatu were all the same, much like us humans. However as they migrated south, their aversion to the sun forced them to live in very different circumstances to their natural habitat. Over thousands of years, those that migrated began to adapt, to evolve. Some became muscled to dig at hard rock; others hunched to slip into tiny burrows. There are even rumours of ghatu that have grown a semi-transparent eyelid that can shut out the sun, or of others that now live like fish at a bottom of the oceans, hidden by the sheer—”
Tyler and Haranio scuffled to their feet. Someone was fumbling with a set of iron keys right outside. There was a click, and their prison door was shoved open with a bang.
By this time Haranio had changed into his lion form, his two eyes narrowed into luminous slits of intent.
“Tyler,” a voice hissed softly, familiarly. “Haranio, are you there?” It was Varkon. Haranio snarled in reply. “Wait! I’ve come to help you!”
As the only person able to speak, Tyler realised it was up to him to ask the questions.
“Why should we trust you? After what you did today …”
“There is not enough—”
“Tell me!” Tyler hissed as loudly as he dared.
“Keep it down! We must move fast. Half the mine woke when I tossed a ghatu from his ledge.”
“Why are you helping us?”
“I never stopped. When we rested in our cave last night, I saw signs that only a ghatu would understand: symbols on the rock, dirt in the snow. I realised the mountain was heavily guarded. In fact, we’d already been spotted and were surrounded. So I crept out during the night when you were sleeping.”
“I saw you.”
“I and went to the Sa-Tsu of the mountain, who had only recently begun mining here. I told him that I was pretending to be your guide but was in fact leading you right to him. I told him you were the boy the Dhimori was looking for. He was easy to convince. The next day I gave you away to gain the Sa-Tsu’s trust.”
“And you didn’t tell us this plan of yours because …?”
“I couldn’t. Ghatu can smell fear, smell loathing. Pretending would not have been good enough.” Varkon grunted with amusement. “Actually, boy, you almost played your part too well by mentioning my Ruilk. Some ghatu are not entirely deaf to the words of your tongue and would have killed me themselves if they thought I had betrayed my oath. Thankfully I was quick-witted enough to make up some convincing rubbish.”
Haranio had changed back into his human form. “Varkon, you fool, you’ve led us to ruin. We should have gone around the mountain in the first place.”
“I know. I am sorry,” admitted the ghatu in an unusual display of humility. “I thought this way was safe, and I was very wrong.”
The surge of joy through Tyler’s body was difficult to contain. He had been so sure that he was going to die. He had accepted it emotionlessly like some dull, listless fact.
A voice roared from somewhere high up the mineshaft, soon followed by a chorus of vicious cries.
“They have found the first body,” Varkon noted. “We don’t have much time.” For the first time since Tyler had met Varkon, he heard an unmistakable tone of fear. If caught, his betrayal would not go lightly punished. Varkon quickly fumbled in the dark. “I have a rope; I only hope it is long enough.”
After a moment there was a sound of a rope lashing through the air down the hole ahead of them. Tyler waited for the reassuring tap of loose slack against the bottom. He was to be disappointed.
The shouts from the mineshaft were drawing closer.
“Tyler, climb as fast as you can.” Tyler crawled blindly towards Varkon, who pushed the rope into his hands. “Good luck,” he said. Then Tyler had hoisted himself over the edge and into the abyss.
He swung his feet against the side of the hole and used this for support as he descended. In the absolute dark every sound became more apparent. He noticed the scrape of his boots against the rock, faint drops of water falling from the moss, and the scuttle of rats.
The tension in the rope changed;– someone had climbed onto the rope above him. A voice whispered faintly, as though it were drifting from the depths of a well, “Tyler, are you all right? Haranio is coming down after you.”
“Still going down, but fine!” he called back quietly.
His arms were beginning to ache. He gritted his teeth, well aware that the rope was all the more unsteady now that Haranio was on it, too.
Suddenly the wall underneath his feet disappeared. Tyler’s legs swung loose, and he endured a dreadful moment of panic before managing to steady himself once again. He had to keep moving. Shuddering with effort, he reached his left hand down once to grip at the rope – and slipped. The rope burnt his skin, and he let go with helpless instinct.
Three feet later he landed quite safely, half-laughing with relief at the drama he had played out so near to the ground. He groped until his fingers closed about the dangling rope.
“Haranio, I’m at the bottom!”
The reply drifted back in that disembodied way. “Good. I’ll be with
you soon.”
The ground curved upwards evenly on either side of Tyler, giving him the impression he was enclosed a giant tube. He moved a little to one side so that he was no longer positioned directly below the hole.
Just then something clicked into place within Tyler’s wandering mind, like the last piece of some monstrous jigsaw puzzle. Varkon had not betrayed him! The ghatu was not the murderer in his dream.
Haranio landed at the bottom with a stony clap. “Tyler? Tyler where are you?” He was welcomed with silence. Tyler pressed himself against a nearby wall. “Tyler, I know what you are thinking, but I am not the one in your dream. I could have killed you on so many other occasions. Why wait until now?”
The only time Haranio could have murdered him without consequence was when they were alone together just a few moments before. Perhaps he was going to, and Varkon had prevented a bloody murder by arriving when he had. It was only a matter of time before the shamif would change into his snow lion form and be able to see precisely where he was.
There was a swish of rope, and then a large body hit the ground with a grunt of pain. Tyler stooped and ran towards the noise. “Varkon?” he called out worriedly.
“There you are, Tyler!” breathed Haranio. “Thank goodness.”
Tyler stretched his hands to where he guessed Varkon must have landed, but the ghatu was already on his feet, and his voice sounded from above.
“Tyler, I’m fine. I didn’t fall far. Now stand away from the hole before anything dangerous is thrown down at us from above. Trail your hand against the wall and follow my voice.”
Varkon set off down what Tyler now realised was a sort of passageway, humming tunelessly. Tyler followed closely, feeling safer now that Varkon was with him. Haranio surely wouldn’t kill him knowing that he needed Varkon as a guide.
The curses that lashed down after the companions gave lungs to the entire mountain, ringing it like a hollow bell.
“Wait,” Varkon commanded a short while later, and for a while there was nothing but the sounds of rummaging. Tinkles and thuds reverberated softly from the walls. “Ah!” the ghatu let out with success, and three other imaginary Varkons down the passageway echoed similar victories.
There was a flash of red sparks, and then the oiled torch that Varkon held fire-balled into existence. The ghatu’s face was dark with shadows, but he was smiling grimly. “Good. I thought the flame might not catch,” he said. “The air down here is very bad.”
It was an understatement. The rot that had so gently wafted into their prison was nothing compared to the full-blown reek they now were forced to endure. The tired light showed they were standing in what appeared to be a hollow tube that headed to darkness in both directions, bored through the solid rock. Varkon only narrowly avoided hitting his head against the ceiling by a mere foot or so.
“I had a hard job getting this torch. Ghatu have no need for them.” Although Varkon’s hard face was made even less pleasant by the shadows, it felt good to see it again. “Friends, I have grave news. Perhaps it is only a rumour, but I have heard from others there is a terrifying creature that infests the roots of this mountain. Have you heard of the creature they call—”
“A wyloth?” guessed Haranio. “Yes. The gatekeeper mentioned something of the sort.”
Varkon nodded. “I have been told this one is so large it can carve through solid rock. I was not convinced myself until I saw this place, but what else could have created such a circular passage?”
“Varkon,” said Haranio angrily, “that ink staining your skin must have worked its way into your brain. At least tell me you know the way. Tell me our fate will not be to be crushed by a monster, or to die of thirst under a thousand feet of rock.”
“I know the direction, not the way,” said Varkon, waving a compass in the air. “If we keep to the east and always follow the upslope, I can only hope we will find our way out.”
“Hope is what the failed rely on,” Haranio snapped. “I do not except to surface from this place alive.”
“If you want to crawl into some corner to die, go ahead,” said Varkon testily. “Old man, look on this as a blessing. The Sa-Tsu will not send a search party sent after us into this monster’s den, so we have but one large worm between us and freedom. Our odds are improving.”
Tyler matched Varkon’s pace, which basically meant running along behind him. Soon Tyler was bright with sweat and gasping like a fish in the air. Thankfully, the torch remained lit, as though it was using the rotten air as fuel. Their path snaked through a network of circular tunnels that zigzagged and overlapped in every possible direction. Varkon was often forced to make a choice between several possible passageways, but because he had nothing more than the compass and his luck to guide him, he never spent long deciding. Haranio transfigured into a snow lion for reasons that Tyler could not possibly comprehend. The thick fur puffing over his body must have been unbearable.
The tunnel finally ended. Varkon raised a hand to halt Tyler and Haranio. It was not a dead end, but rather the beginning of a huge space of some kind. Varkon probed it with his torch, but the light faded into the darkness so that the true size of the area could not be judged. Long icicles of rock spiked like stony thorns from the floor or thrust suddenly from the unknown night above. These strange pendants glistened as water dripped across them, and they seemed to be giant cones stuck with stars and slimy green thread. Huge mounds of tiny stones were scattered like handfuls of teeth all over the ground, heaped into crumbling piles. The companions had little choice but to continue. Varkon turned and pushed an obvious finger to his lips before venturing forward into the massive void. Tyler followed, stepping as quietly as he could.
Their pace continued interminably. Icicles of rock would materialise endlessly from the gloom as they travelled, their faces colouring ever paler with light, their shadows deepening and defining behind them, before swinging in great, speedy arcs as they passed and then widened and disappeared from sight.
Their trek took them over crunching pebbles, through shallow sheets of water, and over the tops of jutting rocks. Tyler absently surveyed one particularly strange formation as he passed, noticing its strange fluidity. It slumped lazily between several pillars while its base trailed into a particularly deep pool of black water behind it, but his interest lasted only for a moment as he noticed the light touch against a wall. The other side of the cavern! Hundreds of rounded passageways were carved across the bottom. This must be a central connecting area for …
Varkon was by his side in an instant, and his hand clamped tightly over Tyler’s stretched lips. Tyler flickered his eyes with warning. The ghatu nodded; he already knew. Slowly the ghatu dropped his hand away before continuing his silent walk across to the approaching wall.
The strange “formation” they were passing breathed. The wyloth was half submerged in water, and its upper body lounged across several broken pillars of stone. Besides the mountains, Tyler had never seen anything quite as large. Its head was sleek and hard, as though it had been shaped from several plates of steel. Every so often a long tongue would wind out from its mouth, tasting the foul air.
Crack! A loud crunch shocked Tyler to a halt. He froze, shoulders cringed up to his ears. The remains of a crushed ghatuan skull was scattered about his feet.
The sound echoed repeatedly, searching unsuccessfully for a way out until it faded to a whisper. Tyler stared at the ground in disbelief at what he had done. A white, broken jaw grinned up at him.
The wyloth stirred. Its armoured head swayed rhythmically to one side, and then it abruptly snapped open its eyes. Two ancient yellow orbs stared down at them from the murk.
Haranio roared. Varkon grabbed Tyler’s hand, yanking him forward roughly as the wyloth thrust its body from the water.
The companions plunged into a tunnel on the east wall. Varkon’s torch fluttered faithfully against the rushing wind. Their passage di
pped and then rose uncontrollably. Varkon whipped around the bends so fast that he ran almost halfway up the curved wall.
A low grinding caused the rock all around them to quiver.
The wall to Varkon’s right blasted away. Fragments of stone stung Tyler’s face, dust puffed into the air, and he was flung to the floor. The wyloth streamed past, scales screaming against the rock. Even at the unreal speed it was moving, it took an age to slip by. Finally, its tail flicked across with a low swish, disappearing down the new tunnel that it had created.
Varkon jumped to his feet. “Move!” The trio careened on down the passageway. Strangely, the air began to howl backwards away from them. “Can you feel that?” roared Varkon as they ran.
“Yes! What’s happening?”
“The wyloth is sucking air back as it tunnels. We must—”
Varkon was sharply cut off. The ceiling collapsed inwards with a smart crack, and the wyloth streamed vertically downwards into the very spot that Varkon had just occupied.
“No!” cried Tyler, as the force of the shaking rock tossed him off his feet once again. He scrambled upright, although the ground still shivered feverishly. Varkon and his torch were no more. The wyloth continued to thunder past, the sound of its scales slicing the rock only a few short feet away in the darkness.
“Varkon!” yelled Tyler hopelessly.
Suddenly the tail of the wyloth flashed past in a brilliance of scales, and with a jump, the light returned. Varkon stood on the other side of a huge, vertical well that had been carved through the floor and ceiling.
“Tyler!” called Varkon happily. “I thought … Well, come on, quickly! You’ll have to jump.”
Tyler crouched and then flung himself over the divide. Varkon grabbed his hand to guide him to safety. Haranio followed with an easy bound, and they were off once more.
One side of the tunnel buckled with pressure, and a crack suddenly snapped across it like lightening. There was a screech of scales from behind, and then the wind abruptly changed direction so that it was now pushing them forward.
Tyler's Dream Page 11
