Ellonlef gave Kian a look that seemed to ask if he was sure this was the road he truly wanted to take, and he nodded in answer. Dropping her eyes in acceptance, she followed Azuri and Hazad. Kian came after, carefully descending the shaky ladder into the underground passage.
It took some time for all of the Chalice folk to make their way down, but those last moved much faster than had those before, compelled by the crashing racket above.
“They are almost through the doors,” the last man warned from his perch on a rung just below the opening in the floor, even as he hastily lowered several bundles of unlit torches. After, he closed the trapdoor with a boom. Amid a cloud of sifting dust the man scrabbled down, coughing as he came. Kian guessed the carpets strapped to the door would hide the passage, at least for a while, and then only if the guardsmen were lax in their search.
“Until a moment ago, only those I trusted the most knew of this passage,” O’naal said to Kian and Hya, grinding his teeth.
“Given that you will live out this night with your head still attached to your neck,” Kian said, “the death of your secret is worth it, wouldn’t you agree?”
With a doubting scowl, O’naal turned and snatched a torch away from the soiled fat man, and moved deeper into the tunnel. Kian and his companions joined him, with the rest of the rabble coming after. Soon, all the shuffling feet kicked up a gritty fog, giving the torches yellowed auras, and forcing all to wrap whatever scraps of cloth were available around their mouths and noses.
Kian strode along in silence. Varis waited ahead. One or the other of them, perhaps both, would die this night. No matter what happened, he was ready. He did not see Ellonlef’s frequent, troubled glances in his direction. He had a purpose, a destiny some fool of a poet might say, and on that he rested his thoughts and his will.
Chapter 48
The underground passages wandered about like a nest of serpents, randomly wending this way and that in no obvious pattern or purpose. Near on a thousand years gone, they had been gouged from the bedrock beneath Ammathor by slaves seeking any precious stone, silver, and gold. Kian was grateful that he could recall little of the Pit, for while the warrens were separate, they were of the same nature.
After perhaps an hour, O’naal led them into a large vault and moved to a ladder that climbed twenty feet or more before vanishing into the heavy blackness beyond the torchlight. He motioned to Kian.
“There is a trapdoor above. Open it, and you’ll find yourself in a secret corridor within the palace walls-it’s as much of a warren as these tunnels, but they offer access to the whole of the palace. Few know of those ways anymore, so you have little fear of being found out … but, of course, caution is always in order.”
“You are not coming?” Kian asked.
“No, he is not,” Hya said in answer, “and neither am I. This is your task, and that of your companions. Should you fail, there is nothing anyone can do.” O’naal arched a speculative eyebrow at that, but did not ask what the old woman might mean.
Hya took Ellonlef’s hand. “I will not try to turn you away from this task, but I beg, please be careful. There are too few of us left to risk even one.”
Ellonlef offered the woman a reassuring smile.
“Throughout the passage are peepholes that you can use to find your way,” O’naal said. “As well, there are firemoss lamps near the top of the ladder, along with a cistern of water to set them alight.”
Kian looked about for a brief moment, seeing the many faces peering back. He then glanced at his companions. “Wait here until I signal you.”
“Just as long as you do signal us,” Azuri said. “Do not get it into your mind to again go alone after Varis.”
Kian nodded gravely, though he silently cursed his friend’s insight. In truth, however, he knew he would need them. He felt confident that the powers of creation he had gained back when Ellonlef healed him were enough to fully protect him from Varis, but he could not know if they were enough to best the youth. The most he could hope was that his small company would be able to confound Varis enough to lay deadly snares for him, perhaps draw him into a battle of flesh and steel.
Knowing further delay would only breed doubts, he turned and climbed the ladder. At the top he came to a trapdoor, eased it open, and scrambled up into surprisingly cold darkness that smelled of old dust and rat droppings. He paused there, sword drawn, idly wondering at the chill. It seemed that Varis cared not if the palace wanted for heat. Pushing that aside, he concentrated on the unlighted surroundings. No enemies showed themselves, all was quiet-too quiet, given that Varis’s father was marching on the city. To Kian’s mind, servants and soldiers should have been making ready, their actions loud even behind the walls. Instead, he heard nothing save his own heartbeat.
Kian searched the darkness until his hands found the cistern O’naal had described. A moment more, and he had the hemp handle of a small firemoss lamp in hand. He pulled the cork from the lamp’s top, used a dipper to pour water into the opening. Within heartbeats, the lamp began glowing with a bright amber radiance. He waved it over the opening. Azuri popped into view after several moments, followed by Ellonlef and Hazad.
“Where do you expect Varis to be?” Ellonlef asked, a touch breathlessly. Fear did not shine in her dark eyes, but rather expectation.
Kian could see Varis in his mind’s eye. “He will be resting his scrawny backside on the Ivory Throne.”
“How do we get there from here?” Hazad muttered.
Kian looked this way and that, trying to imagine what waited in the gloom beyond the radiance of firemoss, wondering if he should call on O’naal for direction. Just as he was about to call down into the vault, he became fully aware of a strange sensation that drew his attention in a particular direction. Or, rather, he considered, repelling him was a better description. After a moment’s consideration, he knew Varis waited that way. Following that feeling, Kian nodded to the left, his insides queasy at the mere thought of going that direction. “There,” he said through gritted teeth.
Chapter 49
Letting his feet, heart, and churning insides guide him, Kian and his band moved through dark corridors different from the underground warrens in that the dusty walls were smooth, straight, and made of granite and mud brick, rather than haphazardly hewn from bedrock.
Every step he took the more his guts roiled, as if sensing some foulness, a black poison. He was not sure if it was his mind playing tricks, or if it was some acquired instinct grown strong from his dealings with Varis, but he had little choice but to trust in those sensations. After some time spent creeping through the dark, Kian abruptly halted and raised the lamp.
There before his face, set into the wall, was a small panel of wood with a delicate knob attached to its center. They had passed several of these peepholes along the way, but unlike all the others, this one had small hidden door that let into the room on the other side, the room, Kian’s instincts told him, was the heart of Aradan, the Golden Hall.
He handed off the lamp with a quiet word to hood the light. Azuri used his cloak to do as bidden. Once darkness fell, Kian grasped the tiny wooden knob. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he gently eased the panel to one side along an age-worn track, revealing a pinprick of light that shone in the dark like a star hung in the heavens. Leaning close, Kian peered through and looked upon the Golden Hall, the throne room and seat of power of Aradan since the fall of the Suanahad Empire. Because of the hall’s renown, Kian had little trouble indentifying what he saw.
Shadows dominated the hall for the most part, the only light coming from a few firemoss globes nested in golden tripod lamp stands. The Ivory Throne itself sat atop a high dais. Its sapphires and fire opals, set in the tusks and eye sockets of the strange beasts that made up the great chair, seemed to glint with menace. A massive table was centered in the hall, with what appeared to be a huge map covering its surface. Of Varis, he was surprised to see no immediate sign, but he sensed that the youth was near, perhaps just out of sight. In absolute silence, Kian waited, if only because he felt he should.