Still no time to blog! Which is a shame because I visited Boston this weekend and saw Colin Meloy in concert. Also toured MIT's campus and saw lots of amazing things. I will try to find time to write about it soon! In the meantime, here's chapter two. I've touched it up a bit because I have to turn it in for my Creative Writing class but it's still a rough draft. If you haven't already
you can read chapter one here! Points if you can give me a better name for the chapter, leave suggestions in the comments.
(Update: My sister gave me a great chapter title "Pick up the Torch")
Chapter 2
Pick up the Torch
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Orvar blinked; a bright disc floated distantly
above him. He was lying on his side in a large patch of sand. Water dripped
steadily somewhere nearby. The air was cool but suffused with a foul odor. He
rolled slightly; groaning as every fiber of his body ached from the impact it
had absorbed. They were in a dim stone chamber about thirty feet square. The
only light in the chamber filtered down from above. A soft voice broke through
his stupor. It was Fiorra.
“That fall should’ve killed us or broken our
bones.”
Cazard, already standing, puffed himself up a bit,
“You can thank me for our soft landing. I learned how to cast air runes with my
feet a few years back. Shards, that
was a good night at the bar. A little jig, wiggle my toes, gust of wind and up
the skirts go! Innocent as a lamb I was.” He chuckled. “I hope there’s a tavern
down here somewhere. I could go for a nice mug of ale.”
The thief, sitting to the side, muttered. “Shut up.
Curse the gods to be stuck with a fool like you. You’ll get us all killed.” She
slipped her hands out of her rope bonds as if they hadn’t been tied at all.
“I’ll get us killed?” Cazard struggled
ineffectually with his own bonds. “What about that stunt you pulled, mooring
the ship when I had perfectly good leverage to get us all out of this mess!?”
“Leverage?
You call that leverage? You had a candle-flame.
One of the guards to the stern had started loading a crossbow. I saved your
life you ungrateful lout.”
Cazard
jerked his head irritably toward the damp dungeon walls. “And you call this saved? Better to have died in the light
than starve to death in the belly of a mountain.”
Orvar
did feel as if some great beast had swallowed them.
Cazard
attempted to storm off to another part of the room before remembering that the
chains prevented it. The thief snickered. He spun back to face her and
sputtered. “I am The Great Cazard, You are but a common thief!”
At
this the thief smiled. “Oh really?” She knelt next to Fiorra and cut her bonds
with a small razor she produced out of nowhere. She moved on to Orvar,
motioning him to stand up. She began sawing through the rough cords. “Well
then, Great Cazard,” she dragged out
her words, “Go on and dance your hands out of those ropes.”
Cazard
glared at her. His face contorted for a moment, then relaxed into a mask of
complacency. He spoke, his voice held no sarcasm or revilement, but his eyes
betrayed his anger. “If you wouldn’t mind then, my Lady…?”
The
thief grunted in annoyance, knowing that the implication of nobility was a
slight. “You can call me Padavae.”
“Lady
Padavae” He flashed a bright smile. “If you would be so kind as to cut me
free.”
Padavae
turned and held the razor out to Orvar. “You can deal with him.”
Orvar
stepped over to Cazard and leaned in close.
“I
think you’d best play nice. If we’ve any chance of escaping from this place
we’ll need all our strength. You may have to leave your ego at the door.”
Cazard
opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. He shrugged and held
his hands out. Orvar cut through the bonds carefully.
With
his hands free Cazard immediately began inspecting the chain around his waist.
“First thing to do, I should think, is get ourselves free to move more than
five feet from one another.” He glanced meaningfully at Padavae then kneeled
down and rapped the chain experimentally against the stone floor.
Padavae
shook her head. “It’s no use. I’ve been working on a way to remove them ever
since we boarded the airship. They aren’t just locked, they’re welded on.” She
glanced up at the small patch of sky visible through the shaft. “There’s no way
we can climb this, I don’t suppose you could fly us back up there?”
Cazard
was holding the chain to his ear. “Softening our fall was one thing m’lady.
Flight is a feat that was beyond the powers of even Jharbane Tenbolt.”
“Who?”
Cazard
looked up at her, bewildered, “Do you know anything
about magic?” He abruptly slammed a length of chain against the floor. The
sound echoed hollowly around the room.
“Damn.
Well, I guess we’re stuck with these chains for a while.” Cazard trailed off.
“If we could find a way to heat them…” He trailed off, still fondling the loops
of chain.
Orvar
turned away from Cazard. “Padavae, huh? That’s a western name if I ever heard
one. You’re from the coast?”
“Yes,
Daejon.” Padavae looked at him carefully “And you are from Malan Tael are you
not?”
“My
name is Orvar. I’m from the village of Jonli, a ways to the north from there.”
He handed the razor back to her. “But you are right, I moved to Malan Tael in
adulthood.” Orvar glanced cautiously at Fiorra.
“You
work for the emperor.” Padavae said, her face blank.
Orvar
gestured to the distant sky up the shaft they had come down. “I believe I am
unemployed.”
Padavae
remained motionless, razor in hand.
He
continued. “Listen, we’re in this together now. I’m not your enemy. If you had
a bone to pick with the Empire I’m sorry. I used to believe in what the Empire
stood for but I’m not too fond of them now. Things changed, that’s why I’m down
here.”
She
shrugged and slipped the razor into her hair. “I didn’t have a bone to pick with them. Then they decided I was a
Theraen spy and threw me in here.” She sighed. “Daejon may be part of the
rebellion but Péca is just across the river. The trade barges carry more than
goods across the river, they carry ideas. The battles may be fought on the
Blooddrop Fields but the war rages quietly in Daejon and Péca.”
Cazard
gave up on the chain entirely and stood, holding up his hands defensively.
“Before you ask, I’m not a supporter of the Empire or Theraea. They’re both
useless.” He dusted his hands off. “Though I suppose life would be easier again
if Malan Tael got it’s act together and wiped out the Theraens.
Fiorra
took a quick step and struck Cazard across the cheek. “How dare you! The
Theraen people fight against the oppression of the Empire, we seek to end the
evil which has spread from Malan Tael!”
Cazard
winced. “Ow. Fine then, wipe out the Malanians. I don’t care. You can start
with Orvar over there. He’s one of them, high-ranking too from what I’ve
gathered.” He rubbed his jaw and grimaced. “This is why I stay out of
politics.”
Fiorra
glared. “That kind of callous disregard for life is what is wrong with the
Empire.”
Still smarting from the slap, Cazard went on. “I’m sure you have a great
reason to hate the Empire. Your father die in the war or something?”
Fiorra
glared at him. “My father is Samril Ashiyon.”
“Who?”
Padavae’s
smile was smug. “Do you know anything
about reality? Her father is the King of Nothampton, the leader of the Theraen
rebellion.”
Cazard
balked. “You’re a Theraen princess?
Why are you down here? Why aren’t you being ransomed back to your father or
held as a bargaining tool to negotiate a surrender?”
Fiorra’s
anger quickly ebbed. Her eyes were downcast. “I don’t know. I was held captive
for nearly a month before being sent here.” She looked around, as if realizing
where she was again.
The
wind from the top of the mountain found its way down the shaft and they all
shivered.
Orvar
felt his military training taking hold. “We need to get our bearings down here.
Lets see if we can find anything of use.”
He
walked towards one of the walls. The others followed closely to avoid being
tugged along by the chain. The light dropped off quickly as they moved away
from the shaft to the surface. Cazard lit the flame above his fingers again and
edged up next to Orvar. The walls were damp and slimy with algae. They worked
their way counter-clockwise around the room. They came to a small alcove and
stopped.
Fiorra
was behind the others. “What is it?”
Orvar
stepped aside, revealing a pile of human bones pushed up against the wall. Deep
gouges marred the surface of many of the bones. Fiorra quickly looked away.
They moved on silently.
Eventually
they came to a gateway set into the wall. Orvar gripped the grid of iron bars,
testing them for strength. He lifted, but the gate didn’t budge. “See if
there’s a crank to open it.”
Cazard
moved to the other side of the doorway, his flame illuminated the other wall
where thick ropy vines partially obscured a torch resting in a sconce. “Hey!
There’s a torch here.” He reached up and touched his flame to it. The torch
roared to life, illuminating the room and part of a passageway beyond the cell
gate.
Fiorra
ran her hand lightly over the wall opposite the torch. “There’s something
written here.”
Three
lines of chalky white runes shone brightly in the yellow torchlight.
“What
does it say?” Orvar asked.
Cazard
studied the runes briefly. “It could be a spell.” Cazard pointed to a hexagonal
rune with a dot in it. That one looks similar to the rune for balance, but none
of the others even resemble the standard magic rune tables.”
Fiorra
whispered in astonishment. “It’s not a spell, it’s a language…”
Cazard
glanced at her. “What language uses runes like this? Even the insectoids have a
proper alphabet, odd as it may be.”
Fiorra
ignored him and stared at the runes. She idly traced one with her finger. “This
means ‘fate,’ and this one next to it means…” She trailed off then turned to
face the rest. Orvar held his breath. Fiorra spoke quietly “Death.”
“So
we’re fated to die, that isn’t news.” Cazard said irritably.
Padavae
spoke up, “What about the rest of it? Surely there must be something else.
There are dozens of runes there.”
Fiorra
nodded tiredly, “You’re right, but this is a very old language. I’ve only seen
it a few times before. It will take me some time.”
Orvar
laughed out loud, startling the others. “Time, my dear, is something we have
plenty of.”
Fiorra
turned again to the runes and studied them for a while. Cazard, initially
excited by his discovery, soon subsided and kicked his feet in boredom. Several
minutes passed. Fiorra swayed slowly to the side and then started suddenly,
jerking backwards. “Did you hear that?” she breathed.
Cazard
whispered loudly, “What! What is it?”
They
all stood perfectly still for a moment, Orvar imagined some terrible beast
crawling out of the darkness and devouring them. A few seconds passed.
Padavae
spoke up cautiously, “I didn’t hear anything.”
“I
thought I heard…no, I’m sorry, I think I drifted off there. It’s been so long
since I slept.”
Orvar
relaxed, glad that the monsters were only in Fiorra’s head. “I suppose we could
all use a rest. We’ll get some sleep, then you can try again at translating…”
Fiorra
turned to him, “No, I…I know what it says now.”
Padavae
raised her eyebrow. “The expression ‘sleep on it’ usually refers to more than a
few seconds.”
Cazard
grunted, “Well, what does it say then?”
Fiorra
ran her fingers along the runes again. She spoke slowly. “Choose your fate.
Perish in this cell or pick up the torch.”
Padavae
turned to the burning torch and grabbed the shaft. She lifted it out of its
resting place.
There
was a small click and the sound of metal striking metal in quick succession.
The gate lifted smoothly and disappeared into the ceiling.
Cazard
frowned. “I don’t like that. I don’t like that one bit.”
Padavae
turned to him, holding the torch aloft, “So you’d rather stay in here and rot
now?”
“It’s
too simple. Even if we hadn’t deciphered that text odds are we would have
picked up that torch. What’s the point? Besides, why is this gate closed?
Surely the previous expedition made it past this chamber.”
“Maybe
they’re still alive, maybe they closed it.” Fiorra said quietly.
Cazard looked at her, “And went back into the mountain? It has to be
someone else.”
Orvar
scoffed, “There was one who escaped from that expedition, he probably replaced
the torch on his way out, is that so hard to believe?”
Cazard
stuck his head through the open gateway, inspecting the walls cautiously.
“Maybe. I’m a little more concerned with the part where he’s the only one who escaped.”
Padavae
looked at Orvar “You know what happened to the expedition here? Anything useful
we should know?”
“Yes.
I was there when the expedition left Malan Tael. It was a party of about
two-dozen men led by Lord Perel of Kalevala. They were tough men. A few weeks
later a messenger returned with the news. A young squire had escaped but had
died of his wounds before he could say much. The majority of what he said was
babble. He talked about demons and monsters, traps of flame and pitfalls. But
it’s hard to say what was real and what wasn’t. All we can be sure of is that
there is something down here that can kill an armed party of battle hardy men
and drive a boy insane.”
“Oh,
is that all?” Cazard said dryly.
Padavae
brushed past him. The sections of chain holding them all together rattled. “It
doesn’t matter, we have to move forward. There’s nothing here.”
She
moved out into the passageway. The rough stone brick appeared yellow and
sinister in the torchlight. The others followed silently.
The
passageway ran straight from the gated entrance for a few dozen feet and then
made an abrupt left. The walls remained featureless and bleak.
Fiorra,
her eyes drooping, faltered, and the chains rattled loudly.
Orvar
glanced back, “We need to rest before we move too far. We don’t know what we’re
going to run into.”
Padavae
tugged on the chain. “We can’t stop now, we need to find food and water.”
The
passageway made another turn, this time to the right. The torchlight revealed
that this section of the hall had small shelves cut into the walls every few
feet. They were all empty. The hallway disappeared into the dark beyond the
torchlight.
“Why
is this place even here? Who goes to all the trouble of building inside the
tallest mountain in the world?” Cazard grumbled.
Orvar
laughed softly. “Well, that’s what the emperor wants to find out, which is why
we’re stuck down here. I’m less worried about the why and more about how to get
out of here. The guard captain said that there is supposed to be an exit
further down. He could be wrong, but he wouldn’t lie to us. The only reason to
send us down here is if they truly believe we can show them the way in from the
bottom.”
The
passageway ended, emptying them into a small chamber. A short, wide pedestal
occupied the center of the room. There was a small pool of water in a stone
basin near the wall. There was another gate on the far side of the chamber. A
wheel stuck out of the wall next to it.
Orvar
looked around, automatically noting the defensibility of the position. “We have
to stop here. Fiorra will be a dead weight on the end of the chain if we don’t.
There’s water here and we have no way to carry it. I haven’t slept since night
before last and I know it’s been longer for Fiorra.” Padavae looked as if she
was going to protest again but he could see the exhaustion in her eyes too.
Cazard
crossed his arms “Fine, what about some food?”
Padavae
surveyed the room and spotted some dark spots on the wall near the basin. She
walked over and plucked one off the wall. She held her hand out to Cazard.
“Here,
eat up.” She opened her hand to reveal a small snail.
Cazard
hesitated. Before he could decide whether to protest or not, Padavae shrugged
and deftly sucked the snail out of its shell.
“It’s
not a tavern with ale and cheese but if you expect to find anything larger or
more appetizing I believe you’ll be disappointed.”
She
turned back to the wall and plucked another snail, finishing it off as quickly
as the first.
The
reality of their situation sinking in, the other three wordlessly followed suit,
grimacing as the slimy nuggets slid down their throats. Fiorra only managed to get three or
four down before she gave up to her exhaustion and lay down on the floor. The
floor, mercifully, was only slightly cooler than the air above it. Clothed as
they were in only ragged tunics and cloth pants the warmth was welcome.
Orvar
watched Fiorra curl up on the floor, her dark brown hair spread limply across
the stone. The chain at her waist made harsh scraping sounds as she tried to
find a comfortable position. She looked frail. Her outburst earlier had
surprised him. She was tired in body, but not in spirit. He wondered whether
the Emperor had sent word to King Ashivon what he had done with Fiorra. He
suspected not, but knew that it had been a long time since he had been able to
predict anything that the Emperor would do. Orvar sighed. He drank a few
handfuls of water from the basin and splashed it on his face. The water was
cool but had a sharp iron tang to it.
Padavae
turned to Orvar “How do we put the torch out? If we dip it in the water it
won’t light when we wake.”
Cazard,
now taking his turn at the basin, looked up. “Just leave it on the pedestal
until we’re ready to sleep. I’ll put it out properly.”
Padavae
did as he said, which told Orvar volumes about how tired she was.
The
chains dictated their sleeping order. Orvar and Cazard were on opposite ends of
the chain with Fiorra closer to Cazard. Orvar propped himself against the wall
near Padavae. She in turn lay down near Fiorra and rested her head on top of
her arm. Cazard stripped off his thin, tattered shirt and tried to use it as a
pillow.
“Should
we set watch?” Padavae asked.
Orvar
scratched at his head. “No use, we’re all too tired to fend off anything if it
did show up. Not to be negative but keep in mind a fully armed party of
two-dozen was wiped out by whatever is down here.”
“Thanks
for the reminder.” Cazard rolled over and flicked his hands into the air,
drawing a few quick runes. A gust of air burst through the chamber and snuffed
out the light. Orvar heard Cazard roll over again and soon there was a soft
snoring.
There was no light. There was no shadow. The mountain was quiet. But not
for long.
