Azure had been the last to cross into the meeting place, just inside the ‘Underhalls’ frequented by those of the ‘learned’ that had retained their sanity. The Sentinels very seldom took any route involving such areas, leaving them to the ‘nerds,’ apparently.
The three mortal trespassers had breathed a sigh of relief together, and a masked Azure whispered, “By now, those Sentinel losers must be wondering if Waytaker’s insults are getting better.”
Sammy had suppressed a laugh. “Orswyth, you don’t really have a face like a rotten ass. It’s okay.”
“Don’t speak too soon,” Orswyth had replied. “You haven’t seen me when I’m deep in the ale cups.”
The Underhalls were sparsely populated and quickly bypassed by going downstairs to reach the catacombs. The first leg of their journey was successful.
Waytaker led the way through dusty, somewhat deteriorating tunnels with orderly sections and infrequent but nonetheless sufficient ever-burning candles as light. Untouched bronze antiques were common decorations inside of little alcoves. Smooth walls above these alcoves showed faint signs here and there of faded script; a shred of some letter here or there, nothing legible.
No one had raided these tombs, bodies sealed away behind enchanted stone for miles each level with multiple layers. She had the feeling the spiritual place simply preserved better, and the physical reflection was still intact in some form. She noticed such fine details as a sophisticated drainage system. It made sense, being underground on an island, though likely still above sea level where they were… or where it had been?
Despite the call for silence, Sammy was bubbly and fighting off giddiness from the aura saturating the place. She whispered a question to the ghosts. “How many are here? Who were they?”
Linguist looked worried as his eyes shifted over a turn-off they passed. “Many. All citizens, all people. For remembrance, good and bad.”
“That’s impressive. Sealing up in stone this thoroughly is a lot of work.”
“A life is the greater work, this a paltry honor given comparatively. Long ago, there were benefits, besides. Goddess, may I beg for silence? The Sentinels remember this place, too. They guard the dead, and moreover the route to our king. Best to avoid detection here and more so as we approach. Encounters may not go as they did above.”
“Of course. Sorry.”
A few times down the maze of tunnels, Waytaker paused in her floaty guidance at the head and held her hand up, calling for stillness and silence. Two times, it was merely minutes of exactly that before they continued without a word. Once, Sammy heard some sort of snarl echoing from an unplaceable location. A second snarl, fainter, and then there was nothing. A few minutes later, Waytaker continued on. Sammy exchanged a glance with Azure and shrugged.
Azure queried mentally, “Was that even a Sentinel? It sounded especially monstery.”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Sammy replied. “Probably, though. Could be that the especially feral roam here. I can see how it would be a draw and a comfort for them. It actually feels great!”
“Right. About that… not sure why you’re so excited. This place is creepy. It might have a mana store, but at what cost? Graves every direction. I have a feeling they’re all fucking mummies, too.”
“That’s because you can’t see the roots of a forest for the soil and manure. A rich soil, as it happens. It’s not even necromantic! Preservation is more in the spirit of retaining psyche than puppeting flesh. Energy converted into creation, namely reinforcement. Continually regenerating the structure, particularly a pneumanic frame. In any case, this place has tremendous synergy with what I’m about, babe!”
“Hmm. Reminds me of what Crazy Sis talked about. Preservation through ideals and templates, when direct memory and even the names of people and things were taken away.”
“Mmn. Yep. Very true.”
They came to an apparent central foyer with a massive pillar in the center, formed into a continuous statue of griffons, strange birds, dragons, gargoyles, and other fantastical beasts, all of the details fairly ravaged by time, but the pillar as a whole certainly wasn’t going anywhere. From this center were four tunnels and a staircase downward.
Taking the staircase led to a wider, taller hall regularly lit with magical torches on the walls, which overlapped precisely to avoid dark spots entirely. The ghosts seemed very cautious here, though everything appeared barren. Proceeding down the hall, the walls were strangely barren, too — all but featureless. Further down it, however, great arches began to be seen carved into the wall on both sides, made into gold, bronze, silver, and other precious metals as unique interlaced patterns in crosses, spirals, and other shapes, each as intricate as a rug design.
The especially honored dead, I think. Likely royalty.
They came to one near the apparent end, and the arch was broken open, with the beautiful stone and metals haphazardly strewn inside an opening. A great space was here, mostly dark but presentationally lighting up a grand tomb, odd as it was for a sealed chamber. The tomb, too, was broken into, as if blasted and cracked open. Hints of a sarcophagus…
Sammy, ready to burst with curiosity, opened her mouth, but Linguist was staring right at her, face particularly pleading as he managed to shake his head in a ‘please don’t’ sort of way rather than quite being a ‘no.’
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
She closed her mouth and stifled her curiosity, nodding to him, to which he appeared very grateful and turned back around.
Azure was even more curious, hanging back and dragging her feet, trying to peer inside the tomb and study everything while barely moving forward. Sammy had to mentally poke her, basically like the equivalent of a rib jab. The Naugite jumped, shook herself, and followed, her expression nonetheless remaining a thoughtful frown.
Yeah, tell me about it. Some kinda intriguing fuckery going on there for sure! And we just gotta leave it?! That’s torture, damn it!
Finally, they came to the end of the road. A massive gold curtain barred the way, well-lit by torches on the wall. Waytaker turned around and held her hands up dramatically, signaling them to stop. She pointed to herself significantly and then made an exceptionally dramatic little ‘walky’ sign with two fingers. She then pointed them up to her eyes, then jabbed her thumb behind her with really wide eyes, nodding emphatically.
Like someone’s grandma playing charades with children for the first time in… well, millenia.
It was comical enough Sammy had to suppress a snicker. Instead, her lips quirked in a probably very distorted way in order to control herself, and then she returned the nod. She nodded also to Azure and Orswyth before taking a slightly crouched position, to signify she was staying put.
Waytaker looked quite satisfied, smiling in matronly approval once before turning around and — oh so slowly — proceeding forward. Despite her charade usage, she floated over the dusty floor rather than walking, her somewhat tattered, faintly transparent robes barely moving.
Almost instantly, the curtains shot both directions, opening up wide and spilling a glaring, somewhat golden light out from the other side.
Azure and Orswyth made strangled sounds as they shielded their eyes, and all three of the ghosts squinted and bristled, hissing very animalistically and baring their teeth. It was a bit odd, but perhaps it showed they weren’t entirely immune to some shadow of regression for all their years.
Sammy, for her part, was entirely unaffected as the Goddess of Light. She saw clearly and immediately without issue.
It was an alcove perhaps twice the width of the prior hall, and up a few rows of circular steps, it ended in a great double-doored gate of solid gold, shaped into an arch bordered with black jet, the two doors with an imprint of griffons standing on their hindlegs and facing each other, claws meeting in the center. The light came from the doors directly, shining with great divine-magic-infused brightness.
In front of the doors were four spectral figures, somewhat like the Sentinels but possessing mostly normal countenances, though with too-intense, staring eyes. They were decked in resplendent bronze armor partially concealed by robes — mostly resplendent, as a few pieces seemed to be missing here and there. Three of them had nothing covering their face, while the fourth had a metal mask on. Two had long staffs, one ending in four wicked hooks, the other in a golden glowing orb. One had no apparent weapon, and the last — the mask wearer — cradled a scimitar.
The one with the orb staff, who also had a long, braided beard, glanced over them and called, “Lo, behold, visitors or assailants under an unknown sky! All but one recoil under the light of our king, and yet understanding resides among the least of them. Brother To The Stars, Ancient Wiseman Advisor, long have you resided under other skies.” He was looking at Stargazer. “You alone, we’d only rejoice, but to what auspice do you bring a bizarre army, and does there reside solidarity to questioning?”
Before any other spoke, the masked one with the scimitar made a long, nasty snarl and rubbed his fingers over the blade menacingly. Then he gave a more low, guttural growl. “Hrrrrrnnnaaanggrrrgh…”
The one with the hook staff seemed to frown and consider, one hand coming up to stroke his massive, ghostly beard.
“Solidarity to triangulation,” the ghost without a weapon offered airily, his eyes roaming entirely away from them all, as if having a sudden vision. “We would know the skies of serpentine interference, and whether airs of this nature stench our fine halls with blackguardian design and traitorous tribulation. Tastes in the air. Tastes!”
The one with the scimitar made a low howl that turned into another growl, his eyes rolling around inhumanly. “Hoooooorrrrggghrrrarrr…”
Great. They’re all a bit batty. At least one entirely batted. Three Strikes He’s Out batted.
Stargazer had his hands up quickly. He gestured one out to Linguist. “Under your sky is The Speaker and Understander of Many Tongues and Codes.” He gestured another hand to Waytaker. “Under the ensuing rare moon sky is The Walker of All Paths, The Knower of Locations. Before the light of the King Star glows the glorious indispensable. Passage before the studious caretakers should abide, in all loyal importance of purpose. Ever in service, we.”
“Ever in service, we,” the orb-wielder and the weaponless wraith repeated like rote.
“Hraugh,” the scimitar-wielder offered.
The ghost stroking his great beard did not seem to hear.
A relative staring silence persisted for a spell, and then the beard-stroker stopped stroking and turned slightly to blink at the lot of them. “Graaaargh,” he said in a hoarse, piteous whisper, though with great emphasis. He nodded afterward, then grinned at them. Multiple gold teeth showed, with one missing.
I like this guy.
The orb-wielder and the weaponless wraith looked to him thoughtfully. Meanwhile, the scimitar-wielder glared at him murderously while caressing his blade, but growled nothing.
The orb-wielder pointed his staff, once at Sammy, once at Azure, and once at Orswyth. “Hidden auspices to the glorious sky swirling, with some glories hinting in other skies at terrors within.” He straightened and leaned on his staff. “Forgiveness is begged, yet serpents lie in our midst, thereby none may masquerade in the midst of the king. Whereby, prove yourselves and gain all apology, whereby passage in all respect may be offered as some compensational tribute.”
All the while, the weaponless wraith was staring unblinkingly at Sammy. On the heels of the other’s speech, he held his hands up to her and asked, “Noble femme, your beauty, glory, pride, and majesty hint from within! Why play at skies of masquerade as One Who Intercepts amongst the crickets? Reveal and prove worthy! Declare and end these pains of mystery extending.”
Her three allied ghosts looked to her, perhaps worriedly. Sammy cleared her throat, knowing she had to respond. Okay. Let’s do this! Invoking [Acting], and [Bard] with [Goddess] for a boost, she dug deep for how to put things in their fucked up way of talking…
Speech time! Awe and amazement inbound!
Next Chapter...
Everybody's a critic.
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