The Hunter Page 23

  Braldt had always wanted a sword made of the bright shining metal, but the priests had decreed that it was for their use alone, and while the bronze was dug from the red cliffs and smelted on the hearths, the priests supplied the silver metal from sources that they never divulged. Now, here, right in front of him, was enough silver metal to forge a score of swords and daggers, a lifetime of shining weaponry!

  “Braldt, do you see it?” Keri’s voice rose from beneath him and he became aware of Batta Flor shaking him by the shoulder, concern in his voice.

  “What? Yes, yes I see it. Are you all right? I’ll be there in a moment.” Holding on to the edge of the doorway, Braldt swung himself over, gripping the cold metal with hand and foot. It seemed steady, holding his weight with little difficulty even though it was apparent that the ladder had been constructed for something other than creatures of his size. The back of the handhold was a smooth slot and it seemed likely that whatever had climbed it last had clamped onto it and risen smoothly.

  The crossbars that Braldt had at first taken for steps were affixed in such a manner as to allow unbroken access to the groove and provided a means of attaching the ladder to the wall. Whatever the purpose, it provided him with a means of reaching Keri, and he descended the ladder swiftly until he stood on the platform that had broken her fall, and without thinking, his arm circled her waist.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.

  Braldt could see that they stood on a small square, no more than six feet in all directions and were enclosed on all sides by solid walls. Above them there appeared the outline of a door, like the one Keri had fallen through, but this door was closed and fitted flush with the wall. The surface they stood on was some sort of dull, unfinished metal and in the very center there was the outline of a smaller square. Around the edges of this smaller square were lights that blinked red and blue and white over and over again in sequence. Never had he seen anything like it. So much metal, his for the taking!

  “Braldt, have you got her? Come back up!” Batta Flor’s voice boomed down through the narrow opening and echoed in the small space.

  “No, not yet, I want to see what’s here first,” Braldt replied as he knelt beside the small square.

  The square was fitted with a latch that came open under his fingers and lifted easily although uttering screechy protest. Instantly the small chamber was flooded with brilliant light that all but blinded Braldt, blue, red, white, blue, red, white, the lights blinked over and over in an urgent sequence that seemed to be demanding some form of action. Braldt shielded his eyes and leaned forward, peering into the square framed by the blinking lights. At first he could see nothing, his vision blurred by the incredible intensity of the lights after the length of time they had spent in nearly total darkness. Braldt felt the platform dip as Batta Flor joined them and heard the scrabble of claws as Beast scrambled to find his footing on the metallic surface. But all of his attention was focused on the bright opening; closing his eyes against the glare, he knelt and ducked his head inside the lighted square.

  In a moment he realized what he was seeing, to put words to it, but even then, it made little sense. It was an even smaller enclosure fitted with a tiny sliding door to match the one Keri had fallen through. Next to this door was a panel of sorts with smoothly carved knobs set into the surface and inscribed with more of the curious glyphs. The walls and floor were constructed of a material that Braldt did not recognize. It was not wood, nor was it metal. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. What was this thing they had found? It appeared to be no more than a large empty box fitted inside of a vertical tunnel of its own. It was very puzzling.

  Batta Flor looked at him for a moment and then dropped to all fours and, grasping the edge of the opening, did a somersault and swung down into the cubicle before Braldt realized what he was going to do. Keri gasped and huddled beside Braldt, wondering what would happen to Batta Flor.

  “It is as I suspected. It is naught but a lifter,” said Batta Flor after a quick glance. “Come down, there is nothing to fear and perhaps it will still function and take us where we want to go.”

  He seemed completely at ease and opened the small panel, revealing a number of brightly colored coils attached to the back of the smoothly carved knobs where they came through the panel of the door. “Come down,” Batta Flor urged, “I think it is still working, perhaps it had a power source of its own.” He continued to murmur to himself as he fiddled with the brightly colored threads, screwing them more firmly to their fittings. Satisfied, he swung the panel shut and placed a finger on one of the knobs.

  Keri threw Braldt a dubious glance and then slid through the opening into Batta Flor’s waiting arms. Beast yipped as though fearing being left behind and he jumped through the small opening without a moment’s hesitation. There was nothing left to do but join them.

  Batta Flor waited until Braldt’s feet touched the floor before he actually pressed the knob. This simple action was instantly followed by a throbbing vibration that filled the small box that contained them. There was a slight lurch and then the flashing lights ceased their manic action and a pale glow took their place shining down on them from the small square in the ceiling. They were like priest lights, but different, and Braldt would gladly have given up some time to examine them but he could not do so for immediately following the small lurch and the change of lights, the small enclosure began to fall! Keri screamed and scrambled to reach the escape hatch, but Batta Flor merely chuckled and held her loosely in his arm. “Do not worry, my friend, this is a good happening and nothing to fear.”

  “Tell that to Beast,” shouted Braldt over the desperate keening of the terrified lupebeast who flung himself from one wall to the other, seeking escape. Braldt felt like doing much the same thing himself and it took every bit of his control to stand there, matching Batta Flor’s calm air.

  Batta Flor waited for his moment, waited until Beast struck the wall nearest him, feet desperately digging at the ungiving surface before he reached out and pinched the pup on either side of its neck with thumb and forefinger. Beast struggled for a moment longer and then sagged in Batta Flor’s grasp as he was gently lowered to the floor.

  Braldt stepped forward, anger growing in his eyes, for Beast and for himself and Keri as well. Who was this Madrelli and how well did he know the secrets contained in this mountain? Was he leading them into some trap, some manner of death from which only he would emerge?

  Braldt’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword and he opened his mouth to speak just as the room came to a silent halt and the door slid back into the wall, revealing a corridor beyond. The corridor was unlike any other they had traveled, for it was paved with cream-colored stone and walls the color of the sky and all along the ceiling were rows of muted lights burning steadily. A soft humming could be heard in the distance, and in the hush there was the feeling of anticipation, a feeling of patient waiting.

  Keri stepped free of the small enclosure with a glad cry. Batta Flor followed her and gestured toward Braldt with a crook of his shaggy eyebrow. Beast raised his head groggily and staggered out without a second glance, and Braldt could do nothing but follow suit, feeling slightly more than foolish for it was obvious that they had come to no harm. The door to the room slid shut behind him, but no sooner had it done so than the quiet of the corridor was broken by an odd metallic voice, jarringly strange in the utter calm. “Interference in the control room, danger in the compound! Repeat. Danger! Security has been breeched. Secure all positions! Danger! Danger!”

  23

  Carn had almost reached the end of his endurance. His skin was blistered from the heat and his sword had become too hot to hold. He had placed both sword and dagger in the folds of his pouch and robe, for it was too hot to wear and the ring clasp had burned his flesh. His feet were somewhat protected by his heavy leather traveling boots, but even so the soles of his feet had become painfully tender.

  The wall continued to glow, a deep fier
y color that was like looking into the heart of a smithy’s forge. It was hypnotic, mesmerizing and constantly changing, going from red to scarlet to gold to white. Here and there droplets oozed from the wall and trickled down the sides, puddling at the base. Carn had to fight back the desire to thrust his sword into the wall, allowing the molten material on the other side to flow free. He knew it was madness, and could mean his death, but still, it was a thing that wanted doing.

  Another factor had entered the already frightening picture, one that scared him even more. Deprived of an adequate supply of oxygen and laboring under demanding physical conditions, Carn had entered a hypnotic trance state and was highly influenced by the visions, primarily religious in nature, that his fevered mind created.

  This hallucinogenic state permitted him to continue on, long after others would have lain down and died. He no longer recognized the constant shuddering of the earth for what it was, reason for great alarm and swift exodus.

  The tunnel that he had been following suddenly branched; one tube, open and free of fallen debris, turning off to the left, away from the molten wall, and rising; the second tunnel swung sharply to the right, and if anything, the wall glowed even more brightly. Fixated as he was, Carn swung blindly to the right rather than choosing the path that would lead him to the surface and to safety.

  The new tunnel was taller and broader than the original path he had followed, but the heat was even more intense. Without thinking, he dropped his pouch. It had become simply too much trouble to hold. He soon shed everything other than his small body pouch and his boots, but still he felt burdened. There was nothing left to leave behind.

  The air at the top of the tunnel had become too hot to breathe and after a moment’s thought Carn returned to his discarded possessions and retrieved his robe. Using his dagger, he ripped and sliced at the tightly woven fabric until he had reduced it to a number of broad strips. He wrapped several strips around his hands and up the length of his arm as far as the elbow. He did the same to his knees, cushioning them with folded thicknesses of fabric wrapped with additional strips and tied firmly behind the knee. Now he was able to crawl along the floor of the passage, scuttling like one of the shadows. The air was cooler there, although still hot enough to feel his body hair shriveling wherever it was exposed. He warily drank the last of his water and the empty pouch was left behind as he continued on toward the ultimate goal.

  The end came sooner than he had anticipated, although his muddled mind had not truly formulated what it was that he thought he would find. The passage began to rise, gently at first and then more steeply, until he was forced to use hands and feet to climb rather than crawl. The fiery wall faded to a dull angry orange and then suddenly vanished, leaving Carn in darkness, or near darkness, for there was a shimmering edge of brightness somewhere above him. He missed a step as a chunk of rock broke away beneath the weight of his body and for a moment he hung free, feeling the black emptiness yawning beneath him as he desperately sought to regain his footing.

  Heart pounding against his ribs, he rested his head against the rough rock for a moment, closing his eyes to shut out both the ever-present darkness as well as the awful glow that trembled above him at the edge of his vision.

  With his ear pressed against the rock he felt and heard the pulse of the mountain, not the silence of dead rock, but the throbbing heartbeat of a living entity. The streaming rush of superheated rock had become a deep, pulsating, rhythmic turbulence, a feeling calling to him, drawing him onward like the pull of Mother Moon as she called to the waters at the height of her cycle.

  Carn pressed his forehead against the hot rock and wept, the tears channeling through the grime on his cheeks. Somehow he knew in his heart that Mother Moon, the mother of them all, had allowed him and him alone to hear her heartbeat. He had been chosen above all others. He had been blessed, chosen for some special deed. He knew it was so.

  Carn began to climb again, ignoring the pain in shoulders and hands and the deep, burning ache of his lungs. The great Mother was calling to him and he was hers to command. The bright, shimmering light drew ever nearer as he climbed with renewed fervor, feet and hands unerringly finding their way to safe holds. The higher he rose, the hotter it became, until he was breathing with open mouth, deep, rasping breaths that made him dizzy with each inhalation.

  He had climbed as far as he could go, the rock tapering in toward the bright cloud that hung in the air, ending in a large flat rock. He took a short breath and doubled over, choking as burning air filled his chest, singeing his nostrils and throat. Collapsing forward, he rested the top half of his body on the rock, feeling the heat of it burning through the layers of cloth that protected his arms.

  The sound was louder now, easily heard without pressing his ear against the rock, a deep, growling sound that vibrated through his body until he felt that it was a part of him, an audible extension of his physical being.

  A bright, glowing iridescence lit the air around him, a shining corolla too hot to touch or breathe, a symbol of Mother Moon close enough to touch, drawing him on. It was close now, whatever it was that he had come so far to see. Closer, dragging himself forward, the cloth smoking where it touched the scorched rock. Carn shielded his eyes against the heat and the ever-increasing brilliance, his heart pounding inside his chest from anticipation rather than fear, somehow certain that he was about to see that which no man had ever been allowed to see before.

  Then it was there before him, so dazzling, so huge, so impossible that it was all he could do to bear it, to comprehend what he was seeing. He knew without a doubt that he was looking into the very heart of Mother Moon. She was not a cold, dead rock circling in a lifeless void, existing only to reflect Sun the Giver as the lying karks had said. Here, here was all the proof he needed to refute that lie, to prove to Keri and Braldt that Mother Moon was alive, here on their world, a part of them that could not be denied.

  The Duroni had never been able to answer the question of where Mother Moon went when Sun the Giver returned to claim the sky, or how she renewed herself after she sacrificed herself each cycle. Now he knew. He alone had been permitted to learn the truth, in order to save them in their time of crisis. It was a test. The gods were testing them to see if they were true believers. They had been given this task to see if they were worthy of their gods. The karks and their lies had been placed in their path to separate the true believers from those of little faith. Keri and Braldt had faltered. Only he, Carn, had remained true. The fate of the tribe and their very world depended on his actions.

  Carn felt the tears rise up again and burn away before they could fall as he stared upon the glorious sight. He knew in some dim portion of his mind that he should look away, that this was not a sight that mortal eyes could comprehend for more than a brief moment, but he could not turn aside and might not have done so had an especially violent tremor not thrown him sideways, breaking the dangerous hold.

  Still the vision remained imprinted on his mind and once again he saw the swirling vortex in shades of light and brilliance rather than color. Below him was a giant cauldron, larger, much, much larger than the dark lake, and as the lake had been dark as death, here was all the light in the world, surely the source of all power, for there was a sense of primal might rising from the sea of light that exceeded anything Carn had ever known before.

  The seething, churning molten mass lay far below him, circling round and round in a slow spiral. A layer of darkened slag streaked the bright surface. Bits and pieces of this dark crust merged to form dark islands only to break apart and float away to rejoin elsewhere or be dragged beneath the surface and integrated into the whole once more.

  It was not a static scene, but one filled with sudden violence that illustrated the strength of the gods. Huge geysers of molten stone were periodically hurled up out of the molten sea, spurting great gouts of liquid rock high into the air where they hung until falling back into the swirling sea.

  All along the outer edges of the fla
ming sea, tall waves flung themselves against the walls that contained them, sizzling and hissing with a frightening violence. The imprint of their attack was clearly visible for in many places it had hardened on contact, thickening the walls, while elsewhere it had succeeded in ripping out immense chunks of rock, enlarging its area as well as consuming that which it had acquired. As the gods consumed and destroyed those who did not believe in them.

  And the noise. The noise alone would have convinced Carn of the presence of the gods had he had any doubts, for it was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard before. It was very nearly beyond sound, a different dimension, for even as he felt it quivering in his bones, he heard it echoing inside his head, and saw it trembling in the air, and tasted and smelled the scorched stink of it as well. After a time, Carn ceased to hear it for the deep soul-grinding rumbling had become a part of him.

  Carn never knew how long he remained there, for time ceased to have any meaning. Was it not enough that he was in the presence of the gods? But after a while, he knew that he must go. The gods were telling him so, for the earth was now shuddering constantly; some of the more violent spasms were easily capable of throwing him into the flaming pit. And while he did not believe that Mother Moon would take his life, after revealing unto him her secret, he knew that he must leave in order to fulfill her dictates.

  He did not remember the long, difficult retreat down the face of the steep cliff, nor did he have any memory of retrieving his water sack and the pouch that held his possessions. Nor did he ever recall retracing his footsteps and seeking out the tunnel that led toward the surface.