Hadon of Ancient Opar

by Philip José Farmer

  They went along a hall carved from granite, past cells, most of which were empty, and halted before the last door at the end. A turnkey unlocked it while the thirty guards held their spears ready. That their escorts were so many indicated that the prisoners must be thought dangerous indeed. But when he saw a giant figure in the darkness at the rear of the room, he knew what generated the fear.

  “Welcome, cousin!” a familiar voice boomed. “Come in and enjoy Kwasin’s hospitality!”

  18

  The guards withdrew, and the only light was that which traveled weakly from torches at the far end of the hall. Kwasin said, “You will be able to see better soon, though not much better. Forgive me if I do not as yet approach you, cousin. I am chained to the walls, chained with iron, not bronze. The first time I was put in a cell, in one on the floor above, I broke the bronze chains and killed four men before they beat me unconscious. I awoke here, locked in iron.”

  “When did they catch you?” Hadon said.

  “They didn’t. I got across the river after killing the ten men who ran after me, and I hid in the hills. But I was hungry, so I stole a calf from a peasant’s yard. As ill luck would have it, the peasant’s daughter attracted my attention. I carried both her and the calf off into the woods, and I satisfied myself with both of them. But the bitch took advantage of me when my back was turned and raised a great bump on my head with my own ax! When I awoke, I was bound, and soldiers were cursing and puffing as they carried me off down the hills. That may be the Ax of Victory, Paga, but it carries bad luck with it.”

  “Perhaps it does,” Paga said. “But in this case, it was stupidity and lust, not an ax, that got you captured.”

  “Do not think that because I am chained I cannot get at you, manling. I have loosened the bolts from the walls, and I can walk to the door whenever I choose. Are the guards all gone?”

  Hadon said, “As far as I can see.”

  There was a screech of metal pulling loose from stone. His chains clanking, Kwasin began walking about.

  Hadon explored the chamber, his eyesight having become adjusted to the dim light, as Kwasin had said it would. It was cut out of granite to form a room thirty feet wide, sixty feet long, and about fifteen feet high. A faint breeze came from a hole in the ceiling.

  “The air shaft is large enough to accommodate you, Hadon,” Kwasin said. “But getting to it is another matter. Besides, I was told that about ten feet into it is a bronze grille that would stop you if you did get that far.”

  “We will see about that,” Hadon said. He found a dozen old blankets smelling of mildew, a great vase of water, six clay cups, and six chamberpots. And that was all. Kwasin, questioned by Hadon, said that he had been fed only twice a day. During that time, the chamberpots were replaced with empty, though not always clean, pots, and the water supply was replenished.

  “They will come with the second meal in a few hours or so,” Kwasin said. “I’m not sure of the time, since I’ve lost all sense of it.”

  “We might as well see now if we can get one of us into the shaft,” Hadon said. “If you will be the base, Kwasin, I will stand on your shoulders as the second story of the human tower. Then Kebiwabes, who is the next tallest, can climb up us.”

  “But even if I could do that,” the bard said, “how do I get up into it? And what about the grille?”

  “I will lift you up, throw you if I can, so you can brace against the walls of the shaft,” Hadon said. “I want you to find out just what is above. Perhaps the guards were lying when they told Kwasin that there was a grille there.”

  “But I might fall!”

  “Then you will die a day or two sooner. And be thankful, since you will escape the torture.”

  “I am a bard. My person is sacred.”

  “Is that why you are in jail?”

  Kebiwabes groaned and said, “Very well. But I fear that the songs of a great artist will die before birth in this dismal cell.”

  “That is up to dread Sisisken,” Hadon said. “She is mistress of the underworld, and surely she is unhappy with Minruth and the worshipers of Resu.”

  Kwasin braced himself below the hole. Hadon backed to the door and then ran forward. Using as a springboard the back of Paga, who was on all fours, he leaped up onto the shoulders of the giant. Kwasin clamped his hands around Hadon’s ankles. Hadon wavered for a moment, then recovered his balance.

  “Not so tight, Kwasin,” he said. “You are cutting off the blood.”

  Paga and Hinokly lifted Kebiwabes as high as they could. He took hold of Hadon’s waist and began to climb up Hadon’s body. Twice Hadon almost fell with him, but he managed to keep his balance until Kabiwabe’s legs were around his back. There the bard stuck, unable to go any higher.

  “You will fall, Hadon, and I with you.”

  Kwasin rumbled, “Get on up, bard, or I’ll smash your head against the wall.

  Kebiwabes groaned and inched on up. With a convulsive effort, he pulled himself up, his legs dangling. Hadon toppled forward, and the two, Kebiwabes yelling, fell heavily on the stone floor.

  Hadon got up and said angrily, “I told you to make no sudden moves! Are you hurt?”

  “I thought my arm was broken. However, it is only skinned. But badly, badly.”

  Kwasin growled and seized Paga by the waist and hurled him straight up the shaft. Paga yelled, but he did not fall back. Hadon, looking upward, could barely distinguish him. The manling’s back was against one wall and his feet against the other.

  “Being small has its uses,” Kwasin said. “Though perhaps I could throw even you, Hadon, as far.” He guffawed and said, “Of course, if I missed, your head would break open.”

  Hadon said, “Paga, can you make it?”

  “With much loss of skin,” Paga said. “This rock is hard.”

  They waited for what seemed to be an interminable time. Then they heard Paga, apparently swearing in the language of his tribe.

  Presently he was back at the mouth of the shaft. Kwasin gave the word, and Paga fell into the giant’s arms.

  “Ho, hairy baby, you are as bloody as if you had just been born! Did you indeed come from a stony womb?”

  “No stonier than that of the woman who gave me birth,” Paga said. “Let me down gently, elephant.”

  “Perhaps you would like to suckle?” Kwasin said, laughing as he forced the manling’s head to his nipple. Paga bit, Kwasin yelled with agony, and Paga fell.

  “Do you want to bring the guards?” Hadon said fiercely. “Are you hurt, Paga?”

  “Not as much as the elephant,” Paga said.

  “If we did not need you, I would brain you against the wall!” Kwasin bellowed.

  “The fault is yours, giant,” Paga said. “You owe me an apology.”

  “I apologize to no one!”

  “Quiet, for the sake of our lives,” Hadon said. “Paga, what did you find?”

  “The guards did not lie. There is a bronze grille about ten feet up the shaft. It is composed of four bars, melted into each other at the junctions. The bars are about half an inch thick. Their ends are in holes dug into the stone. I could bend the bars but could not get them loose from the holes.”

  “You are too huge to climb the shaft, Kwasin,” Hadon said. “Even if we could get you within it. Do you think you could get me inside it?”

  “Your legs are too long,” Paga said. “You would be folded like a babe in its womb.”

  “My mother said I was a difficult birth,” Hadon said. “Nevertheless, I got out. Kwasin, you must throw me hard enough so that almost my entire body will enter the shaft. Stand below to catch me if I fall.”

  “Of course I can do it!”

  “I hope so,” Hadon said. “If it were anyone but you, I would not even let you try it.”

  He told the giant how he wanted it done. Kwasin crouched, placed his hands palms-up under Hadon, who faced him. He lifted Hadon, who balanced himself, until his hands were even with his knees. Then Kwasin crouched a little, an
d said, “Here goes, cousin!” and straightened upward with a grunt. Hadon shot out at a slight angle from the perpendicular, drawing up his feet as he did so. He felt as if he had been propelled from a catapult. His shoulder rubbed along the wall, he fell back, but his legs, now against his chest, straightened out a little. And he was lodged in the shaft with his buttocks hanging out of the shaft.

  “See, I told you!‘ Kwasin shouted.

  “Quiet, monster, or our work will be undone,” Paga said.

  The ascent was painful and slow. It was necessary to brace his back against the wall and to shove himself upward a few inches with his legs. The skin quickly wore away from his back. Moreover, the walls were slippery in several places from Paga’s blood. He gritted his teeth, and sweating and panting, got to the grille. It was as Paga had described it. He bent his head to look down the shaft and saw Kwasin, a lighter darkness in the darkness of the cell.

  “I’m going to hang from the middle of the grille,” he called down. “Perhaps I can weaken it by my weight alone. Then I will brace myself again and try to pull one end loose.”

  “If you fail, I will catch you,” Kwasin said.

  Hadon gripped the grille in the middle and let his legs go. The bars bent; suddenly they tore loose with a screech. Hadon yelled briefly but clamped his teeth. He had, however, drawn his legs up, and he shoved them out again. A few feet above the mouth of the shaft, he slid to a stop. His back felt as if it were covered with a thousand army ants.

  He told Kwasin to get out of the way and worked the grille, which he held perpendicularly, past his body. He let it fall with a clang, and a moment later he dropped into Kwasin’s arms.

  “No nonsense,” Hadon said. “Let me down.”

  “I have delivered twins,” Kwasin said, obeying. “One, very short-legged and hairy; the other, very long-legged and bearing a gift of bronze. Both are ugly indeed.”

  “Hide the grille under the blankets,” Hadon said.

  “No, wait a moment,” Kwasin said. He picked up the grille and began to bend it. After a few minutes he had a rod, which he swished above his head.

  “Here is a weapon for you, Hadon, though a poor one. I will use the bolts at the end of my chains as a scythe.”

  “We need to know what is at the other end of the shaft,” Hadon said. “Paga will go up again, since he is the shortest. But we will wait until after the meal. It wouldn’t do for them to find one of their prisoners missing.”

  He had Hinokly wash his back with water from the vase. When the guards were heard coming, he and Paga sat with their backs against the wall. Kwasin reinserted the bolts in the holes and leaned against them. He complained to the guards about the small portions served. Their officer chuckled and said, “Weak prisoners make good prisoners.”

  Hadon noted that this time there were only ten spearmen. That “only” was a big “only,” however.

  Though there was not enough food to satisfy Kwasin, the others had plenty. Its quality was poor, consisting of cold okra soup, stale millet bread, and chunks of tough beef. But they ate with gusto, and Hinokly gave Kwasin a piece of his meat.

  “We must keep you strong,” he said,

  “I wish the others were as thoughtful as you;” Kwasin growled. “My belly is bounding toward my backbone like a leopard after an antelope.”

  “We’ll wait an hour for the food to digest,” Hadon said. “Then Paga goes up, if he’s willing.”

  “I am not so sure my back can stand it.”

  “I’ll go up this time,” Hinokly said. “Though I am a skinny old man of thirty-six, I am wiry. But let’s see if we can make a poncho from a blanket. That should help keep the skin from scraping off.”

  Using the end of one of the bronze bars of the grille, Hinokly tore out a hole from the blanket and slipped it over his head.

  “The latest fashion in escapee wear,” he said.

  Once again Kwasin tossed a man through the hole. They sat down to wait, or paced back and forth in the gloom. Several times Hadon looked up the hole, but could see only a very faint light issuing from someplace far up. He lay down on a blanket after a while but could not sleep. Just as he was about to rise, he heard Hinokly’s voice issuing hollowly from the shaft.

  “I’m back. Catch me, Kwasin.”

  Hadon jumped up, and when Hinokly had been set on his feet by Kwasin, he said, “What did you find?”

  “About another ten feet above the place where the grille was are two shafts that run horizontally. One is at right angles to the other. Both are big enough even for Kwasin to walk upright in. I went down the one to my right and came to another vertical shaft. This, I believe, admits air to the corridor outside our cell. There is a grille in it, but it is only a few inches below the lip of the shaft. You could probably tear it out, Hadon. I jumped over it and continued. I came to another shaft which ran at right angles to the one I was in. I went down it a little distance and passed over another shaft. This, I believe, leads to the cell across from ours. I continued down it and went past the place where the wall in the corridor below seems to end. I came across another vertical shaft and looked down into another cell. It was lit more brightly than ours, so I concluded it was near torches. I watched and listened for a while, but if the cell was occupied, the men in it were silent.

  “Apparently that cell is in a corridor which does not connect to that outside our cell. I went on, feeling in the dark, because I could not see these shafts, of course, unless there was a source of light below. Then I came to the end. There was, however, another vertical shaft there. I listened and heard, from far below, the gurgling of water.

  “I suppose that that shaft leads to the underground water supply. You know, don’t you, that there is an underground water tunnel connecting the citadel to both gulfs? If the citadel were besieged, its defenders would not run out of water. Of course, the tunnel is probably guarded, especially now that Minruth fears attack from the worshipers of Kho. The tunnel is supposed to be a little-known secret, but anyone who has delved into the Great Temple archives, as I have, knows of it.”

  “Was there a ladder in the water shaft?” Hadon said.

  “I felt for one, but if there is one, it starts below the reach of my hand. I then went back, retracing my route to where I had turned into this horizontal shaft. I was afraid of getting lost, and carefully memorized my right and left turns. I proceeded down the shaft, that is, I stayed in the same shaft that ended in the water shaft. Twice my foot came to the lips of vertical shafts, and I jumped over these. The light from below got stronger with each one, so I knew I was getting close to the end of the corridor which runs outside our cell. Moreover, two of the cells were occupied, and I noticed when we passed through our corridor that the two cells closest to the bottom of the staircase contained prisoners.

  “But the shaft I was in must lead past the staircase. It ran straight for approximately half a mile. And there were a dozen horizontal shafts at right angles to it, each intersecting with a vertical shaft. Then I came to its end. I looked up the vertical shaft there and saw stars. But how could I get up it? It was possible to go down it, since I could lean out against the opposite wall, and then, bracing myself, work down it. But to go upward was impossible. I had no way of getting to a point where I could brace myself.

  “I felt upward on the chance there was a ladder. I almost cried out! Above, on the wall nearest me, was a bronze bar! I gripped it with my hand turned inward, swung out, turned, gripped it with my other hand, and reached up and found another bar. I felt uneasy, of course, because I didn’t know how long the bars had been set into the stone. They might be corroded, since the shafts are at least a thousand years old. However, it seemed reasonable that they would be replaced from time to time. This shaft must be one of the escape routes arranged for the royal family, in which case the ladder would be inspected from time to time.”

  “You are intolerably long-winded!” Kwasin said.

  “He has to tell it step by step,” Hadon said. “We all must
know the route by heart before we go blundering around in the dark.”

  “And how am I to get up this shaft?” Kwasin said. “Do you plan to leave me here?”

  “If we do, we’ll come back with a rope,” Hadon said. “I promise that if it is at all possible, we will get you out.”

  “On your honor as an Ant man and as my cousin?”

  “Yes. Continue, Hinokly.”

  “I went up and up until I was sure that I was above the underground shafts. Moreover, the solid granite had become marble blocks. There was no mortar between them, but I could feel the divisions with my fingertips. I kept going on. Oh, yes, I heard water far below when I first came to the shaft, and the breeze was stronger and more humid. And at last I came to the opening and stuck my head out. The moon was out by then, so I could see, though not as well as I would have if it were not for the smoke from Khowot.

  “I was on the roof and looking eastward. I hung out of the opening as far as I could and determined that the entrance was actually the mouth of one of the many carved heads that adorn the roof.”

  “But the palace is domed,” Hadon said. “Isn’t the dome too steep to allow climbing on it?”

  “I would say so. What you mean is that if there are entrances to the shaft, they must be from the apartments of the royal family itself. So when I went back down the ladder, I felt on both sides of the ladder. And I found at one place hairline divisions outlining an oblong section in the wall—door-shaped, that is. Moreover, the ladder ceases to be continuous at the upper and lower parts of the hairlines. Obviously the rungs are attached to a panel of stone which slides or falls inward to give entrance. But I dared not thump it to test it for hollowness. Now, it seemed reasonable to me that there should be something in the shaft which would permit one in it to activate a mechanism that would cause the section to open. I could find none. So the section can be moved only from the other side. It is a one-way escape route.”