Carym checked on the two Roughnecks, one was alive and the other dead, a bloody hole in his side. He sighed as he closed the man’s lifeless eyes. The other Roughneck was conscious and physically ok. He rose to his feet acting as though he could care less about the tragedy that had befallen him and his fellow crewmen, but his eyes told a different tale. But, Carym knew the way of soldiers, and nodded grimly at the man who nodded back.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Escape.
Lordsdeep.
Ever so slowly, the viewing glass began to light up. At first Carym thought his eyes were tricking him, but even Gennevera noticed it. Finally the boat lurched to a halt as it emerged on the surface of what appeared to be a lake inside a large cavern. Zach jumped to his feet and began tugging on the hatch.
“Hold a moment lad. You’ll only hurt yourself tuggin’ on that hatch. The gel will dissipate soon enough in the air, then you will be able to open it.” Zach frowned and gave up for a moment, then resumed his impatient assault on the hatch. Yag watched, knowing that the hatch would open when it was ready and not before.
Suddenly the hatch opened, releasing a blast of cool air and Zach stumbled out, catching onto the handle just before stumbling into the icy lake. Carym climbed out more slowly, warily looking around; what he saw astounded him. All around the perimeter of the vast lake were glowing spheres, which gave the cavern an eerie glow. That was not the most bizarre feature however, there was an entire city here.
“A city!” said Gennevera with relief in her voice. “How fortunate for us to surface in a city.”
All of the survivors of the Marineer stared in reverent awe at the sight before them. It was magnificent. There truly was a city, a huge city, on the shoreline. Glowing lamps lined the street leading away from the port area toward the city where tall buildings soared impossibly high as though they thought to climb back to the surface. Thousands of buildings could be seen in the distance in the soft lights. But it was quiet, deathly quiet.
“Not so fast. This is Dalcasia, if we find anyone alive here we would wish we hadn’t.” The captain’s whispering carried sharply through the cavern. “Warves and troks inhabit this land and they’ll not be happy to see us.”
“I meant only that this would be preferable to surfacing in another lake where there was no way out.”
“I know what you meant, lass. I’m just not sure we haven’t hopped from the pan to the fire.”
“We are wasting time!” said Zach impatiently. “We have to get out of here!”
“Aye, lad. Settle yourself. We’ll get the oars and try to paddle our way to the nearest dock.”
“Yag, what are those buildings made from?”
The old pirate looked hard at Zach as if deciding whether to answer him. Then he shrugged in resignation. They would find out the moment the group stepped on dry ground anyway. “Precious gems and metals are what each and every building in this city is made from.”
Zach didn’t reply. The magnitude of the wealth before them was overwhelming. Utterly overwhelming. Finally, Zach broke the silence. “Carym! The entire city...the, the, whole thing!” Zach appeared mesmerized, ignoring the captain.
“First things first, Zach. We need to get to the shore, grab a paddle-”
“What else matters?” With a wild shout, he dove into the frigid water.
“Zach wait!” he shouted at his rapidly swimming friend. “There could be beasts in the water still!”
“He is going to get himself killed, and you too if you aren’t careful!” grumbled Yag. “Best let him be, for now. We need to find a way to shore that doesn’t involve being bait for sea beasts.”
Although Carym had watched Zach’s growing money lust, he was still a bit perplexed by his friend’s irrational behavior. Seeing that his friend had made it safely to the pier and was now climbing up and out of the water, Carym shook his head and turned his attention to propelling the escape craft toward the pier. After a moment, Yag detached a pair of long oars from a compartment and handed one to Carym. Then he and Yag began paddling, slowly and awkwardly, toward the pier.
As he paddled, Carym studied the port area of the town where they were headed. Tall columns of sapphire and ruby, with white glowing spheres atop them lined the city streets and illuminated them with brilliant colored light which reflected off the water. There were other docks, too. Some made of ruby, others of sapphire and diamond. The docks all led to a main street running the length of the waterfront with streets disappearing into the dim light beyond. Carym could make out two structures in the city beyond the port area; a ruby red tower and a sapphire blue castle.
He was amazed at the wealth and ingenuity of the designers of this city. Their skills must have been beyond measure in order to have mastered the ways of the deep and to harvest the sheer quantities of these gemstones. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what life had been like here, centuries ago. His thoughts were interrupted by the pull of the stones in his pocket and he resisted the urge to grab them. Pushing thoughts of the stones from his mind, Carym concentrated on his imagination. He saw in his mind an image of a bustling city. He saw streets filled with people; humans, elves, dwarves, and gnomes. He saw other beings too, though he had no idea what they were. Peculiarly, among the masses were those of the Orkine races, yet they moved about as if they belonged there with humans and elves. Every person of every race appeared clearly in his mind, finely dressed and in good health.
But, as quickly as it came, the vision in his mind’s eye was gone and he was staring at the dock that was worth more than entire kingdoms on the surface.
As the craft neared the dock, Yag supplied Carym with a rope. Finally, he used the rope to secure the odd boat to the dock and began helping others out. When Yag, Gennevera, and Roughneck corporal Gefar, were safely on the docks they began to assemble the few supplies they had remaining. Fortunately, the ship’s armory was part of what was now the escape craft and the group was able to retrieve their weapons and a few supplies.
Carym looked at the magnificent site before him. It was deathly silent and it was so cold he could see his breath forming misty vapor in the air. He looked around to see Zach standing a few feet from him, gazing intently at a sign posted on the pier, water still dripping from his body, his eyes aglow with a determination he had never before seen in his old friend.
He could see little beyond the long pier upon which they stood. The area beyond the city stretched into the dimly lit reaches of an immense cavern. Several buildings lined the port area along with strange machines bearing giant cogs, pulleys, and ropes that appeared to be made from a metal similar to gold. Even the buildings themselves appeared to shimmer in the flickering light, making him wonder if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Glowing poles lined the waterfront and in their flickering light he saw dozens of other piers stretching out into the lake to either side of him.
“What are you doing, Zach?” he said with not a little irritation in his voice, his attention back on his friend. “We need to find some shelter. And light a fire before you freeze to death.”
“This is amazing!” Zach said with excitement; it was obvious to Carym that his ire was lost on his old friend. “This is my wildest dream come true, Carym!” Zach spun around to face Carym with an expression he found disconcerting. During the ill-fated trip his friend had taken on a very dark disposition. He was fast becoming self-absorbed and angry. Carym was sad for his friend’s change of heart and he had hoped things would change whenever they reached the surface again.
“Zach, this is an ancient city, probably Dalcasia, city of the Uta Millan Empire. It is said the Dalcasians cursed their cities when they disappeared; we must be respectful.”
“Bah, don’t bother me with ghost stories! You worry like that nosy old hen, Mother Mairhe! The Dalcasians made buildings of golden marble, of the very rare metal known as silveryl; a gem of sapphire and ruby and diamond! Look, ropes made of gold!” he said as he pointed to one of the machines stationed nearby on
the pier. “This city is empty and ripe for the taking.” Zach grabbed Carym by the shoulders and said, “Don’t you see? We don’t have to be poor anymore!” he gleefully threw his arms in the air. “With all this wealth we could destroy all of Arnathia!” Carym thought that was a bit ambitious, but still his friend had point. There was definitely enough wealth here to fund the resistance movement indefinitely.
“Carym is right, Zach. We must not disrespect the ancients, their spirits linger here still,” said Gennevera after a moment’s concentration. “It would be foolish and dangerous to ignore this.”
Zach cast a dark glance at the woman, making an unspoken promise with his eyes. Gennevera, however, was far from intimidated. Then, the young man started backing away.
“I see where your loyalty lies, friend!” he said to Carym, his voice dripping with venom, and daggers in his eyes.
“Zach, listen to me,” Carym began, but Zach turned away. “Zach wait!” Carym pleaded, but Zach continued on down the pier, his watery boot-falls echoing loudly in the eerily silent cavern. Carym noticed that Yag and Gefar, the lone surviving crewman, were watching Zach as he disappeared into the shadows of the city; concern shrouded Yag’s face while interest flickered in Gefar’s eyes. Gennevera guided Carym by the arm and the two walked down the pier looking for a safe place to set up a camp and try to warm the chill from their bones.
After Gennevera’s warning about the otherworldly inhabitants of this long-forgotten city, Carym and Yag decided it was best to set up camp in the port area and away from any buildings which may house riches (and dangers) too tempting to resist. They set up camp and made a small fire from pieces of the escape craft, and they began to feel better. Although they couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Every now and then, one of the group would flash a quick look back at the lake and ask the others if he was the only one who heard the water splashing; none of them wanted to consider what that could be.
Yag decided to venture back to the dock to retrieve his charts. As he reached the end of the pier, a string of vile curses drifted across the water echoing in the massive chamber, and finally reached the companions around their fire. Carym hoped desperately the pirate’s tantrum wouldn’t attract any warves or troks, whatever troks were. A short time later Yag returned, lamenting the loss of his charts which, he said, could have led them to passageways that would lead to the surface.
The companions talked over what their plans would be for getting back to the surface, and acknowledged that such a trip would be difficult with the knowledge that they were being hunted. Yag and Gefar ardently avoided discussions of lost crewmen, each man grimly determined to make it back to the surface and make someone pay for this tragedy. Gennevera speculated what lay beyond the gates from the port area to the main city and suggested that cautious exploration might result in the discovery of a map. If this city had truly enjoyed vibrant trade with the surface, it would be logical to assume there might be maps here. Carym wondered and worried about what kind of danger Zach was walking into and hoped his friend had been right and that he was worrying entirely too much.
After a few hours had passed Carym managed to drift off to sleep, but was awakened by Gefar. Carym liked this sailor, and was glad the man had escaped the fate that killed the other crewmen. “Your turn at watch.”
“Any sign of Zach?” Carym asked blearily, rubbing his eyes.
“No,” came the simple reply.
Gefar was a swarthy Karbander, of the seafaring nation inhabiting islands to the far west. They were known for doing two things well. Ironically those two things were piracy and honest trade. There were many places in the Karbander Islands where these opposites worked together in earnest. To Carym, who had met few Karbaners - they were not welcome in Arnathia - most Karbaners looked entirely too much alike. Gefar was no exception. He was slim with coal black hair and brown eyes, his cheekbones were prominent and his chin stuck out ever-so-slightly more than a typical Arnathian or Cklathman. And the most well-known feature of Karbanders was their walnut colored skin. Most Karbanders were polite and even the Karbander pirates, though not known for their kindness, possessed a very odd but strictly honored code of ethics.
Suddenly they heard what sounded like the heavy boot falls of a squad of soldiers marching in unison. Their slow rhythmic approach foretold their coming and sent shivers of fearful anticipation down the spines of those who waited. Carym leaped to his feet and roused Yag and Gennevera. Indeed, a squad of very heavily armed soldiers turned a corner about a hundred yards away and marched slowly down the street towards them. Before the fearsome troops swirled a cloud of cold mist, leaving frost where ever it touched. When they finally arrived they stopped in unison, slamming booted feet together for emphasis, and stood stoically on the street at the edge of the camp. One man stood apart from the rest; he wore a kilt of leather and metal bands and armor the likes of which Carym had never seen. His breastplate was one solid piece of silver colored metal that appeared to have been molded to his chest. His face was colored with blue paint and his arms were tattooed with intricate weaving designs. Encircling the man’s throat was a platinum torq that none of the others wore.
Gefar challenged the man through tightly clenched teeth, shivering from cold, frost settling on his sword. The strange man merely stood silent and stared with authority at the group as though expecting them to recognize him and speak first. Yag, Carym, and Gennevera assembled behind Gefar. Yag stepped forward preparing to address the leader.
“I thought these parts were uninhabited, Gennevera,” whispered Carym.
“They are. The Dalcasians disappeared a century after the destruction of the Uta Millan Empire. Their wealth and knowledge disappeared with them. It is clear to me, however that these are the Dalcasians themselves!”
“How is that possible?” he whispered back as fear knotted his stomach; he silenced himself, however, as Yag spoke. His stomach tightened and he felt a sudden urge to grab the stones in his coat. He did not resist.
“I am Yag Ca-Rajir. We are lost, our ship sank and sea beasts savaged my crew. We seek refuge for the evening in your city, if you would be so kind.”
Carym thought he sensed fear in Yag’s voice, his senses were suddenly enhanced and he had to shake his head as Yag’s voice echoed painfully in his mind with odd...vibrations? Although he had been shaking from the cold and he felt as though he just could not warm up, now he felt a warmth drifting up his left arm and into his body. He noticed that the leader held out his left hand and placed his right hand on his sword, but otherwise had not so much as batted an eye. Yag, repeated himself in the Common Cklathish language and in High Cklathish, but clearly he was not understood.
“Gennevera, is there nothing you can do to talk to them?”
“I’m trying,” she said with effort, her mouth tight with cold, working hard to speak in the frosty air. The lead guard raised his sword and spoke in a thundering voice as cold as ice. She shook her head in futility, trembling from the cold. “They are spirits, they are dead. I’m trying my spells, but the cold...”
“Aktenctar!” commanded the leader. It was no language any of the group had heard before, but the sound of his powerful voice sliced through Carym’s cold numbed mind and registered somewhere. He could hear the power in the soldier’s voice and assumed the man was identifying his rank and authority but he could understand none of what was said. “Ai ym Rhu-Tayn Byayn. Wy Vyl Cwymra Roeyl!” the leader said in a booming voice.
Gefar appeared to have actually frozen in place, his walnut skin now ash colored. Carym drew his left hand from his coat pocket, in his hand was a heavy stone of silvery metal with blue streaking like lightning across its surface. Finally, the chill had ebbed and his thoughts cleared.
The mysterious leader turned to look at Carym, then raised his sword in an apparent salute and spoke to him. Carym instinctively raised the hilt of his sword to his forehead in the ancient way to return a salute with a sword that was still practiced around Llar
s to this day. As the man spoke, Carym suddenly understood the man, not so much by his words, but rather he just knew what the man meant.
“I am Rhu-Tayn Byayn, Sacred city of Roeyl, capital of Dalcasia this is. For what purpose do you disturb this wondrous city?” the voice rang in the eerie stillness, the vibrations echoing in his head making him dizzy.
Carym was astonished that he could now understand the ancient-looking soldier. How could this be? Moments before he was speaking a language none of them knew, and he appeared not to know theirs. Yet the soldier’s words were definitely reaching Carym in his own language. Unsure if Genn’s magic had finally kicked in, Carym replied, “I am Carym of Hybrand, and these are my companions. A beast from the sea has destroyed our ship. Our pilot was killed and we are stranded. We seek only safe haven in your city and help to find our way to the surface again.”
The leader looked silently at Carym and nodded. He looked over each member of Carym’s party, deadly sorrow lingering in his eyes as he gauged their intentions.
“Well put from you. Granted haven here you are. Allowed to stay as long as you require, you are. Beware: holy and sacred are these grounds. Watching are we. The one who has strayed with mal intent, dearly may he pay. The dark powers of the Underllars here have strayed, and a war with them we fight. None to protect you can be spared.”
“I thank you noble leader,” Carym said bowing low.
“Caution apply as you must. Seek you the Blood Spire, mighty is the Great Father! Find there maps to lead you away.”
Carym bowed again, deeply grateful for the advice. When he looked up to relay his gratitude he saw that the entire party of warriors was gone.
The glowing poles that lit the streets of this mystical and quiet place were beautiful to behold but cast little useful light, and seemed only to deepen the existing shadows. Zach passed several buildings made of pure gemstone. Structures made from emerald and ruby and sapphire and more held little interest for a man who had become somewhat of a rogue of late. He smiled at the thought. Yes, the word rogue was apropos. He knew now that what lay ahead, what had been silently calling him, was worth more to him than the even these towers of untold wealth. He passed several beautiful statues of women and of men and of magnificent creatures that he had never before seen as he left the port area and entered the main city; yet he ignored these too.
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