by Jon Monson
“Even if it can’t, at least we found the Lonely Spire of legend,” Barrick said, looking at the pyramid with a frown. “That’s more than I ever expected. Any chance yeh’d be willing to just go home?”
Aydiin raised an eyebrow and shot the man one of his signature glares. Barrick laughed, folded his arms, and fell back against the pyramid to revel in his wit.
The pyramid swallowed him whole.
“Barrick,” Aydiin screamed, scrambling to the spot where his friend had disappeared.
Nothing about the smooth surface seemed to have changed. There had been no noise, no movement. The man was simply gone.
“Yeh’ve got ter see this, mate,” Barrick’s head popped out of the stone. “The wall is some sorta fake.”
Aydiin walked over to the pyramid and put his hand next to Barrick’s face. His fingers pierced the stone as if it were nothing but smoke – a very dense sort, at least. He let his fingers dance in the stone, yet only the warm desert air met them in response.
“What’s on the other side?” Aydiin asked, pulling his gaze away from the almost grotesque sight of his hand penetrating solid rock.
“The rest of the Spire, yeh git,” Barrick said. “It’s mostly just a big hole in the ground.”
“Well that’s not very encouraging,” Aydiin sighed. “Can you see a way down?”
“Stop asking stupid questions, and come see fer yerself,” Barrick snapped, although his face still held a smile as his head disappeared back through the wall.
Taking a breath, Aydiin slipped his foot through the seemingly solid surface, ignoring the pull of his stomach as he did so. His foot found solid ground on the other side, and he planted it firmly before ducking his head in through the illusion.
He blinked as his eyes took in an interior bathed in a golden twilight. It differed from the semi-luminescence of the dunes or the white light of the moon and stars. There was a warmth to it that the outside lighting couldn’t match – not the sweltering heat of the desert sun, but the warm embrace of a loved one.
Pulling the rest of his body in through the wall, Aydiin looked around for the light’s source. There were no lanterns, no electric light bulbs. Of course, he didn’t really know what to look for as nothing he’d ever seen made this kind of light before.
Pushing the twilight from his mind, his eyes began to take in his surroundings. The pyramid’s roof was equally unblemished as the exterior – no seams, and apparently carved from a single large piece of stone. Other than the impeccable craftsmanship, the chamber’s walls were completely unadorned – no statues or reliefs had been carved into the stone, no murals or ancient tapestries looked down on them. It was merely empty.
The floor – crafted from the same stone as the walls - extended about three spans before ending at a sharp drop. Barrick sat at the edge, his feet dangling into the darkness. Aydiin pulled the rest of his body into the pyramid, his stomach doing flips at the thought of looking down into that chasm.
“Impressive, right?” Barrick asked, waving his hands in reference to their surroundings.
“It’s hard to believe this is real,” Aydiin said, the words coming out slowly. He couldn’t stop a smile from conquering his face, despite the knowledge that they were only beginning their journey. The smile faded as his gaze locked onto the chasm.
“Can’t help but wonder how deep this goes,” Barrick said.
“Well, we had better find out a way down,” Aydiin laughed. “I don’t think there’s anything you could say at this point that would make me go back before we unlock this old girl’s secrets.”
“We never planned for the possibility of climbing down the Lonely Spire,” Barrick said. “We’ve got rope, but probably not enough to get all the way to the bottom.”
“I knew we should have bought that gas-powered grappling hook,” Aydiin sighed. “I can’t believe you convinced me not to get it.”
“Those peddlers from Naerdon only sell junk,” Barrick scoffed. “All I did was save yeh a few gold coins.”
“The factories of Naerdon assemble the finest inventions in the world,” Aydiin said, referring to the tiny northern nation whose industrial revolution a few decades prior had single-handedly changed the world. “Do I need to remind you that revolver you love so much started out as one of those pieces of ‘junk’ sold only by Neardon?”
“Easy there,” Barrick laughed. “I surrender. Wasn’t saying that everything from Naerdon is junk – just most of it.”
“And the stuff that’s not junk has changed everything,” Aydiin said, letting his gaze drift down the chasm. “I just wish I could convince father to start our own Institute of Technology.”
“Yer old man hates that stuff even more than I do,” Barrick said. “Yeh’d have better luck telling a tree to pick up its roots and move than ter make the Sultan embrace change.”
“We’ve somehow gotten off topic again,” Aydiin said, slinging the pack off his shoulder. “Right now is a time to focus on what we have, not what we should have purchased back in Oltu.”
He began rifling through the bag’s contents. Before leaving Oltu, he’d filled it to the brim with preserved food, matches, a compass – everything he could think of to survive a desert excursion. His fingers clawed through the various objects, searching for something small and relatively heavy.
A gleam in the corner of Aydiin’s vision caught his attention. He brought up his gaze to see Barrick, his face solemn. His hands clasped the leather straps of his suspenders – the straps were secured to the man’s trousers by oversized brass buttons. Grinning more than was probably necessary, Aydiin reached over and ripped the button clean off.
“Hey, whaddya do that fer?” Barrick yelled out, his concentration broken.
“We need to drop an object into the chasm to see how deep it goes,” Aydiin said. “I can’t do the math in my head to know exactly how deep it is, but it will give us a good guess.”
“Well why couldn’t yeh have done it with one of yer own buttons?” Barrick asked.
“Because I don’t have any,” Aydiin laughed, lifting his arms to show his clothing, which relied on layers of wrapping to keep together. “And besides, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that – you should have seen the look on your face. Now quiet, this isn’t going to make a very loud noise.”
Aydiin extended his arm out above the chasm and took in a deep breath. Opening his hand slowly, he let the button slip from his hand. With breath held and eyes shut, he strained his ears, ready to count the seconds before hearing the drop.
A dull thud almost immediately met his ears, and his eyes shot towards Barrick. The man’s eyes were wide, indicating he too had heard the noise. Together, both men leaned forward to stare into the abyss.
The small piece of brass sat hanging in mid-air. Aydiin moved his head back and forth, trying to see what supported Barrick’s button. There was nothing.
“Yeh’d think this place would eventually stop surprisin’ me,” Barrick drawled, reaching into his pocket.
He fished out a single coin – a single Kurus, the smallest and least valuable of Salatian currency. Aydiin almost chuckled, remembering the indignant look on Barrick’s face as he’d removed a button from his suspenders.
Barrick flicked the coin high into the air, the metal flickering in the twilight. Aydiin held his breath as it hung in the air before gravity brought it back down. Their ears were met with a soft clink as the coin bounced in the air before coming to a rest only a span away from the button.
“This is more than just odd,” Aydiin said, lowering himself down off the ledge. “There are divine powers at work here.”
His feet hit solid ground. He looked down at his boots to see only the darkness stretching out beneath him. The site made his head spin, and he placed a hand against the wall for support. Yet he wasn’t falling.
“Yer crazy, mate,” Barrick said, rising to his feet.
“Everything about this is crazy,” Aydiin said, pulling out his lantern th
at sat strapped to his pack. Whipping out his box of matches, he lit the wick and the lantern caught the flame.
“Have you ever seen a Creep?” Aydiin asked, lifting the lantern.
“Yeh don’t see Creeps,” Barrick said. “They’re invisible – that’s kinda their whole point.”
“Even those who have been using their powers for decades aren’t perfect,” Aydiin said, bringing the lantern close to the stairs. “If you look closely, you can always see a faint outline.”
As the orange light flickered throughout the chasm, Aydiin could distinguish the faint outline of stairs carved out of the wall. They were still invisible, but the light bounced off the solid objects enough to create a disturbance.
“Hopefully these steps spiral down the entirety of the Spire,” Aydiin said. “We just have to be okay with walking on an invisible staircase.”
“Just try not to look down, mate,” Barrick said, lowering himself off the ledge and onto the staircase.
“And maybe keep one hand on the wall, just for balance,” Aydiin said, extinguishing the lantern. For now, he wanted both hands, and the twilight allowed his eyes to see well enough.
“I ain’t ever heard of a Creep that can make things invisible,” Barrick said as the two began their descent.
“That’s why I said there’s divine work here – or rather, work done by the Divines,” Aydiin said, trying to ignore the sensation of stepping off into nothing. “The best Stone-weavers in Margella couldn’t make a pyramid this large or perfect, and no Creep can transfer his abilities to inanimate objects. This must have been not only created during the Age of Divinity, but it was built by more than one of the Divines.”
“So Okuta used his skills as the God of Craftsmen to build a tower in the middle of the desert,” Barrick said, keeping his hand on the wall and very obviously staying close to Aydiin. “That somehow seems below his station, wouldn’t yeh say?”
“Of course I would. From what I’ve studied, the Divines didn’t just waste their time and energy on things that didn’t matter,” Aydiin said. “That means there has to be something worth protecting here.”
“They sure chose a good spot fer it,” Barrick said. “Can’t imagine too many blokes wantin’ to come all the way out here, no matter the prize.”
“It’s also possible this wasn’t even a desert in the Age of Divinity,” Aydiin said. “This place has something – I’d bet Askari on that.”
“Can I turn down that bet?” Barrick asked. “I don’t have anything worth that kerton. Besides, even if I win, I wouldn’t want ter deal with that creature.”
“Oh, but Askari likes you,” Aydiin laughed.
“Last week, he tried ter eat me arm.”
“He was only playing. If he’d actually wanted your arm, he would have taken it.”
“Well I guess that’s comforting,” Barrick said.
Aydiin didn’t push the conversation further. His legs were growing tired from the descent. His mind didn’t feel confident in the stairs, and the fear that the next step would suddenly be missing never seemed to dissipate. His foot probed each descending step before committing.
His legs began to burn from the repetitive motions. So much of his time these past few years had been spent in the palace’s gymnasium developing the muscles and skills required for the life he’d been seeking. Those skills had saved him on more than one occasion, yet nothing had really prepared him for climbing down this many invisible steps.
As they descended, the twilight that had allowed him to see at the Spire’s tip followed. Below, darkness dominated their view, allowing his eyes to only see a few steps ahead. Yet as he moved, the pathway became bright.
As his foot descended into darkness yet again, he was rewarded by the sound of his leather boot crunching on hard-packed dirt instead of a stone stair. Aydiin took another step into the darkness, and instead of another stair, he was met with solid ground. The twilight grew brighter, and he blinked furiously as the light revealed the bottom of the Spire.
“Is it asking too much of the Divines ter create a simpler way in?” Barrick asked, leaping the last few stairs and landing by Aydiin’s side. “Like maybe a lift.”
“You’ve never even seen a lift. There isn’t a single building in Maradon tall enough to need one,” Aydiin responded, scanning their newly illuminated surroundings. “And besides, if the point is to protect the Spire’s contents, then they did a good job.”
“Well, I hope yer in good enough shape to carry me up when this is all over, mate,” Barrick said. “I shoulda just waited fer yeh at the top.”
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” Aydiin said, ignoring the cramping in his thighs. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to that ascent, but for the moment, there were far more pressing matters. “Think about where we are, and where we’re going – not what we have to do after this is all over.”
“All I’m seein’ is an empty room,” Barrick said. “Unless maybe the treasure is also invisible.”
“I won’t argue that this room is empty,” Aydiin said, feeling his stomach drop at the realization. “But so far, this place has been full of surprises. I’m guessing there has to be at least one more. Besides, you’re wrong – this room isn’t completely empty.”
His eyes caught sight of a shape on the far side of the Spire. As he approached it, the twilight followed, lighting the remainder of the Spire’s base.
A statue of about Aydiin’s height depicting a very solid man protruded from the wall. Carved from the same white stone as the Spire, it blended in almost perfectly with its surroundings. In the twilight, it was difficult to make out all of its details.
The man wore a simple tunic – similar to the garb worn by practically every depiction of the Age of Divinity – which left both his arms and lower legs exposed. The legs stood straight, while the arms held a small bowl in delicately crafted fingers. The statue’s hands caught Aydiin’s attention.
“Any chance that statue is worth anything?” Barrick asked, trotting over to where Aydiin stood studying the piece of art.
“Well it’s attached to the wall, so I’m assuming that removing it would potentially destroy a significant portion of its value,” Aydiin said, dropping to his knees for a better look at the hands.
“What are yeh doing?” Barrick asked.
“Look at his hands,” Aydiin responded, lifting his fingers to touch the stone. “There are Markings carved into them.”
“So this is some Fire-dancer?” Barrick asked.
“Possibly,” Aydiin responded, rising to his feet and pulling out his lantern. “Or it might just be a clue.”
Opening the lantern, Aydiin poured a small amount of kerosene into the bowl. It only allowed for a few drops – the container was not meant to hold a significant amount of anything. Fumbling for the box of matches, Aydiin struck one dropped the burning stick into the small pool of oil.
As the kerosene caught the flame, the Markings on the statue’s hands began to glow a deep red. As if not carved from stone, the Markings began to dance and flow, just as they did on the hands of every Fire-dancer Aydiin had ever seen. The glow of both the fire and Markings added to the golden twilight.
The glowing increased in strength as the fire burned out, its fuel insufficient to maintain a continuous burn. The hands began to crumble, the stone turning to ash. The decay climbed up the statue’s arms and onto the torso, the white stone darkening before crumbling into nothing.
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Aydiin whispered. “But I just can’t help it.”
A hole just large enough to slip through now occupied the space where the statue had long stood as sentinel. The whistling of a cool breeze emanated from the darkness, and Aydiin could feel goose bumps rising on his skin. The breeze was accompanied by something else, a noise that Aydiin couldn’t quite identify.
“That sounds like water,” Barrick whispered. “It’s distant, but there’s gotta be a river or something on the other side.”
“That
definitely serves as an incentive,” Aydiin said, slipping into the tunnel, the twilight illuminating a few steps ahead as he walked. “Even if the only thing we find is water, we’ll have disproved so many theories about the Soulless Desert.”
“I’d be right disappointed if all we found was a river,” Barrick said. “I’m only here fer the loot.”
“Do you really think the Divines created this place to hide gold?” Aydiin asked, gesturing to the tunnel walls that now surrounded them without stopping. “I would be disappointed if we didn’t find a trove of scrolls or something with a little bit more value.”
“Not all of us are nearly into reading as you are, mate,” Barrick laughed. “In fact, most gents I know would gladly take a chest filled with gold over some dusty scroll any day of the week.”
The tunnel twisted and turned, the twilight illuminating a few steps ahead as they moved. The altitude change was gradual, but Aydiin could tell they were descending deeper into the subterranean chamber. With every step, the promise of distant water grew louder, and the cotton ball in Aydiin’s throat grew larger.
The tunnel’s walls were unlike anything Aydiin had ever seen. He’d explored caves before, vast complexes beneath the mountains near the border separating Salatia from its neighbor Ghindi. There, he had marveled at expansive chambers, more spacious than the Great Basilica in Maradon and crammed his body into narrow passages. Yet none of that compared to this.
The walls of those caves had been carved over time by nature – their walls rough and uneven. While the tunnel lacked the absolute perfection of the Lonely Spire, these walls were most definitely not carved by an ancient river. Even the imperfections spoke of a master taking great care in their creation.
“So, are we gonna talk about this little light that keeps following us?” Barrick asked after what felt like hours of trekking through the tunnel.
“I was hoping we wouldn’t,” Aydiin replied, taking another step accompanied by further illumination. “It’s odd, incomprehensible, and yet very helpful at the same time.”
“So yer willin’ to admit it’s strange,” Barrick laughed.