by Ben Cassidy
“Alright, then.” Kendril turned to face the group, his face hidden in shadow from the flickering lamplight. “Let’s get some rope.”
Chapter 5
Even before Kendril’s feet touched the stone floor, his pistol was out of its holster.
He stepped away from the rope dangling behind him, and pulled back the lock on his weapon with the edge of his palm. The click echoed off the walls of the large chamber and scattered up towards the ceiling. The lantern hanging from his belt cast eerie shadows in all directions, but the light was enough to see by.
Kendril loosened the lantern with his free hand, then lifted it up to get a better look.
The room was large, circular in shape. A stone floor spread out in all directions, immaculately paved. As he turned, figures suddenly lunged out of the darkness. Clawed hands reached towards him.
He leveled the pistol and took a startled step back before it dawned on him that the eerie shapes weren’t moving.
Kendril moved a little closer, holding the lantern high.
There were statues, four of them, set into the walls of the room. Even in the scattered light he could make out bat-like wings curling out from their backs. The bodies were humanoid, but the faces were animal-like. He stepped in to get a better look when a voice came echoing down from above.
“Kendril?”
He frowned, then turned back towards the hole in the ceiling. “All clear,” he called out.
There was a scuffling at the top. A few moments later, Kara appeared, landing gracefully on the stone floor.
She stepped away, brushing back her hair and looking around. “Not very cheery, is it?”
Kendril shook his head, reluctantly sticking the pistol back into his belt. “No.” He reached out a gloved hand, and touched the stone face of one of the statues. It was carved in the likeness of a wolf’s head, snarling viciously.
Kara stepped up beside him. “What in the Halls of Pelos is that?”
“Harnathu, one of the Seteru,” Kendril said grimly. “The pagans worship him as the god of blood, war, and slaughter.”
Kara looked around them, and noticed the other three shapes looming out of the darkness. “And those?”
Kendril pointed to each in turn. “Yaganthru, goddess of secrets. Chalranu, god of darkness and the night. Indigoru, goddess of fertility and sensuality.”
The pretty redhead raised an eyebrow. “Fertility and sensuality?”
Kendril shrugged. “Sex.”
“Ah.” Kara crossed over towards one of the statues and gave it a distasteful look. She looked back at Kendril. “So how is it that you know such much about pagan mythology?”
The Ghostwalker started to open his mouth when a muffled curse came from the dangling rope behind them. They both turned as Maklavir slid to an inglorious halt, and stumbled away from the hole.
“And that’s how we have to get back up?” he asked in a miserable tone. “My cape will be utterly ruined.” He looked around the room for a moment. “Good gracious, what are those?”
“Pagan gods,” said Kara. She knelt on the ground, striking a flint into a lantern.
“Funny, though,” Kendril said quietly. “You’d think the priests hiding down here would have defaced the statues, or covered them up.”
Maklavir examined his hands carefully. “Maybe they didn’t have time. Tuldor’s beard!” He raised a hand. “Blisters.”
Kara hid a smile as the lantern leapt to life.
Galla came down the rope next, falling hard on his posterior as he crashed to the floor. He got up painfully, rubbing his sore behind. He saw the statues and jumped back in terror for a moment before he realized they weren’t real.
Two minutes later, Joseph landed at the bottom of the rope, his rapier dangling from his belt.
“Only one doorway,” said Kendril as he came up beside him. “Over there, on the east wall. A flight of stairs going down.”
Joseph nodded, staring around at the statues. “Seteru?”
The Ghostwalker grunted. “Yeah. Adds a nice touch, don’t you think?”
Joseph adjusted his belt. “Well, Galla did say this was originally a pagan temple—” He paused a moment, as if in mid-thought. “Shouldn’t there be five?”
Kendril tapped his hand uneasily on the handle of his pistol. “Belrannu?”
“The god of the underworld.” Joseph scratched his chin. “Odd that he’s not included.”
“Come,” said Galla excitedly. He lifted a lantern, and motioned to the stairs. “We’re wasting time. Our answers lie down there.”
Lanterns bobbing in the shadowy darkness, they headed towards the stairs.
“Oh, this is simply impossible!”
Maklavir batted wildly at the cobwebs entangled around him, ripping them from his arms. “Did you see those spiders back there? I swear they were bigger than my hand.”
Kendril swatted a cobweb out of the way himself, suppressing an exasperated sigh. “Yes, Maklavir, we all saw the spiders.”
He stepped off the last stair, the lantern swaying in his hand.
It was another room, much larger than the first. Rows of carved stone slabs stretched out in two rows before them, disappearing ahead into the darkness. Spider webs choked the ceilings and the spaces between the aisles. Dust lay across everything like a thick carpet.
Galla stumbled up behind Kendril. “This must be the central antechamber,” he murmured. “If there is anything of value to be found, it will undoubtedly be here.”
Kendril turned and gave the priest a suspicious glance.
Maklavir whipped his cape away from a lingering cloud of dust. “Wonderful,” he said, peering into the dark room before them. “More spiders.”
“Look at this.” Kara stepped out into the room, carefully avoiding a tangle of cobwebs. “There are things carved here, on the slabs.”
Kendril and Joseph stepped in closer, knocking their way through several webs.
Galla licked his lips nervously, looking around the room with both fear and excitement.
Joseph leaned forward, brushing dust off one of the stone slabs with his sleeve. “Strange,” he said. “They’re images of some kind, but I don’t know—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
“What is it?” Kara asked.
Joseph stood, tugging at the handkerchief around his neck. “The Endless Winter,” he said.
Kara stared down again at the carved pictures, half-obscured by the dirt and dust covering the slab. She was just able to make out pictures of men and women, standing in swirling eddies of snow, their hands reaching up to the heavens and their mouths frozen open in a silent scream.
Kendril stepped over to another slab, the light from his lantern playing over its surface. “This one is the Endless Winter, too.”
Galla stepped forward, passing through the rows of the slabs. “It’s a history,” he said in an awed tone. “A history of the ancient time. This looks like the fall of the Rajathan Empire, when the northern tribes descended upon it.”
“The beginning of the First Despair,” said Kendril.
Maklavir shivered. “I say, is anyone else getting a little spooked being in here?”
“There!” Galla pointed, then leapt forward. His eyes blazed with excitement.
Kendril and Joseph both turned, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons.
Galla ran through the row of stone slabs, and trotted up several stone steps to a raised dais.
There, sitting amidst a mesh of cobwebs, was a large stone box, almost five feet long and three feet high.
Kendril strode forward, breaking through the webs as he went. “What is it?”
Galla bent down next to the stone box, his fingers working over its surface. “A box, and that means there must be something inside.” He blew hard against the side, sending a great cloud of dust rolling off. “There’s writing here. Pagan, by the look of it.”
Kendril stepped up onto the dais, his eyes darting around. “Can you open
it?”
Galla reached up, feeling around the edge of the top. “No. It’s locked into place.” He unslung his pack, pulling several books out. “But there must be some way to open it. The writing undoubtedly holds the key.”
Joseph moved up to the bottom of the stairs. “What, like a puzzle of some kind?”
Galla nodded, flipping open the first book. “Undoubtedly. I have some books that should help me translate it.”
“You just carry those around with you in case you need them, huh?” Kendril picked one up and turned the cover around. “Ancient Runes of the Northern Barbarian Tribes.” He tossed it back to the ground. “I hear that one’s a real page-turner.”
Kara set her lantern down on top of a nearby stone slab. “I should have seen it before,” she said with a cold smile. “You’re a thief.”
Galla jerked his head up.
“More like tomb-robber,” Maklavir said. “A pursuit which, I might add, is illegal in most of the civilized nations of Rothland.”
Galla’s face turned hard. “Do you have any idea,” he said, “how much time, how much effort, how much money I have spent finding this place? No one else believed me. No one else even thought it existed.” He got to his feet, a book still in his hand. “There may well be something of value in this box. If there is,” his gaze shifted towards the rest of the party, “then we can all profit from it. Unless, of course, you want to stop me now.”
Joseph crossed his arms, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well,” he said after a moment, “whatever’s in there is most likely of pagan origin. I don’t really see a problem with it.”
“Exactly,” said Galla quickly. “It’s not like we’re stealing from Eru. Why not profit if we can?”
Kara gave a dark chuckle.
Kendril gave a disgusted shake of his head. “Fine, have fun robbing the temple.” He turned to Joseph. “Maybe you and I should take a look around while Galla here is pilfering the antiquities.”
Joseph gave a thoughtful nod. “Can’t hurt.” He looked over at Galla, who was already lost in translating the runes. He stepped over to Kara, and lowered his voice. “You mind keeping an eye on our Baderan friend here?”
The redhead smiled. “No problem. I’ll make sure he doesn’t try anything while you guys are gone.”
Maklavir came striding up, shaking loose cobweb strands from his cape. “I’ll stay here with Kara and Galla, I think. I’ve had enough tomb-crawling for one day.”
Kendril gave a half-smile. “Well, I’m sure we’ll miss your expertise, Maklavir, but it’s your decision.”
Joseph gave a silent smile, following the Ghostwalker towards the stairs that loomed out of the dark wall to the west.
Cracked stone pillars stood on each side of the yawning opening.
Kendril held up the lantern, looking down the winding flight of stone steps. “How far down do you think they go?”
“Only one way to find out, I suppose.”
“Right.” Kendril glanced back at Galla one last time, giving the priest a hard look.
The Baderan didn’t even notice.
“Let’s go,” Kendril said. He turned to the stairs.
They moved down the stairs in silence, save for the scuffling of their boots on the stone. The steps wound down in a tight spiral, twisting around ever deeper into the earth. Cobwebs and dust choked the passage.
Joseph kicked a rock out of his way. “So,” he said with a glance behind them at the stairs retreating into the darkness above, “you seem to know quite a bit about the Second Despair.”
Kendril kept his concentration focused on the stairs ahead of him. “I read a book on it once.”
“I noticed you also seem to know a lot about Xenin Jovar.” Joseph paused. “Not to mention the old gods.”
The Ghostwalker stopped, and turned back to his friend. The raised hood cast a deep shadow over his face in the sputtering lamp light. “Something you want to ask?”
Joseph stopped as well. “Yes, actually. Something I’ve been wondering for a long while. What is it that you do, exactly?”
Kendril smiled grimly. “You mean when I’m not plundering pagan temples?”
“I mean you, the Ghostwalkers.” Joseph subconsciously lowered his voice. “What do you and the other Ghostwalkers do?”
“We seek redemption for our sins,” Kendril replied stiffly.
“How?”
Kendril tilted his head back and looked at Joseph for a long moment.
“It’s strange,” Joseph continued, his eyes staring into the darkness ahead, “the things you seem to know. I doubt anyone else in that room could have picked out which one of the five principal Seteru was missing. But you did without even hesitating.”
The Ghostwalker was silent, the lantern sending its flickering glow all around them.
“This isn’t the first time,” Joseph continued. “I’ve often been surprised at your knowledge of the pagan religions and the Ages of Despair. I learned basic pagan mythology in seminary, but you seem to know it even better than me.”
Kendril stared hard at Joseph, but still said nothing.
“What I think, is that all this knowledge of yours has something to do with your vow. That you were taught it when you decided to become a Ghostwalker. What I can’t figure out is why.” Joseph looked up at Kendril. ”So what is it exactly that you and your fellow Ghostwalkers do, Kendril?”
Kendril continued to stare at Joseph, a deep frown on his face. A long moment of silence passed.
“Joseph,” he said as he turned away, “I hope to Eru that you never find out.”
“Well he certainly seems happy,” Kara said as she watched Galla work. She wrinkled her nose. “Makes one of us, anyway.”
“I find the place quite charming,” Maklavir commented dryly. He slashed lazily at a nearby cobweb with his unsheathed sword. “A little on the dusty side, perhaps, but it has a certain ambience to it.”
Kara crossed her arms, watching his sword flick to and fro. “You’re quite good at cutting spider webs. Ever thought of putting that arm to use in combat?”
Maklavir smirked. “And get all that blood on my clothes? I hardly think so. Besides, I find international diplomacy much more interesting, and far less messy.” He glanced up at Galla, who was feverishly flipping through one of his books by the stone coffer. Maklavir slipped a hand into his vest pocket and pulled out a watch, rubbing the face on his sleeve. “Like this,” he said with a smile, handing it over to Kara. “From the Duke of Haldew. He inscribed it to me right there on the back, for my service in settling a border dispute for him. You can’t get something like that by slaughtering people indiscriminately.”
Kara gave the token a polite glance, flipping it over and nodding. “It’s very nice, Maklavir.” She handed it back.
“Yes,” said the diplomat easily. “Of course, it has never kept time very well. Nor was it given to me by the Duke of Haldew.”
Kara threw him a startled look.
“That particular watch,” Maklavir continued, watching Galla as he spoke, “was given to me by Baron Archibald Von Derrit, as it clearly says on the back. But then, you wouldn’t know that, since you can’t read.” He gave her a sidelong glance, lifting his eyebrows. “Can you?”
Kara’s mouth dropped open, her face turning pale. She quickly recovered, clenching her jaw shut. She turned away. “How did you know?”
Maklavir gave a nonchalant shrug. “When you were looking at the paper we took from Galla, you seemed a little too earnest. Like someone pretending to read, instead of actually reading.” He looked back at Galla, who was paying no attention to them. “Of course, I’ve suspected for a while.”
“Well good for you,” said Kara sourly.
“Sorry about the watch,” said Maklavir sincerely. “I just wanted to know for certain.”
“Well now you do. Happy?”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Maklavir said quietly.
“I didn’t say I was ashamed,” Kara fired b
ack. She took a deep breath, glaring down at her boots. “You don’t know what it’s like.”
Maklavir looked over at her in surprise. “What what’s like?”
“You were a diplomat. You worked for kings and queens. Probably had the finest education your family could afford. Am I right?”
He pursed his lips, but said nothing.
Kara fastened her eyes on Galla again. “Joseph went to seminary in Kendrake. His family was wealthy, too. Merchants of some kind or other. And Kendril…” she broke off, her words tinged with frustration. “Well, Eru only knows what his story is, but you know he was never begging for money on the streets.”
“I’m sorry,” said Maklavir slowly. “I didn’t mean—”
“I grew up in New Marlin,” the redhead continued, as if she hadn’t even heard Maklavir. “Ever been there? Great place if you have money, like the fat Calbraithan merchants who pay off the Guild Alliance to run their operations. Or the Arbelan nobles who fled the revolution, living off their tidy bank accounts. But if you don’t…” She paused, taking a breath. “Well, if you don’t, then life there is hell. I know, because my brother and I spent most of our lives there. We had to steal to survive. I didn’t have the time or money for learning anything that didn’t help me keep one step ahead of the merchants’ hired thugs.” She looked over at Maklavir, her face sparking with anger and pain. “So congratulations that you know my secret. Maybe if you had half the life I’ve had, you wouldn’t be so quick to look down your nose at me.”
“I was only curious,” said Maklavir, his face still calm, “because I was wondering if you would like me to teach you.”
Kara’s eyes widened. “What?”
Maklavir stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “To read.”
She blinked in surprise. “I…don’t…what?”
“Well, it would be more of a trade actually,” he said, giving his sword another swish at a nearby cobweb.
Kara uncrossed her arms. “What are you talking about?”
