"Namely Cayusee," he replied.
Yarrow made a sound of agreement in her throat and they led their horses to some empty stalls. They were all empty, but they chose the stalls closest to them. The warmth that Yarrow had hoped to find inside the mountain was present here, but it seemed more than it should be from just the rock itself, as if the cave had been heated.
Must be an internal heating system, she decided, but the idea didn't do much to quell her sudden nervousness. If there was an ancient internal heating system in place from when the mountain had been inhabited by that exiled Queen Whatshername, then who in Tyvian was keeping the fires stoked now?
And who had stocked the stable with fresh hay?
Swallowing, she finished tending to Pyrrhus, who was the epitome of a happy horse now they were out of the melting snow and cold wind. The ex-bellica turned to Jules, who had just finished curry-combing his own horse as well and was now inspecting the room at large.
"There's a door here," he said from the corner, consternation in his voice.
She went to join him. "You mean an opening."
"No. I mean a door."
She saw he was right, but it was unlike any door she had ever seen before.
It was flush with the rock wall, with no apparent hinges or handle, and it didn't seem to be made of wood. She stepped in front of him, moving closer to it, and placed her palm upon the smooth plane. It was cold, in contrast to the room at large, and felt more like steel than wood. But it was a white, opaque color, unlike any steel she'd ever seen before. When she looked closely she could see it contained pores, as wood did. Or flesh, she thought, and suppressed a shudder.
Slowly, containing her nervousness, she moved her hands all over the door, looking for a crack or hinge or anything that would open it. It was the only way out of the stables aside from where they had come in, so unless they got it open they were sleeping with the horses. Which wouldn't be so bad for a night, but she wanted to rest inside the mountain for a while yet before they moved on again.
She finished her exploratory circuit of the door and let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Nothing. About to give up, she stepped back, and then noticed a small square just to the right of the door. It was level with her hip, and made of the same material of the door itself. She measured it mentally, and saw it was just big enough for her hand. Not daring to believe it would work, she pressed her palm against the square, fingers straight.
The door slid up into the rock.
Yarrow stumbled back, landing against Jules. He steadied her with one hand, the other brandishing his sword in front of them. She'd not even heard him draw it. Before either of them could speak, a voice came out of the walls.
"Bienvenue a la maison, nuestra la Reigna."
A strained pause passed. "What in Tyvian was that, and what the feck did it say?" Yarrow asked, thoroughly scared now and considering turning tail and running. She turned to Jules, wanting to gauge his reaction. He had a concentrating look on his face.
"It's Ancient Atherian, and I think it said 'Welcome home, Queen.'"
Yarrow was flabbergasted. "How on Althea's green earth do you know Ancient Atherian, Jules?"
He shrugged. "I don't. Not fluently, at least. I studied it rather extensively in school -- gave me an edge over Sarai, who could speak the lingua franca in the Temple with ease where I stumbled over those words." He smiled, but it was not with laughter. "Frankly, though, this place gives me the creeps and I'd like to leave," he added, and Yarrow felt a bit of bravado come back.
"And face certain death?" she asked.
He gestured with his sword to the still open door that led to darkness."We could die here!"
"Yes, but it's not certain."
He made a noise of exasperation. "Fine. You first."
I'd planned on it, she thought, but only nodded and drew her boot knife.
Slowly she stepped forward through the door, into the dark hallway beyond. A blue light passed over her face and body, making the small hairs on her skin stand up on end.
"Identificada confirmennen," came the voice again. Yarrow jumped and turned in time to see the door slide shut again, Jules on the other side.
"Feck!" she exclaimed, and heard similar invective from his end.
"Dammit. Yarrow, are you alright?" His voice was muffled by the door.
"I'm fine!" she shouted. "Can you open it again?"
A pause. "No! I'm going to break it down," she heard him say.
"No, wait!" she took a deep breath. "Let me see if I can open it again."
She heard nothing from the other side, but knew he grumbled. Reaching her hand out in the complete darkness, she found the door with her fingers. Slowly she walked her hand to the right until it found rock. Working her hand up and down, she searched for another small square like the one on the other side of the door.
She found nothing.
Quelling her rising panic she moved her hand back over to the other side. The further down her hand got the more nervous she became, until -- finally! -- smooth and cold material touched her fingers and, before her surprised eyes, glowed in the darkness. The door slid open then and a worried-looking Jules stepped forward quickly. She released the square and the door shut, leaving them in unmitigated darkness yet again.
"Wonderful," she growled, but before she could stumble forward the blue light came again and ran over Jules' face and body.
"Identificada obscura," the voice said, and Yarrow noticed for the first time it was a pleasant baritone. "Adits a la basidatan?"
Yarrow stood, utterly confused and hoped Jules had an answer. His voice whispered in her ear then: "Say 'ouinta ne sera,' Yarrow."
"What? What does that mean?" she whispered back.
"Just do it."
"Fine. Uh. Ouinta ne sera," she said loudly.
There was a long silence, during which Yarrow's heart skipped several beats. What in Tyvian was going on here?
The voice spoke again, then, in a very long sentence that totally escaped her comprehension. A second passed, and Yarrow found her eyes adjusting to the dark. She thought she could see Jules' hand pressed to the small square that had opened the door, and in the next moment he called out his full name.
Very strange.
The square glowed again, brighter than it had before, and Jules hissed in pain.
"What?" she whispered, really wanting some answers.
"It's hot," he said, but didn't remove his hand.
In the next few seconds the glow disappeared and the voice came again.
"Identificada confirmen. Bienvenue."
There was a click somewhere, and they heard no more of the voice. Looking around, she thought her eyes were adjusting to the dark more, but soon she realised it was slowly lightening in the hallway.
She turned to Jules, who she could see now. "You know what's going on here, don't you?" she said, directing a piercing glare at him.
He shook his head. "Not really. Well. Sort of. I barely remember it, but one of the texts I read in school said that Atton was the first capital of Athering, and the royal family lived in 'a palace of stone caves until the City Upon the River was built.' I can only assume they meant this place."
She repositioned the boot knife in her hand for easy throwing and started to move down the hallway. "What about the voice, the glow, the strange recognition of me but not you?" she asked, still not satisfied.
He laughed softly. "Recognition of you is an easy one -- you're a descendant of Aradia. You probably resemble one of your ancestresses, enough to make whatever being guards this mountain think you are she."
She rolled her shoulder, a shrug conceding his point. "And the rest?" They were nearing the end of the hallway now. She could make out a room ahead.
"'Ancient mageks' is the only thing I can come up with," he said. "Though the text did mention some sort of defence system. I assume that was magek, too."
She made a sound of disgust in her throat. "Magek doesn't exist, Jules. Ju
st a silly superstition."
A pause. "You have met Ghia, right?"
Before she could retort about the girl not being fully human and therefore not counting in this case, both were struck dumb by the sight of the room in front of them.
The roof curved high over the huge room that had obviously been used as a ballroom or banquet hall in the past. Parquet flooring, perfect for dancing, covered the ground, and large tables covered in sheets were pushed to the sides. Coloured lamps dotted the ceiling, casting a rainbow of light across the floor and walls.
"Holy Goddess," Yarrow breathed, looking at the room before her.
"Took the words right out of my mouth," Jules said, equally awed.
Across the hall were three more doors like the one they had come through. Yarrow jerked her head towards the leftmost one, and Jules followed her, their footsteps echoing in the large cavern.
Yarrow stopped at the door and gestured for Jules to precede her.
"You have to open the door," he said, eyebrows raised.
"I have a hunch it will work for you this time," she said, regarding him steadily. When he didn't move she waved her hand impatiently.
He shrugged and pressed his hand against the square as she had to open the other door. The door slid up into the rock.
"Told you so," she said with a saucy grin, and went inside. She heard him sigh and knew he shook his head at her as they explored the room beyond.
Turned out it was the kitchens and the servants' quarters. After a quick search, they determined it was void of living things but, strangely, not food -- the icebox was stocked full with unidentifiable meat, and there were even things like grains and such in the pantry. Yarrow felt that chill that had been her best friend since they'd arrived come back to say hello, and she tried to banish it by moving onto the next room.
This room prompted a yell and throwing of her knife from Yarrow, and the steel blade hit the throne she'd aimed it at, clattering to the floor at the feet of the skeleton who sat and regarded them with empty eye sockets. There was a crown still on her head.
"Congratulations," Jules said wryly as he walked around Yarrow, "you killed it."
That prompted a well-deserved smack on the shoulder.
Jules didn't respond as he walked to the throne and retrieved Yarrow's knife. Before he could walk back to her she'd joined him, staring at the long-dead Queen.
"Who's this, then?" she asked into the long silence.
"Beats me," Jules said, face earnest. "I'd hazard a guess and say it's the last Queen who was exiled to here."
"Thanks, Chief Officer of the Obvious," she said sardonically and explored the rest of the room.
Finding nothing of interest, she suggested they move on to the third door from the main hall.
"And never come back in here again," she added, looking at the skeleton.
"Agreed."
The third doorway led to some stone stairs, which then opened to a long stone hallway, doors on either side all along it.
Yarrow opened the first one and it slid back to reveal an extremely small double-bedroom. So did the next five on each side, and each sixth door led to a huge communal privy and washing room.
"Rooms for guests and lesser nobility, I assume," she said, and Jules nodded.
They were more than halfway down the hallway now and saw it ended in more stairs. Not bothering to check the rest of the doors on this level, they went up to the next one, and found the rooms up there to be larger. The third floor was bigger than the second with bigger rooms, and the fourth, fifth and six floors held entire suites of small, medium, and large sizes. The seventh floor held what obviously had been the Queen's, Consort's, and Queen-Mother's (or heir-apparent's) quarters. Yarrow gave each of these a cursory glance, not particularly caring.
"So," Jules said, stretching now that he'd re-sheathed his sword, "which rooms do you want to take?"
She shrugged and replaced her boot knife. "We don't need much room. A suite on the fourth floor would do. Let's get the bags."
He didn't argue, which was only a mild surprise to her. He'd done so less and less, and she was getting used to it by now. They set about preparing for their new lives deep in the gut of Mt. Impri.
Jourd'Muerta, 16th Duema
Yarrow was looking for food, despite Jules' many protests. Finally -- he'd started arguing with her again! Things were getting back to normal. As normal as they could be.
"Kitchen fully stocked or no, we need to find our own food," she'd said. "As good as our meals have been -- I don't even know what we're eating! I'd rather start hunting and finding some vegetables, too, as soon as possible." And I need to go outside before I go crazy.
Their five days in the mountain had been comfortable -- not only were the beds plush and the food plentiful, there was hot running water too! -- but, all the same, creepy. Yarrow waked to strange noises each night, disturbing her already restless sleep, and her tired eyes caught a shadow in her room that was just as soon gone, so fast she managed to convince herself she'd dreamt it, come morning.
She'd not asked Jules if the same had happened to him, for she was sure it was just her imagination. Besides, he looked well-rested so far as she could see and she was practised at noticing these things. She, on the other hand, had shadows under her eyes and looked more gaunt than usual, for despite the plentiful food, she found her appetite gone most days.
Her continued exploration of the mountain palace had not revealed the source of the voice that had welcomed them and now occasionally spoke to them. She'd mentally nicknamed it Aro, for it sounded a bit like him, and giving it a name made her feel as if there were another person with them, keeping them company.
She wished there was, in truth. Jules didn't say much anymore, and she knew his mind was on Ghia. Not for the first time, she wished she'd stopped the girl from going to what Yarrow knew was a certain death. Attempting to free Molly? There was no way either girl could have survived to escape. She wished...oh, Tyvian. If wishes were jackahares I wouldn't have to go so far down this fecking mountain to hunt.
She was below the treeline, on the north face of the mountain, searching for any edible animal or plant. She'd even welcome a treecat -- I've faced one before. I could probably kill it now.
Maybe.
The forest this high up the mountain was silent, and the trees not strong enough for the felines besides. So she trekked further down, as far as she dared before she lost the chance of making it back home in time. Home! What a jest! Thank the Goddess it was past equinox, and the days were now longer than the nights. Winter's grip had been shaken off in the rest of Athering and even Mt. Impri was navigable now. It was no longer slushy. That was a blessing. High up on the mountain, where the entrance to the caves were and where she had to go back when she was finished hunting, there was still snow, a light dusting -- gentle, even.
Just when she was about to give up, she came across a jackahare gathering nuts from below a tyrn tree and placing them into its pouch. Silent as a cat, Yarrow dropped into a moving crouch and crept up on the animal, readying her knife for a quick strike.
SNAP.
A twig broke under her boot and the hare bolted. Cursing, Yarrow took after it at a dead run, weaving as effortlessly as it did through the trees.
At the base of a large oak there was a huge leafy bush and it was under this the jackahare dove. Yarrow slid to her knees in front of the bush and pulled back its leaves.
The jackahare stood in her den and hissed at Yarrow, guarding her clutch of babies -- not even a few days old, their eyes were still closed. Yarrow sighed, for the mother was big and would have been a good meal, and apologised to the animal, who did not think much of this and continued to bare her large teeth and hiss. The ex-bellica dropped the branches of the bush and rose, brushing the dirt and leaves off her pants.
"Feck," she said vehemently, and began the long trek uphill, back to the mountain, empty handed. At this point she'd be lucky if she made it back before midnight.
True to her pessimistic prediction, the sun had set by the time she reached the treeline, and she laboured up the rocky, snow-sprinkled slope in the dark. Soon the moons rose and cast their silver light, giving an eerie shine to the rust-coloured rock of the rest of the Blood Mountains that stretched away in a long range, far to the north, and the river with the same name that ran through them.
Yarrow stopped to look at the view behind her several times, and wondered what lay further north, beyond the mountain range that spanned the earth from her spot to the horizon. Did anything lie beyond it or was it just mountains and forest forever, as far as the earth went?
Maybe in summer, if Jules and I still live, we'll journey north. See what there is to be seen.
She turned back and continued her zig-zag hike up, cursing the Moirae and Fortuna with every step. It was windy and cold and miserable again, and all she could think about was the warm bath that she knew awaited her in the mountain.
A sound like a song came over the wind, and Yarrow frowned and looked around. It came again, like a woman singing mournfully. Damn mountain gets creepier every day. The thought was half-formed in her mind when the sound became a high-pitched keening scream. She tried to clamp her hands over her ears but stood paralysed, rooted to the spot.
Out of the darkness came a lumbering white shape, galloping towards her with deadly purpose. It continued to scream and Yarrow felt her blood freeze in her veins as she realised what it was.
Flesh Screamer.
She stood, unable to move, desperately trying to draw her sword. Her body wouldn't obey. Her skin felt tight and hard, all suppleness lost, as if it had turned to stone around her and locked her in place.
The shape came closer, and she saw six legs -- no, wait, now two legs and four arms as it moved to trot upright, large iridescent wings behind it for balance. It was covered in a thick white fur, but that was all she noticed for in the next instant a blur of white and black collided with the creature from the side, knocking it down and rolling away with it, locked in fierce battle.
Bellica Page 63