The Secret City

by Brian K. Lowe

  Now it was my turn to glance around nervously. I knew that a klurath saying a spider would blend into the rock meant little, since their eyesight was so poor, but it did not make me feel a good deal better.

  “Are we in any danger?”

  Gaz Bronn shook his head in klurath fashion, a kind of weaving bob that indicated “no” with emphasis.

  “No one has seen a cave spider in a hundred years—nor,” he hastened to add, “have there been any disappearances. It’s a convenient story for the slaves, but I think they’ve pretty much died out in the main cavern. There are hunters who like to try the smaller tunnels and some of the side caverns, but…”

  Still, I thought my desert dwellers had been given enough time to take in this fantastic new vista. They were already looking around at the overarching walls, the lofty ceiling stretching almost as far as the eye could take in, and hating it. Far from being awed, they were repelled. Other than the gritty floor which faintly reminded them of the sands of their home, this was the last place in the world they wanted to stay.

  So much the better. As much as I admired the sheer majesty of this place, I had no wish to remain here any longer than necessary, either.

  I ordered them onto the gravity sleds, packed as tightly as possible, and with the outermost holding the railings for dear life, we rose.

  Paradoxically, the higher we climbed, the more I relaxed. Yes, we were at increasing risk of being seen, but there was correspondingly little the klurath could have done about it. Had we chosen, we could have floated above the city picking off targets at our leisure with weapons we brought from The Dark Lady, except that only I had any such firepower. Sanja and I had carefully explained the klurath fear of cave-ins and their concomitant ban against projectile or ray weapons to the Zilbiri, but I still feared the consequences if I should arm my followers and one of them should forget, or abuse his trust. As much as it hindered us not to use advanced weaponry, pitting the entire population of Jhal against us by breaking their ultimate taboo would be worse.

  On the other hand, the klurath had no way of attacking us once we were in the air, unless we were spotted by a patrol ship, in which event hand-weapons would have availed us little. But if my suppositions were correct, we had little to fear on that front.

  To minimize our risk even further, we would be flying as close to the cavern ceiling as we could manage. As I had noted during our escape, the cavern ceiling was anything but smooth; stalactites drooped twice my height, an inverted stone forest of giant daggers poised over the heart of Jhal. A frightening metaphor that kept klurath eyes from being raised too high—and the very reason why we now glided slowly and silently and undetected above their heads. I planned that we would fly between the stalactites, so that the chances of our being seen, even if someone should look, were almost nil.

  As we climbed, I began to realize that the upper reaches of the cave were a world unto themselves, populated by creatures that I had little dreamt of. I began to feel and hear small insects all about me, frantic at this unwarranted intrusion into their realm. Larger shapes flitted about us now, bats that lived on the ceiling and preyed upon the insects. I stole a glance at Gaz Bronn on his sled, coming up below us. Had he even been aware that such things existed? Or had the klurath dread of doom from on high stunted their intellectual curiosity so much?

  The prospect of imminent safety spurred me to increase our speed of ascent, the other sleds falling behind for a moment. The spaces amidst the stalactites were deep in shadow, meaning that my strategy would be even more effective than I had hoped. Anything hiding within those shadows would be virtually invisible.

  Anything.

  Chapter 41

  In the Enemy Lair

  A bat flew up into the shadows ahead of us and abruptly stopped, desperately struggling against some invisible bond that held it in mid-air. The Zilbiri standing next to me hissed and clapped a hand on my arm. I stopped the sled, feeling as I did a faint cold line brush against my hair, but when I moved to touch it, the Zilbiri seized my hand with a grip few Thorans could match.

  “Stay very still.”

  He and all the others slid slowly into a crouch, holding out one hand to me in a gesture not to follow. Very carefully, mindful of how closely were they massed, he drew his sword. Following him only with my eyes, I wondered what was going on. Was that a vibration I felt on the top of my head?

  The Zilbiri stood with the air of a man on a tightrope, raising his sword until it was even with my face.

  “When I move, make us drop. Fast.” And he swept the sword past my head in a flash. I definitely felt something, as if I were a puppet whose wires had been cut. I hit the controls and the sled seemed to fall out of the sky. There was a tug on the top of my head, and with the speed of our descent, only the fact that we were so crowded that I could hardly move kept me from toppling from the sled. I looked up to be greeted by a sight from my nightmares.

  A spider the size of my head was dropping toward us, its mandibles clicking with a noise I could almost hear, an evil glint in its faceted eyes. Even as we slipped past the other sleds it seemed to be gaining on us and I yanked our gravsled sideways, nearly throwing half-a-dozen men to their deaths, but with the grace of true giva-riders they held on. The spider plunged past us, a sword flashed out, and with its web-rope cut, the creature continued its fall until it was lost from our sight.

  Only then did I remember to breathe.

  After that we kept the stalactites well over our heads; there was no reason to risk navigating between them when the whole idea was that the lizard-men never looked up at their own ceiling—although we kept a constant watch. Still, an occasional giant stalactite presented itself, forcing us to detour, which we did with plenty of room to spare. Aside from the cave spiders—which Gaz Bronn would now sheepishly have to admit were far from extinct—if we struck a stalactite and cracked it, the consequences could be catastrophic. And yet even while avoiding them I could not help but stare at these age-old structures which so greatly preceded even the ancient klurath civilization. What was this cavern like in my own time, less than one million years ago? How many of these stalactites had already begun to form? Were they as old as I? Could I have seen them if I had stood in this cave back then?

  Keryl. The merest telepathic whisper interrupted my ruminations. I halted my sled and looked back at Gaz Bronn. In keeping with my orders to keep any noises at a minimum, he pointed downward. When I nodded acknowledgement, he began to descend, and by pre-arrangement, we followed, straight down. Down toward the unsuspecting city of Jhal. Down toward the palace compound of Fale Teevat, the inlama and head of the war party, an ambush from the last direction any klurath would think to look.

  Half-way down we came to a stop while we surveilled the ground. Although we were plainly visible suspended in mid-air, there was no alarm raised below. The though flitted past my mind how easy it would be to re-ascend, then dispatch one of the sleds to the most likely pathway a courier from the force we had seen aboveground would take, and intercept him. I shook it away. Too late for second thoughts now, and too dangerous to split our forces. I tried to concentrate on the inlama’s compound, but it was not easy. I have never been a pilot, and this viewpoint was unsettling, like looking at a map where scurrying ants represented men.

  The compound appeared small on the surface, but I knew that klurath architecture went deep where humans would build wide. Without the sun, there was less incentive even for the rich to create wide parklands for walking or riding. Each of the several buildings was relatively low to the ground, flat-roofed in the absence of rain, another critical element of our attack. Almost all of the figures we could see manned the outer walls, and somewhat to my surprise, the main gate appeared to be closed. I wished I could draw Gaz Bronn’s attention to that fact and ask him what it might mean, but I dared not. It seemed to indicate, though, that not all was well. Had the loyalist forces gained the upper hand since we left, forcing Fale Teevat to shelter in his home? I saw no b
esieging forces outside the walls, but they could have been under cover. Regardless, Fale Teevat’s perimeter defenses were of little concern, since we were going to bypass them altogether.

  After several moments, Gaz Bronn, now acting as our commander, dropped toward the ground at an unsafe velocity, and I felt my feet leave the sled as we hurried to keep up. To reach the rooftops without being seen would be a minor miracle, so we were making the best speed we could and hoping we knew how to brake at the right time. We needed hit the ground running the instant we landed in the midst of the enemy; surprise was our best weapon. If we kept moving through the lower corridors, we would be hard to resist, but if we stopped we would be easy to contain.

  And then, as we hurtled toward our own self-imposed destruction, I was struck by the horrifying realization that I had overlooking something—that somewhere in my plan there lay a glaring error, and the fear that our ease in getting this far had not been by chance but by choice, and the very worst part of it was that I had no idea at all what I had done wrong.

  But now I was decelerating for all I was worth, and we hit the roof with a thump that must have awakened every sleeping klurath in the building and sent them rushing hither with bared swords. My men exploded from the sled, pausing just long enough to surround Gaz Bronn and Sanja, the only two of us familiar with the layout below. I assumed the lead, wasting no time in bursting through the nearest doorway, which lead to a narrow stair, the worst possible place to be found. We clattered down without delay and filled the room below. I sent scouts ahead to watch the corridors while our forces regrouped.

  “We were kept on the top level,” Sanja called. There was a bustling and she joined me. “I can’t tell you where to go if I can’t see where we are,” she snapped, and there was nothing I could say to that. She stuck her head into the corridor for a second. “Follow me.”

  Despite her protest, I made sure a thin shield of men preceded her as we penetrated the building, unease again filling my mind.

  “Hold up,” I instructed.

  “What are you doing?” Sanja demanded. “I thought we had to keep moving.”

  “We do, so we don’t get bottled up by defending forces.”

  Sanja’s eyes narrowed and she looked around. “What defending forces?”

  My expression mirrored hers. “Exactly.”

  And then my question was answered.

  Like magic, klurath appeared ahead of us. By the sounds behind me I knew that they were there as well. With a sinking heart, I realized, at the sight of them, the terrible oversight I had made in my calculations, the fatal error that would likely be my last.

  Every one of the lizard-men arrayed against us was carrying a Nuum weapon, the same type of weapon that we had carried on The Dark Lady, the same kind of weapon each crewman would have been carrying when he was captured. The rebels had tried to stop us when we escaped by throwing boulders which dislodged chunks of the cavern ceiling—the guns they held now showed that they had tossed aside Jhal’s highest law as if it were nothing. At any moment, should they choose, they could reduce us to that same state.

  We stood silently, awaiting our fate. The klurath regarded us steadily, their minds tightly shut, giving away no clue of their thoughts.

  A man shouldered his way through the klurath line. He treated me to a sly smile.

  “Welcome back, Keryl Clee. We’ve been expecting you. You should probably lower your weapons before someone gets hurt,” Hargreen said.

  Chapter 42

  Strange Allies

  Seeing the toady standing there so smugly at the head of his masters strained my sense of self-preservation. To surrender your freedom and betray your own people for the illusion of security and importance was so galling my hand ached to reach for my sidearm. Did Hargreen think he had earned any reward from the klurath, who had enslaved his people for millennia? Did he think anything of the fact that they, not he, held the weapons? Or did he simply hate me so much?

  “Hargreen?” I had insisted Gaz Bronn remain in the center of our ranks for protection; only he and Sanja had ever been in the inlama’s palace. But now he pushed his way to the forefront. “Did you really—?”

  “My lord!” Hargreen cried, falling to his knees. “You’re alive! Thank the god!” Still on his knees he twisted about, waving his arms. “Put down your weapons! It’s Gaz Bronn! He’s alive!”

  At once the hallway was a babble of voices and telepathic cheering. The klurath surged forward, and it was only through sheer strength that I was able to prevent a violent reaction on the part of my Zilbiri, for I could see in their minds that the kluraths’ joy was genuine and they had only thoughts of welcome for their returning leader.

  I fought my way past them to take Hargreen by the shoulder and shake him. “What’s going on?”

  “We were hoping you’d come back—but we were hoping that you would bring Gaz Bronn even more! We didn’t know who was on the roof—we had to…we have to take you to the inlama! He can explain!”

  “The inlama?” I shoved him away. “Then you did betray us!” I twisted about to call a warning to my men.

  “No!” Hargreen grabbed my arm. “No, you don’t understand! We’ve been waiting for Gaz Bronn. Please, let me take to you the inlama. He’ll explain everything.”

  It appeared that Hargreen was telling the truth, that he had not betrayed us, and he had been waiting for Gaz Bronn’s return. On the other hand, he was asking me to turn myself over to Fale Teevat, voluntarily, and all my followers besides. Bryal had once warned me against trusting even my telepathic impressions of the man. It was too much to process. I had to follow my instincts. I turned to the one who had known Hargreen the longest.

  “Gaz Bronn!” I called. He managed to emerge from the celebratory mass long enough to meet my eyes. “Hargreen wants to take us to the inlama.”

  Gaz Bronn hesitated, but after a long glance at Hargreen, he agreed. We managed to wrangle our mixed troops into some sort of order. I told Sanja to bring up the rear where she could keep an eye on her fellows, and I fell into my old position beside Gaz Bronn where I could keep my eye on Hargreen.

  We took a corner and suddenly we could see evidence of recent fighting. The walls were scarred, and not occasionally marked with spatters of blood. Most of the doorways we passed featured only pieces of door hanging from their frames. After the first, I stopped looking into the rooms as we marched by.

  Hargreen lead us shortly to a truncated corridor ending in a double door flanked by four grim-faced armed guards—all Thorans. I could feel Gaz Bronn’s astonishment mirroring my own, but Hargreen gave us no time to ponder. He threw open the doors and went inside.

  The large room was massed with men and klurath clustered in groups around various tables, arguing, gesturing, and discussing so many different topics at once with such animation that nothing but a giant hubbub emerged on any level. As we entered the hubbub ceased like a switch had been thrown. Every eye turned to us, a sense of expectation filling the chamber—and then a full-throated explosion of cheers as Gaz Bronn stepped across the threshold. Klurath and human alike began to applaud, hiss, howl, whistle, and shout, until Hargreen waved them down with both hands.

  “Everyone! Please! I have to take them to the inlama. Thank you.”

  That this was not the Hargreen I remembered was an understatement, but I had no time to puzzle out his change of demeanor, because we were herded toward another door at the opposite end of the room. On the way I caught of glimpse of my fellow slave Bryal, and was glad he had come through unscathed. At Hargreen’s request, the Zilbiri were given a corner to stand in, with assurances that all of our wants would be met as soon as our audience with the inlama was over. Sanja wanted to stay with them, but Hargreen insisted she was to accompany us, so she, Gaz Bronn, and I were escorted into the inner chamber to meet the inlama, Fale Teevat, and whatever fate awaited us.

  “Keryl!”

  Except that the inlama was not Fale Teevat. It was Timash. And standing by hi
s side was not an armed and armored bodyguard—it was Maire.

  Whatever protocol there was for entering the presence of the inlama of Jhal, I broke it, as I rushed forward with a cry and enveloped my wife in my arms and she returned my greeting with all the ardor she could muster. For many long moments there was no world outside of her kiss, the kiss I had dreamed of through all the long weeks of our separation. At last she pulled away and reached up to wipe the tears from my eyes, never mind her own.

  “What took you so long?”

  I laughed and hugged her. “Never again,” I whispered. “Never again.”

  Reluctantly we let go and I was immediately enveloped in turn by my best friend’s long arms, my face pressed into his fur. I tried, and though I could not compare with his strength, I believe I gave almost as good as I got. I pulled free in time to see Maire and Sanja rush to embrace, and surely no two sisters were ever so joyously reunited.

  “Neither of them took to slavery very well,” Timash explained. “But they watched out for each other. Maire’s been worried sick every since Sanja was sent out to find you and didn’t come back.”

  “She found me, all right, and the klurath were sorry she did. But how are you, my brother? And how did you become the inlama?”

  “Simple,” Maire said, one arm still around Sanja as they joined us. “The Thorans wanted me, but the klurath wouldn’t take orders from a former human slave. So we compromised.”

  I beamed at Timash. “Your mother would be so proud.” He rolled his eyes. Then I frowned. “Wait a minute. What do you mean, the Thorans wanted you to be inlama? What happened after I left?”