“If only I could hear the spirits and what they are whispering to me,” he lamented.
“It will come, my friend. I have faith you will hear them soon,” said Aisha.
Musa gave her a toothy smile. “Thank you. You are a good friend.”
It took them the better part of the day as the hidden path spiraled up the mountain in a massive corkscrew. At times it wound into the very skin of the volcano and they would travel in virtual darkness for a hundred paces or more. In these sheltered locations they saw paintings made in time immemorial by the elder Umoja shaman. They marked the dragons as gods and described how they had fought other gods, some with a more human type form and others that were wholly intelligible and shaped like curious monstrosities that resembled nothing that Aisha had ever seen before. There were drawings of battles in the air between the dragons and what looked like men in floating cities. Impossible thought Aisha, but she had no explanation for such strange drawings.
“Do you know what these mean?” Aisha asked Musa.
He looked upon them with wonder but shook his head. “Only what I had heard the village elders tell me when I was a boy. These say more than those old men ever did.”
“I think we are almost at the top,” said Ole, breaking the reverie.
“How can you be sure?” she asked.
“I was able to see over the lip of rock just behind us. We are almost to the top,” he said again.
“Impatient?” Aisha asked.
“You could say that. I’m eager to see what is truly there.”
She shook her head. “Are you playing with me? We all feel that way.”
Ole shrugged.
“I still can’t hear what the spirits are saying to me,” said Musa. “I hear the voices calling to me, but I cannot understand them.”
“It will come Musa, it will come,” she said, looking to Ole for further reassurance. The big man just shrugged again.
A patch of daylight in front of them was blinding in the late afternoon. It made the grey mountain stone almost appear white in its brilliance. The smell of sulfur was stronger now that it had been below, and a stiff breeze blasted the entrance mingling that foul reek along with something decidedly reptilian.
They rode past and from here they all easily beheld the vista of the wide desert beneath them.
“I can see as well as a flying dragon from up here,” said Aisha.
“It’s tall,” Ole agreed, “but it has nothing on the mountains of my homeland.”
“Of course not, for a land to make men such as you it must be legendary, indeed,” said Aisha, with a winsome smile.
Ole smiled at her.
They traveled into the dark again as the trail led back into a tunnel, and soon a wide chamber opened before them. Stalactites and stalagmites loomed from the far corners like dragon’s teeth and Aisha wondered if this was how the mountain got its name. Joka and Meno meant Dragon and Teeth respectively in the Umoja language. They passed a belching vent of noxious yellow water, boiling hot. The steam created a curtain, and as they passed from out of the gloom, a great vaulting door stood before them. It too was shaped like a massive curved tooth.
“This is it,” said Aisha. “The Secret Door.”
25. Through the Secret Door
There was room within the vast chamber to dismount the horses. All of them gathered closer to the curious door. It was almost ten feet high at the pointed tip and nearly seven-feet-wide at the bottom, but there were no visible hinges or levers. Crude carvings of a dragon’s leering head marked the door cut in just enough relief to stand out from the sheer face of the door a few inches.
“How do we open it?” asked Catlo, running his hands across the rough granite surface. Diamanda stood at Catlo’s side, she didn’t touch the door but ran her eyes eagerly over the thing.
Musa, too, was as excited as he had ever been at being about to enter the sacred site of the dragon’s graveyard. He eagerly searched the entire threshold and rim muttering softly to himself.
Aisha stood back and watched them all as they hunted fruitlessly for a way to open the massive aperture.
Ole remarked, “You know something, why don’t you tell them what it is?”
“They need to know they need me now as much as they ever did. Besides, I have to make up for missing the entrance at the bottom.” She grinned.
“All right, I give up,” said Catlo, exasperated. “How do we open it, Aisha?”
She stood back with arms folded, relishing his question. “Are you sure you can’t open it yourselves?”
Catlo looked back at Musa who still hunted for a mechanism to open the great door. “Yes, I am sure I need you to tell us how. It’s why you came with us.”
“Wrong!” she snapped. “You forced me to come and along the way I have proven the most useful asset possible, and you still need me to enter the dragon’s graveyard.”
Catlo put on his most sincere smile and took off his hat. “True, very true and we have had many hardships and I give you credit for all of those things and now, here we are at the very threshold of greatness. Please don’t make us wait any longer. There is enough treasure inside for all of us.”
Diamanda nodded her head in agreement, murmuring, “Mmmhmm.”
Aisha didn’t care for Diamanda’s agreement, nor did she believe Catlo’s sincerity, but it was something to have them wanting her help.
Musa suddenly cried out in excitement. “I’ve found a message!” He was no longer beside the door, but off to the side, near a niche in the wall.
The others crowded together, though Aisha was dubious at the focus being stolen from the door and her own answers.
A shelf inside the niche had a curious arrangement of sticks of varying lengths lying in a prearranged pattern. They formed letters of a sort, though Aisha had never learned to read the Umoja language.
“What do they say?” asked Catlo.
Musa furrowed his brow and shook his head in disbelief.
“Musa. What is it?” asked Aisha.
“It tells me to remember,” he said sourly. “But I cannot.”
“Who left that message?”
“You know who. I cannot say his name,” he answered.
“That’s not possible,” argued Catlo.
“Nothing is impossible for the dead.”
“Who is he talking about?” asked Diamanda.
Catlo thumbed back toward the entrance. “He is talking about the dead man he buried down there.”
“No!” shouted, Musa. “He is at peace. I was talking of my brother.”
“Isn’t he at peace too?” asked Aisha.
Musa grunted in the affirmative, but said, “He is asking me to remember.”
“Nonsense, those sticks don’t mean a damn thing. No man has been here in ages. It could not have been him, or he would have been able to lead us here himself and we wouldn’t have needed anyone,” said Catlo.
Musa glared at him for that but said nothing more.
Aisha glanced over the sticks. “You will remember when the time is right.”
“You are a good friend, a good woman,” said Musa.
Ole directed them back to the door. “Aisha, the door?”
“We have to lift it,” said Aisha.
Ole balked, but strode to the door and took hold of the carved dragon’s face. “Anyone going to help me?”
Musa joined him. Catlo glanced at them dubiously. Diamanda stood back toward the horses, her gaze full of penetrating greed and excitement.
The two burly men hefted against the door, unable able to make it budge in the slightest.
“Aisha,” growled Ole, “if this is really just a feat of strength, I would think the woman with dragon blood in her veins could help us out.”
Aisha chuckled. “I wanted to see you try, but that isn’t the way.”
Ole let go of the façade and turned back. “Well then? Stop playing games.”
Aisha had been watching to see what Catlo and Diamanda might do as
the others tried the door. Catlo had been watching them expectantly but the Irem princess stood back as if she knew something.
Ole narrowed his gaze. “Do you fear a trap?”
“Not for you Ole,” Aisha answered, all but accusing the others.
“Show us then,” Ole said, gesturing to the door. “Strong as you may be, if Musa and I couldn’t budge it, how will you?”
Aisha stepped to the door. She took a firm grasp of the dragon’s tongue and pulled it toward herself. Then she pushed the door to the right. It slid open easily.
The others crowed in excitement. At the far end of pitch-black tunnel, almost three hundred yards, glowed a circle of daylight.
Ole examined the door. Inside the sliding track had slotted teeth several inches long. It would not have moved unless in the correct position. “That was a neat trick. You could have told me though.”
“Again, I needed everyone to appreciate my knowledge.”
“That’s serious vanity,” chided Ole.
“You liked it.”
“This place smells like another world,” said Diamanda, as she stepped through the threshold.
“Wait, my sweet,” urged Catlo. “We need to be sure there are no more surprises.” He looked to Aisha. “Any other traps or anything? Should Musa go first?”
Diamanda snorted and glared sullenly toward Aisha before retreating away toward the horses.
Aisha frowned at Catlo’s suggestion. “There are no traps, but the stories say that dragons are lurking on the other side and we already saw sign of one.”
Catlo nodded. “True enough, but it’s a big place. We should be able to sneak in, grab some treasure and get out without worrying too much about beasts.”
“A beast, he says,” mocked Aisha. “They are the most fearsome creatures that have ever lived.”
Catlo faced her. “What are you hiding behind those demoness eyes of yours?”
Fingers moved about the hilt of swords as eyes darted accusingly from one face to another.
“Enough,” thundered Ole. “Let’s get all the treasure we can carry and go. The Kathulians are still out there and it’s a long way to go before we can spend any of this fabled wealth.”
“The Northman speaks true as always,” said Catlo. “Diamanda, come.” He held out a hand for the Princess of Irem, but she was gone.
“Diamanda?” He called, glancing about the gloomy chamber, and simultaneously they saw her standing near the entrance outside. Half of her body outlined by the blinding late-afternoon sun.
She had something in her hands. It was hard to tell with the glare of the sun shrouding her, but there was something, long and sinewy. As her arm pulled back, it became obvious, she had taken a bow from their stowed gear.
An arrow shattered against the stone threshold, a hands breadth from Aisha’s head. The cry of frustrated anger from Diamanda made clear her intent.
Catlo dove through the tunnel’s threshold. Ole moved quickly to the far right of the chamber, racing in a wide arc toward Diamanda, Musa in turn, went to the far left, but Aisha charged straight on.
An arrow sailed over Aisha’s left shoulder as her speed and movement in the darkened chamber threw off Diamanda’s aim.
Catlo peeked from the bottom of the tunnel, calling, “Ole! Don’t let Aisha kill her!”
But the die had been cast.
Aisha raced with all her fury to beat Diamanda launching another arrow.
Diamanda had another arrow knocked, but as she drew back the string, Aisha launched her own dagger. The missile hit Diamanda above her exposed navel like a kick to the gut.
Aisha roared at her enemy as she closed the distance.
All strength washed out of Diamanda like an uncorked bottle as she dropped the bow and fell to the ground in a heap. An instant later, bloody froth ran freely from her ruby lips.
Aisha kicked away the bow and took back her dagger from the princess’s bare belly.
Ole was stood beside Aisha, shaking his head. “You got her good.”
“I said I would kill her if she tried again,” said Aisha, scorn dripping from her own mouth as she contemptuously glared at Diamanda, who’s painted fingernails now scratched at Aisha’s bootheel.
“I’ll see you in hell, Iron Maiden,” Diamanda sputtered.
Catlo stumbled forward and fell to his knees beside the fallen Princess of Irem. Dumbfounded exasperation upon his face as he took her hand, only to have her pull it away. “Damnit Ole, you were supposed to stop her.” He then moved and cradled Diamanda’s head in his hands, but though he showed as much tenderness and care as he ever had, the princess’s eyes held nothing but hatred.
“Damn you all!” she said, spitting a mouthful of blood. “When my father’s men get here you’ll all be flayed alive.”
“They won’t find us,” challenged Ole.
“Oh no?” cackled Diamanda. “I’ve left a marker, every opportunity I could. Whenever your fool back was turned I left a tassel, a bauble, something as a clue for them to find us. Sinhue the tracker will lead my father’s men right here and you will all be dead soon enough!” She coughed a mouth of dark bile and convulsed.
Catlo was angered at this pushed her head from his lap. “You lie, slut!”
“Do I? I even left the scarf you gave me at the hidden entrance as a banner to mark the way in.” She cackled and coughed. “You’re all doomed.”
Catlo drew his sword and slashed down, ending the princess’s guttural dying laugh with his own tortured scream. He turned about glaring at the others. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We get in and find the treasure and get out. They couldn’t possibly have caught up to us and if we hurry we can be gone soon. Right?” He looked at each of their faces eagerly for his own affirmation.
“Maybe we should go down and take down that scarf,” said Ole.
“No,” argued Catlo. “That would take the rest of the day and night to get down there and back. We’re here. We should just get the treasure and go. That’s the sensible thing.”
Aisha rolled her eyes at his using the word sensible. “Maybe the real sensible thing would be to make sure they don’t find the way in.”
Catlo seemed to have already forgotten the dead Diamanda at his feet. “Look, Sister, even I know their trackers could follow our prints and find where we brought the horses up here. Our only real hope is for a sandstorm to come and carry our sign away.”
“It was windy when we entered but I don’t know that it will hide our trail well enough,” offered Musa.
“Bah!” cried Catlo. “A lot of the trail was over bare rock and stone. Nobody could track us once the wind blows a little. We’re fine.”
“That’s asking for trouble to trust to chance,” agreed Musa.
“You too?” snarled Catlo.
“But Diamanda said she left signs wherever she could. Look at her skirt. Half of the tassels are missing,” said Ole. “I should have noticed it sooner.”
Catlo waved a hand as if at a buzzing fly.
“Or you should have noticed, since she was riding with you,” accused Ole.
Catlo snorted. “Enough. We’re already here. We can only carry so much treasure. Let’s just go get it and get out of here. We’ll disguise the entrance again when we leave and the Kathulians will never find it, just like nobody else ever has.”
Musa stared at the niche with the sticks arranged into crude letters again, muttering to himself, “Remember. Why can’t I remember?”
Aisha took him by the arm. “You will remember. You will be able to hear them soon enough. I know it.”
“Thank you,” Musa said.
Ole went back out into the sunlight and glanced down the trail and out over the section of the valley he could see.
“Anything?” Aisha asked.
Ole shook his head. “No. But I still think we should hurry as best we can. I don’t want to be trapped up here if the Kathulians did follow us.”
“They haven’t,” growled Catlo. “Let’s go in! I hear
that gold calling to me, not Musa’s ghosts.”
Musa flinched.
Stepping through the secret door, the tunnel was even warmer than the chamber had been. The air was thick with sulfur and the heat of ground radiated through the soles of their boots and sandals.
“Diamanda was right,” said Musa.
“Eh?” asked Catlo. “About what?”
“This place does smell like another world.”
26. The Dragon’s Graveyard
Stepping through the tunnel, sunlight beckoned them on. Sulfurous fumes danced across the exit like the beaded curtain parting in a house of ill repute. On the other side of the yellowed curtain, the huge caldera stretched on for almost a mile. It was relatively flat and looked to cover the whole of the top of the mountain, all around the flat, a ringing wall of stone reached from fifty feet to a few hundred feet higher. It was a majestic sight. Vents of the reeking gas spewed here and there as did pits where ashen black smoke belched in a seeming circadian rhythm. Orange jets of flame and lava pulsed in the periphery and what might have been an active center rumbled in the distance.
The caldera was largely the same dark stone, pitted and jagged, but here and there bleached white shone against the dark stone. White bone shielded a sun-yellow center like an egg. Golden coins of curious workmanship littered the ground, apparently the cast off remains from a dragon’s swallowed prize.
They strode out onto the caldera cautiously, examining each footstep in the blackened earth. There was hardly a place to step where there was not some kind of relic, whether a dragon’s scale, golden coin, or shard of bleached white bone lying in the volcano’s matrix.
Huge skeletons were cast about wherever the magnificent beasts of yore had chosen to fall, and with them too, were whatever they had swallowed—bits of eldritch armor, spear and sword points, and corroded treasure. Some was weathered to dross, but other pieces were as fine and sharp as if they had just left the blacksmith’s hands.
A large brazen spear point still glittered from where it was wedged into a massive pelvis.
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