A/N: Last update for a week... I have to visit my family, and they have no internet (unless I'm reeeeally lucky). So, enjoy this slightly shorter chapter, and I promise to update ASAP when I get back! Thanks for all the reviews, by the way. :)
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Tariro
Chapter 7: Exploration
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By Keith's insistence they stayed in the mountains for three days, gritting their teeth against the screaming at night. No matter how long they listened to it they could not get used it it- the sound changed pitched and volume, but stayed at the same intensity that hair stand on end. Keith spent the time examining the city from above, taking samples and theorising about the people who had built it. The mountain folk tolerated his obsession for two nights, becoming increasingly tetchy, and finally declared that they would either move into the shelter or go back to the ship. Staying another night among the screeches was not an option.
It was a hike of about five miles as the crow flies to reach the smaller mountain at the hub of the city. Although it seemed like an easy trip, it soon became clear that it was far too easy to get lost. The buildings were constructed in a confused jumble, shaped to coincide with the curves of the land, and a road never headed in the same direction for more than fifty steps. The buildings got smaller towards the base of the mountains, and more trees had been allowed to grow between them. In some of the smallest buildings their roots had almost swallowed them whole, making it impossible to walk through a doorway or look through a window. When they began climbing back upwards the buildings grew more stable, and they started peering curiously into them.
Although they were made of the strange ice-rock, the buildings seemed normal enough. The size of the doors and windows suggested that the people who had made them were the same height and build as the humans who now explored them, although the city had obviously been abandoned for many years. There was no sign of disaster or war- there were no human remains or remnants of weapons that they could see. Numair asked if they could stop and actually go inside the houses when he saw that the larger ones had carvings on the inside walls, but Tyro shook his head.
"Once we reach the hub, we can come into the city as often as you like." He explained, "But we have to reach it before sunset. The screaming is louder the closer you are to the centre; it's enough to drive a man mad."
"It must originate from there," Keith declared, his voice excited. He pointed up a narrow street as they passed it, childishly excited at the sight of a small temple carved in the ice. "Can we-"
"No."
"But..."
"No." Tyro sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving a section sticking up. "Look, master Felixson, once we get to the shelter you can do what you want. You've got work to do here, and we want you to be able to do it. But we have work to do as well. There are enemies here, nearby. They could be around the next corner, or in the next building. We need to establish a base where we can defend ourselves if need be, and protect our supplies. Once we've done that, you can explore to your heart's content."
They reached the top of the hub hill slightly before sunset, and Tyro lead them into a building that seemed just like the others. The group piled in, with the new people looking about curiously and the ones who had been there before looking bored. It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the dim light- the windows were too tiny to catch the setting sun- and they blinked rapidly to get used to the dark. The building's floor was made of the soft dust of the roads, and the walls were bare of the carvings that had been in some of the other houses.. Keith stared up at the ceiling as he walked in, remarking on how the house was organically formed, and the roof was at the same incline as the mountain.
"Careful!" Numair suddenly exclaimed, yanking the man backwards. Keith's arms wind milled for a moment, and shock crossed his face as he saw the gaping hole in the floor he'd nearly walked in to. He yelped and pushed himself even further away from it, knocking the mage over.
"For Mithros' sake!" one of the bandits muttered under his breath. He glanced up at the others, lips twitching, and soon they were all laughing helplessly. Keith pulled himself upright, oblivious to the irate man he'd knocked down, and inspected the hole from a distance.
"It's very eroded," he said, his voice sincere, "I wouldn't be surprised if it collapses soon. There might be other instances of this around the city. We should watch where we tread."
Numair started laughing too, standing up. "Whatever you say, Keith." Now that they could see clearly, they could see a thin flight of stairs in one corner of the room, leading downwards. Checking briefly that everyone could see clearly enough in the dark to carry on, Tyro lead the way down the steps. In a hushed voice he explained that the steps were solid, but very old- the ice was slippery and worn in some places, and crumbling away in others. They must step with care. Numair wondered why he would bother mentioning something like that in such a close tunnel- his head nearly brushed the ceiling, and he could cling on to the walls- when suddenly the walls opened up and there was a rush of air. His hand grasped for the rock and failed, making a sick feeling of vertigo before he managed to retain his balance. They could feel rather than see the drop- the staircase hugged the wall on one side, and simply disappeared into blackness on the other. There was a rush of cold air from it, not strong enough to push them against the wall but enough to make them feel unbalanced. The dim light that filtered through the holes in the ceiling didn't light the darkness, but showed them the dim shapes of the other people walking down the steps. It was like trying to cross a ravine blindfolded. When Numair glanced out across the darkness (and immediately wished he hadn't) he saw that all the light seemed to be directed at the vast lake that covered the floor of the cavern. In the near-darkness it almost seemed to glow.
"How much further is it?" Asked someone, spawning a series of nods from everyone else. Tyro held up a hand to show that he'd heard- to turn around even slightly might mean death.
"It's not far. This is one of the most secret ways through the roof of the cavern, sorry it's so dangerous. It meets another cave a few hundred steps down, and that's where we'll meet the others."
"The others?" Keith asked, his voice shaking. Tyro's voice, when it returned, was calm and almost amused.
"Of course," He said, "This is where we mount our defence. It's exactly in the middle of the island. We've been compiling allies here for months. You didn't think that we were going to face down the Plains people on our own, did you?"
"Logically," Numair whispered to him, "This is also where the Plains bandits will be hiding, too. Are you sure it's the best place to be blundering in to so blindly?"
"They're all at the base of the mountain- silly beggars don't know how to climb." Tyro's voice was dismissive, especially for someone who'd spent most of his adult life commanding ships. "Besides, this place is massive. As long as we don't light torches in the main cavern they won't be able to find us."
They stumbled on in silence for several more minutes, and then breathed a group sigh of relief when the stairs evened out. The cave was still almost eerily silent. Tyro gestured to another entry that led from the stairs, just as black and ominous as the others. Just as Keith was about to object to going into such a dark place, the captain reached up and pulled the darkness to one side- it was a piece of cloth. As he pulled it away from the edge of the stone, sound filtered out. Numair guessed it must be spelled to keep out light and noise. They rushed through as quickly as possible, and the curtain swept shut behind them.
The immense room was filled with people. People cooking, talking, chatting and laughing. People practicing combat or sharpening arrow tips. People sleeping and walking around arm-in-arm. A bright fire burned in the center of the room, and the floor around it was littered with makeshift beds. The cave hadn't made a perfectly shaped room, and there were several hidden corners that hid weapons and stores of food and armour. Even old, infirm men and women seemed to be industrious, whittling arrows and telling each other jokes in shrill voices.
There was something frighteningly familiar about these men and women. It wasn't until later that night, when the new arrivals were greeted and efficiently given food, water and a place to sleep that Numair realised exactly what was bothering him. He sat down on the dirt floor, leaned against the wall, and tried to take in as much of the room as possible without obviously staring.
This wasn't a mere defence post. These people were building an army. And he'd be prepared to swear that somewhere in the base of the cavern, the other bandits were planning exactly the same thing. This wasn't going to be a mere fight- this was going to be a war. He looked up at the grimly determined way that some of the bandits were training, and shut his eyes in hopeless despair.
"Sorry Jon," he whispered, "I don't think there's going to be any way to stop this."
"What's, to quote the colloquial, up?" Keith asked in the closest thing he had to a joking voice. The man was obviously very happy to have arrived- for one thing, the bandits had amassed a supply of alcohol in one of the hidden alcoves- and he'd relaxed into the group in the same way a kitten relaxes into a bed of needles. Oblivious to the fact that he was already getting odd looks from the people he'd been speaking to, he threw himself on the floor and raised his cup in a toast.
"Are you sure you should be drinking?" Numair changed the subject easily, counting on Keith's short attention span for anything other than rocks. The man shook a finger at him.
"Tsk tsk, you should answer my question first. You always ignore my questions about you. You think I don't care."
"You don't care," Numair stated the obvious, turning away from the scholar. The other man shook his head and put another cup down carefully in front of his friend. Even without trying, the mage could smell the metallic sharpness of a strong liquor. Keith's voice was careful when he started talking again.
"Just because something doesn't interest me, doesn't mean I don't care about it." He scratched his head, thinking about this. "Yes, that makes sense. Do you understand? I can see no intellectual interest in learning more about another human being, but my emotional response, and common reason, dictates that you might want to talk about something that's troubling you."
Numair linked his hands behind his head and stared at the far wall. "That's... oddly comforting."
"They're wrong about this room being safe, you know." Keith's voice was conversational, but strangely serious. "The unique reverberating properties of the rock seem to be capable of carrying sound particularly well. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole cavern acted as an acoustic chamber. Effectively, given the dimensions and shape of the main area, we could say something here that would sound exponentially louder when it reaches the hub of the chamber."
"Where's that?" The mage looked sideways at him, actually interested for a change, and glad that the conversation had steered away from emotional responses. Keith looked slightly disappointed, as if his fellow scholar should have worked it out for himself.
"The lake, of course!" He pressed a finger to his lips, as he did when he was revealing a great discovery. Numair had never seen the man tremble quite this much. "The water must act as a kind of nullifying entity. I bet if you stuck your head under the water, you could hear every conversation in the whole cavern."
"You'd also drown." Numair replied, suddenly tired. He stood up, handing his untouched cup of drink to Keith. "Goodnight, Keith."
Keith watched the gangly mage walk over to his bed, a small smile crossing his face. With careful movements completely unlike his normal clumsiness, he produced a tiny object from his belt purse. From a distance, it would only have looked like a chickpea or an insect. Carefully, he placed it in his ear and leaned against the wall, eyes shut, listening.
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