“Let’s start with Travid,” I suggested. “If he doesn’t know, then he can translate when we do speak with the captain. Don’t worry, lad. You will grow on him,” I said, encouragingly, as I watched his expression fall.
It turned out that Travid did, indeed, know of the place.
“The Cave of the Ancients?” he asked, surprised, when we approached him. “Actually, I know it well, I’ve had to shelter there, from time to time, with my patrol. Once in a snowstorm,” he added, with a chuckle. “The Melleray Kasari have used it forever. It’s only a few miles from here, but the climb is rigorous,” he said, looking at Gareth, doubtfully.
“We can manage a rigorous climb,” I assured him, before Gareth could respond. “It will just be a few of us. No wagons.”
“We can leave in the morning, if you want,” he shrugged. “I can show you the way there. But why would you want to see an old cave?” he asked. “Is it about the door?”
“The door?” Gareth asked, curious.
“Yes, there’s a big steel door in the very deepest part,” he revealed. “No one can open it. Smooth as glass and as hard as diamond. I don’t know how you’d open it, without magic.”
“We have means, I think,” I said, glancing at Gareth. “Visiting that cave is very important for our mission.”
“It is an odd place,” Travid agreed. “There’s a metal spire, at the top of the mountain, that we think is connected to it. And there are other places in the valley that seem related. But it’s been a big mystery.”
“It was built by the Ancients,” Gareth told him. “As the name implies. Before the Inundation of Perwyn, even. It was established to watch the land and warn of any eruptions or earthquakes for the original colony. They considered this valley to be dangerous.”
“They weren’t wrong,” he shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you how many earthquakes I’ve been through since I came here. What do you intend to learn, there, from a door?” he asked, curious.
“We’re hoping that there are some records hidden there from the early days of humanity on Callidore,” I explained. “This place is so remote that we’re hoping that they survived the downfall of Perwyn. Indeed, it was the Cave of the Ancients that convinced me to come on this mission.” The Kasari respected the concept of mission the way few missionaries did.
“Well, you couldn’t find it without our help. This place is riddle with caves, tunnels, and all sorts of strange things. If you go poking around the wrong one, well, it’s going to be a bad day,” he assured.
“We appreciate your gracious assistance,” Gareth said. I didn’t know how sarcastic he was being – Gareth was hard to read, especially without magic – but I could feel the tension between the young men. Tomorrow would prove to be fun.
“Just bring a sword and a bow,” Travid advised, giving Gareth another serious look. “We might need them. Bi Ullamh.”
Chapter Eleven
The Cave of the Ancients
Of all the wonders that Anghysbel has to offer, the most important, to my mind, was the Cave of the Ancients. It is treated with a certain superstitious skepticism by the local tribal savages, and occasionally used as emergency housing or resupply for the Kasari. The unexpected discovery of this lost trove from our Ancestors could well prove the most valuable boon of this expedition. I count this as the fulfillment of our quest, even if nothing else is discovered. Only a few of us have an appreciation for what a gift the Cave of the Ancients is, but I foresee it being celebrated as the biggest prize of the entire expedition.
from the Expedition Book of Anghysbel,
Recorded by Gareth of Vanador
The route to the Cave of the Ancients involved returning to the floor of the valley, riding north and a little west for a mile before taking a nearly hidden trail back up the steep slope just above a steaming lake below. It was a surprisingly well-made path, I noted, wide enough for a wagon and plenty wide for our horses. It was only when I noticed a portion of the cliff to our left had been shaven away, as if with a giant razor, that I realized that the route had been constructed for the purpose.
I’d chosen only Gareth, Lilastien, and Travid to accompany me and Forseti . . . but Nattia insisted on going with us. Apparently, she didn’t want her brother and her boyfriend to go off into the wilderness together, armed to the teeth, without her oversight. Considering the tension between the two, I could understand her perspective.
Gareth had armed himself with a mageblade and a crossbow, and at least looked competent if not entirely comfortable in how he wore them. He had changed a lot since he had come to Vanador. Lilastien was the only one relatively unarmed, contenting herself with a single dagger. She rode better than Gareth, who still sat on a horse like a sack of potatoes.
There was a minimum of chatter, as we advanced up the mountain. Travid rode ahead of Gareth and Nattia, while Lilastien and I followed behind. Forseti was strapped across Nattia’s saddle. I don’t think Gareth could have managed the extra load.
I appreciated the relative silence partly because of the view as we ascended. The valley spread out below us in verdant splendor, with little groves of trees dotting it, particularly around the frequent rocky outcroppings protruding through the rich soil. It looked like perfect horse country, even richer than the rolling hills of Callierd in the south. The ridges in the distance were a beautiful tapestry of color, against the deep green grasslands, pinks and purples, and blends of orange and brown and colors I had no ready name for.
And then there was the volcano. As we mounted the rise, we saw it for the first time in the distance. A gently tapered cone of purplish rock merrily belching smoke into the sky in the east. It dominated the skyline of the entire valley. Chimney Mountain, it was called, and according to the Kasari it smoked constantly and had for decades. It did make a striking addition to the vale.
“I’m so glad I came,” Lilastien confided, with a smile. “I’ve heard about the beauty and unique nature of this place for centuries. I’ve always wanted to come here, but I was always too busy. And then I was in prison. So, this is very lovely,” she sighed, gazing out over the cliffside at the green vale, the mountains, and the distant volcano.
“Why did your people not settle here?” I asked, curious. Usually you couldn’t keep the Alka Alon from settling down in the most beautiful spots in nature.
“The jevolar,” she explained. “We can endure the lack of magic, physically, but the social gestalt the Alka Alon enjoy can have grave effects on the weaker-minded,” she said, delicately. “It would drive some of us mad with loneliness, even if we were settled in a community. A few could survive for a longer period of time, and a very few pathological introverts might even enjoy it, but Anghysbel has always been a place to visit, not to live.”
“Hence it’s ideal location for a vault hiding things from the Alka Alon,” I agreed. “And the Vundel. This is about as far from the sea as you can get.”
“It wasn’t just the Vundel that caused us to put our vaults of forgetfulness here,” she corrected. “There are other . . . things on Callidore who would love to get ahold of the secrets stored there. Which is why the Nemovorti sent their expedition.”
“I’m concerned about that,” I admitted.
“You should be,” she said, grimly. “I’m hoping they lose themselves in the wastes, to be candid. But we should be wary of them. The only good thing is that we have some allies, here, and they are just as deprived of magic as we.”
Just about then we came across a giant boulder obscuring all but a few feet of the path. It was the result of some old rockslide, and nearly blocked the path entirely. There was a very narrow path that led between the boulder and the cliff face. We had to be very careful as we led the horses around it. That was a long way down.
The entrance to the cave was just a hundred yards on the other side of the boulder. It was under a natural overhang next to a surprisingly wide, nearly level section of ledge, just a single acre that would have made a decent vegetable garden or pa
sture, it was so flat and grassy.
The view was even more stunning from the ledge. We had climbed high enough to gain an admirable perspective on the valley below. There was a gorgeous lake stretching to the north, below us, and it steamed like a cauldron. Beyond that were rolling hills and forests, an even larger lake in the distance to the southeast, surrounded by meadows, woodlands, and the odd rocky outcropping, all magnificently framed by the distant ridges that surrounded the vale.
“It seems an odd place to put a pasture,” Gareth pointed out, suspiciously, as he dismounted.
“That’s because it’s actually an aircraft landing stage,” Lilastien explained. “That way they could directly re-supply the installation without going overland. It’s more efficient. You can see where they built supports around the edge,” she pointed out. “Then they went out of their way to disguise their true nature.”
“Was this a clandestine base?” I asked, surprised when I realized she was correct. There were several places that I could see had clearly been artificially constructed, and then made to look like natural rock.
“Clandestine?” Lilastien asked. “No, not intentionally. Or at least not for nefarious purposes. Your ancestors were very concerned about disturbing the natural beauty of a place like this. They declared this a parkland, actually, and forbid any permanent settlement here, lest they spoil the experience of its allure. There was a holiday resort here, for a few decades, just before the Inundation. But they recognized the danger of trying to live here permanently, and tried to preserve the place’s beauty for future generations.”
“The entrance is here,” Travid said, confidently, as he hobbled his horse. “The horses can graze out here while we go look at the steel door. I don’t think we’ll be leaving them out here long enough to attract predators, and they wouldn’t like it inside the cave.” Clearly, he was skeptical about our ability to challenge the door.
“It doesn’t look like much,” Gareth said, doubtfully, as he examined the entrance. It was about thirty feet wide, and twelve feet tall at its irregular peak. Plenty wide enough to drive a wagon through.
“It’s a cave,” shrugged Travid. “Were you expecting a couple of garish statues and a forbidding entrance?”
“It’s called the Cave of the Ancients,” Gareth replied, evenly. “I just figured that there would be something . . . Ancient about it.”
“There’s a sign, inside,” Travid said, as he drew his bow. “Will that satisfy you?”
“Depends on what it says,” Gareth answered, gruffly.
“Will you two just . . . stop this?” pleaded Nattia, a note of disgust in her voice, as she set Forseti on the ground. The machine moved forward and backward a few inches to test its wheels, then rolled forward toward the entrance.
“Come on,” Travid urged, instead of answering his sister. “Let’s get this over with.” That produced an eye roll in his sister that Ishi, herself, would have envied.
The grass stopped growing about six feet within the dark expanse of the cave. Indeed, it proved to be more tunnel than cave, although it was clear it had begun as a naturally occurring cavern. But about twenty feet into the mountain the rough walls of the cavern transformed into the same sort of smooth rock face that I had noticed on the trail.
“How did they cut the stone without magic?” I asked, intrigued.
“With a fusion-powered laser, more than likely,” Forseti supplied as he rolled into the cavern without the slightest bit of caution. “That was the standard excavation tool for the colonists for such underground installations.”
“Let’s stop so that I can light a fire,” Travid said, as the tunnel got darker. “We need to light a torch. We won’t be able to see much, beyond here. Unless you’d like to start the fire, Gareth?” he asked, in a challenge.
“No need,” Forseti said, rolling forward, forestalling the inevitable argument between the boys. “I have sufficient power to provide illumination. For a short time.” A bright light suddenly shot out from Forseti’s “head,” projecting a cone of brilliant light ahead of us. There was a stack of firewood and a sealed earthenware bottle against one side of the wall, as well as a few well-wrapped bundles.
“Emergency supplies,” Travid explained, without prompting. “Bi Ullamh. The sign is just up ahead,” he assured, as Forseti rolled ahead of us with his light.
Sure enough, on the left wall a large, perfectly scripted sign in Old High Perwyneese declared the nature of the cave.
Dr. Hugo Unger Station for Geophysical Studies
For the Northwestern Reserve Active Caldera Zone
“UNGER STATION”
aka: The Edge of Nowhere
Jointly Funded by the Colonial Terraformation Authority, the Colonial Geophysical Society, and the Callidore Science Foundation CY 39
“This seems to be the place,” Forseti declared, as its light – brighter than magelight – splashed across the darkened sign. “There should be some sort of entrance ahead.”
“There is,” Travid said, with a sigh. “A big steel door that never opens.”
“I have the colonial override codes,” Forseti said, as he moved forward with determined efficiency. “As long as there isn’t any physical damage, I should be able to secure entry.”
“Maybe my command of Old High Perwyneese is rusty,” confessed Gareth, as he followed the machine, “but why did it say this was ‘the edge of nowhere’?”
“A common idiom of the colonial language was ‘the middle of nowhere’,” Forseti supplied. “The edge of nowhere implies that we are beyond that point. It is an apt perspective, considering that the colonial habitable zone only extends another thirty miles beyond this point to the north. We are, indeed, at the edge of the colony.”
“And the edge of nowhere,” Lilastien agreed. “This place is remote, no matter who you are. Or where you are coming from. I do love the humani sense of humor.”
Another forty feet ahead, we came to the end of the tunnel. And the steel door we were warned about.
It was at least ten feet tall and twenty feet wide, when we finally came upon it. It was as smooth as glass, as Travid reported. There were no windows or any other characteristic to mar the surface. Indeed, it seemed as pristine as when it was placed there. But it was a definitive end of our journey, unless Forseti could persuade it to open.
“See? Impenetrable,” the ranger declared, as we arrived at the portal. “It’s thicker than a knight’s armor. We’ll never get through there,” he said, confidently.
“Is it?” Gareth asked, skeptically. “Forseti, see if you can open it.”
“It may take a few moments, if the equipment is damaged,” warned the machine. “But there is a standard manual override mechanism if that’s the case. The colonial government did not leave much to chance.”
“Tell that to Perwyn,” muttered Lilastien.
The little chariot rolled up to the base of the wide doorway and halted. It seemed to be doing . . . something, although I could not identify exactly what. But a distinctive hum arose a few moments after Forseti began its attempt. Then a vibration. We all watched breathlessly as the big steel door vibrated . . . and then began to open, sliding up into the roof of the tunnel. A hiss of escaping gas was emitted by the doorway as it rose creakily . . . and then stopped, less than half-way up.
“That appears sufficient,” Forseti proclaimed, and then rolled under the door and into darkness.
“What’s that smell?” Nattia asked, making a face.
“It was standard procedure to fill a sealed facility’s atmosphere with an inert gas to preserve it and prevent oxidation,” explained Forseti, from beyond the door. “I will attempt to access the environmental controls shortly to vacate any remnants. But it is not dangerous,” he promised.
“Bugger! He actually got it open!” Travid said, his expression surprised and shocked. “Let’s go in!”
“That seems premature and reckless,” Gareth replied, anxiously, as he shuffled toward the half-open door.<
br />
“Don’t be such a little girl,” chided Travid, with a snort, as he pressed forward, then ducked under the door. “Mae sgowtiaid yn ddewr. It’s fine! Just a bit stuffy. Are you coming, Nattia?” he called.
Even more surprisingly the dark expanse under the steel door suddenly lit up, and then lights overhead activated, bathing the entire darkened tunnel in an eerie glow. It was sudden and bright enough to sting my eyes. Magesight would have reduced the effect, but I didn’t have magesight. So I blinked a lot.
“Oh! I’m so glad he got it open,” Lilastien praised. “And there is still power. That’s a surprise. I didn’t really think he’d be able to open it after all this time,” she confessed.
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “Then why did you come?”
“In case he did,” the Sorceress said. “I wouldn’t want to miss this. It’s a credit to your people that this still worked, after all these years. Most of your tekka was designed to last two centuries, or less. But I suppose that they constructed this facility more robustly than most,” she said, as she, too, ducked under the door. “Probably just needs a bit of lubricant,” she said, from the other side.
With a sigh, I followed her. And stepped back centuries into the past.
The tunnel beyond the steel door was wholly different from the preceding tunnel. The region behind the door was lit with a glaring, stark white light, and was distinctly from our past, not our present. As my eyes adjusted to the sudden glare, when I stood upright again, I was transported. There were no bricks in the wall, nor even the smooth face of rock; instead, there were panels of white, taller than a man and twice as wide, covering the walls and ceiling. The floor was completely level, as hard as stone. Not even tiles or flagstones, I noted.
Indeed, the spacious bay in which we found ourselves was entirely different than anything in my experience. Two familiar-looking vessels were stationed at the edge of the door, mere feet in front of me, as Forseti whipped between them. I recalled the form that presented itself before me, as my eyes adjusted. There were two of the six-wheeled chariots that Lilastien had called “a beast.” The steel-clad steed of the Ancients, when they eschewed travel by air. They were large enough to carry eight people and cargo, and were once used for research and exploration.
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