He slept better than he had, but awoke to a disturbing sight. Peeking out of the cave, he saw that it had snowed the night before. More than that, the snow had completely covered the road. He could not see any hint of it under the white carpet. He climbed to the top of a rock to try and see any evidence of it; but it had completely disappeared. It was gone and now, in addition to running out of food, he was lost.
The mountains were all around him with nothing indicating any direction. The sun was above the mountain peaks, but he couldn’t tell if it were to the east of west. He didn’t know how long he had slept; whether it was morning or afternoon. He looked around desperately for some sign of the road but saw nothing. Now, he could neither go forward nor back and he felt ready to simply give in and die.
But then he saw something in the distance. Standing on top of a rock, just barely close enough for him to see was a shadowy figure; looking like a person wearing a hooded cloak. The wind blew around this figure, causing the cloak to billow and wave like a flag.
“Is that you shadow?” He heard himself say. “Man! I hope so.”
He put out the fire in his cave and slung his pack over his shoulder. He then climbed the rock again and looked towards the direction of the shadow. It was still there and hadn’t appeared to have moved in any way.
He thought for a moment that it may have been an illusion or mirage. He’d heard of people going mad from hunger or thirst. Then he reminded himself that he’d been seeing the shadow long before he had gone into the mountains. More than that, this shadow was the only hope he felt he had at the moment.
He followed as straight a path towards the shadow as he could manage. He had to navigate around crags and over hills, just as he had when following the road. But still the shadow remained in the same spot; never moving.
It couldn’t be a person, he told himself. Perhaps it was like a scarecrow in a field. Perhaps it was a cloak that had flown off of someone’s back and gotten caught on a rock. Even if those were true, he thought, it was still something to follow. It was a direction to move.
For the remainder of the day, he followed a path leading in the shadow’s direction until he came to another cave. It was small, like the one he’d slept in the night before and with night falling; he knew that he would need shelter. After investigating the cave, he looked in the direction of the shadow and saw that it was gone. He nearly felt despair; but then a voice told him, “rest now.” The voice was the same he’d heard on the first night and again, it seemed to come from everywhere at once. Tired and hungry, he purposefully ignored the strangeness of the voice and simply said, “If you insist.”
He awoke again not knowing whether it was morning or afternoon and he didn’t care. He couldn’t remember how long he’d traveled the day before and still didn’t care. All he knew was that it was time to leave again. When he walked out of the cave, he saw the shadow on top of the rock again and followed it.
The path he was following was still steep and each step was difficult as he had to raise his legs high to pull them out of the snow with each step. The snow crunched under his feet and, even through the leather of his thick boots, he felt a stabbing cold in his feet. Still he followed the path towards the shadow and he soon felt that he would be close enough, perhaps to speak with it. It had grown larger and, instead of looking like something reasonable, like a scarecrow or rock, it looked even more human the closer he got to it. Kenner even thought he could see it looking at him under the hood of the cloak.
By the time the sun disappeared behind the mountains, he found himself nearly at the rock the shadow was standing on and there found a puzzle. There were several paths leading around tall rock formations. The shadow was still standing there silently.
“Well,” he called up to the hooded figure. “Now what?”
Then to his surprise, he saw what looked like the shadow’s arm point in the direction of one of the paths. He looked to the path then back up to the rock. The shadow was gone.
“Oh come on!” He exclaimed.
He climbed up the steep path which curved around and to a near vertical slope. At the top of the hill was his shadow again. That’s where he saw the vision from his dream. The shadow was standing near the entrance of, what looked like a mine. Instead of wood, the supporting beams were made of stone and the shadow was pointing into the opening. He practically dragged himself up the slope. The wind howled; snow blew around him and the cold penetrated deep into his bones. His hands and feet hurt and he had to look down to ensure his footing. Near the top he saw what looked like stone stairs and they were not covered in snow. He saw snowflakes fall on the steps, but then disappear. When his feet fell on the steps they felt warmer and his feet, hurting from the cold began to feel better. When he reached the top, he saw the shadowy figure was gone.
The entrance was only slightly taller than himself and on the top beam; he saw writing carved into the stone. He recognized the writing as the ancient language of Walechia before Farraday had ordered a common language spoken in all four nations. He couldn’t speak or read the language; but he had been taught to recognize it.
Inside, the cave was nearly the same size and shape of the hide from what seemed like so long ago. In the gathering darkness, he could see shapes and shadows of what looked like human figures. He could also see barrels and boxes along the walls. Incredibly, the cave was warm inside and it seemed impossible. He stuck his hand outside the cave and he felt the same biting cold he had been fighting for so long. He drew his hand back in and the cold sensation left his hand.
“Whatever,” he said.
Feeling more tired than he’d ever remembered feeling, he nearly fell to the ground. He removed his fur and laid it on the ground for a bed, lay down and propped his head against his pack. And then he slept deeply and more comfortably than he could easily remember.
Chapter Twenty
Kenner awoke the next day feeling more rested than he had since before he had started this journey. His shoulders and back still ached and his feet were sore, but he still felt better than he had. From outside the cave, he could hear the wind blowing fiercely and when he looked towards the entrance, he saw snow blowing as it were flying in every direction. Still, the inside of the cave was warm and without wind. He didn’t understand why; but at the moment, he didn’t particularly care.
“I think I’ll stay in here today.” He said to himself.
It wasn’t completely dark in the cave, nor was it well lit. It looked the same to Kenner as it had the night before. Looking at the entrance, he noticed two torches on either side of the opening. He took one down, looked at it and smelled it to see if, perhaps it still had some oil. Apparently it did. He dug the two pieces of flint out of his pack and struck them together over the torch; which he’d laid on the ground. Amazingly, the torch was lit with only one spark. He’d never seen that before.
Now with a torch, he began to explore the cave more intently. He found that it looked less like a natural cave with odd, sharp corners and angles; but rather like something man made. The inside was nearly perfectly circular with smooth walls arching upwards, almost like a dome. The shapes he had seen in the near darkness turned out to be statues of women and men in various dramatic poses. There were, indeed barrels and boxes along the walls and chests of assorted sizes. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs; as if this place had been forgotten centuries before. At the very back of the cave was another entrance, very much like the outside. It was also rectangular with the same ancient writing on its beams.
He took a step towards the opening and then heard a noise; like scraps of metal hitting the floor coming from his right. He turned quickly toward the noise and pointed his torch in that direction. He saw a shape on the floor that looked like a short body and a head; approximately the same height as a child. But it was just past the light of his torch and could only see its silhouette. He cautiously moved towards the shape and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing what it was: an old suit of plate armor covered in
dust. Examining the armor more closely, he brushed some of the dust off of it. It was solid black and felt like steel. Even covered in dust and dirt, it still had a dull sheen to it. It also appeared to have never been used as it had no dents or cuts on it. It didn’t have a scratch on any part of it. The helmet was the same color as the rest and was similar to the design of Walechian helmets; except that it did not feature the characteristic spike. Satisfied that this unused armor would likely not attack him, he turned and continued investigating his cave.
There were weapons and shields along the walls as well, with designs and emblems he’d never seen before. There were long bows whose strings had long disappeared and broken swords and spears. Could this be an old and forgotten hide, he asked? Suddenly, he heard the metallic sound again. He turned to face the suit of armor and it didn’t look as if anything had happened. It was still just sitting there on the floor. He had almost turned away from it when he thought he noticed something peculiar. The dirt on the floor near the armor appeared disturbed; as if the suit had been dragged a couple of feet. He slowly backed away from it, but still watched it carefully. It couldn’t have moved by itself, he reasoned. And then he went back to examining his surroundings.
He found a barrel and after clearing it of cobwebs and dirt. He then opened its top with his short sword and he almost gasped at what was inside: apples; and they looked fresh. He took one out and smelled it. It smelled like an apple should. Feeling a pang of hunger, he took a careful bite and it tasted as if it had just fallen from a tree. He then greedily devoured the rest and several more after it.
It was the best and the fullest meal he’d had since the battle and he felt satisfied. It was only after he’d devoured several that he thought that they might be poisoned. Still standing in the darkness, he concluded that if they had been poisoned, he would be dead already. He opened the top of the barrel next to it and found a familiar smelling liquid: ale.
“Oh what the hell.” He said to himself and filled his cup several times. Feeling slightly drunk and full, he began to fall asleep again. Then he heard the metal scraping sound again. He looked in the direction of the armor and saw that it had moved closer to him.
“Oh that’s just great.”
He sat alertly watching the armor for, what seemed like an hour. It didn’t move. Then he felt a sensation coming from it; almost like it was watching him and thinking. It gave the impression of being like a child or a small pet. It didn’t seem to want to hurt him. Instead it was like it was curious about him and wanted to know more about him.
“I suppose if you were going to kill me, you would have done it by now.” He said to it. He almost expected it to answer him, but it didn’t. It just sat there, like it was watching him. He felt the sensation that it was more afraid of him than he was of it.
Then he looked back at the entrance at the back of the cave. He thought he saw a ceiling going downwards; as if there was a tunnel or walkway descending deeper into the cave. Walking carefully and continuing to check the armor for movement, he stepped into the opening. There, dropping down deeper was a set of stone stairs; not unlike the steps leading up to the cave on the mountain. Putting the torch inside the doorway and looking down, he saw another entrance at the bottom of the steps and it was only a few feet down. He turned back to the armor, which hadn’t moved.
“What do you think? Should I go down?”
The armor did not answer.
He carefully and slowly climbed down the steps until he reached the bottom. When he reached the bottom, he heard an even louder and longer metal scraping sound. He looked behind him and saw the armor sitting at the top of the steps.
“Stay.” He said to it.
This inner chamber was darker, except for the warm glow of the torch. He could see some shapes; much like the statues and barrels in the upper chamber. This room looked longer and more narrow. Searching with his torch and moving slowly into this chamber, he saw many more chests and boxes. It didn’t seem as organized or neat. The things in the room looked to have almost thrown randomly into the room; as if being discarded. That’s when he saw it: the glint of gold.
It looked part of a chain protruding from one of the chests on the floor. He knelt down and opened it and found it filled with gold jewelry and coins. Excited, he opened still more of the chests strewn about and found them all filled with the same riches.
“Great lady!” He exclaimed. “I’m rich!”
He looked around for something to put the gold in; a sack or a pack. There was a large chest filled with gold coins and just the contents of that chest alone would be enough for him to live comfortably for many years.
Then another sensation came to him; as if someone were speaking to him. This gold was not for him, it seemed to say. He felt the very strong feeling that this treasure was not to leave this chamber and if it did; something very bad might happen. His excitement disappeared; but he didn’t feel disappointed. There was something else he now felt that he was supposed to find.
Looking to the back of this chamber, he found yet another door. On both sides of the entrance, he could see the statues of two soldiers in full armor and swords. They looked as if they were guarding the door. He approached even slower. He had the feeling that this was more than just a cave or a hide. There seemed something sacred about this place. More than that, he felt that if the wrong person were to enter this last chamber, it would be like sacrilege. He nearly turned around, feeling strange; unworthy. However, the chamber seemed to be calling to him, inviting him. He reached the door and shone his torch inside.
This last chamber was almost pitch black dark. He saw more shapes including, what looked like his shadow standing over a large, rectangular shape. It was different, though. He could feel nothing coming from it, like he did his shadow. It had no feeling of life.
Feeling along the entrance, he felt the shape of another torch. When he lit this other one with the torch in his hand, it partially illuminated the room. He saw more statues, but these were different. They didn’t just look larger; they gave off an impression of being larger, more important. They were all kneeling around the rectangular shape, appearing to rest on weapons. His hands felt another torch on the other side of the entrance and he lit it as well. Now the statues came almost in to full view. They were in the image of three men and one woman and when he saw the weapons they were holding, he knew who and what they were. They were the three kings and one queen of legend. In their stone hands were the axe, the spear, the bow and the hammer.
The rectangular shape came into better view as well. Looking at it, he saw that it was a sarcophagus. He realized that this more than a cave or a hide. It was a tomb; and by the looks of things, the tomb of someone very important. Looking at the sarcophagus, he saw the same ancient writing carved on the slab and inlaid with gold. Could this be the tomb of…? He shook his head as if to stop himself from even thinking the thought in his mind.
“Can’t be.” He told himself.
Then he looked at the statue standing directly behind the sarcophagus.
It was like marble; only black. Unlike nearly everything else he’d seen in these inner chambers, it was not covered in dust or dirt. It was perfectly clean as if it had just been made. It was a cloaked and hooded figure, like he’d seen in his dreams and what his shadow was increasingly starting to look like. And it was holding something.
Its arms were outstretched, as if offering something to the grave. He stepped closer to examine the face on the statue. In the flickering light, it looked like the face of a young and beautiful woman. Her eyes looked sad, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. But what was she holding, Kenner asked? What was in her hands?
Kenner passed his torch over her arms and hands. It looked like a sword in its scabbard. More than that, this sword didn’t look like it was part of the statue. It was resting in her hands, but Kenner saw that, if he wanted to, he could take the weapon from her outstretched arms. The sheath, the hilt and grip were all black with a pummel
that looked like a crown. And there was another feeling flooding through Kenner. Although he consciously reminded himself that it was impossible, he felt as if the statue wanted him to take it.
Kenner passed his hand over the apparent weapon, but did not yet touch it. Like the statue, it was untouched by dust or dirt. There was a feeling of warmth coming from it; almost as if it were alive. He touched the scabbard and felt an odd sensation in his finger. It was warm, but not hot. It was almost like a breath that went into his finger and began to flow into the rest of his hand. It felt stronger, more powerful.
He placed the torch on the sarcophagus and then turned quickly to take the sword; but something stopped him. It was another strong feeling. This one seemed to tell him; “from this point, there is no turning back.”
His heart pounded in his chest for reasons he was not sure. Something about this weapon seemed almost mystical and holy. It didn’t give the impression of a weapon made by men. Slowly his hands closed around the scabbard and the energy he’d felt in his finger and his hands then coursed through his entire body. It was exhilarating and exciting. His whole body now felt larger and more powerful. With his heart beating faster, he closed his right hand over the handle and then slowly drew the blade from its sheath.
It made a ringing sound, like a tiny bell; only the sound lasted past the blade being fully drawn and Kenner gasped at the sight of it. It was solid black, but didn’t look like metal. It appeared more like glass. Despite its having the length and width of a broad sword, it was incredibly light and perfectly balanced. Still feeling thrilled, he swung the blade in a slashing motion. In doing so, he accidently hit the stone slab of the grave and it passed through the solid stone with almost no sensation of hitting anything at all.
The Black Sword Trilogy: The Poacher Page 12