Cradle of Darkness

by Tom G. H. Adams

  He waved his hand in dismissal. “Hush, Wife. This is a moment of celebration and a stonegrabe deserves his vices — especially after what I’ve endured on this long journey.” Ellotte continued to scold him, but it became background noise as his trepidation concerning the future lifted at the first few puffs. His mood shifted still further when he saw the lights of home in the distance.

  As the first of Varchal’s moons rose, shedding its pallid light on the track to light their way, the cart rounded a sharp right-angled turn in the gorge. Here, the valley widened and ahead loomed the great cliff wall of Kaldora Prime, also known as Regev in the ancient tongue. It rose, gargantuan, draped in fern vines, dense leafy creepers and mountain wisteria whose florets descended on fronds some fifty spans in length. The greenery disguised a complex network of tunnels, caves and caverns behind. They formed a labyrinth of passageways that only a handful of stonegrabes knew the full extent of.

  The Kaldoran race had occupied these caves for millennia and had excavated the naturally occurring tunnels into a massive catacomb of townships and satellite villages. The catacombs extended far into the massif and deep into the bowels of the heart rock. A hierarchy had evolved over the sols determining which levels different Kaldoran castes occupied. Nalin acknowledged the inequality inherent in this crude system, but he was fortunate enough to have been born into a higher echelon — so it didn’t bother him overly much.

  A Kaldoran with a conscience was a rare thing indeed.

  Those lucky enough to own caves overlooking the gorge had become more accustomed to daylight. Yet still, most were grateful for the hanging vegetation that provided much needed shade. It was a sight to behold looking at the small candle lights twinkling behind the leafy covering like an imitation of the stars in the sky.

  As they approached the main entrance, Nalin pointed out the newly built pumping machine he had designed the previous sol. It extracted water from the deep cavernous lakes and subterranean well-springs to feed an intricate system of aqueducts, thus providing the citizenship with a sustainable supply of clean water.

  Moments later, they arrived in front of a huge gaping cavern named Jennu Narod or Great Mouth in Common-speak. It was set under a massive overhang of rock, forming the entrance proper to Kaldora Prime. The huge orifice was lined and decorated with a façade of ornate wooden carvings paying tribute to great Kaldoran leaders from antiquity. Purple Hallows light illuminated the craftsmanship and glimmered from Spidersnatch’s fissure across the valley. Nalin shivered at the phenomenon, reminding himself it was this baleful influence that fired Etezora’s psychopathic frenzy of destruction and, word had it, also held Magthrum in its sway.

  No good will come of this, he thought.

  They passed under this architectural wonder, a scaffold of retaining timbers reinforcing the cavern opening and the mighty overhang above. To gain access, visitors to the Kaldoran underworld had to pass through a gated stockage and courtyard, which was home to a thriving market. This was not the only way into the kingdom. There were also a series of tunnelled access-ways along the cliff face to allow the inhabitants to come and go as they pleased.

  A holder of the revered position of Chief Engineer, Nalin and his family lived in a cliff-view suite of caves above the Great Hall. The magnificent chamber itself had been excavated in a smaller void adjacent to Jennu Narod. As Nalin parked the cart, a group of stonegrabes came running to help unload their belongings. Speedwill had clearly been successful in delivering his urgent message to Magthrum, and Nalin’s heart swelled with pride as he took in the sight of the cave-crawler. It was on public display — no doubt at Magthrum’s command — standing in the shadow of Jennu Narod for all to see.

  Ellotte took Palimin straight to their home while stonegrabes unloaded their cart. He was just instructing them to put the new cutting heads with the cave-crawler when a loud voice boomed across the concourse.

  “Nalin, my brother. Welcome home,” bellowed Magthrum. “Come, a tankard awaits. What news do you bring from Cuscosia?”

  Nalin walked side by side with the Fellchief into the Great Hall, and it wasn’t long before he was downing his fifth tankard of ale. He eventually flopped on to his bed at midnight, Ellotte and Palimin having long since retired. He and Magthrum had talked long and hard about recent events unfolding at Castle Cuscosa, together with the threat Queen Etezora presented. Tomorrow the Rockclave were due to meet, and Nalin would be required to give a formal report. Until then, he was free to drift off into the bosom of the sleep god, Pandur, and Nalin welcomed her embrace with open arms.

  The following two days saw Nalin applying himself to upgrades and maintenance on the cave-crawler. The new cutting heads were fitted to their bearings, and all mechanical joints and relevant surfaces were lubricated with mineral oil. He’d procured two flasks of concentrated fyredrench from the recently acquired dragon corpses plundered on the Dead Zone pan, and after dilution, the machine’s reservoirs were filled to capacity. The hulking machine was ready for operation, and its maiden dig was scheduled for later that week. Until then his shining creation would stand testament to Kaldoran engineering.

  A Cuscosian trade caravan was due to arrive later that afternoon. Buzmith had not materialised, and Nalin hoped there might be some news of the stonegrabes he had left behind in Castle Cuscosa. The Kaldoran market place buzzed in anticipation of the merchants’ arrival, and stallholders cleared a space for the impending largesse. Kaldorans were famous for their engineering prowess, and they traded machined goods for essential foodstuffs grown on the Cuscosian plains, together with cloth and leather skins imported by rural artisans in the south.

  Lookouts spotted the trade convoy approaching the great turn in the gorge and shouted their warning that an advance vanguard consisting of a Cuscosian emissary and Captain Torell preceded them. It wasn’t long before two outriders galloped through Jennu Narod on horseback. After acknowledging the salutations of the Kaldoran heralds, the diplomatic party surrendered their horses and requested an audience with the Fellchief. Nalin watched this overture from afar, but decided to distance himself from the exchange. He sensed that prudence was called for and retired to his chambers to await news of the outcome.

  ~ ~ ~

  Ambassador Urrel was of Volwin descent, a race few encountered in the Imperious Crescent as the Volwin kingdoms lay many thousands of periarchs across the Western sea. He boasted the reputation of an experienced negotiator who had previously represented the House of Cuscosa in their diplomacy. He withdrew the scrolls of office from a saddle bag, holding them tenuously in his pudgy hands. Today would be a difficult one, although he could not have imagined just how testing it would prove to be. For completeness sake, he had also brought along copies of the tri-kingdom treaty, which defined the terms for coexistence and trading relations between Cuscosia, Kaldora and Dragonia. All parties paid only lip service to it, of course, but it would serve as an opening for Urrel. After all, it had brought an end to tribal squabbles, and ushered in an era of co-operation and understanding which had kept relative peace until the recent conquest of Dragonia. However, Urrel was quite aware that today might well see the shattering of its glass-like bonds on the remaining two participants.

  A scuttling Kaldoran consort came to the stockade gates to meet the Cuscosian delegation and escorted them to the Great Hall. Urrel flared his nostrils at this attempt at hospitality. He guessed the flea-infested trogs were doing their best, but their crusty-skinned representatives fell far short of the diplomatic welcome he was accustomed to. Perhaps this race deserves to die out, he pondered. Then again, it’s not my place to determine.

  “Please wait here Ambassador,” said one. “I will advise Fellchief Magthrum of your arrival.”

  Urrel whispered to Captain Torell, “Please leave all negotiations to me during our audience with Magthrum. I also suggest that you remain at ease during our meeting.”

  “As you wish Ambassador,” Torell replied, “I will defer to your expertise in this matter. H
owever, I do have my orders should our request fall on deaf ears.”

  “Be that as it may, Kaldorans are unpredictable, and this Fellchief is no exception.”

  The consort returned with refreshment. “Magthrum will be with you shortly Ambassador.”

  “Thank you,” said Urrel accepting a tankard of dubious-smelling ceremonial ale.

  ~ ~ ~

  In Nalin’s quarters, Magthrum slapped his friend on the back. “So I believe they have come for you my friend,” he laughed out loud. “They will be disappointed. Treaty or no treaty, I cannot believe they will jeopardise the profitable trade they now enjoy. Let’s not forget it is they who repeatedly violate the terms.”

  Nalin frowned. “I do not trust this show of diplomacy, Magthrum. Things are not as they once were, and there is an unhealthy lust for power causing conflict with Dragonia. I also fear for our loyal stonegrabes at Cuscosa.”

  “The conflict with Dragonia means they can ill afford to upset us. Look.” Magthrum pointed out into the valley. “Their merchants arrive even now.”

  They both watched as the Cuscosian trade caravan made camp on the opposite side of the valley adjacent to Spidersnatch Cavern.

  “Wait here my friend. This meeting will not take long, and then we can return to our business. The Rockclave is in no mood to accede to foolish demands from these humans.”

  With another reassuring slap, Magthrum departed and descended to the Great Hall. He entered alone, as was his way.

  “Ambassador Urrel, how gratifying to see you again,” he said, opening his arms magnanimously.

  The Ambassador bowed, not quite sure whether Magthrum expected an embrace or not. He was thankful when he lowered his arms and walked towards the over-sized granite table standing in the centre of the room. “My Lord Magthrum, it is a pleasure, and I trust all is well. May I introduce Captain Torell of the Queen’s Guard?”

  Magthrum acknowledged the Captain’s salute. “What troubles our Cuscosian friends, Ambassador?”

  “I believe it is an established convention to read out the tri-nation treaty at meetings such as this, My Lord.”

  “Rockbull’s guts, man. That’ll take half an hour or more.”

  “But — ”

  “Just get on with it. We’ll all feel the better for getting straight to the point.”

  Urrel sucked in air through pursed lips and responded. “Very well. It is with great regret I must convey the request of the Praetor for Nalin Ironhand’s extradition — for the crime of treason against the Royal House of Cuscosa.”

  Magthrum’s brows knitted together as he walked to his high chair and sat down. “Tell me Ambassador, do you have evidence supporting this request?”

  “I do M’lord. Captain Torell if you please.”

  The Captain stood and read the indictment from the royal scrolls. Magthrum raised his hand after a list of stonegrabes were cited as witnesses.

  “Ambassador, am I to understand Nalin has carried out these alleged crimes on his own. Pray how? I wish to speak to Buzmith Oakstone.”

  The Ambassador looked at Torell. “Can you bring this Kaldoran forward?”

  Torell remained silent for a moment and then admitted, “I’m sorry M’lord, that will not be possible. He has since met with … an accident.”

  Urrel looked back at Magthrum, whose countenance had taken on the appearance of rolling thunderheads.

  “What is that you say?” the Fellchief rumbled.

  Torell’s face twisted with discomfort. “His body was found at the sluice gates outside Castle Cuscosa. It appears he was trying to divert the flow of water and got caught in the gears.”

  “Most unfortunate,” Urrel added quickly. “Still, accidents do happen.”

  “Accident indeed,” Magthrum roared. “Do you take me for a fool Cuscosian scum?”

  The bulky frame of Magthrum rose from his elevated seat with an expression hardening in rage. “Ambassador,” he said through clenched teeth, “I am unwilling to comply with your request, and if you wish to avoid any diplomatic unpleasantness, I suggest you leave immediately. Tell that krut, Eétor that if harm comes to any more stonegrabes, I will have the great pleasure of visiting the same misfortune on him.”

  “M’lord, the Praetor is adamant that this Nalin be taken back for trial.”

  “I sense deception Ambassador, now take your leave peaceably before I have you thrown to the Narrogs.” Without waiting for further reply, he clapped his hands and a dozen armed Kaldoran guards entered the hall. “Take these men to their horses,” he commanded.

  “Be warned,” Torell said, his ire impossible to hide, “our ejection will result in severe reprisals. Are you sure you want to stoke the fires of our already considerable anger?”

  “Krut off!” Magthrum bellowed his reply. “And if I ever see you two inside my chambers again, then you’ll leave without your bizouis.”

  Urrel and Torell were roughly escorted from the Great Hall to the paddock where their horses waited. As they rode away, Torell steered towards the merchants’ camp across the valley.

  “Where are you going Torell?” Urrel said. “We should return swiftly to Cuscosa and inform Eétor of this outrage.”

  “Ambassador, you had your orders, and now I’m following mine. Diplomacy was always bound to fail.”

  “What do you mean?”

  As they approached the Cuscosian wagons, Urrel understood at last the grand deception. Soldiers had discarded their civilian garb and uncovered a bank of katapultos war machines.

  “Prepare to fire,” shouted Torell as he dismounted at the command tent.

  Anyone who witnessed events that unfurled that afternoon and lived to tell the tale would wish they had been swallowed in the maelstrom that followed. The battalion of Cuscosian warriors could not have expected the cataclysm that was to befall them moments after the first burning tar-gum gourd launched from the katapultos.

  Magthrum was briefing the Kaldoran Council in the Great Hall when the first ball of burning grenade smashed into the stockade. The ensuing rapid bombardment of spiralling flame ignited the ornate timber frontage of Kaldora Prime. Dry seasoned timber scaffolding caught fire and the resultant flames engulfed the great cavern opening. Fingers of flame snaked their way up the cliff face on either side of Jennu Narod, blackening everything in their grasp. Smoke engulfed the once wondrous structure shutting out the light.

  As chaos descended, many Kaldorans were burned alive or crushed under falling timbers. These were the lucky ones. Plumes of dense smoke were sucked into the great cavern, depriving many of precious air and coating their lungs with acrid tar. The stonegrabes who could run, fled further down into the bowels of the fortress, grateful for avoiding the onslaught of Cuscosian fury.

  Magthrum summoned his warbands from their barracks and charged them solemnly, “We are betrayed. Prepare to retaliate.”

  Any further words were swallowed in a cacophony of screams as a greater cataclysm unfolded. Intense heat from the burning wood and tar caused water in the grykes and cracks of the limestone to vaporise and the expanding steam weakened the integrity of the cliff face. It only took a matter of minutes for the cracks to widen and the massive cliff front to collapse in a monumental avalanche of stone. Thousands of tons of rock tumbled down, sweeping aside any remaining struts of scaffolding. Without the wooden structure to support it, the giant overhang groaned before it too collapsed like a toppling behemoth, creating a landslide of shattered rock and dust clouds that engulfed the entire valley floor.

  At this spectacle, cheers erupted from the Cuscosian troops; shouts that quickly turned to screams of pain as sharp dust fragments from the collapse enveloped them, shredding their skin like razors. Those who had taken shelter from the rolling dust cloud enjoyed a short period of relief before the full consequence of the cliff’s collapse became apparent. Tremors resulting from the rock fall triggered a surface ripple that spread through the strata until it reached the depths of Spidersnatch Cavern. Here in the abyssal fath
oms of rock, once-healed fissures opened, releasing a discharge of Hallows energy unprecedented on Varchal.

  Urrel and Torell watched as plumes of black-violet Hallows energy snaked across the valley, decimating all that stood before it. The two would-be diplomats simply disintegrated to dust, along with every last member of the mighty Cuscosian battalion. None survived.

  Continuing earth tremors wreaked carnage within the Kaldoran kingdom. Limestone caverns crumbled, stalactites speared the ground, tunnel rooves collapsed and underground lakes burst their banks, flooding the surrounding caves. The lower castes of trogs and Kaltis didn’t stand a chance. Only those in the upper levels, who had retreated away from Jennu Narod, stood any hope of survival. Eventually the aftershocks subsided, and the surviving Kaldorans regrouped. Incredibly, The Great Hall had survived almost intact, whereas Jennu Narod was no more. Magthrum displayed true leader’s qualities by shaking off the dust that covered his royal jerkin and rallied the stonegrabes with a mixture of exhortations and threats.

  The industrious Kaldorans were soon tending to the injured and recovering what could be found of the dead. Those that weren’t trapped deeper in the cave system started to make their way to the Great Hall.

  Muffled cries emanated from underneath rock piles. Those near the surface were rescued, but many more were too deep to be reached without excavating equipment, all of which had been submerged in the lower catacombs.

  “Where’s Nalin?” shouted Magthrum. “Has anybody seen Nalin?”

  “He was in his quarters when the roof came in,” Gribthore spoke up.

  Magthrum ran up the broken stairs, jumping over fallen masonry and gaining the fractured cave entrance of Nalin’s chambers.

  He found the engineer sprawled over a pile of fallen rock. “Nalin, are you all right? We need you at the Rockclave.”

  Nalin didn’t respond. Magthrum grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back, but Nalin shook him off, screaming to be left alone.