“When a new recruit was accepted into the ranks for training, he was forced to lay down all arms and strip to the waist. Then, he would face off in a fight against a Fyrbold with all the skills and knowledge he possessed. The sparring session would show the Fyrbold how much instruction the recruit would need,” he paused for a moment rubbing his side. “And to humble any overconfidence from particularly headstrong recruits.”
She wondered how much of that sort of training he had endured during the preceding days. She knew he had already possessed considerable skills in the area of martial combat and guessed logically that most of his instruction would have been aimed at using the Sigils to unlock the powers of the Sigil of Flames.
“We’ve been fortunate to avoid detection by the troks patrolling this city. In fact, there have been skirmishes between Trokkish factions and we even spotted a few oroks wandering about,” said Gennevera. She found herself thinking of Carym’s selfless traits and lean physique far too much and chose to change the subject. “It was a miracle that we haven’t been discovered.”
“Indeed,” he replied simply. He took the cloak that Gennevera had offered him and studied it for a moment, considering its unusual quality. It was a plain thing, brown with black trim and inexplicably soft. He slung the cloak over his shoulders and tucked the batons into his belt.
“Where is Mathonry?” she asked, following Carym into the main sanctuary of the temple.
“He will not be joining us,” Carym replied matter-of-factly. “He took great risk in coming to us here. Although the Cjii are strictly forbidden from meddling directly in our affairs, Zuhr has made an exception for him. There is a great war brewing in the heavens, Genn. The pantheon of gods is tilting wildly and new lines are being drawn. The gods and the Cjii who serve them are choosing sides in a war that will rock the heavens,” he finished sadly.
“What do you mean?”
“All I know is that Umber has drawn some of his siblings and their Cjii to his side to fight with him. While the others have acknowledged Zuhr’s decree that his misguided children have overstepped their bounds. There are no true gods but Zuhr Himself! The rest are his own children, his own creations. I am told the children of Zuhr are less divine than He, but more so than any of the Cjii. I don’t truly understand it all, but Mathonry says that doesn’t matter. Only Zuhr matters; the others are meant to serve Him.”
Gennevera said nothing, watching him as he checked the weapons and supplies each person was carrying. They decided to move out in a file formation and each of the foursome was aware of their responsibilities to the group. Satisfied that all was ready and each person knew their responsibility when the inevitable conflict ensued, Carym led his team down the stairs into the darkness below the Temple. Gennevera cast a backward glance at the sanctuary, longing to bring with her the calm and serenity she felt there. Shaking her head, she wondered whose side Grymm had chosen.
The group moved on in silence. There was nothing to say, really. There were no other options that didn’t involve facing more troks on the city streets above. The group had spent a grueling five days under the tutelage of the ancient Mathonry Fyrendi, mercilessly drilling them on battle formations, marching tactics, and the use of magic. Carym had endured intense sessions in the use of the Sigil of Flames with his mentor. He learned much about the basics of its use and how to control it without burning himself to a crisp. Now Mathonry was satisfied that the group could face any number of attacks with a level of military efficiency that would see them through the vast reaches of the Underllars. They were ready and eager to see the sun again.
Mathonry could not accompany them on this part of the journey, but he urged haste in reaching the Everpool before the Dark Hunters caught up to them. He assured them he would check in on them from time to time and instructed them on the finer points of the use of his “home.” Having never truly spent much time in the Underllars, Mathonry knew little about how his “home” had come to be there and even less about how the group could find the surface. He did know what the Blood Spire was and told them how to find it. A secret tunnel led from the temple directly to the spire and he showed them how to find the entrance.
“Be wary, even in this place below the Temple of Zuhr,” he warned. “This place has been unwatched for a very long time and anywhere beyond the confines of this temple should be considered dangerous. Alas, I can offer you little else.”
Mathonry unceremoniously vanished then, leaving only his final instructions. Gennevera used her own brand of magic and lit the tunnel with a ghostly and very cold light. After walking through the cold, dank tunnel for what seemed like an hour, they came to another stair leading up while the tunnel itself continued on. Carym lead the group onward and upward, grateful there had been no traps, troks, or misleading corridors along the way. All of them silently hoped this was where they would find the Blood Spire.
They ascended a tightly winding spiral stair that seemed to go up forever. It took almost twenty minutes of climbing stairs before they reached the first landing. Gefar immediately sat down, grumbling to himself and muttering, but Carym paid him no mind. There was a door here. Carym opened the door and entered the room, followed by Yag and Gennevera. After a moment and a curse, he heard the sounds of the still grumbling Gefar and guessed the dour man had decided to come along.
As the foursome entered the room, glowing bulbs of light lining both walls immediately lit the chamber. While the temple, the passageways and stairways behind them were unremarkable and made from stone, this room was the model of opulence and decadence. The floors, walls, and ceiling were all made from smoothly polished ruby. Cabinets, tables, and desks, all made of something that appeared to be silver, with beautiful inscriptions and designs, were located in various places about the room. To Carym the room looked so well-preserved, it seemed as though there could have been people working in here just yesterday and he had the peculiar feeling as though someone would be back at any moment. But most striking was the large glass window at the opposite side of the room where Gennevera now stood. Carym approached and looked out the window to the city below.
“What a beautiful city!” she exclaimed wistfully. “Can you imagine what it must have looked like so many centuries ago when it was bustling? And the wealth and opulence of it all. This place must have been the envy of all the kingdoms in the world!”
Carym said nothing, looking out over the impressive place. From up here he could see the gate which led to the port where they had lost their ship, broad avenues, soaring towers, beautiful mansions; and not a modest brick to be seen. He sighed, wondering if it was extravagance that led to the downfall. Behind him he heard Yag and Gefar looking around, examining drawers and cabinets for something useful like a map. It was then, however, that he saw movement in the city below.
“I think I see more troks,” he said with foreboding.
“I see them,” said Gennevera after a moment’s searching, scanning the rest of the city. “I see at least five different patrols, each looks to have close to twenty troks!”
Gefar began cursing and his search continued in haste.
“Seems to me we ought to be fairly safe up here, and unlikely the little bastards will find us,” said Yag hopefully.
“But we have to leave sooner or later, and when we do they will be waiting. I would like to find a map and escape this city as quickly as possible!” said Carym as he turned. Then seeing the far wall for the first time, he noticed how out of place one large rectangular area was. It was completely bare while the rest of the walls were covered with inscriptions and murals and fancy jewels. At waist level was circular shape in the wall with a depression not unlike the one which unlocked Mathonry Fyrendi’s home. Carym strode to the wall and examined the depression. From his pocket he removed the key which he had used to unlock Fyrendi’s home, and placed it in what appeared to be a keyhole. Immediately the wall above him lit up with words and script in the alien language used by the Dalcasians of the Uta Millan Empire. When the
words faded, an image of a person appeared and began to speak. This time, Carym was unable to comprehend the words and could only shake his head as the others looked at him expectantly.
“What sort of Shadow magic this is?” Gefar said to the image of the pale skinned man in a shrill voice. “Who are you?” he demanded to the figure.
“Gefar, I cannot understand him but I don’t think he can hear or see us. I think this was somehow captured and designed to be displayed when the key is placed into that lock. But why?” Carym said thoughtfully. Yag had walked to the large window and very slowly drawn a set of curtains closed to prevent the light from the image being seen on the streets below. He hoped that the troks had not already seen it.
After a few moments of listening to the rhythmic and somewhat musical speech of the ancient stranger, the face disappeared and was replaced by the image of a large map. The map twisted and turned and rotated and lit up with different lights as they watched. Gennevera put her hand on rectangular panel that displayed the image and the map quite suddenly stopped shifting.
“It follows the movements of my hand!” she said in wonder as she moved her hand to the side to draw it away. “The magical powers these ancient beings had must have been marvelous to behold!” she said in wonder. Carym was too distracted to imagine it. All he wanted was to figure out how to read it so they could escape without running into anymore troks.
Gennevera’s hand moved this way and that and she experimented with the different views this produced. Finally, an image flashed before them that appeared to be a traditional sort of map of the city from above with all of the main roads. It also appeared to have various markings around the perimeter of the city indicating where the port was and what he assumed might be tunnels leading out.
“That is what we are looking for!” he said, studied the wonderful map for several moments, touching different parts where tunnels appeared to lead away from the city. Then he moved to the window to compare the map with their view of the city below.
“What do you think, Carym?” asked Yag. “Can we escape this infernal city or are we doomed to fight a hundred troks with our dying breaths?”
Carym let out a sigh as Yag took his turn studying the map. Carym stood by the window, peering out the curtain at the city below, trying to orient his view with that of the map. “Yag, I can see at least three more gates, like the one we passed through at the port area. If I understand that map correctly, these are the tunnels that lead out of the city.”
“And I believe I’ve figured out where one of them goes,” said Gennevera, studying one segment of the map on the wall. “This tunnel is marked with a symbol that holds meaning among my people to this day. It is the symbol that is used to represent a gateway to the part of the Underllars where Grymm resides.”
That revelation made the other three uncomfortable. None relished the thought of visiting his abode, as close as it was to the realm of the dead.
“Aye. Now we know where we don’t want to go,” said Yag wryly.
“The second bears a symbol which I do not recognize, yet the third bears a symbol that has shifted between a sun, a moon, and a starry sky. We may assume that this would be the tunnel we need to follow.”
“How’r we supposed t’know that’s the truth of it?” asked Gefar suspiciously.
“The ancient Dalcasians traded heavily with surface kingdoms and with other subterranean kingdoms. They would have had to have tunnels leading above before they developed the ability to pilot ships underwater,” said Carym. He hoped that was true anyway; it was possible that his logic was reversed, that the ancient Dalcasians had been surface dwellers who had only discovered their wealth by mistake. “Besides, I would rather not test our luck on the second tunnel when we’ve no idea at all about where it goes. It seems we have no other choice aside from fighting troks.”
“They seem to be fighting themselves now,” Yag said with surprise. “What in the name of Sarlyn would make them do that?”
Gennevera left the map and joined Yag at the window to survey the scene below. It appeared that two of the patrols of troks had met and were indeed fighting. “It’s hard to say for sure, but it looks like the badges on their armor are different from each other. Maybe they fight over the location of a valuable prize? Very interesting.”
“Aye, that it may be. What interests me more, my lady, is getting out of here before those patrols find their way to our little balcony. Must be they are after what we’re after and we got here first. Though I can’t say why they’d be after a way to the surface, or why they wouldn’t already know how to get there.” Yag was becoming more concerned with the motives of these devious creatures.
Carym joined them at the window. “Where ever they are, I would rather not be. So let’s leave while they are distracted with each other. I am eager to see Dalcasia disappearing in the distance behind us!”
There was no argument from any of the companions who so desperately wanted to find a way to the surface. The Deep Realms had a way of making a person feel paranoid, seeing enemies in every shadow, waiting to be attacked by nameless horrors. Although they had been well protected within the Temple of Zuhr, they knew exactly how vulnerable they were now that they had left it behind. Mathonry had told them of the darker beings who inhabited the wilds in Underllars and Carym wondered how they could survive so long in the shadow of such vicious threats as troks, oroks, and the things that escaped from Grymm’s Realm of the Dead.
The group made their way back down the tightly spiraled staircase to the bottom and into the passageway. They continued down the passageway traveling away from the Temple of Zuhr. When they reached a junction, they all waited as Carym tried to orient himself and face the direction he believed would lead to the Sun Tunnel, as he liked to think of it. Carym was getting anxious and he was beginning to feel the measure of the severity of their situation. He began to take on the role of leader of the group and, surprisingly, none of the others contested his decisions. He had made the decision of which tunnel to choose and he prayed that it was the right one. While they all agreed what the sun symbol must have meant, none could be certain of the reasoning of a people a dozen or more centuries ago. He wondered if the tunnel really led to the surface and if so, he wondered how long it would take. Worse, where did it go? It could bring them back out in Hybrand for all they knew. Did the tunnel pass through more Dalcasian cities, other ancient human settlements, or would it pass through lands now inhabited by troks and oroks? Carym contemplated all of this as they made their way through the passageway in silence holding to the disciplined traveling formations that Mathonry had taught them.
The foursome emerged from the tunnels and Carym guessed that they must be in the right place, more or less. They moved silently onto the street in professional formation and they kept watch for trouble. They walked in a diamond pattern with Carym at the point bearing the bo-tani given him by Mathonry from the supply room inside the device. Yag held the left flank with his crossbow ready, Genn on the right with a spell on the tip of her tongue, and Gefar at the rear with a crossbow loaded. One by one, each member of the foursome would take a turn and peer behind them, so that at any moment, there was at least one pair of eyes looking back for trouble.
They were on a large boulevard that was well-lit with glowing poles at regular intervals on either side. The buildings in this part of the city seemed to be mostly warehouses, and some smaller buildings that could have been shops or offices. Carym tried to image what life was like on this street so many centuries ago. Was this where the imported goods were held? Was it where goods waiting to be exported were kept? Had anyone lived in this part of the city or was it strictly business? He wondered how the people dressed, about the gods they worshipped, and what their culture was like aside from an affinity for luxury.
Yag completed his backward glance and nodded toward Gennevera. The Keneerie woman turned slightly and glanced behind, then stopped suddenly. She hissed a warning to the group and they stopped to see what ha
d caught her attention. Carym saw that her head was cocked to the side and she was intently listening for something the others could not hear. Carym signaled for the group to spread farther out to opposite sides of the street and they oriented themselves to the rear. For a few moments all Carym could hear was his own heart beating and an annoying, and very faint, ringing in his ears. The others too, seemed perplexed but all of them knew Gennevera’s hearing was much keener than theirs and patience now could save their hides later.
Genn pointed to her ear then held her hand out with all fingers extended, the signal that meant she heard at least five approaching sets of feet. Carym answered by holding up one finger, the signal that called for a particular response drilled into them by the ancient immortal. Gennevera knew her job and prepared a spell to hurl bolts of magical energy at any foes, while Yag and Gefar were ready with their crossbows. Carym was prepared with a defensive Sigilspell that could gain them time for an escape if necessary, and was ready to fight with his enchanted bo-tani sticks.
A human sized figure turned a corner several hundred yards down the boulevard, running at full speed toward the group. The human was followed by several smaller figures bearing spears and swords, their booted feet echoing loudly against the eerie silence of the cavern. Carym held a moment, to be sure no more were following and wondering who...
“It’s Zach!” Gennevera growled.
Carym saw his friend running incredibly fast and outdistancing his pursuers. “Don’t shoot him, Gefar!” Carym felt the need to pass that order, considering the Roughneck’s attitude of late.
Gefar grunted but said nothing, his crossbow aimed at the lead trok. Yag too, had his weapon trained on one of Zach’s pursuers and Gennevera readied to cast her spell.
“Be ready to take your targets!” warned Carym, quietly. His team had the element of surprise, concealed as they were behind the objects along the street side. Carym and his companions were on a knife’s edge. They wanted to flee from this place, but they knew they could not outrun a band of marauding troks. He closed his eyes letting his sight shift to the otherworldly currents of energy that were so abundant on Llars. Here in the Underllars the most powerful current was the surging tidal force swirling in varying hues of browns and grays at his feet; it was truly like standing in a river and watching as the current flowed and ebbed and eddied and swirled around various objects. He let it flow into himself as the powerful immortal had taught him, and he relished in the vitality he now felt.
The Black Keep (The Chronicles of Llars) Page 6