by Iain Lindsay
“Steady, crew, steady….” Gulbrand shouted as Tremaine wrenched at the wheel to turn the great rudders, and Odestin was down below winching the air fans. Slowly, very slowly, the Storm started to turn in its bobbing course, lowering into the rocky passage itself.
As soon as they were passed the “door” the wind was cut off, becoming an echoing whine and hiss of sandy hail behind them. Talin looked to see that they were inside the hills: tall walls of fluted, flowing-smooth rock sculpted by the constant winds on either side of them, above a sandy floor.
“We’re clear!” Gulbrand was holding one of the boathooks and racing from one side of the airship’s decks to another (making her rock slightly) as he worried about just how much room they had between gunwale, air fan, and rock.
“Okay then, rudders and sails alone!” Tremaine called, and Talin heard the answering shout from Odestin below, and the groaning creak of wood as the starboard and fans collapsed, concertina-style against the hull. The ship suddenly wobbled without the stabilizing force, and Talin and Lura had to work ten times as hard to make every adjustment at the critically right moment.
“A little further” the Father Kef called as the Storm bobbed and swayed around the fluted corners of rock, seeing ahead of them a wider space where they could land.
Right next to the stone steps.
“Well that is… unexpected.” The Captain said as the Storm’s anchors thumped to the dirt below. They were in an open arena of rock, and in front of them the canyon wall had been carved into a tall arched opening, with hundreds of steps leading up to it. Around the archway the rock had been cut and shaped into the bodies of hundreds of gigantic animals, Talin saw a snake, a bird, some type of gazelle, each one biting the heels of the next as they surrounded the door. The work was colossal, dwarfing the airship easily.
“Who made this?” Talin said, having climbed down the rigging with Lura.
“We did, Talin.” Father Kef stated proudly. “We Nhkari did not always live out on the plains.”
“Enough time for history later, old man.” Tremaine barked. “How long will it take to get to the meeting place?”
Father Kef looked up at the past-midday sun. “By tonight, if we move quickly.”
“Good.” The Captain tapped the pommel of his sword in concentration. “Chef, Tal, and the First Mate will stay with the Storm, the rest come with me.”
“But Captain!” Odestin was suddenly leery. “Going into a fight without me, boss?”
“I’d rather have you protecting my boat,” he returned, with the tone that made it clear that his decision was final. “I want the Storm ready to make a quick getaway by morning. God’s know who will be coming after us by then…”
Talin felt suddenly awkward. They don’t want me with them because of my lack of experience. He knew that he shouldn’t feel put out, in fact he should feel relieved. But the shame still hurt.
“Captain, I think that Talin should come with us.” Father Kef said, regarding the boy.
“Who’s in charge here, you or me, Father?” Tremaine barked.
“He is Nhkari, and these are Nhkari ruins I will be taking you through. The lad should know some of his history, while he still has the chance.” Father Kef was unapologetic.
“We’re not going on a tour, Father. Quartermaster, what do you think?” Tremaine asked. Gulbrand shrugged.
“He’s quick. He took down a Protectorate boat.”
“I would insist, Captain,” Father Kef’s eyes glittered.
“Fine.” Tremaine shook his head and turned back to his state rooms, calling over his shoulder “The hand Talin comes with us.”
Talin’s mouth went dry. This was it. He was going to be asked to fight for the Storm, and he knew that he wasn’t ready. You will be ready, Holder slid into his mind. I will make sure of it. Take the Medallion with you.
But how? What good will that do? he thought, but the ship-creature had gone.
“Raiding party!” Gulbrand hollered as the heimr unlocked the ship’s lockers, there to doll out what weapons and armor they could offer. Father Kef accepted a leather hauberk under his black robes, but refused any weapon other than his staff. Lura took a small crossbow alongside her heavy scimitar and tylaethi blade – she needed no armor as she always wore her own leather-leaf cuirass.
When it came to Talin’s turn, he went for what little he knew; the buckler, leather hauberk, and Gulbrand’s long knife which, on him was the size of a short sword.
“Here.” The Quartermaster added a small brimmed tin-pot helmet, which affixed with straps under his chin. “Don’t wear it in the sun, for god’s sake, or your head will cook quicker than an egg in hell.” For himself, the Quartermaster had his war-mace, a battleax, a flint-and-powder pistol, and a large shirt of chain link that he shrugged with practiced ease over his gigantic form. “Ah,” he grinned past his fangs as he put it on. “Feels good to be back in this again.”
“No Manners today, Captain?” Sevesti noted as Tremaine emerged. His hair was tied back, and his cloak was gone, replaced with a sturdy leather and iron-studded vest, his fine blade, and a further flint-and-powder pistol on his hip.
“That, I entrust into your thieving hands, Chef,” he grinned back, and Sevesti laughed. Tal felt the double edges of fear and excitement spread through the pirates around him, and his own mouth start to curl into a joyous snarl. They were pirates. This was what they did.
“Keep the boat safe, First Mate,” Tremaine waved them off, and they climbed over the side and down the rope ladders to the canyon below – and the fight ahead.
30. The Chiefs of Old Nhkar
The monumental opening into the rock was taller than the Storm, and through it the party trudged, finding themselves in a large and cool cavern. The light flooded in through the open door in a gigantic pillar of dust motes, illuminating the bare stone floor, and walls that appeared worked.
Talin and Tremaine kindled their brass-mounted storm lanterns, revealing titanic standing figures in the gloom.
“The Chiefs.” Father Kef murmured.
The walls had been meticulously carved into colossus figures standing side by side, long-limbed and long-faced, but still lifelike. Each one was different, one a woman holding a spear, a man made taller by his elegant headdress, others holding swords, one had her hand resting lightly on a stone lions head seated beside her.
“Who were they?” Talin breathed, walking behind Father Kef at the front.
“The First Chiefs of the Nhkari, in the Golden Age.” Father Kef said reverently. “Each one you see here ruled over the kingdom of the South, although their names are forgotten now.”
The parade of Chiefs stretched far into the hills, with the sounds of the sighing wind receding to a low murmur behind them. At the end of the chamber they came to another archway – this time much smaller, with steps leading down.
“It must have taken years to carve this.” Talin whispered, and the Father Kef’s eyes glittered in the dark. “There are untold centuries before the Protectorate, lad. Thousands of years before the northmen took over the World Islands.”
Down the steps, and the walls returned to their fluted rock forms, with just the sound of their echoing feet greeting them. The air became cooler, fresher. Talin wondered at the strength of the people who could do this, and why they had then lived out on the Susha in scattered groups. The crew were all lost to their own thoughts for a long time, before the storm lanterns yellow haze revealed an end to their march. A gallery, with more archways branching off at exact intervals on either side.
“Now… Let me see…” Talin watched as the older Kef paused at each one, inspecting the openings.
“Scuff marks,” sharp-eyed Lura noted at the nearest right. When Tremaine brought the lantern over they saw that she was right. The omnipresent sand was disturbed, and the sides of the walls had scuffs and scrapes alongside it.
“Smugglers sometimes use these routes.” The Father observed, pursing his lips as he moved to the ne
xt, and the one after. “But we want the route that leads south. Not to some smuggler’s trove.”
“How can you tell which route?” Tremaine frowned, taking a sip of the water pouch, before passing it around. Talin had no sense of time down here, they could have been descending the stairs for hours or minutes.
“These” the Father indicated the furthest left-hand side archway, pushing his boot across the sand where there where inscribed thin scratches in the rock below. Lines and dashes, like the dances of bird-claws. “Old Nhkari. I know a little, and the guides use them to navigate the paths. That branching line there? Cliffs. That crosshatch? The Sun. At the end of these hills are cliffs, and I am guessing that sun sign means either towards sunrise or towards sunset.”
“That’s two completely opposite directions, old man,” Tremaine said irritably.
“But one of them will be the right direction.” Kef said with a smile in his voice. “As this is nearest the west and south, and towards our destination, I advise this direction.”
Talin saw the Captain share a dark look with the Quartermaster, but they took the old man’s advice anyway, finding themselves in a passageway that was much narrower, but with room for Talin and the father to walk in the front. The passageway curved here and there, and again their march fell into silence, each crew member content with their own company.
By the time that Talin’s stomach started rumbling, they encountered rooms. Each one the size of the deck of the Storm, with stone benches on either side. Talin saw a hole in the rock leading upward, and he was struck by the similarity to his cave home in Breaker’s Reach. I wonder if the Reach is built on one of these old ruins of my people…?
“We think they were ritual chambers. Or sleeping quarters.” Kef murmured as he pressed for them to continue. “Although we cannot be sure.”
They passed half a dozen such empty rooms before Tremaine groaned and called a halt. “It must be towards evening. We’ll rest and eat, and continue on.”
Talin was grateful for the break, propping himself against one of the stone benches to massage his weary legs as the Quartermaster handed out the meagre supplies of dried meats and fruits that Sevesti had packed for them, as well as the precious water. Talk turned to what they would do once they got to the meeting place.
“We don’t know what sort of camp the Blue Princes have – or whether they’ll even have a building or boats. But hopefully we’ll have the cover of dark to sneak in,” Tremaine nodded to Lura. “That will be your job. Scout for a way in, then report back to me.”
The Master Rigger nodded.
“After that, I’m afraid we’ll have to play it by ear. Quartermaster? I want you in reserve.” Tremaine said. “Unless things get a little tetchy…”
Gulbrand grinned, patting his war mace lying at his side.
“And Father Kef? I will need you to hang back as well – when we get the Princess out, I want to damn well be sure that we can find our way back to the Storm.”
The Father nodded over his meal.
A short rest as they let their bodies recover, and then the Captain had them on their feet and ordering them to continue. Talin was only too glad to be on the move, despite his aching legs. It was strange and creepy down here. Deserted.
The passageway continued in a looping whorl, occasionally intersecting with a crossroad of tunnels, at which the older Nhkari would pause, examine the walls, and decide on the most south-westerly direction. The empty rooms on either side stopped, but eventually their surroundings started to change. The floor became flatter, the walls lost their rocky flutes and curves, becoming straight and exact.
And they heard water, from up ahead.
Ah. Talin felt Holder’s satisfaction inside his mind.
How can I sense you, so far from the boat? Talin wondered.
You have the Medallion. It connects you to me, I believe. Holder returned. Now look, Talin – water!
The creature was right, as his lantern illuminated a large cavern that ended in a channel of fresh water. It gurgled and jumped, fast moving as it reached the far end of the end of the room and vanished into a large hole. On their near side of the room the walls were once again carved into gigantic standing Nhkari figures, and at each one’s feet was a stone block, decorated with more of the Old Nhkari script.
“Tables?” Talin breathed, but Father Kef shook his head, smiling.
“Chiefs, Talin. Those are sarcophagi. Each one holds the relics of one of the ancient Chiefs.” He said in awe, walking out to stand amongst them as he gestured to the underground stream. “Water is precious in the south. The legends of the Golden Age say that the water flows around and under the world, and across it the Chiefs travel when they have died.”
“There’s no way out.” Gulbrand said heavily. The rest of them turned and saw that he was right. Apart from the tunnel of water, there was no exit. “You’ve led us the wrong way.”
“No, there will be a way, but it must be hidden. The ancients created many such tricks in the rocks to hide their sacred places.” Father Kef shook his head, turning to the walls to start rapping on them with his staff. “Search for a hollow sound; a mechanism in the rocks.”
The Quartermaster huffed, and it was clear that Tremaine shared his skepticism as the human groaned. “We’ve come too far to turn back now. Get to it, people.”
The crew started knocking and tapping on the rock walls, with no sound coming back apart from their echoes. Lura started inspected the statues, prodding at their stone feet, toes, and even climbing halfway up the Chief with the sword to see if any of the rock was key to some hidden door. Talin chose the next statue beside her – another Chief with a robe covering his head, and holding an orb. He pulled at the statues toes and shoved at his knees before he looked up, seeing that the statue’s face was horrible disfigured.
“Gah!” He stumbled back in shock. Someone had chiseled out the eyes and nose, instead trying to crudely shape the lower part of the Chief’s face into gruesome tentacles. Like a Breaker, Tal grimaced.
“Tal?” Lura called beside him.
“Just a fright, nothing…” Talin shuddered as he turned to the next statue, the Chief who had her hand on the lion’s head. Only this lion’s mouth was carved snarling, whereas its copy had been shut. Each of the other statues (aside from the defaced one) had been a precise replica of their double in the entrance chamber. Maybe that means we’re supposed to notice the difference… Talin reached for the lion’s mouth.
Creak. A sound in the chamber that wasn’t water or human. Danger! Holder washed into his mind just as Talin had the sense that something had moved behind him.
“What in the hells is that!?” Tremaine shouted as Talin spun on his heels to see that the lid to one of the sarcophagi was shuddering, spilling sand and dust as it scraped aside, and a hand clutched the edge of the tomb.
Only it wasn’t a human hand anymore. It was the vestiges of bones and desiccated skin, carefully wrapped in tattering grave-linens.
“By the sweet waters and airs…” Tremaine appeared to be hyperventilating.
“Wight!” Gulbrand shouted, reaching for his mace.
“A guardian…” Father Kef, his eyes wide in shock. “They… they are scare-stories for children. The first dead buried guards the sleep of the others…”
“Doesn’t look like a story to me,” Lura dropped to the floor, pulling her long tylaethi blade as she landed.
The thing pulled itself up, nosing into the light as it clutched the side of the sarcophagi. It was taller and longer than any of them. Taller than what a human should be, Talin thought – even a dead one. Through its grave wrappings, Talin could see the ruins of a ribcage, the suggestion of pelvic bone and grasping skeletal feet. The thing crouched atop the lip of its resting place like a spider, it’s face a ruined mask of rotten linen and eye sockets as it turned to sniff at the nearest living thing.
Tal.
Before Tal could even register what it was that he was looking at, it was leapin
g into the air, arms raised in vicious claws straight for him.
Move! Holder in his mind, and Tal jumped to one side of the lion as the thing grappled with the stone cat’s face, springing off to turn-
“Hya!” Lura, the next nearest, drove her straight-edged Tylaethi blade deep into the thing’s back, punching straight through the chest cavity in a cloud of grave dust.
In a silent snarl, the guardian spun around as fast as a desert snake, seemingly uninjured as it struck the Rigger across the face. She spun across the floor.
Talin wedged himself between the smooth leg of the statue-Chief and the adjacent stone lion as the thing resumed its attack, bone-claws hacking at the rock around him.
Tremaine attacked next, striking at the thing’s back with his fine blade. “Get your fetid hands off my crew!” His blows broke robs and severed linen, but the thing didn’t bleed. Still with Lura’s blade sticking through its chest, it turned to jump at the attacking Captain. The man had a chance to gasp “Oh crap” before he was bowled to the floor, the grotesquely moving undead atop of him.
“Captain!” Tal pulled himself out of the constricting stone, hands reaching for a purchase to get to the Captain quicker.
Click. One of the youth’s hands had inadvertently found its way into the lion’s mouth, depressing the tongue of the snarling statue. There was a grinding noise as, in the shadows behind the lion a section of the rock wall moved backward into darkness. The exit! Talin had a moment to realize, as the Captain screamed.
“Hragh!” Gulbrand roared, sweeping his war maul in wide arc like he was scything grass, it connected with one of the things raised arms, exploding it into a shower of bone and gristle fragments and sending the creature bowling over itself.
“Get up!” Gulbrand boomed at Tremaine, whose cream linen sleeves were now blossoming with red.
Still, the guardian wouldn’t die, spinning on its legs and balanced now only on one arm as it opened teeth to silently roar at the troll.