Dragon Call (The Throne of the Dragon Queen Book 2)
Page 44
He obviously found it, as he waved them all forwards and his brother unwound the rope he’d been carrying and handed the end to Ekle. The thin man scuttled up the cliff face as fast as the creature he was named after and stopped on a small ledge to tie off his rope. If he hadn’t seen the man standing upright half way up the cliff, he wouldn’t have known the ledge was there, but it must have been hidden in the shadows, as Ekle now stood there with his back pressing against the cliff face.
Cautiously the man edged sideways along the ledge and then suddenly disappeared. It wasn’t the same way that he disappeared by going transparent, but it worked just the same. Within a few minutes the lizard came back looking pleased with himself, and from where he stood he could see that Ekle hadn’t just appeared from nowhere, but had stepped from behind a giant boulder wedged into the cliff face.
Gazza took hold of the dangling rope and with remarkable agility for one of his girth, climbed up next to Ekle who moved over to give him room. A sharp prod from Effalla’s knife told him it was his turn, so he climbed up hand over hand until he stood next to Ekle on the ledge. From there he could see the narrow opening behind the boulder through which Ekle had disappeared and reappeared again. It seemed to be a cave of some sort, but it was so dark inside that he couldn’t see more than a few inches.
He thought about the snakes he’d seen slithering away from them in the desert, and the armoured insects which had claws and a curved tail with a deadly sting at the end, and hoped that the others would lead the way. He was out of luck though. As soon as Effalla reached the ledge, he prodded him forwards until they had all squeezed behind the boulder and stood in the pitch blackness of a cave straining their eyes to see what was in front of them.
Effalla hissed something from behind him which Benmotha translated. My brother says it is time for you to disappear.”
This was the moment of truth, but whilst he’d been waiting for his turn to climb the rope an idea had come to him. “Tell him I can’t,” he confessed and then, almost as if he was confiding in the man, he added “Tutacaraph lied to him. He said I could disappear so that he would take me along with you, but what he really wanted was for someone to stay with Effalla to protect his interests in case he tried to cheat him.”
He thought that Benmotha would have translated his words or might even have let him go just to thwart his suspicious business partner, but instead he just grinned nastily showing a row of rotted teeth. “If Tutacaraph told you that then you are the one he lied to. Anyway, it doesn’t matter that you can’t disappear as we have a better use for you. This place is full of man traps and we need someone to test the ground so you can go first and we’ll follow at a safe distance.”
His heart dropped and for a moment he hesitated wondering if he could fight his way out, but when the torch Effalla carried flared into life he could see that they all now had their knives drawn. With a shrug of resignation he set off with the light from Effalla’s torch lighting up the first few paces but failing to penetrate beyond that.
“What is this place?” he asked, stopping after half a dozen paces and not wanting to go much further without having some idea of where he was going and what he was likely to encounter.
“It’s the grave of a long dead king. Now get on with it before you end up as dead as he is.”
Banniff swallowed hard. In his land the dead were burnt on a funeral pyre so their spirit could be set free, and wouldn’t stay in the world of men to haunt them. Here, on the other hand, the King’s spirit would be trapped in the stone waiting to be released. If the King had died violently or had been here undisturbed for a long time, then its spirit was bound to be unhappy. He hesitated wondering if it wouldn’t be better to die quickly by Effalla’s knife rather than be tormented by a vengeful spirit.
A sudden sharp prod in his back made his mind up for him and he continued on his way. Despite the darkness the first twenty paces were easy enough and he started to hope that this wasn’t going to be as difficult as he’d imagined. Then the floor began to slope downwards, gently at first and then at a steep enough angle that he had to edge forwards with his leading foot held sideways so that he didn’t tumble head over heels.
The others were having the same problem, so Effalla swapped the torch to his other hand allowing him to hold onto the wall to steady himself. In doing so the torch lit up a terrifying creature with the body of a man and the head of a hunting dog. The colours were so vivid that for a moment Banniff thought the creature was alive, and a shock of fear passed through him, but then he realised that it was just a picture, although it was one of such detail it took his breath away.
Effalla, who had taken a hasty step backwards held the torch up higher and he could see that the strange half dog, half man was not alone. There were other pictures painted on the wall covering almost every inch of stone, and he wondered if they told a story of some sort. If he’d had the chance he would have liked to have stopped and worked out what the story meant, but behind him Effalla growled something impatient so he moved on.
It was slow going, partly because of the steepness of the path and the darkness, but also because it was getting hotter and more airless as they went further down. There was also a strange smell like old bones and decaying flesh and something like the salve the healers used when a warrior was wounded in battle. By the time the floor became flat and even again, the air was thick and heavy and the stink of their sweating bodies and Effalla’s rancid breath, which added to the unpleasant atmosphere, made his skin crawl.
The smoking torch Effalla carried wasn’t helping matters either, but when the others lit the torches they had been carrying, things became much worse. In the airless chamber the torches did little more than smoke and smoulder, but at least they lit up the small cavern in which they stood showing the brilliantly coloured pictures which covered the walls. Even the ceiling had been painted in a dark blue to represent the night sky and was studded with stars and moons which glittered like gold.
There were symbols painted on the wall now, grouped together and contained in an outline, and by the way some of them were repeated he guessed they must have been words. Perhaps they could have even been the dead king’s name or a record of his deeds, like the sagas which his people passed down from generation to generation. He stood staring at the symbols trying to work out what they meant, but Effalla’s cursing broke through his concentration.
When he turned around, he could see the thief staring into a large stone trough that was partly covered by a slab of rock, and crossed to see what had angered him. He peered inside and then hastily stepped back as the torchlight reflected off a jumble of bones and scraps of rag. It looked like someone had already been inside the tomb and had stripped the body of anything valuable, just leaving the bones behind.
For a moment he hoped it would be enough to make them give up and leave the spirit of the dead king in peace, but that hope didn’t last long. Benmotha gave an excited shout and pointed up to a hole in the wall close to where a crescent moon had been painted onto the roof. It took only moments for Ekle to scramble upwards and disappear through the hole, returning seconds later with a look of triumph on his face.
He thought the hole would be too small for the rest of them to get through, but Ekle used his knife to hack away the plaster and bricks behind it and, with Effalla’s knife prodding him in the back, he followed the lizard through the gap. The others came behind, cursing as Gazza became wedged in the hole and had to be hauled through by his arms. Beyond was a low passageway of undressed stone and for a short while he led the way until the torchlight reflected off a stone wall in front of him.
Ignoring the stinging jab of Effalla’s knife, he stopped abruptly sensing that something was wrong. He thought they had come to a dead end but when he looked down he realised he was standing at the edge of a deep pit and took a hasty step backwards. From the light of Benmotha’s torch he could see the bottom of the hole where the decaying remains of a man lay with two spikes sticking throu
gh his ribs.
There was also the glint of gold and the sparkle of gems, so he expected the robbers to climb down to retrieve the treasure, but instead they pointed to the narrow ledge on the other side of the pit. Clearly the thieves had no intention of going back, so he reluctantly stepped across the pit wondering how they were going to get past the wall of stone. Once he was on the narrow ledge on the other side of the pit, he could see that the wall in front of him didn’t meet the side wall, and guessed that had to be the way forwards.
It was a tight fit but he managed to squeeze through into another passageway similar to the first, but so low he had to crouch to progress along it. After what had happened to the man in the pit he moved forward cautiously, expecting there to be other traps and hoping he could find them before they were sprung. When he reached the end of the passageway he found where the next trap had been, as an opening had been hacked into the wall and in front of it were the remains of two bodies.
Unlike the previous corpse there were no obvious signs of how these two had died, but by the way their bodies were contorted he guessed that the dead king’s spirit had done something very nasty to them. Effalla must have had a similar thought as he gingerly pushed the bodies aside with the toe of his boot whilst covering his mouth and nose with his free hand. The movement revealed that one of the dead men had been lying across a rotted sack, and gold and gems sparkled in the torchlight. Benmotha went to pick them up but Ekle pulled him back muttering something about bad air.
As far as he was concerned, all the air in here was bad and he doubted it would get any better in the next chamber. He didn’t have to wait long to find out as Effalla pointed at the opening and shoved him forwards. Holding his breath he scrambled through on his hands and knees and then took the torch Effalla passed to him. When he stood and looked around he forgot all about holding his breath and took a sharp gasp in amazement, knowing that this had to be the room they had been looking for.
Like the first cavern they had found at the bottom of the slope, the walls were covered in vividly coloured paintings and the sky had been painted deep blue, but instead of there being stars there were strange creatures looking down on him. He assumed these had to be the gods the dead king worshiped, and wondered if they were as vengeful as his own gods were. The thought made him swallow hard and turn his eyes away from their images in the hope they wouldn’t remember who he was.
That gave him the chance to look around the cavern, and what he saw filled him with awe. In the centre of the chamber there was a stone coffin carved into the shape of a man, and with a lid which showed a man’s features and the long robes he must have worn in life. Only the man’s image wasn’t painted onto the lid, but embossed with gold and a blue stone which shone like the sky on a summer’s day. To one side there was a boat with six oars down each side, and on the other a chariot with a full sized horse carved from wood in between the shafts.
At the foot of the coffin there were four jars of solid gold inlaid with precious gems, depicting the same gods which were painted onto the ceiling. Benmotha gave a cry of excitement and hurried to where they stood, but despite his size they were too heavy for him to lift. It didn’t matter though as there was more gold, silver and precious gems in the chamber than a small army could have carried away.
He thought that Effalla would quickly grab whatever he could so they could get out of the place before anything unpleasant happened, but instead he took his time. Carefully he picked things up and inspected them before selecting the pieces he wanted and dropping them into his sack. Most were medium sized statuettes, or pieces of heavy and elaborate jewellery, and Banniff suddenly realised that these were the goods in which Tutacaraph traded, all of which would fetch a high price in Rome.
Benmotha and Gazza were doing the same as their leader, working their way methodically down the other side of the coffin and conferring with their leader when they were unsure whether they should take an item or not. Ekle moved from side to side, following behind them, and when a piece was rejected he spent his time prising the gems out of the discarded items and throwing them into a heap. The lizard then placed the gems he’d collected into four small bags which could easily be hidden in a man’s robes.
He guessed that if Effalla had really thought he was there to protect Tutacaraph’s interests, this would be the moment the thief would kill him. Suspecting that Effalla might still do that, he started to creep away, but Gazza’s cry of alarm as he jumped back from the casket he’d just opened stopped him dead. For a moment he thought that Gazza had been caught by the bad air which had killed the other robbers, but whilst his face had gone pale with shock, he didn’t seem to be dying.
The others hurried to Gazza’s side and peered into the casket, and when Effalla called him over, he too had a look. He could understand why Gazza had been so startled. Inside the casket was the skull of a creature which looked exactly like one of the animal headed god’s painted on the tomb’s walls. The gods of this land were different than his own, but he knew better than to touch it, so he started to back away, only Effalla grabbed hold of his arm and pushed him towards the casket whilst muttering what sounded like threats under his breath.
He picked the skull up and turned it around in his hands. It was heavier than that of a wolf, and the snout was almost twice as long with white, dagger like teeth. The skull had been covered in a hard, black substance that shone as if it had been carefully polished, and white eyebrows had been painted over the eye sockets. They were filled by two enormous diamonds which sparkled in the torchlight and almost looked alive.
It was a fearsome object which must have once belonged to the gods themselves, but there was something about it which fascinated him, as if he had been destined to find it. Ekle drew his knife and stepped forwards to prise the gems free from the eye sockets, but he couldn’t allow that to happen and held the skull protectively in his arms.
“Stop! You can’t do that, Tutacaraph would want this as it is.” As soon as he said the words he knew it was a stupid thing to say, as all they had to do was kill him, and Tutacaraph would never know about the skull.
Somehow his audacity must have impressed Effalla, because instead of ordering Ekle to kill him, he just shrugged and indicated that he should carry it because they were leaving. Effalla picked up his sack and ushered them back through the opening in the wall where they carefully stepped around the two bodies, still ignoring the spilled gems as they went. Now Gazza led the way using Benmotha’s torch to light the passageway as his had gone out, but it only lasted half a dozen paces before that too spluttered and died.
Ekle passed his torch to the front, but it was so dark now that it was difficult to see more than two steps in front of him. It seemed to Banniff that it was taking far longer than it should have done to reach the narrow gap in the wall by the pit and they should have been there by now. Their slow progress could have been due to the weight of the things they were now carrying, or the darkness which made the going more difficult, but he didn’t think so. He was certain that they had taken a wrong turning and were lost.
When the floor started to rise steeply his suspicions were confirmed, and he was about to say something when there was a sudden hiss of sand and the huge block of stone above Gazza’s head came crashing down. The man didn’t even have time to scream as the stone smashed him to the ground immediately extinguishing the torch he carried. In the pitch darkness no one dared to move, and waited whilst Effalla lit the only remaining spare.
In the flickering torchlight it was obvious there was no point trying to help Gazza who had been crushed by the stone, so that only one hand and a foot, twisted at an impossible angle, protruded from beneath the stone’s edge. Effalla cursed out loud but stopped abruptly when there was more hissing of running sand. It was enough to make them look up to where the three stone blocks above them, each as big as a house, hung at precarious angles. Quietly they crept past the fallen stone thanking whichever gods they prayed to for their deliverance.
The thought of flames made him laugh and for a moment he could almost smell burning flesh and taste fire crisped meat. Then he stumbled into the back of Benmotha and the thoughts, which he was certain were not his own, disappeared leaving him feeling odd inside. Benmotha cursed his clumsiness and glared at him, but he couldn’t understand why he was so annoyed until he saw they had come to another dead end and he’d almost pushed the robber into the wall.
Beside him he watched as Ekle investigated the corners, prising away the loose stone with his knife where the end of the passageway joined the wall. After a few minutes the lizard waived them forwards and pointed out the small gap he’d created. It was the narrowest opening yet, and if Gazza had been with them he wouldn’t have been able to squeeze through, but they managed it all right, even if they did have to give Benmotha a push.
On the other side the air was fresher, and there was just enough light left from the spluttering torch to see that steps had been carved out of the stone which led upwards. They had no idea where the steps led, but as there was no way back except to walk beneath the precariously balanced boulders and climb over the slab which had crushed Gazza, they began to climb. Effalla led the way, holding the torch out in front of him, but halfway up the steps the torch gave a final splutter and died, plunging them into darkness.
His brothers had always told him he was lucky, although after the last few months he’d decided they were mistaken. Now though his luck was in because he could feel a slight draft in front of him which had to be coming from the outside. For a moment his spirits rose, and then it occurred to him that the draft could have been coming from a small gap through which they couldn’t pass, or a chimney they couldn’t climb. It was enough to make his steps falter slightly and for him to drop a pace or two behind the robbers.