After a short distance the tunnel opened before them into an immense cavern. The basalt ceiling was almost as tall as that of the Loritorium, hewn from the Earth itself and polished. Over the opening to a chamber deeper within the cavern was an immense arch on which words were inscribed. The letters, each at least as tall as a man, were in no alphabet that either of the Firbolg men recognized. The walls of the cavern were thick with ancient smoke and stained with the black streaks of soot from the fires of a forge or smithy. From this large central cavern tunnels ran in all directions.
The Grandmother stopped before the chamber and pointed a long bony finger at the massive inscription in the arch above it. “Let that which sleeps within the Earth rest undisturbed; its awakening heralds eternal night,” she translated. Again her speech came forth wordlessly in two different voices. Grunthor and Achmed shuddered inwardly with the memory of their walk along the Root that ran the length of the Axis Mundi. They had seen something that slept deep within the bowels of the Earth for themselves. Neither disagreed with the words of the inscription.
The Grandmother folded her hands again and eyed them seriously. “This place was known in its time as the Colony,” she said in her hissing, clicking language without words. “Before the end it was a city-state of 112,938 Dhracians. Extinguish your torch. I will show you the reason my ancestors built the Colony in this place.”
Achmed tossed the remains of the torch to the ground and stamped out its light. A plume of smoke rose in the cavern, to dissipate a moment later. The Grandmother turned and walked away into the chamber beyond the words of warning. The men followed her through the archway into the deepening darkness.
It took Achmed’s sensitive eyes a round moment to adjust to the darkness within the chamber, thick and palpable as liquid night. Just as they did the Grandmother struck something against the wall, sparking a tiny burst of light. Achmed saw that it was a spore like the ones they had used in their travels along the Root, a fungus that gave off light when friction was applied to it. The small light threw his focus off again, and it took another moment to adapt once more.
The elderly Dhracian woman climbed up a set of steps to an earthen slab and reached high above her head, then moved away as the light from the spore began to expand. Achmed and Grunthor could see after a minute that she had set it into a small lantern, a globe of muted light that hung from the ceiling of the chamber. With the aid of its glow they were able finally to see the room’s dimensions.
It was three-sided, with a passageway secured by massive iron doors that led back to the cavern from which they had come. The polished walls tapered up to a curved triangular point from which the globe was suspended on a long, tarnished chain. The walls of the chamber were utterly without ornamentation.
Beneath the globe was a large obsidian catafalque, a platform on which a coffin might rest. In the shadows cast by the globe it did in fact appear that a body was laid out on the catafalque as if it was lying in state. Achmed and Grunthor drew nearer.
The sleeper was like none they had ever seen before. While her body was as tall as that of a full-grown human, her face was that of a child, her skin cold and polished gray, as if she were sculpted from stone. She would have, in fact, appeared to be a statue but for the measured tides of her breath.
Below the surface of filmy skin her flesh was darker, in muted hues of brown and green, purple and dark red, twisted together like thin strands of colored clay. Her features were at once coarse and smooth, as if her face had been carved with blunt tools, then polished carefully over a lifetime. Beneath her indelicate forehead were eyebrows and lashes that appeared formed from blades of dry grass, matching her long, grainy hair. In the dim light the tresses resembled wheat or bleached highgrass cut to even lengths and bound in delicate sheaves. At her scalp the roots of her hair grew green like the grass of early spring.
“She is a Child of Earth, formed of its own Living Stone,” the Grandmother said softly, the delicate rhythms of her buzzing language more present on their skin than in their ears. Gently she ran a thin hand over a rough lock of the child’s hair. “In day and night, through all the passing seasons, she sleeps. She has been here since before my birth. I am sworn to guard her until after Death comes for me.” She looked up, her black oval eyes gleaming. “So must you be.”
The elderly woman rested her aged fingers on the child’s forehead, then climbed the steps next to the catafalque and extinguished the light. “Come,” she said, and left the chamber. The two Bolg stared at the stonelike face of the Earth Child as it receded into the darkness again, then followed the Grandmother.
When Rhapsody came out of the cave, the earth seemed disproportionately greener, the sky more intensely blue than when she had left. How many days have passed? she wondered. Two? Five? She had no idea.
She looked around her to try to get her bearings, plotting a course southeast. That route would take her to the forest edge of Tyrian, the kingdom of the Lirin, outside the borders of Roland, and, with any luck, to Oelendra.
Rhapsody made her way off the slippery rocks and down to the edge of the lake when something touched her arm.
“Rhapsody?”
She jumped in fright and instantly drew her dagger; her assailant was too close for the sword. Ashe held up his hands and took a step back.
“Sorry.”
Rhapsody exhaled furiously. “Will you please stop doing that? You’re going to give me a fatal fit.”
“I apologize, I really do,” he said, folding his hands passively. “I’ve been waiting here since you went in to make sure you came out again.”
“I told you I’d be fine.” Her breathing was almost back to normal when she heard Elynsynos’s voice in her memory.
And hear me: it is very close to here now, nearby. When you leave, be careful.
Beads of cold sweat appeared on her brow. The dragon couldn’t have meant Ashe, she thought. When she stopped to contemplate it, the prospect seemed impossible. He had been alone with her for weeks now. If he had meant to do her harm he would have had ample opportunity.
Unless he had reason to follow her.
“Rhapsody? Are you all right?”
She looked up into the hood, seeing nothing in the darkness. Then the memory of his face came back to her, the hunted, uncertain look in his eyes, and her reservations vanished.
“I’m fine,” she said, smiling up at him. “By any chance, do you know the way to Oelendra’s?”
“I know how to get to Tyrian.”
“Can you draw me a map? I’m heading there next.”
“Really? Why?”
Rhapsody’s mouth opened, then snapped shut again. “I’d like to see her—Elynsynos thinks I should. Maybe I can find some answers there, among the Lirin.”
Ashe nodded. “Could be. Well, as luck would have it, Tyrian is on the way to where I need to go next also. Shall I escort you there?”
“I’d hate to impose on you again,” she said uncertainly, remembering the conversation around one of their many campfires. She knew he must be anxious to return home to his lover who had been waiting for him all this time.
“As I just said, I’m on my way there anyway. It would be no imposition, and it would make me feel better knowing you’re in Oelendra’s capable hands. What do you say?”
“I say ‘thank you,’” she replied, checking her gear. “Well, then, shall we go?”
Ashe nodded and turned to the south, stepping easily over the slippery rocks of the reflecting pool that glowed with mist from the dragon’s cave. Rhapsody followed him around the shore of the lake, back to the sleepy glen, until the cave entrance was almost out of sight. Then she stopped and looked at it one last time.
“Goodbye, my friend. I love you,” she whispered.
The wind in the trees picked up slightly, caressing her face and the loose strands of her hair.
13
Rhapsody was like a child with a secret. She glowed for days following her visit with the dragon, though she
was hard pressed to explain why. Ashe had the impression she would have been forthcoming if she had been able, but that she was having trouble articulating what she had seen and felt in the cave.
As a result, the tone of their walk was vastly more cheerful than it had been recently, despite all the rain and mud they were now braving. She seemed to have forgiven him for his poor judgment at the Tar’afel, and alternately joked with him outrageously or walked in a comfortable silence that was brimming with excitement just below the surface. It was an heightened state that fascinated his dragon nature, causing it to become even more obsessed with her, as the human side was doing as well.
Occasionally, when they would stop for a meal or when sitting around their fire at night he would find her looking at him thoughtfully, as though she were trying to place the features she had glimpsed inside the darkness of his hood from memory. When she became aware that he was noticing this she would smile at him. Even though the smile she gave him was the same one he had seen her use naturally on other friends or acquaintances, he felt somehow that there was a special element to it that made it his alone, that was reserved for him. The effect it had on him made him glad of his near-invisibility.
After three days of traveling, through even more rain and mud, they came to a clearing. In the distance Rhapsody could hear the sound of falling water, but for some reason the direction was not easy to determine. She was convinced after a few minutes that they had been traveling in circles, and became sure of it the third time they passed the same filbert bush. She stopped in the middle of the forest path.
“Are we lost?”
“No.”
“Then why are you leading me in circles?”
Ashe sighed, and Rhapsody thought she heard a smile in his voice. “I forgot for a moment that you are Lirin. Anyone else would not have been able to tell.”
“Well?” There was a hint of annoyance in her voice.
He was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. I will explain when we get to our shelter.”
“Shelter?”
“Yes, there is a place here I thought we might camp for the night, a place we can both have a bath and at least one of us can actually sleep in a bed tonight. Both, if you’re willing.” The teasing tone was back.
“But it’s a place you don’t want me to be able to find again.”
Ashe sighed again. “Yes.”
Rhapsody sighed as well. “Would it help if I closed my eyes?”
He laughed. “That’s not necessary. Come, I’ll show you where it is.”
The noise of the water grew louder as they entered a grove of ash and flowering crabapple trees, the latter just beginning to bloom. Rhapsody was enchanted. She held aside a heavy branch and walked into the grove, turning slowly around as her eyes took in the delicate pink and white blossoms and the pale green of the new spring bark. The afternoon sun broke through the forest canopy, streaking the glen with shafts of light so heavy that she put out her hands, trying to catch it. The forest air was sweet, rich with the scent of recent rain.
“What a beautiful place,” she murmured. “I’m not surprised you’d want to keep it to yourself.”
Ashe smiled; she could hear it in his voice. “I don’t,” he said. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
“I’m not sure,” Rhapsody answered, still looking around. “I might be dreaming.”
“I don’t think so,” said Ashe. “I’ve witnessed your dreams, and I doubt they look anything like this.” Rhapsody winced. He was right, of course, but the reminder of how disturbing her night terrors were to other people flushed her with embarrassment. She resolved to try and sleep as far away from him as she could that night.
They went deeper into the glen, and the birdsong became louder, competing with the splashing noise of the water she had heard. Finally in the distance she caught a glimpse of a waterfall. It staggered down a hidden hillside in four different drops. The stream that made it ran in front of a deep gorge; it was gaining power as the rains that fed it swelled with the advent of spring.
“Let me see your boots,” Ashe directed. Rhapsody bent her knee and held up the sole of one. He nodded, seeming satisfied. “You’ll have to take my hand on this one, Rhapsody. The gorge is steep and the shale around the waterfall is extremely slippery. You don’t have a rough enough sole to maintain any purchase here. If you give me your hand I promise not to pick you up if I can avoid it.”
His tone was light, but Rhapsody knew his intent was serious; he was keeping his promise.
“What do you know about the roughness or smoothness of my soul?” she joked. “Are you the All-God now, too?”
Ashe laughed. She gave him her hand, noticing that he glanced at her wrist, as he always did whenever their hands were joined.
He led her into the water. “I’ve been accused of being many things, but that was never one of them.” They forded the stream, slipping only once. Rhapsody was glad to have his weight supporting her when she looked down over the second drop to the gorge below. He navigated them across the waterway and over to the other bank, where scrub and leafy vegetation flanked the rockwall of the hill. He held a large branch aside for her and stood back, letting her pass.
Rhapsody found herself in a hidden part of the glen, a place more dark than light. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust and when they did, she realized that there was a small hut there. It was made of stone and the roof seemed to be made of turf. The flora of the forest grew in and around it, making it difficult to see. It was free from any adornment, and had but one window and door. It was situated on the side of a large pool formed by backflow from the waterfall.
“Is this where we’re staying?”
“Yes. Is that all right?”
“I think it’s wonderful,” Rhapsody said, smiling up at him. “I never would have known it was here.”
“That’s the whole point,” Ashe said agreeably, taking her hand again and leading her over to the hut. “This is the only place in the world I can shed my cloak and be as a normal person, or at least the only place on land. I don’t wear it when I’m at sea, either.”
Rhapsody puzzled about his statement. If the mist from his cloak hid his vibrational signature so that he could not be detected, then it must be the water that occluded him from the sight of whatever power that could find him. She recalled Achmed mentioning something similar in his vibrational makeup when they had first traveled to Elysian. Things began to clarify in her mind; it was no wonder Achmed was uncomfortable around Ashe. Unlike the other people in the world, Ashe would not register on Achmed’s vibrational senses. The churning of the waterfall must have the same effect, along with being hidden against the gorge. Then a thought occurred to her.
“No, it’s not the only place,” she said excitedly. “You would be safe to take off your cloak in my house, too.”
Ashe shuddered visibly. “In the Cauldron? No, thank you.”
Rhapsody shoved him playfully. “My house is not in the Cauldron,” she said. “And it is even harder to find than this place, I’ll wager.”
“Really.” Ashe’s tone was noncommittal. He opened the door and held it for a moment, to allow the breeze from the forest to clear the air of the hut. Rhapsody looked inside.
It was a small room, with a single rumpled bed and a tiny fireplace. It had one doorless closet, separated from the room by a ragged curtain, which seemed empty of its contents, largely because they were scattered messily on the floor. Dishes were left on every horizontal surface, as well as socks and undergarments, one set of which hung from the coatrack, unwashed. Rhapsody’s eyes looked around at the disarray, astonished at the slovenly place.
“Gods. This is your room?” she asked in disbelief. “How do you fit in here?”
“Easily, for your information,” said Ashe defensively, but with a chuckle in his voice. “It’s just the right size for one person, and perhaps a nonjudgmental guest. All others can sleep outside, thank you.”
Rhapsody pushed him aside and went in.
There was no decoration to the place; it was completely without ornament, unless the filth counted. In addition to the bed there was a small table and an old, dilapidated chair with hideous upholstery, now worn to the nap. The smell of the dirty laundry was unpleasant.
“Well? What do you think?”
“I think what this place needs is a woman’s oversight—or a maid.”
Ashe laughed. “You are welcome to provide either service if you’d like.”
“I’ve worked as a maid. There’s no shame in it.”
“Certainly not,” he said. “I don’t think there would be shame in anything you’d do.” Rhapsody colored but said nothing. Shows how little you know, she thought to herself.
“On second thought, perhaps a flood would be more warranted.”
“I can arrange that, too.” He touched the hilt of the water sword. “Well, are you going to stay? It’ll cost you.”
Rhapsody turned to face him. “Oh? What’s the price?”
“An answer.”
“What’s the question?”
“There are two.”
“Go ahead.” Rhapsody folded her arms.
“Are you Cymrian, and if so, what generation? You said you don’t lie, so I know whatever you say will be accurate.”
Rhapsody lowered her head, considering. “All right, I have the answer to your question. Your first one, that is: the answer is no, I’m not going to stay.” She walked toward the door where he was still standing. Ashe put his hands out in front of him.
“Wait. I was just joking.”
“No, you weren’t. Stand aside.”
“I apologize,” he said as he stepped out of her way. He knew better than to try and block her exit. He watched as she walked to the pool and sat down beside it, pulling her pack from her shoulders.
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