I climbed back onto the broken bridge just as the team started eating the Soar’erid weed stew. I looked at Taria from above, giving her the kindest smile I could muster, and then raised my eyes to the heart-crushing blackness ahead.
As hours went by, I kept watching the resting group and guarding the camp. I thought about my quest and theirs, hoping that the two wouldn’t clash. The profound mixture of darkness and silence gave me the comfort of a tomb’s clutch. Yet, I didn’t feel comfortable at all, and I had a good reason.
“You need to rest, Nimtha,” came Sertas’s voice from below the bridge. He was checking the aim of his hand crossbow—the Snapjaw, an exotic Genn weapon whose mouth looked like a jaw that snapped open to let bolts loose.
“We need to move, Sertas,” I replied without turning.
“Everyone needs to rest, even a Sever such as yourself. We are leaving in a couple of hours and —”
He stopped abruptly when he saw me freeze in my place, waving for him to be quiet, as I stared at Sherako on the rock below me. The shadow cat was motionless like a painting and staring at something invisible in the dried canal, yards away from the last sleeping rogue. Sherako’s focus slowly shifted. Whatever his eyes were locked on was moving closer to us.
“What is he seeing?” Sertas whispered.
I put my finger to my lips as Sherako hissed and jumped to my shoulders, allowing me to see what he saw.
“Wake them up,” I ordered Sertas, and he submitted without further questions.
He quietly told them to remain calm and silent as he signed to them to gather their things. Confused, they woke up one by one and followed our instructions.
It took us five minutes or so until we were on the move again. None of them spoke, but they kept eyeing me as if I was some kind of a harbinger of doom. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen something they hadn’t since we passed the Mazes of Kahf. They couldn’t ignore my warnings, though many preferred the bliss of ignorance. Sertas, however, accepted this and merely asked to be warned when necessary.
We walked for a few hours along the canal’s bank until we reached a spot where it opened to a dried moat that was surrounding a ruptured, ancient stone wall. The rocky cliff dropped thirty feet. Where the moat had once been was a pit filled with debris, dead weeds, and what seemed to be bones.
I led them around the traps; we couldn’t afford more casualties, and the injured Genntay was slowing us already. The heavy scent of sand and mud told of a nearby body of water. The truly bizarre phenomenon, however, was the inconsistency of the echoes from our movements.
As we moved on, a faint gleam of light started to reflect from above. Ahead, and I saw for myself the reason that our destination was called the Sky Below.
The dome of the colossal cavern roofing of the city emitted a glimmer as light reflected off the traces of metal scattered in the fabrics of the place. The flame pits scattered across the cavern gave it the appearance of a moonless sky with distant dying stars.
The subterranean city of Mergal, the Eternus City, had been built by an extinct human sub-race, the Mergalians, or just Mergals, millennia ago. The Mergalians were the delvers of mankind and the discoverers of what exists beneath. They were miners and forgers of specific taste and design. Mergal was one of the deepest cities, running thousands of leagues below the surface. It was said to be the farthest subterranean settlement, beyond which knowledge eluded all books of men.
In front of us lay the ancient city in ruins, wordlessly telling the tale of the glory that once was, and of its grim ending at the hands of the Goshae. It was believed that the Goshae had some help. Yet none of that was confirmed and the truth about the final battle was never deciphered.
Sertas began his descent, and we followed. Seconds later, we were in the middle of the moat and scanning the ten-foot-thick stone wall for an opening big enough for us to squeeze through. Our search led us all the way to the impressive stone gates on the other side of the fifty feet wide dry moat. They were shaped like vertical human arms, wearing gauntlets and closing on each other from elbow to palm; atop the gate was a helmet-shaped stone. From a distance, it looked like a warrior lifting closed arms in front of his face. Not far from where we stood was an opening less than two feet wide, and we moved toward it.
“Now we wait,” I announced, and skeptically they obeyed.
For about an hour, we lingered close to the opening, till we heard a sigh, startling my companions. They looked around for the source of the sigh and then looked at me. That was the sign I was waiting for. “And now we can enter Mergal.” Ignoring my companions’ confusion. I bent a knee, whispering to Sherako. My cat then dashed through the dark opening and bravely strode into Mergal. If he could mark my target, I could lock my senses onto it before entering the city and my hunt would be significantly easier.
Sertas turned to his team and said, “Listen carefully. We are venturing into the very definition of the unknown. Stick to the plan, and focus on our primary target. We will find our way to the treasury and then try to reach the Gray Forge. There, no one takes anything except what we came for.”
He turned to me and whispered, “I hope that what you came for doesn’t hinder our quest.” He turned back to his comrades. “We will try… no, we must come back here in no more than six hours.”
I contradicted, “Two hours.”
They looked at me, astonished. “That is impossible,” one of the Genntay commented
"Is it?” I abruptly turned to him, my cold indifference turning to a harshness they hadn’t seen in the last week, and that startled Taria. I looked at her, failing to smile, and said nothing. No comment came from them.
They were very much aware of my unusual prowess, but they didn’t know its extent. If they knew I could hear their whispers they would not have murmured behind my back about slicing the coarse skin of my neck open with their knives. If they knew I could see them through Sherako’s eyes they wouldn’t have made those gestures of dark promises behind my back as I led them across Under Dark.
A sudden noise resembling a strong air draft made me jerk my icy gaze from their faces.
“What do you hear, Nimtha? Tell us, we need to know if we are going to venture into this miserable city.” Asks Sertas.
“If you stick to the plan and do not disturb the city’s peace, you will live to see the fruit of your efforts. If you do disturb it, however, you will definitely know the answer to your question.”
I looked at Sertas as he squeezed through the opening in the wall.
“And one last thing,” I added, “this city is called the Eternus City because it had a vein of the priceless Eternus ore running through it. There will be lots of the valuable ore in there. But, no matter how trivial and insignificant a bag full of Eternus or an item made of it may seem to you… do not touch it. NEVER touch the Eternus.”
With that warning, and now fully alert, as I preferred they be, the group entered the dark ruins of Mergal.
The Last Beat of the Heart of Talor
The Genn had a secret.
There was a trait found only among our race, and it was our most valuable secret: the art of the O’Lenatum —the Last Words. It was the art of finding and uncovering lost treasures, a divine secret bestowed upon us via the teachings of Lima, the Lady of Whispers. She guided her followers, the Genn, to the most valuable treasures scattered, abandoned, and forgotten throughout Talor. It was a gift only the Genn of Verda possessed.
Only Makista O’Lenay, the greatest of the Genn and a First Born like me, had fully mastered it. It was Makista who deciphered the whispers that visited every Genn at some point in his life and haunted his nights. Through the O’Lenatum, Makista translated those ghastly words into a comprehensible art. It helped guide us to lost treasures and forsaken legacies. The ultimate purpose and the reason behind that gift of Lima were not yet unveiled to us, but it was said that Lima would eventually whisper it in our ears.
This power was how all Genn hunted their marks, but to
the Order of the Server, these secrets had a more particular purpose.
I rarely stayed in Verda for more than a fortnight since that incident a few decades before when Verda had fallen to corruption. But a few weeks before the commencing of our endeavor, I went to the Verda Luka. They had been waiting for such an opportunity for many years, during which they wasted many campaigns and lost many good Genn and Genntays. They didn’t even get past the Mazes of Kahf.
Each time they approached my order, asking for guidance through those treacherous mazes, and each time they got the same answer: Not before Makista chooses one of us and permits that adventure. Despite the fact that they labeled us as fools to believe in Makista’s existence after all those years, there was nothing they could do about it. The maps of those serpentine passages were only found in the memories of veteran members of the Order of Sever. These details came to us directly from Makista. An ancient stone on which the directions through Kahf were carved whispered to Makista, calling him to find it. Using the art of the O’Lenatum, he almost lost his life acquiring it. When he deciphered its secrets, he became the first to go into those passages and ever return, an adventure which created his legend.
Being the closest one to Makista, I was chosen, and my main role was to lead a mission through the passages of Kahf and then to Mergal. I received Makista’s permission to help the Verda Luka delve into the mysterious city of Mergal after years of their relentless persuasion.
Xolis, the leader of the Verda Luka, was astonished to see me at his door after years of absence and conflict. Yet it was enough for them to initiate that mission and pull together the group from the five biggest orders and houses in the city. The Verda Luka was after a treasure so grand that the wisest king in Talor would risk half his kingdom for a piece of it.
***
Darkness, emptiness, and stillness welcomed us in Mergal…
The ancient city was built in an inverted, cone-shaped crater a couple of miles in diameter. The outer rim of the city looked down to the ruined streets and districts. Evidence of the gruesome battles that had once taken place was visible throughout the city: skeletons of gray bones blackened at different spots, crumbling houses, and long-ruined gardens carved out from the dark stone on its small plateaus. They were carved out of the dark stones mixed with traces of metal ores at several levels and plateaus.
The whole city issued a barely-noticeable humming, as if resonating with the last mining-hammer blow below the foundations.
In the center of the city and at the lowest point of the cone stood the Temple of Trodos The Maker (5) . The ancient temple was actually built around a hole where the tip of the legendary Gray Forge was visible. Through a big opening in the roof, a huge hammerhead protruded. But the temple was extremely protected and rumored to be full of mechanical traps. We had to find another way to reach the Gray Forge, and that was the Octi, the Eternus mine. We should go through the Treasury; a middle-sized building carved into the farthest point east on the lowest plateau of the city.
The dried canal, which had traveled with us for quite some distance by then, joined us inside the city. It cut down the cone like a huge scar until it dived below the treasury building. We came across more dried corpses and ruined buildings until we reached the treasury. Somehow, as we went deeper into the city, less and less evidence of that mysterious battle that took place a couple of centuries before was clear. The traps inside the city were nonfunctional, so we made up for the time we’d lost.
When we reached the Treasury, we found that half the building was reduced to rubble. It was where Sherako had left traces as well, so I followed the group with no objection, yet I was not thrilled. Surely whatever he marked for me must also be there, but I didn’t believe in coincidences.
My cat appeared from the building’s collapsed doorway. I knelt to pick him up and listened to what he had to say.
It was in there… my own target. I said nothing.
Sertas pulled out his crossbow gun, the Snapjaw, and loaded it.
“Cover my back,” He said, pointing to one of the team. The Genn pushed his vest aside, revealing a belt lined with sleek daggers. I glanced at Taria and saw that she was watching me but blushed and turned away when I looked her way. I started to feel bad for the girl, which was quite rare, but I sighed to myself, bowing to her theatrically. I waved for her to lead, and then followed her and the rest of the team behind Sertas.
We removed our goggles when we settled in the dark, stagnant interior as we passed through the ruined doorway and into a huge hall. The goggles were useless for short distances. We waited for a couple of seconds to let our eyes adjust to the faint, false starlight seeping into the interior. It seemed the light itself was intimidated by the reputation of what lied beneath.
The injured Genntay leaned on the archway, and Sertas examined his wound with obvious concern. “You better stay here till we return.” He pointed to the one who supported the wounded Genntay to hold that post with him.
The circular hall was twenty feet or so wide and several feet above our heads. Debris covered its floor, and its walls were cracked like the rest of the buildings we’d come across. Something had shocked the very foundation of the city. A wide, round hole was in the center of the hall; it appeared to be the remnants of a collapsed spiral staircase. The ceiling was not entirely intact. We could see the glimmering sky-like cavern outside through the ruptured ceiling and the panorama roof of the second floor.
Sertas gave his team a meaningful look, then opened his black leather bag and pulled out a vial. I tried to guess what the vial was. However, it was fairly opaque, and the lighting was dim.
I sensed that my companions were gradually letting their guards down; smiles crawled back to lips and small talk reinvaded the silence we had revered. Perhaps the idea of their prize being finally at hand’s reach had something to do with it. I hated it when people did this. “One hundred minutes left, Sertas,” I warned.
I turned to Sertas as he poured the vial’s contents on the floor and waited for it to settle down to its final shape. The mercurial substance twisted and contorted until it came to rest in the shape of a face, a narrow-eyed face that I knew… the face of the founder of my order… Makista O’Lenay.
I knew what that liquid was; it was an Oil of the Silver Shadow, one of Guild Gabana’s forms of the O’Lenatum, The Final Word. The Silver Shadow slowly turned to me.
I was conflicted. I always opposed the use of this form of the O’Lenatum as it defied a multitude of rules my order followed, yet seeing Makista’s face induced a warm memory jolt.
“You lingered?” it asked in a metallic tone which seemed to be echoing across a body of water.
I looked at it and then scanned around to see who it was talking to. Concluding that it was addressing me, I replied, “Yes… apparently,” with a clueless expression, knowing that it was not Makista.
“Why Nimtha? Why did you linger? What kept you bound to this wretched world? Why do you return?”
Failing to find any proper answer to its question, I replied, “What are you talking about? And why do you refer to this in the past tense?”
“I came to see for myself. I came to know. And I came to tell you about those Whispers, Pilgrim. Today they will speak to Talor, one last time,” he added.
“What Whispers? What is it talking about?” asked a Genn named Trom. Sertas glanced at me skeptically.
The Silver Shadow turned to Trom slowly.
I heard a faint beat coming from across the walls of the colossal cavern. It looked like Sherako also heard it; he was restless and stood on his toes.
Sertas interfered in the conversation. He addressed the intimidating figure reading from a scroll he opened:
“All-knowledgeable and all-reaching, eternal shadow of the fading truth, who dwells unseen in the aftermath and the silvery trims of the withdrawing lights, the one that peered behind the curtains… please enlighten our dimmed path. What lies beneath? Which artery of the endless maze of soil
and shadow below leads to the Gray Forge?”
Silence reigned and the Silver Shadow turned to him.
“To reach the Gray, follow the tear,
Heal the wound, then climb a year.”
It faded back into its liquid state, absorbed by the soil.
“WHAT?” Trom shouted. “A year? What does this mean?”
The Genn and Genntays looked at each other in frustration and helplessness, but Sertas managed to pull them together.
“First we reach the Octi , the mining chamber below, and then we decide about this riddle.” He turned to me asking, “How long do we have left?”
“Ninety minutes,” I replied. I threw Taria a glance to see her reaction. Countless years watching faces and actions earned me considerable insight. Taria was falling for me. I saw her looking at me, searching for assurance and safety.
“Okay,” said Sertas decisively, “we proceed.”
Taria drew close as I’d told her to, inducing strange gooseflesh on my skin.
“So, are you excited as we are?” she asked me, and then added with a childish shiver, “Terrified and doubtful?”
I was about to give her an honest answer for once but wondered what good would come from her knowing that I was not as terrified or doubtful as they were. It would not make her any calmer if she knew that I had methods of escape not found in the oldest books of her order. By the time danger materialized in front of me, I would be beyond the reach of anything on Talor. I was not doubting anything either, as I knew what we were after and its importance.
But excitement, well, that was another thing entirely. The thought of getting that close to unfolding an ancient mystery, the scent of the unscathed historical mystique happening around us, which I saw and they didn’t, was more than enough to give me a rush.
“Yes, I am very excited!” True enough. I was proud of the first truth I told the girl which made me genuinely smile at her, a smile that pierced her young heart. Again, I sadly found myself inert, lifeless, and unmoved by her affection. But why wasn’t I happy with that? I didn’t know.
The Dark Season Saga- the Final Harvest Page 6