Chapter 16
Raphtune was waiting with some Unders at the end of the scrap city, beyond the line formed by the huts was the distant wall with the large arch, the world beyond now dark.
"Hassa," nodded Raphtune as Shaol and Hassa approached.
"Raphtune," said Hassa and nodded back.
"Is there a way into the fortress?" asked Raphtune without a moment of hesitation.
"I'll show you," said Hassa.
Raphtune quickly glanced at Shaol.
"Is the way clear?" asked Raphtune as his eyes darted back to Hassa.
"There are no guards to worry about."
"The Clerics?"
"In their towers."
"Do you know how to get below the fortress?"
"I have an idea."
"Then, the fortress awaits us."
"It does," said Hassa stepping out beyond the line of shacks.
Hassa led the way with long, confident strides unafraid of being seen, she held her lantern high to light the way as Shaol and Raphtune followed a few feet behind. The others stayed at the edge of the city and silently watched the lantern become distant.
"I'm glad you're still breathing," said Raphtune, "I was worried for a moment."
"I was never in danger," said Shaol.
Raphtune nodded. Hassa quickened her pace in front and the two kept up with her.
"Do the Clerics let you freely walk the fortress?" asked Raphtune.
"Yes, the Clerics only keep us to tend to the fortress, fix what is broken and clean away what builds up, they care about little else."
"Can I enter their towers?"
"No one will stop you," said Hassa, "but I would be cautious, the Clerics are still dangerous."
"Shaol, pass me the pry bar," said Raphtune quickly.
Shaol handed Raphtune the metal bar, happy to be rid of the lump of steel.
"Why do you need that?" asked Shaol.
Raphtune simply shrugged and balanced the bar in his left hand.
The arch grew larger as the three approached, beyond it sat another stone wall with an identical arch cut into it. Hassa was quick with her steps and Raphtune, even though he as much smaller than the other two, kept pace easily. Shaol noticed the boy's feet landed with a soft spring that stopped them from making any noise as he moved, though Raphtune's efforts were for nothing as his two companions let their feet hit the ground loudly and without care.
The large arch passed overhead and to the left were the stone steps that led up to the top of the stone roof. Into the sky above, rose the immense, dark body of the fortress. The walls were not built flat and square like the buildings Shaol was accustom too, they curved in and out slightly as they wrapped around the body. Countless windows looked out from the walls, all different shapes and sizes, sparkling silver in the moonlight.
"This way," said Hassa leading the way up the stairs.
Shaol glanced through the arch cut into the far wall, in far distance he could see small orange dots of flames from another scrap city that continued around the back of the fortress.
The steps passed underfoot, halfway up Shaol started to struggled for breath as the enormous slope ascended quickly. Raphtune got ahead as he took the steps two at a time, the pry bar slung over his shoulder. Hassa moved quickly and calmly, her light, messed hair trailed behind her as she went.
At the top of the steps, Shaol caught his breath as he looked out on the world of the fortress that sat on the stone roof of the scrap city. A large yard stretched all the way to the black wall filled with a forest of trees like the five Shaol had studied on his way to the lake but the trees he saw here were not coloured the same brown or green. These trees had trunks of gold and silver, their polished surfaces caught and scattered the moonlight, the leaves that hung from the branches above clattered and scrapped against each other as they moved in the slight breeze that ran through the yard.
Shaol moved towards one of them, as he got close he could see his face warped and strange in the surfaces. He ran his hand over the bumps and groves beaten into the surface.
A bang came from behind, Shaol spun around. Raphtune was hitting the side of a tree with the pry bar.
"Hollow," shrugged Raphtune.
"Quiet," hissed Shaol.
Raphtune hit the tree again causing it to hum and the leaves to grind overhead.
"No guards," said Raphtune flatly.
Raphtune turned and continued through the forest, his warped reflection thrown here and there by the trees. A light started to dance across the surfaces, Shaol swung around and found Hassa next to him with her lantern in hand.
"I would like to show you something," said Hassa with a smile.
Hassa swung the lantern and headed deeper into the forest towards the black wall. She stopped in front of a tree with a large, round body and more branches than any other. Shaol looked up and saw that soared high above the trees around it, reaching almost as high as the black wall.
"This is where I climbed, the tallest tree in the forest. I was going get the shard across the top to you with a sling."
Shaol looked up quietly, he did not want to speak of the visions again. Hassa turned from the tree and threw the light onto a small lump across the yard.
"And this is where I fell."
A small tree made of gold, nailed to the stone, grew to the height of Shaol's waist. It branches were small, sharp and bunched together, its leaves a tangled mass of jagged edges. The lantern did not reflect cleanly off the surface off like it did with the other trees as the dry, black blood that stained its surface ate the light.
Hassa put the lantern onto the ground and lifted the side of her leather and metal shirt, her body was covered in countless tiny scars.
"The darkness did not come immediately," she said quietly, "I lay here, watching the moon move across the sky with the branches pierced through my body. I tried to call for help but my throat was clogged with blood."
Hassa lowered her shirt.
"I'm sorry," said Shaol, "I should've come sooner."
"No," said Hassa sharply walking toward him, "I should have come sooner. You have been cut a thousand time worse then I and while you bled I sat in Moorswatch ignorant of the horror that lay beyond my borders. But I am here now and I won't let you suffer any longer."
"These are the thoughts you must fight," said Shaol, "none of this is because of you, there is nothing you could have done for me or anyone else here."
"My father is High Chieftain of East, I was a Flanking Captain in the Eastern Arms," said Hassa her voice quiet and distant, "I could have done something."
"How would a captain find herself in Gart?" Raphtune's voice suddenly cutting in from somewhere beyond the light, "armies can't march through these land."
"I was routing a Kaborn raiding party from our settlements," said Hassa not looking away from Shaol, "their party was broken and on the run but as we were pushing them through the Burrows the bastards got behind us, they were able to take out half of my men with the ambush, the rest of us were forced to scatter out of Burrows and into Gart to regroup but before we were able the Orsil found me and the ones I escaped with."
"The Orsil enslaving a unit of the Eastern Arms? Wouldn't that have been an act of war?" asked Raphtune still hidden in the shadows.
"My father would have thought us lost in Burrows," said Hassa to the boy that hid amongst the tree, "when you take up the sword, death on the battlefield is always a likely end."
Raphtune tapped on the side of the tree with the pry bar making it sing.
"I'm not the one in danger, Hassa," said Shaol forcefully, "we need to get below then we can go home."
"They've taken your sight along with the rest," replied Hassa, "how many more must go the way of Pysuun for you to see what is around you?"
"I can help you?"
"You will help me into the pits with all the others," said Hassa simply.
Shaol gritted his teeth as the anger rose in him. He turned away from the Old One wit
h the lantern and stormed off into the darkness of the forest. He did not the know the way but he did not want to be led, the yard snaked around the fortress in a way that he knew and understood, he would find the others when the black wall bent and the entrance was before them.
Hassa believed she knew him, the city and what had happened within these walls but she knew nothing but the thoughts that killed those that would listen.
Loss-Eye knelt as the Master held the cup above his head, Shaol could barely recognise his first friend behind the spikes that had been driven into his face. They held him hard as he whimpered behind the mask of metal shards.
The Master tilted the cup and the poison water washed over his face, Loss-Eye screamed as the bronze in skin was burnt away, staining his face and body disgusting swirls of white, red and dark brown, then they pushed the cup to his lips and made him drink.
Loss-Eye thrashed and convulsed and the Master threw him forward into the dirt as the water worked it ways through his body. Shaol, still only a boy who could still remember the farmhouse far beyond the city, saw the skin of his friend's gut turn black and start to flake as it became stone and powder.
Loss-Eye became still. The only friend Shaol had known in the city, the first that Shaol knew to be taken by the Masters. Loss-Eye had listened to the poison thoughts but he had not turned on the kids, he had not turned on Shaol, he had turned on the Masters who guarded the barracks. He yelled at Shaol to run, the iron gate was open but there was nowhere to run in the dead lands. Four Masters were dead before they brought Loss-Eye down.
Every cursed, poison thought had come to Shaol. Every night, when he sat alone in the corner and thought on the friend he had lost. But he fought them back as he looked at the ones who laughed the broken laughter, how easy it would have all have been if only he had sat with them.
Shaol was known as Thumbs in those days after he had popped the eyes of the Old One who had tried to beat him. The one who had failed to haul the full number of sacks from the lake and was wild after the lashes. He had turned on Shaol, but that night Shaol would not be beaten and he fought back, Loss-Eye smiled and cheered as he watched his friend fight to defend himself.
The guard found the boy cowering in the corner awaiting his punishment, but the guard did not take him away instead he threw a piece of scrap at Thumbs and told him to clean off the remains.
There were always others that could be brought to haul the water, the Old One that had squirmed and screamed beneath him was nothing while Thumbs had become more than the others.
But there were always more and the ones that Thumbs damaged to protect the others were always replaced.
As he became older the name stayed but then he no longer needed to rely on the softness of the eyes, his fist were faster, his arms were stronger, his will more determined than the others. The faces of the Old Ones became as soft as their eyes.
Thumbs had his friend taken from him but someone must protect the kids, he must protect the kids and slowly the pain became less, but unlike the other memories that had become cloudy and unfocused Shaol could never forget Loss-Eye as he screamed for a confused and lost boy to run.
And then they cut him. His body was strong enough for the Masters, he did not need to grow anymore, they took him to a brick room with a metal table and when he woke there was nothing between his legs. When he was taken back to the water caravan, he was different, he did not want to be fast, he did not want to care, he wanted to sit in the corner and watch as the world passed. He had seen what he was, he was an Under, no different from any other, he was one who was named Shaol by others that had been taken and he could not remember. He watched from his corner as the Old Ones preyed upon whoever they chose, he would not help anyone again, it was easier to sit in the corner and watch.
The Old Ones became more and more violent until the night when the kid screamed, there was nothing but a bloodied lump where a head should be, the boy was dead, Shaol had not learnt his name.
Unders came and took the body, the Masters came and flogged the Old One. The next day, Shaol drowned the Old One in the lake.
The poison thoughts had taken so many and it was easy to let them but Shaol would not allow them to take him as well, he needed to be strong, he needed to live in the world that he hated. He could not just watch from the corner.
Now, Pysuun was dead and the Masters killed those Shaol could not protected. He had seen the Masters at their worse and he had seen what they had done to Loss-Eye and so many others. Shaol knew what Raphtune had seen after Aksit's house had been destroyed.
He would save the six and those he could name.
Shaol brought himself back to the trees made of metal, the orange of Hassa's lantern bounced erratically across their trunks as she found her own way through the forest.
The forest bent with the black wall as Shaol expected and he turn to the right with it. The trees began to thin and beyond Shaol saw a huge number of figures standing in the moonlight.
Shaol ducked behind a tree and he looked out at the figures, they stood still and lifeless in the moonlight. Slowly, he approached keeping himself hidden in the shadows as he did. He became puzzled as he got close enough to see that the figures were made of rough stone dressed in armour made of the same gold and silver as the forest, covered in gems of all different shades of red, blue, green and yellow that softly reflected the moon.
The frozen guards stood shoulder to shoulder like the guards that marched the street of the city, each looked up at the fortress, all manner of weapons held firm in hand, their still and emotionless faces scratched into the stone. All the types of heads Shaol had seen in the barracks were here. The ones with square chins, the sharp, slender ones, the long and squashed faces.
The lantern emerged from the forest and stones of the armour began to sparkle as the light injected an energy into the army. Hassa smiled at Shaol and he nodded as he caught her eye, becoming angry again as he did, still upset from the memories she had brought back to him.
"Where is Raphtune?" asked Shaol bluntly.
"Somewhere near, I'm sure," laughed Hassa, "you've found the army."
Shaol simply nodded again, he did not want to talk.
"The dreams of the mad Dragon, Gart," said Hassa walking ahead of Shaol, "he built this when the Mother Dragon ruled the world. Each Dragon held a different domain, Gart was given the dead lands to rule.
"He built all this, the forest, this army but not the fortress that was here long before the Dragon's came down from the mountains."
"Did the Grey Men tell you that?" asked Shaol with a hard voice.
Hassa laughed merrily.
"The story of the stone fortress of Tarlnath was told to me as a young girl. The fortress was built by the cursed men in the Age of Men after they murdered Sulla the Fire Babe, the great hero you have never heard of. That is why a curse poisons the lands of Gart, this land belonged to Sulla and no other may rule it."
"Only the Masters rule this land."
"Sulla is the only master of Tarlnath."
"When was the Age of Men?"
"Thousands of years in the past."
"Then, how does Sulla live to help you now?"
"He is a man greater than any other."
"I have seen the Grey Men do amazing things," said Shaol, "their magic has made me see visions as well. I have seen this land when it was green, this is what you have seen, Hassa. They are trying to fool you."
"What do you see when look at these statues?" asked Hassa.
Shaol heard the pry bar scrap against the stone just beyond the light.
Shaol turned back to look at the faces that passed him. Beyond the men dressed as guards were others dressed in silver shaped to look like fabric, golden tools in hand, some held silver ropes tied to copper beast that were fat and large with curved horns.
"Metal and stone," said Shaol simply.
"Do you know the Dragon Gart?"
"No."
"He was a proud and arrogant beast made
so by his strength, far greater than any of the other Dragons. Gart was furious when the Mother Dragon gave him the desolate, eastern wastes as his domain and to make it worse the children of the land were the Orsil, the stupidest and most useless of all the men."
Hassa kept walking through the lines of guards, who stared up at the fortress without thought.
"A thousand year is a long time for any mind to strain without breaking and Gart's was no different from yours or mine. And when he was broken by the cursed land and do you know what he did?"
Shaol remained quite.
"He made himself an army. He sent the Orsil to the hills to mine the gold and silver and he had them bring it back to fashion the world he so desperately wanted. When Gart looked upon these men he saw an army of men, loyal and brave, men he could love and be loved by. When he looked upon the metal tress he saw a forest of fruits and flowers, all pieced together from what he could find amongst the stones."
Shaol continued to study the statues, the detail of faces were not fashioned with care, there was only enough to give the faces a resemblance of life, nothing more.
"And yet for all his effort, for all the years he toiled at his marvellous world," said Hassa, "all you see, Shaol, is metal and stone."
Shaol looked at the faces staring back at him, their undefined eyes started to take the form of the faces of the others he could not remember, the face of those that had been taken. He did not want to be amongst the faces anymore.
"Where is the entrance of the fortress?"
"As far as it needs to be."
The gems of the armour sparkled red like blood and green like rot. They didn't know they bled, they didn't know they rotted.
The scrapping came from the beyond the light, it had to be Raphtune. Why did he keep his distance?
Shaol wanted to be back in the kitchen with his pots, there he was at peace in the darkness of the window. He thought of Pysuun as the rats crawled across his face, half of it was gone, he could not fight them off. Was his son with him? His son was waiting. What of the six? There was one with him. Why was six enough? There was never enough.
The lantern flicked and bent in the wind, the shadows and the light swirled together.
"Why do you walk so slowly?" snapped Shaol.
"I walk as fast as I always have," said Hassa, "you have even broken a sweat."
Shaol raised his hand to his head, his forehead was moist.
"How much further?"
"Not far, you can see the entrance from here."
Hassa pointed ahead and above the army stood a large doorway open to the world, above the towers of the fortress climbed into the night sky.
Shaol focused on the doorway and tried to forget the stones that were forced to watch the fortress, slowly his mind return to him as he looked up and away to the black sky and the silver moon.
"The moon is a beautiful silver tonight," said Hassa with a smile.
"It is," replied Shaol.
Hassa was a good person, Shaol knew this, but she was lost and there was nothing he could do for her now, he just needed get below.
"Will you come with me?" asked Shaol as the pair left the figures and started to climb the steps towards the doorway.
"I'm already with you."
"Will you leave the city when it's time?"
"If you leave Tarlnath behind, I will leave with you."
"And you will return home."
"Where else would I go?"
Shaol was silent.
"Where will you go, Shaol?"
"The lake is my home."
"Is that all that is left of you?"
Shaol paused.
"I think you are the one who won't leave Tarlnath behind, but then it's always hard to leave your home."
An anger rose in Shaol as he let the words in.
"I won't hear insults," snarled Shaol.
"What is insulting?"
"Tarlnath is no home."
"You insult yourself," said Hassa calmly, "you refuse to see yourself for what you are."
"The lake is my home and I will return there when this is done."
"Don't look to closely at the shore, Shaol, you may find it made of metal and stone."
Shaol held his breath and found the strength to push the words away.
Raphtune appeared at the edge of light.
"This place is impressive, it must have taken hundreds of years to put these statues together," said Raphtune, "don't you think?"
"We need to get below," said Shaol stiffly.
"I agree, I would like to see these temples. Which way?"
"This way," said Hassa motioning through the large wooden doors that led to a huge, black interior.
"No lights?" asked Raphtune.
"Flames would stain the wall," said Hassa, "besides, no one uses the fortress at night except the Clerics."
"They're in the towers?" asked Shaol.
"As they always are," replied Hassa, "you are safe."
Raphtune tapped the floor with the pry bar letting the sound echo throw the chamber.
"Why are you tapping?" snapped Shaol.
"Just want you to know where I am," said Raphtune, "I wouldn't want you to lose me again."
The lantern threw its soft light into cavernous space, only strong enough to give the faint outlines of things that stood at the side of the walls, some kind of staircase rose at the end of room, something large hung overhead. All Shaol could see clearly in the low light were the blue tiles of the floor and the huge, wooden doors that stood at the entrance to the fortress that seemed to heavy to be closed.
Hassa lifted her lantern higher but it did nothing to illuminate the space and without a word she started to lead the other two into the darkness.
"Hassa, can you pass me the lantern?" asked Raphtune.
"I can hold it higher," replied Hassa without stopping.
"That is true, but you know these halls well and are not stopping to show us what it holds."
"I can show you what you want to see."
"I would prefer to look myself."
Hassa waited for moment.
"Why do you hesitate?" asked Raphtune quickly.
"It is just a strange request?"
"A simple one."
"I would?"
"I think I will wait for you outside, Shaol," declared Raphtune, "the moon shows me what I want to see."
"If you must," sighed Hassa and handed Raphtune the lantern.
"Thank you," said Raphtune with a nod.
Raphtune took the lantern and walked up to the walls, the light ran across more stone figures though these statues were very different. They were not the half carved faces of the yard, they were perfectly formed as though actual men had been sealed in stone.
Across the wall were paintings of armies fighting atop green fields. Blood flowed from the soldiers impaled on swords and spears, there faces painted with little detail, the dark eyes and mouth twisted into expressions of agony.
Raphtune studied the painting carefully.
"We must keep going," said Hassa impatiently from the edge of the light.
"Of course," said Raphtune quietly, still fixated by the image.
Shaol puzzled to himself as he watched Raphtune move along the wall, the boys head never turning away from the images. Shaol looked up at the scene again confused by what had taken Raphtune.
Hassa kept to the edge of the lantern's halo directing them towards a large arch which led to the next hall, the tiles changed their colour to a ugly yellow and black. In the centre of the room a statue of a man in armour towered high above, the face had been chipped away and the sword in his hand had been broken in half. Raphtune studied the statue for a moment and then moved towards the walls. This time Shaol saw something that he knew, the three pyramids from his vision were painted on wall, the largest one that sat behind the other two still shone its scared light.
"That is the temple," said Shaol excitedly, "the one in the middle."
Raphtune simply n
odded.
In front of the the temple Shaol saw the leather tents of his vision, this was how the Grey Men had brought him the visions of the temple, they had shown him image on this wall.
Shaol followed study the scene that ran across the wall, men on horseback were hunting an animals he recalled from youth. A large, fat deer with a white coat fled to the left as men shoot their arrows, as scene continued the beast was butchered, its skin was removed stretched and cured and then was stitched together to make a host of tents. A second deer, just as large and fat as the first, with a coat of dark red fled to the right of the scene, the beast was also brought down, bled at the neck and its carcass huge above a fire as countless men waited in a line, which trailed off into the distance, to take a cut of the cooked flesh.
"Is that Sulla?" asked Shaol quietly to Raphtune.
"Pardon?"
"The large one in the middle of the room."
"Sulla?" puzzled Raphtune, "no, the name has been removed."
"Why?"
"So no one would remember him."
Shaol looked at Hassa who moved in the dark at the far end of the hall.
"Did Sulla build Tarlnath?"
"I've never heard that one," shrugged Raphtune.
"Do you know who did?"
"No," said Raphtune still fixated on the paintings, "I've never asked about it."
"What are you looking for, Raphtune?" asked Shaol.
"Something," said Raphtune quietly, "these paintings are from a time that no one remembers, they could hold anything."
"We need to get below," reminded Shaol.
"I know," said Raphtune ignoring him and continuing to walk slowly around the room studying the scenes of the hunt.
The next hall was tiled deep orange and dark green. Here stood another statue of a man holding an axe, his face was not chipped, his weapon was intact.
"Who is this?"
"Ka," puzzled Raphtune, "what is he doing here?"
"Who is that?"
"A hero from the Age of Men. He was an Emperor, a very long time ago, he is said to have been a poor farmer before he created the First Kingdom."
"He does not look like a farmer."
"No."
The wall was decorated with images of another battle between armies and things that were larger than houses. Shaol focused on one of the many beasts that covered the walls, it walked on all fours like a dog but had legs thick and wide with muscles at the end, large, clawed feet that it was bringing down on a house made of wood and stone as it stomped through a small city. It had a long, tangled, mangy coat that only partially covered its rotten green and brown skin. There was a stump of a neck at the end of its body on top of which sat a fat round head, the top half of which was a dome of eyes that was painted with a slimy, shimmer. From where a mouth should have sat four long arms grew, the end of each was a small mess of spikes on a bulge of flesh.
One of the strange arms had wrap itself around a stone tower and was pulling it to the ground as the tower shot a beam of pure light from its top which burnt away at the arm that had taken the tower in its grip. Another of the arms had knocked at host of guards into the air, as another swung at large birds that swooped down from the sky.
"Are those Dragons?" asked Shaol.
"No," laughed Raphtune, "they're Demons."
"The Demon's that the Masters fear?"
"Do you see now why I knew there wasn't a Demon in the city."
"Yes," said Shaol as he studied the other hideous beasts each different from the next, the guards fired useless arrows at them monstrous creatures.
Friend had spoken true, she was not a Demon.
Raphtune continued to the next hall, in gloom Hassa moved by a far wall. A statue of a woman in robes stood tall above the room of purple tiles, her face had also been removed and the staff she had once held had broken in half.
"Do you know her?" asked Shaol.
"Forgotten as well," replied Raphtune simply.
The walls were decorated images of buildings of all strange shapes, circular towers, pyramids with smooth sides, sharp daggers that shot straight into the air, all made of smooth black and white stone. Shaol noticed the white, round stones that flew through the air between the strange structures.
"Those stones," said Shaol, "they're the one that the Grey Men rode in. The ones I saw at the gate."
"Raphtune the Missing would like to see one of those."
"We go down here, Shaol," interrupted Hassa.
Raphtune threw the light onto Hassa who stood next to a small door hidden between two statues.
"Unless you want to see more of the halls," continued Hassa.
"We must go now," said Shaol.
"We have the whole night," said Raphtune, "we can see the halls and then?"
"I have a second lantern," said Hassa, "Raphtune, if you would like to see the halls Shaol and I can go below without you."
Raphtune smiled.
"Perfect," he replied quickly and swung his lantern away from the pair.
"You don't want to see the temples?" asked Shaol puzzled.
Raphtune did not replied and vanished into the next hall.
"I will show you a place we can get between fortress and whatever is below," said Hassa as she lit the lantern.
"Good," nodded Shaol.
"Raphtune is very interested in the fortress."
"Yes."
"Where is he from?" asked Hassa.
Shaol heard the tap of the pry bar on the tiles in the hall.
"Raphtune the Missing would never tell anyone that."
"Here take this, we will need it," said Hassa as she shone the lantern on a large hammer leaning against the wall.
"What is this?"
"A hammer to break apart the brick."
"Where did you get it?"
"We have all types of tools to maintain the fortress, this one was easy to find. If we need anything else we can fetch it then but this should do for now."
Shaol nodded and took the hammer in both hands.
Hassa ducked slightly as she entered the tunnel, the space only large enough for Shaol to walk through and nothing more. After a short while, the tunnel opened up into a space with a set of stairs that went up and one that went down. Hassa did not stop, she just turned and continued down another tunnel that sat next to the stairs. The tunnel turned to the left and continued until it came upon another set of stairs that only went down.
"Here," said Hassa leading the way down the stairs.
The air became thick, damp and rancid. Hassa held the lantern high and Shaol choked as he looked around the room at the bottom of the stairs. It was full of large, wooden barrels that had melted into themselves. Shaol walked up to the moist, lumps and pushed on the spongy remains of the wood.
"This is what lies beneath Tarlnath," said Hassa simply.
Shaol looked around at the walls made of soft orange brick.
"The wine has gotten to the mortar over here," said Hassa swinging the lantern over to a spot on the wall.
Shaol looked closely and saw the grey material between the brick had flaked and crumbled away. Hassa sat the lantern on the ground as Shaol tapped on the bricks with the large hammer. The mortar turned to dust and fell to the ground.
Shaol stood back from the wall and swung the hammer back. His chest burnt with a deep fire but he shook the pain away and brought the hammer down. The wall exploded into a cloud of orange and grey and when the dust settled there was a small hole in wall just large enough to see through. Hassa bent forward and looked through with her lantern.
"Hollow," she said, "just as I thought."
Shaol swung the hammer against the wall again, the brick crumbled. Soon, there was a hole big enough for them both to crawl through.
Shaol put the hammer aside and caught his breath, his chest continued to burn as he did took some deep breathes. He peered through the hole and beyond he saw rows and rows of squat, fat pillars disappearing into the distance. He grabbed the loose bric
ks and pulled himself through the small hole. Hassa passed the lantern through the gap and Shaol held it ahead into the darkness.
The pillars went on forever in every direction disappearing into the pure black under the fortress. Each only a few feet from the next, squared off and precise. Shaol's eyes swirled as he looked down the rows of identical pillars.
Hassa climbed through the hole and the large hammer in her hands.
"Where now?" asked Hassa.
Shaol tapped the floor with his boot, it was made of stone.
"The temples should be below us," said Shaol as he thought to himself, "like the scrap city is below the metal forest. If we have to make a hole above one of the temples, we can lower ourselves down from there."
"We don't know where they are," said Hassa looking out into the pillars.
Shaol swung the lantern around and looked around for some type of marking but each pillar was the same as the next. For a moment, Shaol saw the brown and gold feathers of Friend move between the stone.
"Over here," said Shaol.
"Wait," said Hassa as she pulled some rope from her belt, "we will get lost under here, this will bring us back."
Hassa tied the rope to metal bracket that had once held a wooden barrel together and the two started into the darkness. Shaol led the way using the occasional appearance of Friend's feathers as his guide until the light found Friend standing motionless between two pillars, she pointed below and was gone.
"Your Saquaari is shy," said Hassa as she saw the figure vanish.
Shaol moved to the space where Friend had stood.
"Here," he said as he put the lantern on the floor, "the temple should be below, pass me the hammer."
Hassa ignored Shaol, pivoted the sharp edge of the hammer in the cramped space and brought it down on the stone. The chamber echoed with the loud crack and Shaol winced as the sound hit his ears. The floor stone gave no sign of damage, it would not give way as easily as the wall. Another swing and the crack echoed again.
Shaol watched on in frustration as Hassa swung the hammer through the small space again and again. He wanted to be the one with the hammer, he was stronger, he would be able to get through the floor faster.
Hassa did not hesitate or stop as she swung at the floor. He was so close to what he had sought all this time and an energy was starting to build in him. Hassa brought the hammer down and the pillars echoed the cracked again.
Shaol shuffled his feet with a nervous energy when the stone finally split and a piece slipped away from the floor, fell a short distance and hit something in the darkness below. Shaol took the lantern and held it over the small hole, below was a large, white, slab of stone. In the dim light he could just make out the sides of the pyramid coming up to meet the roof.
"That's the temple," said Shaol falling back from the hole.
"We will need more rope," said Hassa.
"Can you get some?"
"Wait here."
Hassa put the hammer against a pillar, took the lantern in hand and left. Shaol watched the lantern walk the path marked by the rope between the pillars, he saw the dark orange of the brick wall and then the world below the fortress became black again.
Shaol put his back against the cold stone of the pillar, he felt his chest ache again and he thought of Aksit and his son, Shaol sighed to himself.
The burning eyes of Friend opened in front of him.
"We're here," said Shaol smiling into the darkness, "you will have your treasure and we can go home."
"Yes," said Friend with a cheer in her voice, "you have done so well, Shaol."
"Who is Sulla?" asked Shaol quickly.
Friend hesitated for a moment.
"Why do you speak of him?" she asked.
"Hassa says Sulla has spoken to her."
"Dead men cannot speak."
"You know him?"
"Yes."
"Did he build this city?"
"No one built this city," said Friend quietly, "Sulla does not speak to Hassa."
"The Grey Men have her, they're using their magics to drive her mad."
"What have they done?"
"They found her dying and using their powers they gave her a new life. They have even given back the tongue the Masters had taken and now they are poisoning her mind with visions of this Sulla."
Friend was quiet for a few moments.
"I can take Hassa from the city," said Friend finally, "nothing more."
"Has it taken another?"
"As it does."
Shaol felt a heaviness fell across his mind, pushing the joy of the victory away, he no longer wanted to speak.
"I hate this city more than you can know," said Friend forcefully, "if there was a way to end it, I would, but Tarlnath will stand when we are all dead, that is the way it will be and no one can change that."
"Hassa says there's a way," Shaol said to no one.
"Do you believe the mad visions of the Grey Men?"
Shaol paused.
"No," he said finally.
"So, we will go below and get what we need," said Friend, "then I will take all you can name from this city."
"Can I do anything for Hassa?"
"No."