Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1)

by Alan Ratcliffe

The others soon noticed as well, and our pace quickened. Before long I was able to see two steps ahead, then three. By the time we reached the cavern floor, our torches were no longer needed. It was not bright, but there was a dull orange glow to our surroundings. And with the light came heat. Where the tunnel had been cold and damp, the air of the cavern floor bathed us in warmth, and we were soon sweating beneath our woollen cloaks.

  I didn’t know what I was expecting to find at the bottom of the staircase, but still I was surprised. A vast open space stretched out before us. On either side of us, illuminated by the glow, were immense metal drums, with an opening at the front large enough to admit a fully laden cart and oxen. They were unlike anything I had seen the Crag’s smiths using, but all the same their purpose was clear. Great furnaces, built on a scale that left me flabbergasted. Were they worked by giants? The size of the passage we had entered the mountain by seemed to suggest not... unless there were other, much larger, tunnels we had yet to see?

  I approached the nearest furnace, which towered above me. I placed my hand on its surface. The metal was cold. Whatever their use, it was clear the fires that warmed the colossal furnaces had not been lit for a long time. I tapped it with my knuckle, producing a hollow noise like the one I had heard after pitching my stone from the ledge above. It was likely one of these great drums that I had struck.

  It did not take long to locate the source of the light. In the centre of the cavern floor, a strange contraption had been erected. As we neared it, it was soon clear that, like the metal furnaces, it was built on an enormous scale, as tall as the Crag’s curtain wall at least. Yet its purpose was not immediately apparent.

  Thick, metal beams supported a large platform above a large round hole drilled into the ground. It was from this hole that the light came. Peering inside, I could see red, liquid fire far below. A blast of hot air hit me in the face as I peered over the edge. Before I pulled back from the hole, I had noticed a number of pipes leading into the rock beneath us.

  I looked again at the platform above the hole. On top of it was a strange device. It was fashioned from a number of enormous, circular metal bands. These were fixed together in some way, so that the device as a whole appeared roughly spherical. Once again, I was reminded of the Archon’s servant; his incredible prosthetic arm and this device could have been crafted by the same hands.

  Several metal steps led up to the platform, and before any of my companions could stop me, I climbed them. At the top, near the base of the strange spherical device I found a number of metal levers, the purpose of which I could not guess.

  I was still looking at these, trying to divine some meaning or purpose, when Captain Brandt appeared beside me. “What do you think it is?” he asked. I replied that I did not know; whoever built this device clearly had an understanding of technology and metallurgy far beyond our own.

  Jan and Sten joined us a moment later. “We should leave,” Jan told us. “Whoever built this is gone. Dead most like. And what killed them, I wonder?” It was an unsettling thought, and I could not say with certainty that he was wrong. It was clear we stood in the halls of an advanced race, yet as far as we could tell they no longer resided here. Had they abandoned this place? Had something even more powerful risen from the dark to claim them?

  But before I could answer him, Sten pushed past me, and with a great heave and grinding of metal pulled one of the levers. Jan flew into a fury. “What did you go and do that for, you dumb ox,” he shouted. The big sailor replied with a shrug.

  For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, I heard the sound of rushing water below us, seeming to come from the fiery pit. A few moments after that was a hissing, as loud as a thousand angry snakes, and then a squeal of metal. All four of us leaped down off the platform, which had begun to tremble beneath our feet. No sooner had our feet touched down on the rock floor of the cavern, than the giant metal sphere began to move. The circular bands began to spin inside of one another. Slowly at first, and then fast enough to create a breeze on our faces.

  My companions stood as open-mouthed as I, but what happened next was even more unexpected. All around us, rows of lights began to flicker on the cavern walls, reaching up into the distance above our heads. From below, it looked as if we were suddenly standing under a starry night’s sky. The light was even brighter than before, and what I had taken to be the end of the cavern in front of us now appeared to be a titanic stone column stretching far into the air. The size of it made my mind spin; it was wider than the Crag in its entirety, including the rock island on which it is built. Assuming it was perfectly round in diameter, I estimated it would take several hours to walk all the way around it.

  My musings were interrupted by a grunt from the captain. “Well, I’ll be,” he murmured. “Perhaps we won’t have to walk back up after all.” I followed his eyes, and saw what the captain had spotted. Beyond the spinning sphere was another metal platform. This one would have been comfortably large enough for twenty men to stand upon, and was surrounded by bars like a cage. From this rose a thick chain, that disappeared up to the ceiling. I had used a contraption like it enough times at the Crag, when assisting the Brothers in raising supplies up to the keep, to understand at first glance what it was. “An elevator,” I gasped.

  We approached the cage, and this time my first impression seemed the correct one. In particular, I was impressed by the chain. Close by, I saw that each link was larger than my head, formed of metal thicker than my arm. Like the furnaces we had passed, it was at once both familiar enough to understand its purpose, yet dissimilar enough to inspire wonder. Jan, however, did not seem pleased by the discovery. “A lot of bloody good an elevator is when there’s nobody around to winch us up,” he moaned.

  The captain did not reply, instead examining the inside of the cage and the chain. “That might not matter,” he said at last, gesturing for us to step onto the platform. After we had done so, the captain pulled at a large lever set into the floor beside the cage, which I had not previously noticed. As he did so, the elevator juddered and began to rise. A moment later, the captain leapt onto the platform beside us, almost losing his footing as he landed. A second more and we would have been out of his reach.

  Indeed, the speed of our ascent was impressive. I suspected that the captain had benefited from the initial stiffness of whatever mechanism controlled the winch following a long period of disuse. After perhaps twenty seconds, the enormous furnaces looked no larger than my fist below us. Soon, the dull orange glow beneath the sphere was swallowed up by the darkness. All I could see was the pinpricks of light scattered across the walls of the cavern, and now it felt as though we were soaring into the night sky.

  Our journey on the elevator took much less time than our descent down the stone spiral staircase, but I judged the distance we travelled to be similar. This time however, when our ascent finished and the metal platform came to a stop, where we had once stood upon a narrow ledge and stared out into a black void, there was light.

  Once, when I was young – before I was dispatched to the Crag and such notions were stripped from me – my father told me that the reason the Divine gave us eyes was so that we could glory in his wonders. Years had passed since his words had last been recalled to my mind. As we stepped off that metal platform, and beheld what lay in front of us, they came back to me.

  My companions were struck speechless, as I was. If we were to glory in the natural beauty of the world, then I wondered how we were meant to react to the makers of the wonders that confronted us now.

  Before us stood a city, unlike any I had seen before, nor ever will again. The main part of it was a great tower, inconceivably vast in both breadth and height. It was widest at the base, becoming narrower as it moved up towards its peak. From a distance it had the appearance of a giant beehive. There were dozens of tiers I could see, each comprising innumerable buildings. In the light of a thousand torches, these seemed to glow. On later inspection, we would find that every building had been forged
from the same metal we had already seen below on the cavern floor.

  From out of this strange tower sprang a dozen arms, leading to other platforms built around the walls of the cavern. In truth, it seems disingenuous to describe this place as a mere cavern, when in truth it was almost as though the entire mountain had been excavated. I could not guess at how many lifetimes it had taken to achieve.

  A wide avenue led from the top of the elevator to the lowest tier of the tower, and before its entrance stood a statue that anywhere else would have been thought of as giant. It stood fifty feet tall or more, and yet the enormity of the tower city behind it made it look like a child’s toy. Like all else around us, the statue was forged from metal, and the likeness it depicted was at first glance grotesque. A long torso stood upon two legs, but there any similarity between it and ourselves ended. In place of human feet, its legs ended in three thick toes, the sharp nails of which were curved like the claws of a beast. Two pairs of arms extended from its body, and the head that topped its shoulders was monstrous. Insect-like mandibles sprang from its jaws, beneath a broad, flat snout near as wide as its face. It had round eyes, but like its arms it had four in place of our two.

  At first I recoiled from the sight of it, but at second glance I began to revise my opinion. The figure in the statue appeared to be wearing an apron, not unlike a blacksmith would wear when working his forge. In its four hands, the creature grasped a selection of tools; I recognised a hammer and tongs, but was not familiar with the others. And then there was its face. It seems a strange thing to say of such an alien countenance, but where the subjects of most statues take pains to appear stern or severe, this seemed almost benign. This strange being could not have been more different to ourselves, yet nevertheless appeared intelligent... even peaceful.

  I was shaken from my reverie by an unexpected source. “The metal lords,” a deep voice muttered behind me, and when I turned Sten met my eyes. “You know who built this place?” I asked him. He shrugged in reply, and then, in few words, told us that the elders of his village speak of a race of strange beings who can shape metal as easily and as skilfully as a potter works clay. It seems these stories are regarded as little more than legends now, with their origins lost to the ages. This exchange seemed to exhaust Sten of what little appetite for conversation he possesses. I did not mind overmuch; it seemed doubtful whether even perfect recall of his elders’ stories would help us sort the facts from the myths after so long.

  I am not sure whether it was Sten’s words or the sight of the statue, but a small fragment of a long-forgotten memory surfaced fleetingly in my mind. It was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. That uncomfortable feeling of vague familiarity comes back to me now as I sit here, back aboard the Havørn, writing this account. When I have committed everything to paper, I will think on it further.

  That was the end of that page, and Captain Brandt glanced sharply at the figure still asleep on the cot. The last paragraph was new information to him, and he made a mental note to speak to Caspian on the matter when he awoke.

  It did not take long to find the next page, as there were only two remaining... plus several consisting only of sketches. He noticed that the handwriting was becoming more jagged, the lines of text less straight; as if the author was attempting to keep strong emotions in check.

  I am not sure which of us moved first, but as if at some unspoken command we began to climb the sloping avenue that led to the tower entrance. As we passed the statue, I gazed up at it one last time. I don’t know why I thought it grotesque before; it was unusual in appearance, yes, but there was an undeniable nobility to it as well. It was clear that the great figure represented a builder, a creator of some kind, and I could not think of a more fitting tribute to the wonders that surrounded us on all sides.

  How to describe my feelings as we at last entered the metal city? I cannot really recall now; my mind was overwhelmed by the sights, my eyes as large as saucers, drinking it all in. Past the entrance, the main avenue split, curving around to our left and right. Dome-like metal buildings loomed over us on all sides, stretching up to the roof of this tier fifty feet above our heads.

  Over the next few hours, we simply wandered, exploring dozens of these strange domes. We found what we believed to be workshops, filled with tools and complex mechanisms, storerooms filled floor to ceiling with mysterious goods, and what appeared to be homes. Everything was on a larger scale than we are used to – the doorways, furniture and all else besides. At the first dwelling we came to, looking at the length of the flat slab that likely served as a bed, and comparing it to my own, I estimated the beings that lived here must stand at least eight feet tall.

  In all the hours we combed the lower tier of the city, not once did we stumble across any sign of life. On the contrary, everywhere we went a thick layer of dust covered every surface, item and device. Dusty spiderwebs hung from doorways and windows and but for ourselves the city was as still and lifeless as a morgue.

  What had become of the beings that once lived here, who had created such marvellous works? I’m sure the question was uppermost in my companions’ thoughts, as it was in mine. There was no sign of battle, nor a mighty calamity of some nature that might explain their absence. It appeared as though they had simply abandoned the city one day, for reasons unknown. For all I knew that is precisely what had happened.

  Just as he had with the ledge in the tunnel, it was Jan who eventually made the most important discovery. We had entered another dome, this one a workshop seemingly like several we had already explored. There was what I had come to think of as the usual collection of odd mechanisms, the purpose of which I hadn’t yet determined. I was investigating one of these, experimenting by turning some of the toothed metal circles by hand to observe any effects, when there was a violent commotion from another room. I heard a man’s screams, almost drowned out by a cacophony of metallic noises.

  The captain, Sten and I all ran for the room Jan had disappeared into. When we stood at the doorway, he was laying on his back on the floor, arms held out to protect his face. Above him stood a nightmare of metal come to life. Its limbs and body were formed of the same grey metal strips and circles that I had first seen on the Archon’s servant’s prosthetic arm. These whirred and span furiously as the being swayed above our stricken crewmate. Its face bore striking similarities to the statue we had seen outside the city, but was a single metal plate that had been beaten into shape, and where the statue’s insect-like mandibles would have been, the area beneath its snout was smooth and blank.

  Jan was screaming at us for aid. Sten and the captain went to him and dragged him clear of the strange metal being. We all leaped back when it moved toward us, its four arms seeming to claw at the air. Had it continued to come on, I believe we would have fled, such was the fear that was upon us then. However, the creature... though it was not a living being, I have no better word to describe it... turned away instead. In jerky, uneven movements, it began to busy itself around the room, righting furniture and pawing at dusty spiderwebs.

  The captain laughed suddenly. “I’ve never seen a servant quite like that,” he said, and watching the creature a few moments more, I saw that he had the right of it. In fact, I wasn’t sure if the creature was even aware of our presence. Jan had no doubt activated it accidentally, either by playing with its mechanisms or blundering into it unthinkingly.

  Even though he was almost certainly at fault for this latest embarrassment, Jan seemed enraged by the captain’s laughter. Red-faced, he strode back into the room, lifted a chair from the ground and dashed it against the creature’s back. Several parts flew from it, one coming to rest near my feet. Immediately, the metal creature sagged, then toppled lifelessly to the floor. Whatever spark had briefly animated it and terrified Jan was there no longer.

  In truth, I was saddened by its sudden demise. After an initial fright, it didn’t seem as though the creature had meant us harm. I knelt down to pick up the piece that had landed beside me. It
was a cylinder, covered in strange symbols. As everything else around us, it was made of metal, but had a golden-green sheen to it. At either end, it had small protuberances that looked as though they could be used to fix the cylinder to something else.

  I recalled that one of the storerooms we had passed through had contained shelves filled with such cylinders. With so much else around us defying explanation I had thought no more on it, but now I wondered. Had it played a role in animating the metal creature? With my companions’ attention focused on Jan, who was boorishly celebrating the destruction of his foe, I slipped the cylinder into my robe for future examination.

  When we left that dome, I happened to glance up the street back the way we had come, and the junction that marked the city entrance was still in sight. It was then that we abandoned any notion of further exploration. We had spent hours searching the unusual buildings, and journeyed less than a mile into this vast city. Jan’s patience had finally been exhausted and I could tell that even the captain’s curiosity had been sated. It was impossible to know Sten’s thoughts, but I knew he would follow the captain. I was still excited to explore further, but this trip had already delayed our mission by two days, and I could not promise that we would find any further explanation for the existence of the city or the fate of its founders no matter how long we searched.

  What more is there to tell? We retraced our steps, and left the city for good. My heart was heavy, but when I saw the lights were beginning to dim, I knew it was the right decision. Whatever power we had reawakened seemed to be nearing its end. While we still had some light to guide us, we found the elevator, and were preparing to travel down it once more, when I found another lever beyond the platform. Emboldened by the results of our previous experiments, I gave it a pull. As I did so, a metal bridge extended from the edge of the cliff and disappeared into the gloom. I stepped tentatively onto it, but it seemed easily strong enough to bear my weight. Encouraged, I ventured further, until I saw the mouth of a tunnel in front of me. The bridge appeared to extend to the very ledge from which Jan had fallen that morning.