Chapter 61: The rivers below the earth
6 June, 2008 – 9:58 pm
The way onwards seemed treacherous at first, but the thought of slipping and crashing down into the rocky gaps didn’t seem to bother Cyrus. His thoughts seemed to be somewhere else entirely, as if in a daydream, and he stopped briefly to brush a hand over the cold wet stones.
He looked at his fingertips in surprise. They glowed slightly in the dark. In fact, when he looked up, it was the same everywhere: the whole of the interior of the cave seemed to be coated in a type of lichen that radiated a dim green light.
‘Luminescence.’
The light from the lichen bathed the area in a subtle glow.
‘This fault, this crack… it runs deep,’ he whispered, squinting into the dark. ‘It must be a remnant.’
‘Indeed,’ agreed Titus, nodding with equal fascination. ‘A remnant from the elder days. Maybe even from the time of the falling sky stone.’
Cyrus nodded.
‘Two worlds from one. And from where there was once nothing came magic…’ he intoned, solemnly.
Remus smiled.
‘Yes, cast your mind back to the sky stones,’ he hissed, remembering. ‘It is said that whoever controls them, controls the worlds.’
Cyrus smirked as he recalled events that happened two thousand years ago - events that were remarkably cold and sharp and fresh in his memory.
‘The Wyrdstone fragments are not something to be taken lightly,’ he warned. ‘They are volatile and fickle, turbulent even. Definitely not to be taken lightly.’
Remus nodded.
‘There is no need to remind me my friend. It was too powerful even for my pathetic father. And that was only one half of the stone.’
Cyrus recalled the occasion with some trepidation.
He cast his mind back two thousand years, and watched with excitement and fear as Artus, the last king of Talistay, mortally wounded and bound with chains, screamed with madness and begged his bastard son, Remus, to set him free as the stone took his mind, turning him insane in the process. What happened after that was so horrible that he thought he’d struck all recollection of it from his memory. Even now, Cyrus shuddered at the memory, before consigning it once more to the depths of his mind.
‘I know.’ whispered Cyrus. ‘Before you bound and armoured him,the stone stripped his mind and left him a gibbering wreck. Perfect for what you turned him into, but not - I suspect - what the stones were originally used for.’
‘Indeed.’ said Remus. ‘But just think of the power that both stones would hold if combined. And we lost it.’
‘Lost it?‘ snorted Cyrus. ‘How easily we forget. We didn’t lose it. We were betrayed by your choice of so-called allies…’
Remus looked mildly vexed, but remained calm.
‘Yes, brother, I realise that. But listen to me now and mark these words well: it shall not happen again.’
Cyrus turned to face into the inky distance ahead, buried in his thoughts.
‘The sky stones are out there somewhere in the land of the Fair, near Talistay…’
And then a distant noise like a howl - ancient and volatile - echoed up from the blackness below, mingling with the roar of the wind.
Remus’ mouth curled into a smile, and they all departed in the direction of the noise.
‘It is time for revenge…’
* * * *
Down, down, into the gloomy depths they descended, following the fissure far into the earth as it widened out to become vast halls and galleries of stone, where the roughly-hewn steps they had followed since the beginning began to change slowly over a short period of time into stairs of the finest polished marble.
As they ventured on following the demon, they passed grand hallways littered with broken rock and fallen stone, through passageways that led to places that were completely blocked by rubble, or paths that lay beyond reach, now sunken below icy water.
All the time the shrill wind continued to whistle up from the direction of the darkness somewhere far below, as if it was revealing the way on, while at the same time carrying with it a warm, dry air that seemed oddly out of place; a hint of spice and damp that mingled together with the warmth and cold of the caverns.
The smell encouraged Cyrus though, certain in his belief that it was a sign that their trek was nearing an end.
They kept their distance whilst managing to track the demon’s dark shape, following it as it sank and rose and drifted and waned, at times almost losing sight of the foul creature, but at the same time being especially careful so as not to be noticed.
But this time they had let the monstrosity get so far ahead of them that they had been in danger of losing track of it completely. And so, briefly forgetting his strategy, Cyrus ran ahead and entered a large cavernous area, full of water and stalagmites.
In his desperation to get to the other side and regain the demon’s trail, he waded into the pool. Only when he was up to his middle in water, did a terrible thought occur to him and he became as still as a statue and gestured to the others to approach no further.
From out of the corner of his eye he watched with a creeping sense of horror as a dark shadow passed close by almost brushing past his legs. It was then he realised that his fears had been confirmed: the demon was already in the water with him.
He retreated slowly at first, but as he did so, he backed into a stalagmite and stumbled awkwardly. It was only through blind luck that he managed to stop himself from falling backwards into the water, and he continued to edge slowly around it so that he was eventually hidden from view.
Cyrus watched with growing fascination as the demon continued to swim around beneath the water, oblivious to what was happening above until it sprang up with a writhing eel-like creature clenched between its terrible maw. With one swift motion, it grasped the fish with a clawed hand and tore it apart, greedily bolting it down in huge chunks.
They all watched, waiting with baited breath, careful so as not to disturb it as it gorged on the eyeless fish of the cavern. As it did so, it occasionally looked around to check that it was alone, before it wolfed down the remains of the fish.
A bead of sweat ran down Cyrus’ face as he bit his lip and reached for the hilt of his sword. The last thing he wanted was to be unprepared. If the need arose he would use force. Although, he had no idea how effective cold steel would be against a demon, he had little choice but to put his trust in it.
And then as soon as it had finished feeding, it turned and fled, dashing through the water in its familiar lolloping gait much to a relieved Cyrus, who relaxed his grip on his sword and allowed himself a brief sigh of relief.
‘Quick!’ he said, waving the rest of the Fiery Brand. ‘We can’t afford to let it out of our sights.’
As they reached the end of the cavern and peered onwards, it became plainly obvious that the demon had disappeared from view entirely. And so, frustrated, Cyrus quickened his pace onward, even though the only pathway onwards was obvious.
But it mattered little, because far ahead in the distant darkness something had caught his attention.
Ahead of them a tiny pin prick of light started to grow, and the shrill wind started to blow faster, bringing with it the promise of warmth and daylight…
* * * *
In a smoke-filled inn in Greater Winding, Tobias stared long and hard at the foaming beer-filled tankard which rested before him on the bar. It was reassuring that even in another world there were some things that remained constant. The prospect of slaking his thirst with it was almost too much to bear thinking about, and he tentatively reached out for it.
‘God, how I need that,’ he thought. ‘It’s hardly going to touch the sides.’
And then Raedwald - with a tankard of ale - turned and roughly clunked it into Tobias’s, spilling most of it in the process. A stream of ale ran from the mug to cascade onto the dusty floor.
‘Well met fellow, hail!’ he pronounced loudly, in a drunken slur.
Tobias felt unsure as to the correct response and, instead, grinned idiotically and nodded, looking with despair at the pathetic amount left in the mug.
‘Indeed,’ he murmured, wringing the beer from his shirt sleeve.
At that moment, he caught sight of Hillary descending the stairs and took the opportunity of making his excuses to leave, and instead made his way over to him.
‘Are they tucked up in bed?’ he asked, looking around at the various denizens of the inn.
He frowned. They were all, rather curiously human.
‘Yes, they’re upstairs, both asleep.’ replied Hillary, and slumped down onto a stool.
‘God knows they need it.’ he sighed.
Tobias downed the last drops of ale from his mug.
‘There was something I was meaning to ask you actually.’
‘Oh?’
‘Well, what are all these people doing here Hillary? If we’re in Faerie, where are all the erm… faeries?’ he said, not sure of the right words. ‘Elfs, Dwarfs, Pixies; where exactly are they all?’
As soon as the words were spoken a few heads turned, and the hubbub quietened. Hillary, aware that he’d drawn attention to himself, lowered his voice to a whisper.
‘Oh, we’ll run into some no doubt later.’ he said. ‘This place is one of the human territories in Faerie and they pretty much tend to keep themselves to themselves.’
‘You mean like segregation? Why?’
Hillary winced.
‘Mistrust of each other…’
* * * *
When she was sure that Hillary had left the room, Scarlet opened her eyes, and prodded her brother who was fast asleep beside her. It took a few attempts to wake him, but eventually, he groaned and rubbed his eyes.
‘What?’ he said, trying to stifle a yawn. ‘What is it?’
‘Come on, get up!’ she whispered. ‘We’re leaving.’
‘What?’
She grabbed her clothes and started dressing herself hurriedly. Then she opened the creaky door slightly to check outside. It looked clear, so she turned back to Thomas, who was sitting up in bed, looking bewildered.
‘We’re leaving? But why?’ he asked, groggily.
She shrugged.
She didn’t quite know what to say herself. All she knew was that she felt uncomfortable, and things were happening at such a breakneck speed that she’d panicked herself into action. But panic wasn’t the right word. It was something else entirely.
She needed to know.
‘I’m not sure.’ she said. ‘It’s just a feeling I have. I don’t trust anyone anymore. I’m sure we’re not being told the whole story.’
She grabbed his clothes and threw them at him. Then she held her hand up and looked at the levitonite ring on her finger. It gleamed proudly in the soft candlelight of the room. It was a work of art: beautiful and intricate. She wondered about who had created it. But at the same time it created more questions for her than it did answers. She had to know more about the events that were happening all around them. And for that she had to find them out on her own terms.
She stared out of the window and looked up at the moon. It was the same moon that she’d always known, as it hung there in the cloudless sky surrounded by the same constellations; the Plough, Orion the Hunter, Cassiopeia. She frowned though. They looked different somehow. And then she understood: they were all reversed in the sky. Nevertheless, those seemingly mundane pin pricks of light now served to give her spirit a lift, as soul mates adrift in another world.
She rummaged through the pockets of Hillary’s jacket until she found what she was looking for: the filigree cage of the clockwork guardian. She quickly popped it in her pocket and ran to the door again.
‘It’s time for us to find out what’s happening on our own terms.’
