The Black Shriving (Chronicles of the Black Gate Book 2) (29 page)

"Where we going, again?"

Temyl's truculence was barely noticeable while he was aboard the platform. Perhaps, Audsley thought, it was because the man knew he could be tipped out to fall hundreds of yards onto the withered bodies below.

"We are in search of a man long dead and his fellow Artificers, my good Temyl." Audsley nudged the entity in his mind, and the platform glided into the tunnel. "A gentleman known as Erenthil. He was engaged in a manner of experimentation precipitated by the very extremity of the invasion that saw Starkadr destroyed. Let us see what wonders he fashioned in his final hours, shall we?"

Bogusch muttered something behind Audsley's back, which the magister chose to ignore with superior serenity.

The ambient gloom was most useful; they flew silently into the great tunnel, and immediately Audsley saw something of interest on the floor below - a second platform, akin to the one they rode, a sword plunged into its fore. If it was an omen, Audsley didn't know how to interpret it, so he kept silent and instead focused on what lay ahead.

The tunnel soon opened up into a large room. The men and women who had designed the stonecloud's interior had enjoyed thinking on a grand scale, reflected Audsley, and why not? With such power at their fingertips, why shouldn't they carve out spaces on an imperial scope?

This room was hard to comprehend at first glance. It wasn't a room, not in truth, but rather a partition, a great chasm of space with rooms embedded in both walls like the cells of a honeycomb. Audsley couldn't make out the bottom of the chasm, or the ceiling, both being shrouded in the darkness, but the twin walls were separated by perhaps twenty yards of void. Each cell was fronted by a hexagonal glass wall, with a dull green light burning along the base of a few of them, causing the front wall to shimmer and burn with a subdued marshy light. The resulting effect was stunning: a ghostly infinity of rooms fading away into the gloom both up and down and away, an ethereal honeycomb.

"By the White Gate," croaked Temyl.

"This ain't right," whispered Bogusch. "We shouldn't be here."

"Oh, no," said Audsley, nudging the platform forward and out into the chasm that separated the two walls. "This is precisely where we should be. By the Seven Virtues, what magnificence." His heart was thudding joyously. There should be singing, some glorious sound to accompany the beauty of the sight. "These were the people who dreamed of Aletheia amongst the clouds, who raised Nous from the Eternal Ocean. These were the minds that crafted the Solar Gates, which united an empire across impossible distances simply because they could. Ah! What giants they must have been, their ambition untrammeled, their grasp not exceeding their reach!"

Neither guard answered him, but Audsley didn't care. He caused their raft to float ahead slowly, peering now into the few honeycomb cells that were lit. The facade of one in ten burned with a green light, making the glass walls look like the surfaces of iridescent green pools. The cells extended deep into the walls, perhaps a good thirty yards, their interiors lit by the faint light at the front. Audsley saw tables, counters, chairs, strange contraptions, shelving, corpses.

"Look. More dead Sin Casters," said Bogusch, crawling up beside Audsley. "Why d'you reckon they chose to stay and die in those strange rooms?"

"Perhaps they had no choice," said Audsley. "When the Black Gate was closed, perhaps they were trapped, unable to fly out. Or... no. That can't be right. The Gate was closed before Starkadr fell. Perhaps, then, they opted to remain in their studies, working to discover a solution, a means to strike back against the Ascendant and those who wished their death."

On they sailed, the silence complete but for their breathing, and even that created a soft echo in the vast spaces that extended above and below them. "And then, when the invasion hit, nobody was able to rescue them from their studies. They were left behind, trapped, to die slowly."

"Or jump," said Bogusch grimly. "I bet the floor below is a charnel pit of bodies."

"Perhaps," said Audsley softly. He felt his heart going out to those forlorn shapes that were lying on the floor, bent over the tables, or seated against the walls. They had sacrificed everything for knowledge, had wagered that they could devise a solution – and failed.

"Look," said Temyl. "Up ahead. The end of this place, maybe."

It was, indeed. The chasm ended in a single column of the honeycomb cells, these larger than their lateral cousins. The green marsh light burned in the glass walls that fronted each cell, and Audsley immediately gained a sense of their greater importance. He guided the platform up close and landed it on the ledge in front of the cell that was on the same level they'd been flying on. It touched down with a metallic crunch, propped up at the front by the sword's tip where it projected below.

"What are we doing here?" Temyl's voice shook. "Come on, Magister. Let's head back now, before we stir up any real trouble."

Audsley ignored him. It was easy to do. He stepped off the platform onto the black stone ledge. The dark space beneath it was mesmerizing; it seemed to pull at him, make his sense of balance a precarious thing, so he stepped away and walked up to the glass wall.

"What sort of craftsmanship is this?" he murmured to himself, not expecting an answer.

The glass was flawless, pellucid like a pristine pool, an inch thick and without scratch or defect. It was a hexagonal wall, perfectly slotted into the front of the cell, with a smaller hexagonal doorway carved in its center, one edge along the floor. The green fire that burned along the bottom edge flickered softly, so that the whole glowed with a light akin to the
aurora infernalis
that was said to light the Bythian sky.

Audsley stepped through the hexagonal doorway into the room beyond. Aedelbert let out a chirp and flew up to the top of a bookcase. Everything was lit a faint, mysterious green from the front. Inside he saw tables, work stations, benches. Shelving along the walls lined with books. Huge sheets of paper on which diagrams were inked, the corresponding items sometimes lying beside them.

"Why are we here, Magister?" Temyl had followed him into the room, but not far beyond the door. "Honestly now. What by the Black Gate itself are you hoping to achieve?"

"I don't rightly know," said Audsley. He picked up a large metal gauntlet. The wrist guard was massively exaggerated, reaching down to the elbow and swollen out like a pony keg. It was surprisingly light. He set it down next to some goggles. "I read that it was here that the Sin Casters' last line of defense lay. It was in these rooms, these laboratories, that they sought to wrest some final advantage from their fallen arcana and defeat their foes."

"Well, it looks like they failed," said Temyl, kicking at the leg of a bench.

"Indeed. But who knows what they may have discovered at the very end? Who knows what wonders? Remember, they labored without the aid of magic. The Black Gate was already closed. Thus, what they may have discovered..."

He trailed off significantly and looked at Temyl. Beyond him, Audsley could make out Bogusch standing on the ledge, sword drawn, staring out into the chasm.

"May benefit us?" Temyl guessed.

"Precisely." Audsley picked up a length of serrated metal. "Though I'm not quite sure how, just yet."

"What's that there in the back?" Temyl pointed past Audsley, his expression reluctant, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Hmm?"

Audsley turned to look. A large metal block stood alone against the end wall, the front burst out as if it had been struck by lightning or some other explosive agent. Audsley stepped toward it and saw four corpses arrayed in a circle in front of the block. Their eyes were torn out and their lower jaws missing, tongues lolling grotesquely over their throats.

"Urgh," said Temyl, backing away. "What the hell is that?"

"I, um, I don't quite know," said Audsley, feeling his gorge rise.

The disconnect between the violence done to their faces and the manner in which they were ceremonially laid out made the diorama even more disconcerting. Shivering, he looked past them at the block. It was about six feet tall, four deep, and looked to be made of lead. Massively heavy, yet the deep gouge marks on the floor in front of it made it seem as if it had been dragged into place.

Unable to stay back, Audsley stepped delicately over one of the bodies and approached, wishing there was better lighting. The metal was rent and twisted outward in violent strands and clots. Something had burst out, he decided, not in. He reached out to touch the block, then thought better of it and instead leaned forward and peered inside.

There was a mold within it. Shaped in a vaguely humanoid way, it was smoothly contoured like clay after a hand mark has been imprinted in it. Audsley frowned. Had the block been a container? What had escaped? What could have survived being interred within such a massive block of lead?

A demon
, he thought, and felt his blood run cold.

"Let's, ah, let's return to our quarters," he said, turning back to Temyl. "I've much to ponder. I'll collect some of these notes to read, and that should suffice for now."

"I should bloody well think so," said Temyl, his face gone pale. He turned and began to walk back toward the front. "Bogs! Get ready. The magister's returned to his senses and it's time for us to have a drink. Bogs?"

Audsley's heart skipped a beat, a surprisingly sharp sensation.

Temyl ran the last dozen yards to the doorway in the glass wall and peered out onto the ledge, frantic, searching the open, blank expanse of space. "Bogusch!"

Audsley passed a hand over his face, taking off his spectacles. His knees felt weak as Aedelbert swooped in from a high shelf to land on his shoulder.

"Oh, dear," he said to himself, hands shaking, unable to catch his breath. "Oh, dear."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Asho slid and fell down the obliquely angled crack, scraping and banging his elbows as he dropped, till the slope fell away and he plummeted into the darkness, falling for several heart-wrenching seconds before he landed roughly on a rock floor.

He had enough presence of mind to roll aside just before Mæva landed where he'd been with a rush of wind and a light thud. Then came a cry and Kethe clattered down, hitting the ground hard on her side. Asho scrambled over to her and clamped his hand over her mouth, gazing up at the bright crack above them. Waiting. Watching. Seeing if the demon would follow.

It didn't. After a few more seconds he released Kethe, suddenly aware of the pressure of her lips against his callused palm, and helped her to her feet. It wasn't pitch-black, as he'd first thought, because some light filtered down from the surface, enough to see that they were standing in a grotto of some kind, the walls raw, unworked rock.

Asho's eyes adjusted quickly, finding comfort in the soft, velvety gloom. It always felt good to be underground. Relaxing a fraction, he peered ahead and behind them.

"There," he whispered. "The crack widens a little ahead. Maybe it's a passage?"

Kethe reached out and took hold of his arm. "You can see in this murk?"

"Enough." He smiled bitterly at her, knowing she'd not be able to make out his expression. "The benefits to being Bythian are few, but this is one of them. Come on."

"No," said Mæva, her voice rippling with panic. Astride her shoulder, Ashurina was fanning her wings in alarm. "We wait here for a few hours, then climb back out and continue getting out of here."

Asho disengaged his arm from Kethe and stepped up in front of the witch. "You don't understand, do you? We've been guided here. I don't necessarily mean by the demons, though perhaps them too. Fate, luck, whatever you want to call it – we've entered the true heart of Skarpheðinn. We're in. We've got a chance to really learn something, to get at the truth of this place. We're not turning back now."

"You'll die here," whispered Mæva. "You're going to your death."

"Perhaps," said Asho. "But I'm going to risk it. Kethe?"

She stepped up beside him. "I'm with you."

"Youth," said Mæva. "That must be the reason behind your madness. Or your rank stupidity. When I agreed to lead you up here -"

"Enough, Mæva. We need you now more than ever. I've seen enough to know that we'll never be able to assault the Black Gate with a band of Hrethings or knights or whoever else we might bring up here. We'd get picked off and torn apart long before we reached this point. No, this is how it must be done. This is the only way. Three individuals with unique talents, slipping in unnoticed, unseen, to learn the truth and perhaps strike a telling blow against the enemy."