Olson stood stock-still, Megan nodded, fearful of what lay beyond. The Shaman looked down at the glowing tip of his staff. It illuminated the features of his face, played off the rings in his hair and highlighted the swirling tattoos on his arms. Then, as if sucking in all light from the world, it blinked out.
023: The Deep Wells
Below Skala
When the Shaman’s light went out, Olson and Megan took a moment to adjust. They blinked in the cool breeze that rushed in from beyond the breach before them. The air felt cold and damp as it spiralled upwards to a world that lay almost forgotten above them.
To their surprise, the two up-worlders discovered they were not surrounded by darkness at all. The Shaman stood facing them, his tall form distinct in silhouette. The faint, violet glow they had seen through the gaps of missing steps during the descent caught the edges of his tattered robe and reflected off the beads in his plaited hair. They couldn’t make out his face, but both recognised the nod of his head indicating for them to follow, before he ducked through the doorway.
Olson took a few steps forward, followed by Megan. As she reached the doorway she looked back at Jean-Louis for assurance. His stare was fixed purposefully past her, suggesting there was little option but to continue. Olson stepped through the doorway and disappeared into the illustrious glow of violet. Swallowing hard, she braced herself, and followed.
What awaited her on the other side was the very last thing she expected. The vista was not a dark, dirty nest of monstrous centipedes, but a thing of wonder and beauty. As she took it in, the past few rotations of hell suddenly started to make sense.
She stood on a wide ledge that extended from the base of a huge, perfectly formed dome. The descent was a staircase that wound between its inner and outer skins. The uppermost part of the dome was sharply curved, the arc of the walls becoming gentler and almost vertical towards the base. Squinting, she could see small, dark gaps where the missing steps had fallen.
Equally astonishing was what lay stretched out beneath her. Lit by numberless ultraviolet lights that refracted through its smooth surface was a vast body of water. From where Megan stood, it appeared bottomless. Never in her wildest dreams had she guessed such a place existed so far beneath the city. It was the most magnificent place she had ever set eyes on. And it was cold; a natural cold unlike the artificially induced cool of air conditioning. She took a deep lungful of the damp, frigid air and exhaled slowly with the pleasure of a first, exalted taste.
Standing beside her, Olson was clearly moved. He stared into the abyssal depths of the clean, translucent pool. He looked across to the Shaman, who returned his stare and spoke with a calm knowing. ‘All who look upon the Deep Wells for the first time share your awe.’
‘I never expected…’ But he couldn’t finish.
‘Come.’
The Shaman turned and led the way down a gently curving set of stone steps. Olson shook his head, turned and followed. Megan did the same, escorted by Jean-Louis, who began to recount a brief history of Buni Sound.
‘You are wondering what this place is. It was built at Skala’s birth. The site of the city was chosen in part because of the huge natural caves that lie below it. A similar reservoir was built underneath the city of Kul, but it was built far too late and designed badly. According to accounts of the time, the Kul Reservoir was built close to the surface, and had a roof supported by stone columns that in little time were eroded by the water. You have heard of the blight that overcame the city?’
‘Yes,’ said Megan. ‘Everyone knows about it.’
‘Although not its cause. The infections and disease that spread were accelerated because the city’s water supply was tainted. Collapsed parts of the reservoir were open to vermin, who nested and bred, spreading their plague into the water system as they did so.’
‘But what about the water from outside the city?’ asked Megan. ‘Wasn’t Kul built next to a natural lake?’
‘Indeed,’ Jean-Louis nodded, following them across a level platform before descending the next set of steps. ‘Much like Skala was, before evaporation reduced Lake Eiraye to what it is now. In the last shifts of Kul, building and engineering techniques were not advanced enough to bring water back to the city without huge leakage. Moisture traps and underground storage were never sufficient. Hellinar had drawn too close by that time. When over half of Kul’s population were dying, the first footings of Skala were built and it seems the architects ensured such a situation would never reoccur.’
‘And that’s what this place is? A huge water reserve?’ asked Megan.
‘Yes, although the water here is connected to the main supply system so it does not grow stagnant. It is a reserve, but it’s periodically replenished as an amount of it is pumped to the city above. The purple lights you see are to kill bacteria and any other micro-organisms in the water. Further filtration is not required.’
Megan looked at him, puzzled. ‘But there is a huge company, Purerefine, that filters the water above ground… it costs a fortune.’
Jean-Louis looked at her and shrugged. ‘Further filtration is not required.’
She looked to Olson, who wore a faraway look and offered only a momentary absent smile. They continued in silence, punctuated only by the occasional drip of moisture from high above. They were heading towards a wide, square opening on the far side of the dome; an entrance, above which was carved a similar symbol to the one they had observed above the archway that led to the Siphon. Beyond the opening, Megan saw the flicker of flame, contrasting with the gently rippling reflections of the water that played upon the brickwork of the dome.
‘What’s in there?’ she asked, indicating with a nod towards the opening.
‘Our city,’ said Jean-Louis. ‘Buni Sound.’
*
The entrance to Buni Sound was bathed in a warm, orange glow that danced across the smooth, red brick of the walls. It was a sensation Megan had never experienced before. She had heard Katherine talk of the wonderful cosiness of a fire out on the ice planes of Ayon. It was pleasant beyond her expectation. Rising up from a rectangular pit set into the flagstone floor, it ran the length of the hallway in which they now stood. Black coals smouldered at the edges, becoming ashen grey towards the middle of the trough.
The Shaman was still walking some distance in front of them. Noticing his staff had disappeared, Megan looked around, but didn’t see it. She shrugged the thought off – there was enough strangeness in this place that anything might have happened. Entering a large open space at the end of the hallway he turned left and disappeared from sight.
Led by Jean-Louis, they entered thriving living quarters which were spacious and meticulously clean. Unlike the ragged robes of the Shaman and the group she and Olson had encountered in the Siphon, the other inhabitants of Buni Sound were dressed in vibrantly coloured fabric garments of eclectic design. The Buni Sound Hadje filled a vast room at the end of the hallway with colour, chatter and laughter.
‘There must be several hundred people here,’ said Olson in wonder.
‘Just over three hundred,’ Jean-Louis affirmed.
‘There are so many children,’ said Megan, as small groups of youngsters ran in and out of the arches and gathered adults.
‘Yes,’ agreed the Second Spirit. ‘We are not shackled by the same physiological constraints as your people. We can breed almost at will.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Sometimes it is a benefit and at others, well, less so. I’ll show you to my quarters. My wife will look after you. If you don’t mind, I’d like to change.’
‘We don’t mind at all,’ said Olson.
As they followed Jean-Louis around the edge of the space, Megan began to take in the people. All had the smooth, ebony skin that made the Hadje so distinctive. They spoke in a multitude of accents, some with Jean-Louis’ beautiful lilt, others more like the Shaman’s deeper, drawn-out speech. The walls flanking the vast atrium were lined with pale arches set into the smooth, red brick, each illuminated by a
pair of gently flaming metal torches. Visible beyond them were open spaces linked to other rooms and corridors.
Under one of the nearer arches, sitting in a circle, were a group of women. Megan caught the unmistakable tone and accompanying laughter of gossip. The women were sewing. What they were sewing she couldn’t see, but the sense of community was clear.
Jean-Louis led them under one of the arches at the far end of the chamber and into a passageway of smaller rooms. The smell of cooking wafted through the cool air in aromatic waves from a roomy alcove in which stood a rounded, motherly-looking woman flanked by two small children.
‘Daddy!’ cried the children in unison and ran to him, each grabbing a leg.
‘They missed you, Jean-Louis,’ the woman said, beaming at him. ‘I missed you too,’ she added and embraced him warmly. After a moment she pulled away and looked to Megan and Olson, as if only just noticing their presence. ‘And we have guests,’ she exclaimed in a tone of genuine pleasure.
‘We do. This is Megan Devin and Tyler Olson.’
‘I’m Hesta,’ she said, looking at Jean-Louis in mocking reproach. ‘He never introduces me.’
Megan forced a half-convincing smile as Jean-Louis, looking a little chastened, apologised. As if to make amends he introduced his children. ‘These two monsters are Michelle and Deain.’
Hesta regarded Olson closely. ‘An Olson,’ she said in a questioning tone. ‘We knew an Olson.’
‘You may well have done,’ he replied, with a smile but no further explanation.
‘Well, I expect you will be hungry if you’ve travelled all the way down here. I’ll take them for something to eat while you get out of those filthy rags and into something more presentable.’ She looked at her husband. ‘Then I’ll sort out some bedding. You look exhausted, Miss Megan.’
‘I am. We both are,’ said Megan.
‘We would be very grateful,’ Olson added.
‘I’ll see you shortly,’ Jean-Louis reassured the two up-worlders while trying in vain to free his leg from Michelle’s crushing grip.
Following Hesta, they discovered that the Hadje, much like the poorer citizens of Skala, ate communally, something Megan appreciated. When their father and mother were distracted, she and Kyra had sneaked down to one of the food halls of the Western Fringe with what few links they had and delighted in the food, song and camaraderie. The sisters had loved the hubbub and were occasionally gifted a small glass of wine each by a mischievous proprietor. It made for a heady mix, which Kyra revelled in.
They sat themselves cross-legged on embroidered cushions around a low, square table of light-coloured wood. Megan took in the room with delight – the candle-lined walls and the low ceiling that arched across the warm chatter from many tables. She noticed a man, light-skinned like herself, sitting a few tables away. She nudged Olson, who smiled in recognition. The man seemed to notice them at the same time and raised his head to them in silent acknowledgement.
‘Hesta, who’s that?’ she asked.
‘Who? The up-worlder? He’s one of the bards. Dylan Samuel I think his name is. Jean-Louis will know.’
Jean-Louis appeared with the children, who ran to settle themselves on either side of Megan. Their proximity to her, a stranger, didn’t seem to bother them at all. The boy, Deain, grinned up at her. She smiled back as an arm reached over her bearing a platter filled with toasted flatbread and assorted root vegetables surrounding a large, skewered centipede.
Megan recoiled in horror, remembering the skittering, poisonous creatures in the upper dome. Jean-Louis caught her discomfort and sought to calm her.
‘Don’t worry, they’re not dangerous when cooked properly. They are considered a delicacy in Buni Sound. Please…’ he gestured for her to take one of the body segments. They smelled delicious but looked like something from the worst kind of nightmare. With great reluctance, she reached out, taking hold of the very end of the skewer. She was followed swiftly by Hesta and the two children. Megan stared at the charred body of the creature, trying to keep her revulsion from showing.
The children showed no such reserve, both dragging the meat sideways off the sticks with their teeth.
‘It’s really very nice, dear,’ said Hesta, displaying more delicacy than the children had done.
Megan shut her eyes and, with the feeling of diving off a very high building, took a bite. Hesta was right, it was very edible, once you got past the look of the thing.
‘You said you would explain about the Second Spirit?’ Olson asked Jean-Louis, while reaching for a skewer himself.
‘A Shaman is a spiritual man,’ he began. ‘He can travel to the spirit world but it is possible for him to remain trapped there. A Second Spirit is a Shaman’s anchor to this world. I travel with him but I remain partly here as well.’
‘I see,’ said Olson. ‘And do you do that often?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Jean-Louis. ‘It is some time since we travelled that path. But I feel the time is coming to travel it again soon.’
Hesta looked a little concerned at this statement, but didn’t protest.
‘So you are Olson?’ said Jean-Louis, with a familiarity that caught Megan’s attention. She couldn’t restrain her curiosity any longer.
‘Do you know these people, Tyler?’ she asked, sounding more impetuous than she’d meant to.
‘No,’ he said. ‘But I think my wife did.’
Jean-Louis nodded seriously. ‘Helenka was a friend of ours.’
‘You knew her personally?’
‘She stayed with us from time to time. We were sorry to hear of her passing.’
Hesta nodded, sadness and compassion in her face.
‘She was a storyteller, a bard,’ Olson explained to Megan. ‘She didn’t speak of the Hadje, certainly not by name, but she told me enough that I understood the people that dwell beneath the city were kind and wise. She told me they possess a great knowledge of the past, the present and our place in the world, such as it is.’ He smiled, looking to Jean-Louis and Hesta for approval, which both duly gave.
‘I feel it a great privilege to finally walk in her footsteps.’ He was not a man given to speech-making and these last words drove home the compassion Megan felt towards him.
‘Tonight you will sleep in her bed,’ said Jean-Louis with gravity. Hesta shot him a look of daggers which he clearly understood and quickly clarified his offer. ‘If it would not upset you unduly, of course.’
Olson cleared his throat, clearly choked. ‘That would put me at peace,’ he agreed, softly holding back tears. Tears of happiness or sadness? Megan didn’t know but she preferred to remember the moment as a happy one.
Presently, the children became fidgety and Hesta scooped them up to take them home. The others followed not far behind. Megan came last of all. A profound feeling of solitude had descended upon her and she spoke little as the children were put to bed and her accommodation organised. Hesta fussed over the bedding, making sure her guests were comfortable before turning in herself. Eventually the firelight of the surrounding pits faded and sleep overcame them all. It was hard to resist given the events of the past rotations and the comfort of the heat in the cool air. The smells and slumbering life brought a drowsiness that calmed both the body and the soul. They slept deeply, for a while.
024: Connor
Mal-Kas Mine, 122km Northwest of Skala
As Beth drove the LV through the never-ending maze of high, wide tunnels, JT considered how easy it would be to get lost in a place where one drive looked much like another. Drive 8 was not simply a spur off the decline but a vast network in its own right. Compared to the stope they had left an indeterminate time before, it was eerily quiet, with only the sound of the LV’s engine and the spattering of tyres on wet rock for company.
Beth remained uncharacteristically quiet, which made the two men apprehensive. Presently, she brought the LV to a halt, opened the door and climbed out.
‘Connor should be down there,’ she said, looking lon
g into the tunnel ahead but making no move to proceed.
‘You’re not coming with us?’ asked Ira, in a gruff, questioning tone.
‘No,’ she said simply. ‘Further down is the restricted area. Well, one of them anyway. Do yourselves a favour and stay out of it.’
‘How do we find Connor?’ asked JT.
‘He’ll find you, don’t worry about that,’ she said, with a trace of irony. ‘Drive 8 doesn’t get used much, so watch the puddles, try not to step in them. The stagnant water down here tends to suck in sulphur dioxide. If you disturb the water it gets kicked back into the atmosphere and it doesn’t half smell bad. Hurts your eyes too. Just try to avoid any standing water from here on.’
‘Okay, will do,’ said JT, grateful for the advice.
‘Let’s go,’ said Ira and nodded.
Walking any distance down here was hard going, as they had already discovered. The relative quiet helped a little – it was one less bombardment on the senses. They could still hear the occasional crash and echo of the operations far behind them but they were faint and indistinct.
Once they were out of Beth’s hearing both men instinctively dropped their guard a little.
‘There’s something very wrong here,’ said Ira.
‘I know what you mean. I can’t put my finger on it, but you’re right.’
‘Did you see the way Beth reacted to the rig operator talking about the ore they recover?’
‘Or don’t recover,’ JT interjected. ‘Yes, I did notice. She wasn’t happy. What do you suppose these restricted sections are?’
‘No idea,’ said Ira. ‘I’m not entirely sure I want to find out.’
‘How are we going to handle Connor?’
‘I’ve no idea on that either. See how it plays out. The last thing we want is a scuffle. I’m not sure I’d have the energy to do much damage down here even if I wanted to.’
Trinity Page 18