Advent of Ruin (The Qaehl Cycle Book 1)

by Allene Lowrey

  “Shahin, it doesn’t matter what you do. Sooner or later those creatures will destroy us.”

  “Only if you let them. What can you tell me about mersa? Everything you know.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “So this building Fravardin called the Shrine. You say there was a bas-relief of a trident across one wall, and it was cracked.”

  Bahadur had been “given” to Jaleh as a research assistant, and she turned out to be far more talkative than Zareen ever had.

  “Corner to corner, yes.”

  “That’s troublesome, although it might go a ways to explain… what you experienced.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “That ‘shrine,’ and the wall in particular, are signs built to remind the old orders of priests of the location of the seals on Tchraja. I don’t think anyone alive knows how to read the clues, but if those seals are failing it’s possible the signs could be affected. I don’t really know if they knew some magic to tie them to the state of the seal they guarded. But if a seal breaks, it is conceivable that a portion of the final plague of scorpions – the tchraja – could be released in addition to some fragment of the god’s power.”

  “But, why would the gods create a seal that could fail?”

  “That I don’t know.” Her brows knit together as she tried once again to think what could be causing the failure. “Nothing in any of the literature I’ve found speaks of a time limit or condition for the seals’ decay, but so much knowledge was lost during the Migration that -”

  “The migration?” He knew the term, but he’d never figured out exactly what it referred to.

  “The time following the withdrawal of the gods from the world, before the founding of the city-states. You live with Scholar Javed. Surely you know the stories.”

  “Not as such, I’m afraid, other than that first one. Sanaz doesn’t like him talking about work.”

  “We may have to remedy that. Hm. Well…” She changed the subject abruptly. “Do promise me you’ll be careful out there?”

  “Of course… Say, how is it that you know so much about the seals?”

  “It’s a patronal line of research. Based on your story, I can only assume they’re looking for a way to keep them under guard.”

  “I hope you’re right. Do you know who the patron is?”

  “No. We never know who’s paying for our patronal work. We get better research requests that way.”

  Jaleh only looked like she was always lost in a daydream. She was, in point of fact, one of the most perceptive people Bahadur had ever met – and he had been a guardsman since he was old enough to enlist. He turned back to the page he was skimming for her, only to think of something else.

  “Say, Jaleh? Might I ask a personal question?”

  “You can always ask.”

  He rolled his eyes. “How did you end up here?”

  “Here? You mean, in Vidyavana, or more specifically here in time and place and method?”

  He smiled at that. “More specifically here, as a Loremaster and a member of Minu.” That was something he hadn’t learned until he was “gifted” to Jaleh; Minu was the name of the society. As a woman’s name, it was also a handy code word for the uninitiated.

  “That, I’m afraid, is nothing special. My father was an astronomer, and my mother an anatomist, in the Physiker’s guild. They made the mistake of taking me to a performance of one of the more esoteric stories about the Migration when I was younger than the Chèin’ii girl -”

  “Gita.” He didn’t think she was deliberately insulting Gita, just that they hadn’t had much contact.

  “Yes, Gita, that’s right. Anyway, something about the story struck me, some connection that even I don’t remember any longer, but I was convinced that there was more to those old stories than just the obvious morality plays and entertainment. My parents were horribly disappointed in me when I applied to the Loremasters, despite their best efforts to convince me the connection I thought I’d seen didn’t exist. Turns out they were right in that case, but by the time I figured that out I was a member in good standing, and there were enough other mysteries and connections in the old stories that I couldn’t just let it go. And so here I am. It didn’t take long before the cadre brought me into the fold – I was a prime candidate, and they didn’t want me to end up in the asylum. So, there you have it – the story of how I became a horrible disappointment to my parents… Oh! I was going to tell you the signs so you’d know them when you see them.”

  There was the wall, of course. That was by far the most common, and the longest-preserved marker. After that, and usually closer to the actual seal, the markers were highly dependent on who had maintained them and when. She had located one in Sakjhra, where he was set to leave for in the next week, which mentioned no iconography at all save a relief that sounded similar to what he had seen on the gates of Q’uungerab. Behind that relief was said to be a labyrinth from which no man had ever returned. Another, whose location she hadn’t been able to pinpoint, hid the entrance in a shrine used by followers of a philosophy long-dead and nearly forgotten, even here in Vidyavana. There were others, of course, but most of them she had yet to identify.

  “Oh, and Bahadur? If you see it, will you tell me if the seal at Sakjhra is intact? It would set my mind at ease.”

  “Gladly.”

  * * *

  Sakjhra, being more than a week’s ride out of Vidyavana and near no established roads, saw expeditions much less frequently than Kaddu Nagar. Those expeditions that were sent were also less heavily guarded, as the known nest of bandits did not typically operate this far north of the city. The Scholars, of course, still wanted enough guards and porters to do the heavy lifting for them. Kamboja was along again, and Feroze. Bahadur had been given the assignment by Jaleh; it seemed someone in the cadre had chosen him out specifically for this one.

  Unlike Kaddu Nagar, Sakjhra currently consisted of a large walled pit in the sand, at the bottom of which the skeletons of buildings could be seen. They staged from above, and descended into the pit by means of rickety ladders spaced along one edge. Feroze had been here once before; apparently the city extended under the sand a good distance. They were in the process of tunneling to see how far they needed to excavate.

  “Wait, you don’t mean…”

  “You’re not claustrophobic, are you?”

  “Tight spaces are one thing. Tunneling under loose sand is quite another.”

  Kamboja looked a little pale at the idea, too.

  “I expect the Scholars won’t want to go anywhere the excavation crews haven’t secured yet.” He was definitely laughing at them. “We should at least have a roof over our heads the whole time.”

  Bahadur glared at him, but only half-heartedly.

  The day after they arrived it was Bahadur’s turn to wave nonchalantly at the other two as they went down. Just as well that Zubin wasn’t along; he’d have been picked for certain, and he could do without another trip like that. He had watch duty during the first night and part of the second day, during which the only thing he really needed to watch for was disappearing shade and wavering attention. The desert around Sakjhra was perhaps the most boring stretch he’d ever needed to guard. Even the birds and lizards seemed to avoid this place, although that may have had something to do with the commotion around the pit. He actually found himself relieved when he was chosen on the third day, then wondered what that said about him.

  The ladders were just as rickety as they looked, and yet he had seen his fellows carrying parcels up on their backs yesterday and the day before. There was a pulley-lift arranged for any artifacts that could not be carried that way. They hadn’t put it to use yet, even though it would have been both safer and easier to use.

  The Scholars led the way into the tunnels, brandishing torches ahead of them.

  “There are lamps in brackets on the support poles,” Kamboja assured him as they entered. “It’s extremely well set up.”

  “Unlike K
addu Rakh, you mean, so I’m unlikely to find a boulder with my name on it here? Good. This might actually be enjoyable.”

  * * *

  The ruins of Sakjhra preserved far less, on the whole, than the ruins of Kaddu Nagar had for the simple reason that they were buried under shifting sand rather than swallowed up by a cave. Mainly this meant that the detail had been worn away, but in places there were other consequences. Trickles of sand cascaded continuously from tiny gaps in the temporary ceiling. Dung beetles infested entire rooms. The smell of grit in the air was everywhere. While he didn’t have to worry about falling rocks, he did need to worry about falling sand and how flammable those nests actually were.

  As they explored, Bahadur quietly noted the location of what looked like a bronze relief of Khubhranta battling a horde of scorpion demons. It could have been a duplicate of the one from the Ra-Vidhyaji gate. He thought if he looked closely enough he could see the join where it would open to reveal the labyrinth, but drawing attention to it seemed like a bad idea. He passed by, eyes open for anything else unusual that might be slightly less perilous.

  The day was not a waste for the scholars, either. Feroze called Bahadur over to help them clear a room of its infestation that turned out to be a storehouse of some kind, with urns and amphoras and other jars, most of them with faded scenes painted on them. Neither Zubin nor Fravardin had been as elated when he found the entrance to the rumored fifth city as Scholar Melqart was to find that storeroom. Bahadur nearly laughed to see a grown man’s eyes light up like a boy’s, but then it was all he could do to keep a straight face as the eyes of his boys came back to him in that same light. He excused himself from the room.

  Bahadur leaned against the wall of the storeroom, staring at the sand above. Serpents. I thought I was done with that. Strange how little things could bring it all crashing back down. At least when he was on the road like this he didn’t wake up expecting Anahita to be lying there next to him.

  “Hey. Everything all right?” Kamboja asked as he approached from down a side-passage.

  “It’s nothing to worry about.”

  “You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I suppose I did, in a way. Just remembering my family. …I never did tell you how I ended up traveling with someone else’s kid, did I.” He knew he hadn’t. Even when they’d gone out drinking, he’d avoided the subject. Kamboja shook his head.

  “Q’uungerab Pradesh was overrun by, …well, I think you know. I lost my wife and our two sons in the attack. Gita, the girl, was another survivor, saved by the same man that saved me… Must not have been a very good guardsman, eh? Couldn’t even protect myself, let alone my family.” His voice could have been coming from someone else’s mouth, telling someone else’s story. It was a thoughtful feeling.

  Kamboja had evidently not connected his nervousness in Kaddu Rakh with the destruction of his home, judging by how his eyes widened. “That’s… rough.”

  Bahadur shrugged. “A bit. It’s rougher if I’m not doing anything, though. Shall we look around a bit more? Scholar Melqart might be awhile. He’s a bit over the moon in there.”

  “Great. More stuff to pack up. I was actually sent to find people to help with a vault.”

  “Wonderful.” Bahadur rolled his eyes. “All right; let me make sure Feroze has this under control.”

  * * *

  Bahadur drew night watch again on the fourth full day of the expedition. If it was anything like the earlier night watch, it should be quiet. He settled down on top of some crates that gave a good vantage point and set to sharpening his kopis. The gentle scrape of the whetstone was comforting, a reminder of earlier days on watch at the gates of home as the moon rose high in the sky and illuminated the world in cerulean shadows.

  Long after he thought everyone but the watchmen asleep he caught movement out of the corner of his eye from within the camp. Someone was moving – no, two someones, now – towards the excavation through the tents. The way they walked suggested a definite mission more than a pleasant stroll, and the latrines were the other direction. He glanced around: good, there were other guards who could cover him. He approached one of them.

  “Something’s going on. I’m going to go check it out; if I yell, raise the alarm.” Bahadur kept his voice to a whisper. When the other man nodded, Bahadur clapped him on the shoulder and moved into the camp to follow the two mysterious figures. If the other guard was surprised to see him enter the camp, so much the better. It meant he would be on guard against anything coming from behind.

  The two didn’t even pause until they reached the edge of the pit, and then only long enough to locate a ladder and start down. Bahadur waited back in the shadows of a tent; they did not appear to realize they were being followed. Good. He waited until they should be down the ladder before crawling to the lip of the pit on his stomach and peering over the edge. There – they were headed for the softly glowing mouth of the tunnel. One of them paused, and a torch flared to life. They wouldn’t be seeing much beyond that, now. Down he went, taking care not to rattle the ladder any more than necessary. Are they intentionally being suspicious? Or are they just clueless? The walls of the ancient city made for wonderful terrain to sneak through, especially since he wasn’t carrying a light source and they were.

  Because of the lamps kept burning in the tunnel there were fewer shadows to hide in, but the two men in their bubble of brighter light were still intent on their goal. They didn’t appear to notice him as he sheltered in the dubious protection of corners along their route. After a very specific series of turns, Bahadur realized they were headed for the relief he had noticed earlier. Jaleh’s marker, which could have been made of bronze, except the sand would have worn away the details in the millennia since its burial. They had found nothing else of interest along that path.

  His stomach sank when they stopped in front of the relief. Nothing good could come of meddling with that. He was near enough now he could have made out their faces if they had not been veiled. The taller of the two figures pressed a short sequence of details on the relief – he thought he could duplicate it if he was careful – and it split down the middle silently, almost exactly where Bahadur expected it would. The version on the gates of Q’uungerab had been a faithful copy. The two figures stepped through, and Bahadur had a moment of panic as the shorter looked over his shoulder nervously. He ducked away too quickly to see the man’s face. When he ventured to look again they were out of sight, but the door still stood open. A lamp; I need a lamp. Do they come off? Yes, good. He dimmed it as far as he could without guttering the flame and ventured into the labyrinth Jaleh said no one had ever come back from.

  At every turning there was a pair of chalk marks – one for each exit used. They must have somehow acquired a diagram. How is there a diagram if no one ever makes it back? He had more important things to think about, though, such as what he was going to do if he ran into them unexpectedly.

  Their light glowed from around a corner in the maze. If he was lucky, his was dim enough they wouldn’t notice it. Bahadur crept forward so he could see without being seen and crouched against the wall.

  “Whatever you’re doing, can you hurry up? This place gives me the creeps.”

  It’s Feroze! Sounds like he doesn’t know what’s going on, either.

  “Just be patient and keep guard. This can’t be rushed.”

  Bahadur didn’t know that voice. He risked a glance around the corner. Feroze kept a dutiful if uncertain watch outside the doorway of another room while his companion did something from out of sight, within the chamber. It was a miracle Feroze hadn’t seen him already.

  Bahadur could see bits of the wall from the other chamber. They were carved with symbols he had never seen before. Feroze was right: this place was unnerving. Bah. I can’t see anything back here. Feroze is a reasonable sort.…

  “Hey.” He stage-whispered, hoping Feroze alone would hear. He could hear the other man’s footsteps on the rock only because he wa
s still and Feroze wasn’t paying attention. The footfalls paused at the entry, and he heard a scraping pivot at the same moment he found himself staring down the man’s crossbow. Bahadur held a finger to his lips as Feroze nearly dropped his weapon.

  “What are you doing here?” At least he had the good sense to whisper.

  “I could ask you the same thing. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. Scholar Aseem said there was something he needed to check immediately, before any of the others claimed it.”

  Fat chance of that.

  “Look, I’m supposed to kill anyone I catch. Just go back; I’m sure there’s no harm here.”

  Bahadur shook his head. “If you’re supposed to kill me for being here, that’s a lie. What’s he doing?”

  “He’s… building something, I think. With loose stones in the room. Please, go before he realizes you’re here.”

  “Which way is he facing?”

  Feroze risked a glance back. “The far wall. There’s a carved stone slab; he’s building… a model of some kind? …In front of it.”

  Bahadur crept forward and stuck his head all the way around the corner, using a hand on the ground for balance. The Scholar was assembling some sort of miniature building out of the loose stones in the room in front of a tiny, elaborately-carved stupa on a stone table. The pit in Bahadur’s stomach grew deeper. He drew back.

  Feroze arched an eyebrow. “Look, just get out of here and go sleep. We’re leaving as soon as he’s done whatever it is he’s doing.”

  “I’ve seen what I need to anyway. Thanks, Feroze.”

  “Don’t thank me, just go.”

  “What’s going on over there?”

  Serpents. He noticed.

  “Thought I heard something,” Feroze called back. “Must’ve been my imagination. Place has me on edge.” He lowered his voice again. “Go. If I have to shoot, I’ll try to miss.”