Chapter 12

  The sewer smelled as bad as the bog, a fetid aroma of rot and decay that filled the nose and stuck to the tongue. The opening was a wide circle with the rusted remains of what might have been a grate covering the entrance but had been pulled away long ago. The rock of the tunnel was smooth, the only lines in it spaced along its length going around the entire circumference. To get stone so smooth and perfectly circular was a great feat only made greater by the fact it had somehow survived the long passage of time.

  They stopped a ways down the tunnel, leaning against the curved walls to catch their breath. Marus pulled a strip of cloth from his belt pouch which had remained mostly waterproof and proceeded to bandage Martine’s shoulder. The bite looked bad, the jagged teeth of the brute had sunk deep and the mud from the bog and blood from said brute had been slathered over the holes. If they didn’t treat it properly soon the boy would surely get an infection. Marus did his best to wash it off before bandaging it but the area around the bite was already an inflamed red.

  “Are you good to keep going?” Marus asked.

  Martine gritted his teeth but nodded. “I’ll be fine. So long as the stone skins get close I’m sure I can stab just as well with my left hand.”

  Marus gave him a pat on the uninjured shoulder. “Good lad.” He turned to face Ag. “We need a way out of here.”

  The calls from beyond were growing louder but the monsters beyond in the mist seemed hesitant to get close now that the biggest of them was dead. “We follow this down.” Ag began, doing his best to remember what they’d been told in Perouth. “There should be a ladder that leads up to the fort. From there we can make it into the spire with little resistance if any.”

  Marus nodded then stepped closer. “I don’t know if Martine will make that climb.” He said in a hushed whisper.

  “He’ll make it.” Ag replied. “He has to.”

  They delayed only a few minutes, just enough time to get some water in them and catch their breath. Marus still had his pack which was lucky and it still had two torches inside, their tips soaked in pitch. After a bit of work with a flint and steel they had one burning, keeping the other as a backup.

  They marched into the blackness of the tunnel, Marus in the lead, torch held high, Martine behind him and Ag bringing up the rear. The sounds from the bog faded as they moved deeper into the ancient sewer. It was straight as an arrow and seemed to go on forever. A few breakaways appeared, either collapsed or emitting a smell so foul they couldn’t bear it.

  “How long do you think this has been here?” Martine asked.

  The break from the silence seemed off, like there should be no noise here. The question hung in the air for a long while before anyone answered.

  “A long time.” Marus replied. “So long even your grandparents wouldn’t know who made it.”

  “How would you know?” Ag asked, his voice echoing in the long tunnel.

  “There are a lot of ruins like these in the empire. You get to knowing things about them without really trying. Every scholar and mage in the empire loved them. ‘Fountains of knowledge’ they’d always say.”

  “And here we are with a fountain of smells, none of them good.” Ag grumbled.

  “I’ll take that over being ripped apart.” Marus chuckled.

  Ag conceded the point. The smell was awful but it wouldn’t rip his organs out. They walked on for what seemed like hours before they found the way up. The tunnel ended and turned into a tube that ran straight up into darkness. Metal bars, covered in slime and rust were evenly spaced in the new passage leading to gods knew where.

  They stared up into the never ending dark, their one torch flickering and spitting. “Have that other torch handy.” Ag said. “I’d hate to be stuck halfway up without a light.”

  Marus pulled the torch from his pack and pushed it through the back of his belt before beginning the climb. Ag let Martine go second and he followed after. It was a hard climb, the rungs were old and several gave worrying creaks as they put weight on them but none broke. There was little talk, everything they had was put into climbing and trying not to slip and fall.

  Martine was panting heavily above Ag, his movements slowing ever so slightly as time went on. The boy made no comment, only continuing through the pain he was surely experiencing. They stopped suddenly and Ag’s head went into Martine’s ass before he had a chance to stop. They both nearly fell, which would have surely been fatal from this height.

  “Why did we stop?” Ag asked, his voice a hushed whisper.

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  “I think we’ve reached the top.” Marus replied. There followed a series of grunts and metal scraping against metal.

  The torch dropped past, whether on purpose or accident Ag wasn’t sure, either way they were left in total blackness. Ag watched the torch fall, its small light growing smaller and smaller. The height to which they’d climbed was finally realized in his mind when it finally hit the bottom far, far below.

  Marus gave a final grunt and whatever was in their way came loose. It didn’t get much brighter, either the moon wasn’t up or the clouds were coming back. Marus climbed out and after a few moments of tense waiting he called for them to follow. Martine struggled up and Ag followed, reaching a circular opening in the courtyard of the castle.

  Shadowy buildings loomed over them but behind them was the spire, the faintest red glow emanating from it. The low roll of far off thunder sounded, making them all tense in anticipation.

  “Get to the spire.” Ag whispered, leaning in close to the other two so they could hear. “If the others survive, they’ll be heading for it.”

  They nodded and made off at a crouched run. Though there was no light, Ag couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes watching him from the spire’s peak. The fort was eerily empty, no sound or signs of life greeted them as they made their way past huge stone buildings, it was as empty as the grave. With no one to stop them they easily made their way to the spire’s base. The glow gave them some light to see by even if it gave the world a bloody hue. Twin doors at least twelve feet tall greeted them, their massive bulk was covered in strange carvings of creatures and places Ag did not know. They were open slightly, giving them a window into the interior which seemed to be lit by candle light.

  Ag crept in close, his weapon clutched in his right hand. He peered through the opening, a small gap for the doors size but one that was large enough to see most of the entryway. Stands holding dripping candles dotted the walls but the vastness of the room made their dozens of lights seem small. A few carpets and tapestries marked the floors and walls and a few pieces of now broken and ruined furniture were dotted around.

  The walls were what caught his attention or more accurately the pillars before the walls. The room seemed to be separated into two parts, a thinner circle set between the curved wall and the circle of pillars and the central room. The pillars were layered in carvings so fine and delicate they seemed impossible for any man to make.

  “It’s clear.” He whispered, pushing the door farther inward and stepping into the vaulted space.

  The scale with which the spire had been made was unreal, in this first room alone the ceiling was so far up it was covered by darkness. The pillars stretched up before becoming arches that connected each pillar to the others in a ring.

  “By the gods.” Martine gasped. “No man could have made this. Not even giants could have reached so far into the clouds.”

  Ag stepped closer to one of the pillars, observing the masterful work before his eyes were caught by the wall beyond. He grabbed a candle from one of the many sconces and moved closer, his small light bringing fragments of the true art out of the blackness. At first it seemed to be too much to comprehend and too little light to reveal it before Marus and Martine, both with candles of their own, arrived.

  “A war.” Ag guessed. “Or at least, a battle.”

  He was pretty sure he was right on that. The wall had layer upon layer of figures in all stages of combat. Men in armor of a sort he’d never seen slaughtered each other with weapons that seemed to be carved in a way that made you think they were on fire. Great hulks could be seen, some in the foreground others set far back. They seemed too square to be animals, same with the strange carvings in the sky above the slaughter.

  “Who won, I wonder?” Martine mused, his voice raspy.

  “Hard to tell.” Marus replied. “But see here, those spikes on these look familiar don’t they.” He pointed at a line of armored warriors, their armor seemed to be pierced by strange spikes that looked all too familiar.

  “My guess is they ended up where we are now.” Ag mused. “They must have won, or we wouldn’t be here but there might not have been many of them left after the fact.”

  Marus nodded then hesitated. Ag became aware of something he felt he’d been hearing for a while. They both turned and looked at Martine, whose eyes were locked on the mural. His breathing was raspy and harsh, sounding much like a stone skins when they weren’t chittering or screaming. Now with light to show him more clearly and with time to observe, he looked off. His skin was gray, his eyes bloodshot. He was sweating profusely and the veins leading to and from his shoulder were dark against the pale skin of his neck.

  “Martine?” Marus began.

  “You shouldn’t be turning.” Ag interrupted. “Everyone who’s still alive is supposed to be safe from the plague.”

  Martine coughed and shook his head. “New stone skin, new plague I guess.” His tone was regretful rather than fearful. “Or I’m just unlucky.”

  Ag and Marus looked at each other, uncertainty in both their eyes. “It’s fine.” Martine continued. “I know what needs to be done.”

  “We don’t have to.” Marus said, raising a hand to comfort the boy then hesitating. Just touching someone infected didn’t spread it, at least they didn’t think so but it’s hard to make someone touch any kind of sick man.

  “You do.” Martine sighed, his eyes still roving the intricate mural. “It’s fine. I know what happens if you don’t and I’d rather die a man than a beast.” He coughed, black flecks spattering the wall and his lips.

  Marus reached for his shortsword but Ag stopped him. “I’ll do it.” He hefted his blade and moved to stand behind the boy. “I’m sorry Martine.” He said, his voice nearly breaking with emotion he didn’t realize had bubbled up. Another man might have been hesitant, too filled with guilt at the act but Ag knew better. He’d hesitated before and it never ended well.

  Martine sniffed but stayed standing straight and proud. “A good day to die, I suppose.” He muttered. “Killed the biggest stone skin who ever walked, saw a tower so old anyone who saw it built is dust.”

  “Aye.” Ag said. “A good day to die on.” With that he swung with all his might. The blade that had tasted both man and stone skin bit again, separating Martine’s head from his body in an instant. A quick death, a merciful death.

  Ag and Marus stood there, a few silent tears falling for the boy who would have been a fine man.

  “When I find that wizard.” Ag growled. “I’ll rip him apart with my bare hands.”

  Marus nodded grimly. “On that, we agree.”