by Phil Tucker
Chin raised, shoulders thrown back, he really seemed to be taking to his new role as royal prince. Despite the dawn coolness, however, a bead of sweat was running down his temple, and Acharsis could see him clenching and unclenching his jaw. Every few moments he’d glance sidelong at Ahktena beside him.
She only stared straight ahead.
Acharsis wanted to sigh. Though it was but dawn, he already wanted a drink. Was he proud of how Elu looked? So very much a young and determined warrior?
Conflicted. That was the word, the obvious, terribly obvious word. Conflicted. His son. Elu, Kenu’s son. Did he love him? Of course not. But he wanted him to succeed. To do well. To be happy? Even if that happiness came at his own expense? Sure. But then, was that not love?
Acharsis gripped the hilt of his own sword and raised his eyes to the tops of the columns. Come on, he thought. Light up and save me from these ruinous ruminations.
The lamassu were barely visible. They were facing inward, staring down at the center of the plain of sand, wings furled, as motionless as the gate statues back in Magan. Acharsis fingered the golden clasp he’d strung around his neck. Would it work? It was his most powerful ward yet. Direct from a god-like lion-thing. It had to work. Else they were doomed.
A cry went up, torn from thousands of throats, and Acharsis looked up to see that the lamassu had raised their wings, extended them fully high above them so that they caught the sun’s first beams, their feathers glinting bronze and gold, shot through with lines of crimson and edged in white. He heard Jarek shift his weight beside him; wanted to make some kind of joke to break the tension, but nothing came to mind.
“Now what?” whispered Sisu from behind.
The ground shivered. The crowd cried out, but not in fear. More like wonder and joy. The ground shivered again, and then shook, and the sand in the center of the open space began to dance, then fall as if narrow ravines were opening up beneath the surface. Four lines, a great square, the sand hissing audibly as it cascaded into the widening depths, and then the area between those four lines began to rise.
“By Alok,” whispered Jarek, his voice barely audible over the growing rumble.
Acharsis wanted to press forward, push past Elu so that nothing obstructed his view. The ground was rising, a huge square easily two hundred yards long on each side. The exterior of the cube was unremarkable, rough brown rock, but here and there a massive grating of bronze was embedded within its side, and from these gratings more sand poured forth like dull waterfalls.
The crowd was chanting, falling to their knees, arms raised in an ecstasy of supplication. The ground quivered underfoot. The cube continued to rise, gradually but steadily, until finally it cleared the ground and rose into the air itself.
There were no mechanisms. No support struts or other visible means of raising the huge block of stone.
“By Ekillos,” whispered Acharsis. “Magic? Sorcery? What is this?”
Ahktena looked over her shoulder at him, lips curved into a supercilious smile. “Behold the entrance to the netherworld: the cube of the lamassu, a sign of their power made manifest in our world. What have your gods ever done that is so grand?”
The cube was still rising, higher and higher until it finally stopped some fifty yards above the pit it had left below. The last of the sand poured out from the bronze grates, and as the fine dust cleared, Acharsis saw a golden disc affixed to each side like vast eyes; concentric circles covered in Maganian glyphs even created the appearance of sclera, irises, and pupils.
“The cube spins,” said Ahktena, just loud enough for them all to hear. “Four gates are currently available. Four teams will be able to enter straight away. After a short while, the gates below and above the cube will move into the horizontal, allowing the last two teams to enter. As I said, our future pharaoh must be lucky, and thus gaining access to the first four gates is the first test.”
The head priest with his golden mask moved forward into the ring of columns, where he praised the lamassu and called out a sermon of some sort in Maganian for a mercifully short amount of time. Then he raised his staff and cracked it down on the sands, prompting the other five teams to move forward and approach him.
“A simple test,” said Ahktena to Elu, touching his arm. “You must draw one of the long straws. Come. The Quickening begins!”
Acharsis fought the urge to turn and survey the crowds as he followed Elu and Ahktena out onto the sands, and instead gave Annara a quick and reassuring smile. She could only manage a tight, pursed one in response.
Two other teams had already reached the priest; both leaders pulled long straws. Elu stepped up to try his luck, and Acharsis watched intently as his son plucked a straw from the priest’s hand.
A long one.
Kish laughed in relief, and Acharsis squared his shoulders, nodding in approval to Elu as his son returned to them, fighting to suppress a grin.
A few moments later, the last straws had been plucked and the two unfortunate teams stepped back, doing their best to hide their dismay and disappointment.
The head priest took a hammer from an acolyte, raised it high for all to see, then called out a phrase and swung the hammer at a gong the acolyte only just raised in time. The brassy peal rang out across the sands, and immediately four teams of slaves ran forth from the crowds carrying long ladders on their shoulders.
“Come!” said Ahktena. “We must get into position!”
She strode away, Elu rushing to keep up, and led them back to the edge of the plain. Their ladder team embedded the ladder’s legs in the sand. Two slaves ran on, thin cords snaking back over their shoulders to the ladder’s top, growing ever tauter until the ladder itself suddenly jerked up, pulled toward the vertical even as the other slaves pushed and guided its ascent from its base. With majestic grace, it rose to tower into the sky.
Acharsis almost tripped as he tried to hurry sideways and keep an eye on the ladder; slaves with forked poles pushed from behind while the two from the front hauled on their ropes, and the ladder reached a perfect verticality before toppling over the far side. A second set of ropes - attached to its top and extending back toward the crowd - went taut as two other slaves arrested its fall, and it was lowered to bounce against the cube’s side just shy of the great golden eye.
Another of the four ladders was not so fortunate; it hit the cube at an angle and slid down the stone face to collapse sidelong onto the sands below. The slaves shouted in terror and rushed to pick it up.
“I shall go first, Senacherib,” said Ahktena, moving to the base of the ladder. “It shall fall upon me to open the golden seal. Follow as the ladder allows!”
With that she began to climb, moving quickly and with confidence up toward the distant eye. Acharsis realized that of course they’d have to climb this flimsy ladder; fortunately, the slaves that held the top ropes had run out to opposite sides to hold the ladder in place. Still. Watching the ladder flex and bounce beneath Ahktena’s lithe form was incredibly disconcerting.
Elu waited until Ahktena was halfway up and then followed, climbing fearlessly. Acharsis peered up, hands on hips, and watched as Ahktena reached the circular entrance. She leaned back to take it in, head turning from side to side as she examined the huge glyphs.
“I’ve got to admit,” said Jarek, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We’d be done for already without her. I’d have no idea how to open that thing.”
“True enough,” said Acharsis. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Or him.” He looked to where Haremhab stood, dressed in leather armor and a white skirt, watching his mistress intently.
When Elu reached the halfway point, Haremhab went to follow, but Annara reached the ladder first. She shot him a warning glance then turned to climb, her natural athleticism displaying itself as she quickly ascended, spear held lightly in one hand. Acharsis tried not to stare, but it was impossible to tear his eyes away from her toned thighs.
“There!” Sisu stepped up and pointed. The large outer c
ircle of the eye had begun to turn, dust sifting down from its inner edge, gleaming and glimmering as the dawn light hit its upper quarter.
“Fascinating,” said Kish.
“I’ll go next,” said Sisu, “being the lightest. Look how the ladder’s bending.”
The poles were indeed sagging. Still, Sisu began the climb, testing each rung and watching the poles beneath his hands as they supported him.
“Second circle’s moving,” said Jarek, squinting upward. “The first one’s still spinning, too.”
“What is it, I wonder?” Acharsis itched to get closer, to examine the golden seal in person. “A riddle written on each circle? A religious test?”
Sisu’s progress stalled as he reached the halfway mark; the ladder was now sagging precariously under his weight, so that he moved slower and slower, then stopped.
“Keep going!” yelled Kish. “It’ll hold your weight better at the top!” She hesitated, then turned to Acharsis. “Won’t it?”
The ladder that had slid off the cube had been repositioned, and once more the slaves ran forward. Acharsis watched as they repeated the process, and this time the ladder fell squarely on the rock face and held. The fourth team rushed to begin their attempt at the climb.
“Third circle’s moving,” said Kish. “First two are still spinning.”
“Look,” said Jarek. “The second ladder, over there. They’re all going up.”
“Must have opened the seal first,” said Acharsis. “Damn it. Come on Ahktena. Hurry!”
Three distinct clicks echoed down to them, and then the central pupil dilated, disappearing into the second circle, which retracted into the third, and then the fourth. This final, outer band withdrew into the rock face, and a shadowed circular opening was revealed, leading into the cube.
“Hurry!” Kish darted forward and grabbed the ladder. “Go, Sisu! Hurry!”
Ahktena, Elu, and Annara disappeared into the entrance, and moments later Sisu hauled himself in behind them. Kish practically ran up the ladder, but when Haremhab stepped forward to go next Jarek interposed himself, bristling. The ladder practically bounced under Jarek’s weight as he climbed, leaving only Acharsis and Ahktena’s man.
When Jarek disappeared within, Acharsis gave the warrior a mocking half-bow. “You first. I’m strangely not eager to test this ladder.”
Haremhab nodded his thanks and began to climb. Acharsis studied the other two teams - they’d made no progress yet, both groups waiting anxiously at the ladder’s base and staring upward.
Haremhab was halfway up, the ladder bending alarmingly beneath the combined weight of his lanky form and his flail, when Acharsis took a deep breath and moved forward. The first dozen or so rungs were easy, but the higher he went the springier the ladder became. Within moments he was ten yards up, then twenty. He fixed his gaze on the aperture above, and when Jarek appeared to grab hold of the ladder’s top he grinned in relief. Not that he’d really believed Haremhab would send the ladder sliding and sabotage their team, but still.
Up he went, the crowd below growing ever smaller as he ascended, the cube more massive, until finally he reached the aperture and climbed over the stony lip, hands reaching out to grab his arms and help him inside.
The chamber inside was large and the walls still bore the marks of the chisels that had carved it free. There was a bleak severity to its scale and lack of ornamentation. Acharsis couldn’t make out any source of light, but there was an indistinct golden glow that hung in the air that allowed him to see to the room’s far depths, where a tall doorway led deeper into the cube.
“Well,” he said, rubbing his hands and stepping forward. “Here we are. But where’s the test? Do the lamassu wish to see if we can cross rooms?”
Ahktena was biting her lower lip. “Everything within the cube is a test. Supposedly. We just haven’t noticed how we’re being tested yet.”
Kish drew her hammer and swung it around once by its thong before catching it in the palm of her hand with an audible smack. “Well, this is a race, isn’t it? Let’s get going.”
Jarek and Haremhab moved up alongside her, and together they began to walk into the room. Acharsis and Sisu brought up the rear, with Ahktena, Annara and Elu in the center. A thousand questions thronged Acharsis’ mind: about the origins of this cube, its place in Maganian theology, the powers that sustained it, who had wielded the chisels that had hollowed out this room - but he bit them back and instead focused on searching for signs of danger.
A rumbling, crackling sound came from the far end of the room. Everybody froze. From a dark slit that spanned the breadth of the ceiling above the doorway, a crimson glow appeared, rapidly followed by molten rock that flowed down in a thick curtain to begin pooling on the ground.
“What is that?” asked Elu. “Solid fire?”
“Lava,” said Jarek. “I used to dream of it when communing with Alok. It flows about the bones of the world, like the blood within our bodies. Liquid rock, hotter than fire.”
The lava continued to fall from the slit, a lumpen curtain of deep burgundy shot through with streaks of lurid crimson. The surface was cooling into ash-colored rock, Acharsis realized; a thin skin that broke over and over again as the lava flowed toward them, giving off a stink of rotten eggs. Sweat began to prickle across his brow as the heat in the room rose, and the ceiling and walls glimmered as they reflected the crimson light.
“All right,” said Elu, voice shaking even as he fought for command. “How do we get past this, then? There’s one door, and the lava stretches from wall to wall.”
“We have to jump it!” Kish turned to them. “Look! It’s only four yards—though we have to go fast, or—”
“Jump it?” asked Sisu. “Only four yards?”
“Can we run over it?” asked Acharsis, turning to Jarek. “Move so quickly that it doesn’t burn us?”
“It’s flowing too fast. You’ll roast the soles of your feet, maybe burn your whole foot if it punches through.”
“There has to be a solution,” said Ahktena, voice rigid with control. “No test is impassable.”
Acharsis moved toward the lava. It was at least a foot deep and flowing quickly, too far already for even Kish to leap over. The room was sweltering now. If they couldn’t go through the lava, perhaps they had to evade it? “Search for a secret door in the walls! There might be another way through!”
Everybody ran to the walls and began rapping their weapons on the rough rock or feeling with open hands. Jarek leaped a few times to crack his hammer higher up. Acharsis fumbled over the blank stone like a blind man, grimacing as the heat continued to rise. The lava had filled half the room already.
“Come on, come on,” said Kish, battering at the wall as she moved down its length.
“What if we’ve missed our chance to find the door?” asked Sisu. “What if we hesitated too long and now it’s too late?”
Elu stepped into the center of the room and faced the lava. He shook his head, eyes wide. “I can’t fail so quickly. We’ve just entered this damn cube. I can’t leave already!”
Annara stepped up beside him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression focused, calm. “This is a test. You must display the qualities of a ruler to pass it. You’re faced with impossible odds; a foe you can’t reason with, deceive, or bribe.”
“It’s lava,” snapped Elu. “Of course I can’t —”
“On the evening of the world’s first day, Scythia walked into the Primeval Forest in search of the demon Olaku. When she found him, he smiled at her, and spread his arms and became a thousandfold. An army of demons. Impossible odds.”
Everybody had clustered behind Elu and Annara. They were all slowly walking backward, the great portal to the world outside now only yards behind them.
“Your myths have no bearing here!” said Ahktena. “This is a Maganian trial—”
“And Scythia laughed, for she knew herself to be a goddess, immortal as long as she had faith in her own divinity. So she
stepped forward and cut down the foremost Olaku. The nine hundred and ninety-nine other demons disappeared in the flash of an eye, and Olaku himself lay dead at her feet.”
“Mother,” said Elu. “We can’t cut down this lava—”
“Know yourself to be divine, my son.” She smiled at him. “Have faith in yourself, just as I do.” And so saying, she stepped forward and into the lava.
“Mother!” screamed Elu, reaching for her just as Acharsis lunged to grab her hand. It was too late. Her foot sank down to the ankle into the lava, smoke rising in a hiss, and then she took a second step forward and the lava disappeared.
Annara stumbled, caught her balance, then covered her face and gave a weak laugh. “Oh, thank you, Scythia.” She turned to them, tears in her eyes. “That was terrifying.”
Acharsis stepped up to join her, gazing down at the now-barren floor, then ahead to the dark slit above the door. “An illusion?”
“But the heat,” said Elu. He wiped a hand over his brow and stared at the gleaming dampness on his fingers. “The smell?”
“Your first test,” said Ahktena. “And you passed it.”
“No,” said Elu. “My mother did.” He stared at her in wonder, shaking his head in amazement.
“No,” said Ahktena. “She is part of your team. She is one of your strengths. You chose her. Thus, her success is yours. You passed. A pharaoh cannot best every individual in his empire at every skill and task. Instead, he is the sum of all their strengths, and his ability to marshal them to the benefit of Magan is his true responsibility.”
Kish grinned. “Luck, the entrance, and now this lava. That’s three tests down. On to the fourth?”
“On to the fourth,” said Elu, pushing his shoulders back. “Come.”
He marched down the length of the now-cool chamber and approached the far door. Acharsis wrapped his arm around Annara’s waist and gave her a squeeze, and her eyes gleamed with emotion as she glanced up at him, a tremulous smile on her lips.