Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) (32 page)

Once, when I was young – before I was dispatched to the Crag and such notions were stripped from me – my father told me that the reason the Divine gave us eyes was so that we could glory in his wonders. Years had passed since his words had last been recalled to my mind. As we stepped off that metal platform, and beheld what lay in front of us, they came back to me.

My companions were struck speechless, as I was. If we were to glory in the natural beauty of the world, then I wondered how we were meant to react to the makers of the wonders that confronted us now.

Before us stood a city, unlike any I had seen before, nor ever will again. The main part of it was a great tower, inconceivably vast in both breadth and height. It was widest at the base, becoming narrower as it moved up towards its peak. From a distance it had the appearance of a giant beehive. There were dozens of tiers I could see, each comprising innumerable buildings. In the light of a thousand torches, these seemed to glow. On later inspection, we would find that every building had been forged from the same metal we had already seen below on the cavern floor.

From out of this strange tower sprang a dozen arms, leading to other platforms built around the walls of the cavern. In truth, it seems disingenuous to describe this place as a mere cavern, when in truth it was almost as though the entire mountain had been excavated. I could not guess at how many lifetimes it had taken to achieve.

A wide avenue led from the top of the elevator to the lowest tier of the tower, and before its entrance stood a statue that anywhere else would have been thought of as giant. It stood fifty feet tall or more, and yet the enormity of the tower city behind it made it look like a child’s toy. Like all else around us, the statue was forged from metal, and the likeness it depicted was at first glance grotesque. A long torso stood upon two legs, but there any similarity between it and ourselves ended. In place of human feet, its legs ended in three thick toes, the sharp nails of which were curved like the claws of a beast. Two pairs of arms extended from its body, and the head that topped its shoulders was monstrous. Insect-like mandibles sprang from its jaws, beneath a broad, flat snout near as wide as its face. It had round eyes, but like its arms it had four in place of our two.

At first I recoiled from the sight of it, but at second glance I began to revise my opinion. The figure in the statue appeared to be wearing an apron, not unlike a blacksmith would wear when working his forge. In its four hands, the creature grasped a selection of tools; I recognised a hammer and tongs, but was not familiar with the others. And then there was its face. It seems a strange thing to say of such an alien countenance, but where the subjects of most statues take pains to appear stern or severe, this seemed almost benign. This strange being could not have been more different to ourselves, yet nevertheless appeared intelligent... even peaceful.

I was shaken from my reverie by an unexpected source. “The metal lords,” a deep voice muttered behind me, and when I turned Sten met my eyes. “You know who built this place?” I asked him. He shrugged in reply, and then, in few words, told us that the elders of his village speak of a race of strange beings who can shape metal as easily and as skilfully as a potter works clay. It seems these stories are regarded as little more than legends now, with their origins lost to the ages. This exchange seemed to exhaust Sten of what little appetite for conversation he possesses. I did not mind overmuch; it seemed doubtful whether even perfect recall of his elders’ stories would help us sort the facts from the myths after so long.

I am not sure whether it was Sten’s words or the sight of the statue, but a small fragment of a long-forgotten memory surfaced fleetingly in my mind. It was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. That uncomfortable feeling of vague familiarity comes back to me now as I sit here, back aboard the
Havørn
, writing this account. When I have committed everything to paper, I will think on it further.

That was the end of that page, and Captain Brandt glanced sharply at the figure still asleep on the cot. The last paragraph was new information to him, and he made a mental note to speak to Caspian on the matter when he awoke.

It did not take long to find the next page, as there were only two remaining... plus several consisting only of sketches. He noticed that the handwriting was becoming more jagged, the lines of text less straight; as if the author was attempting to keep strong emotions in check.

I am not sure which of us moved first, but as if at some unspoken command we began to climb the sloping avenue that led to the tower entrance. As we passed the statue, I gazed up at it one last time. I don’t know why I thought it grotesque before; it was unusual in appearance, yes, but there was an undeniable nobility to it as well. It was clear that the great figure represented a builder, a creator of some kind, and I could not think of a more fitting tribute to the wonders that surrounded us on all sides.

How to describe my feelings as we at last entered the metal city? I cannot really recall now; my mind was overwhelmed by the sights, my eyes as large as saucers, drinking it all in. Past the entrance, the main avenue split, curving around to our left and right. Dome-like metal buildings loomed over us on all sides, stretching up to the roof of this tier fifty feet above our heads.

Over the next few hours, we simply wandered, exploring dozens of these strange domes. We found what we believed to be workshops, filled with tools and complex mechanisms, storerooms filled floor to ceiling with mysterious goods, and what appeared to be homes. Everything was on a larger scale than we are used to – the doorways, furniture and all else besides. At the first dwelling we came to, looking at the length of the flat slab that likely served as a bed, and comparing it to my own, I estimated the beings that lived here must stand at least eight feet tall.

In all the hours we combed the lower tier of the city, not once did we stumble across any sign of life. On the contrary, everywhere we went a thick layer of dust covered every surface, item and device. Dusty spiderwebs hung from doorways and windows and but for ourselves the city was as still and lifeless as a morgue.

What had become of the beings that once lived here, who had created such marvellous works? I’m sure the question was uppermost in my companions’ thoughts, as it was in mine. There was no sign of battle, nor a mighty calamity of some nature that might explain their absence. It appeared as though they had simply abandoned the city one day, for reasons unknown. For all I knew that is precisely what had happened.

Just as he had with the ledge in the tunnel, it was Jan who eventually made the most important discovery. We had entered another dome, this one a workshop seemingly like several we had already explored. There was what I had come to think of as the usual collection of odd mechanisms, the purpose of which I hadn’t yet determined. I was investigating one of these, experimenting by turning some of the toothed metal circles by hand to observe any effects, when there was a violent commotion from another room. I heard a man’s screams, almost drowned out by a cacophony of metallic noises.

The captain, Sten and I all ran for the room Jan had disappeared into. When we stood at the doorway, he was laying on his back on the floor, arms held out to protect his face. Above him stood a nightmare of metal come to life. Its limbs and body were formed of the same grey metal strips and circles that I had first seen on the Archon’s servant’s prosthetic arm. These whirred and span furiously as the being swayed above our stricken crewmate. Its face bore striking similarities to the statue we had seen outside the city, but was a single metal plate that had been beaten into shape, and where the statue’s insect-like mandibles would have been, the area beneath its snout was smooth and blank.

Jan was screaming at us for aid. Sten and the captain went to him and dragged him clear of the strange metal being. We all leaped back when it moved toward us, its four arms seeming to claw at the air. Had it continued to come on, I believe we would have fled, such was the fear that was upon us then. However, the creature... though it was not a living being, I have no better word to describe it... turned away instead. In jerky, uneven movements, it began to busy itself around the room, righting furniture and pawing at dusty spiderwebs.

The captain laughed suddenly. “I’ve never seen a servant quite like that,” he said, and watching the creature a few moments more, I saw that he had the right of it. In fact, I wasn’t sure if the creature was even aware of our presence. Jan had no doubt activated it accidentally, either by playing with its mechanisms or blundering into it unthinkingly.

Even though he was almost certainly at fault for this latest embarrassment, Jan seemed enraged by the captain’s laughter. Red-faced, he strode back into the room, lifted a chair from the ground and dashed it against the creature’s back. Several parts flew from it, one coming to rest near my feet. Immediately, the metal creature sagged, then toppled lifelessly to the floor. Whatever spark had briefly animated it and terrified Jan was there no longer.

In truth, I was saddened by its sudden demise. After an initial fright, it didn’t seem as though the creature had meant us harm. I knelt down to pick up the piece that had landed beside me. It was a cylinder, covered in strange symbols. As everything else around us, it was made of metal, but had a golden-green sheen to it. At either end, it had small protuberances that looked as though they could be used to fix the cylinder to something else.

I recalled that one of the storerooms we had passed through had contained shelves filled with such cylinders. With so much else around us defying explanation I had thought no more on it, but now I wondered. Had it played a role in animating the metal creature? With my companions’ attention focused on Jan, who was boorishly celebrating the destruction of his foe, I slipped the cylinder into my robe for future examination.

When we left that dome, I happened to glance up the street back the way we had come, and the junction that marked the city entrance was still in sight. It was then that we abandoned any notion of further exploration. We had spent hours searching the unusual buildings, and journeyed less than a mile into this vast city. Jan’s patience had finally been exhausted and I could tell that even the captain’s curiosity had been sated. It was impossible to know Sten’s thoughts, but I knew he would follow the captain. I was still excited to explore further, but this trip had already delayed our mission by two days, and I could not promise that we would find any further explanation for the existence of the city or the fate of its founders no matter how long we searched.

What more is there to tell? We retraced our steps, and left the city for good. My heart was heavy, but when I saw the lights were beginning to dim, I knew it was the right decision. Whatever power we had reawakened seemed to be nearing its end. While we still had some light to guide us, we found the elevator, and were preparing to travel down it once more, when I found another lever beyond the platform. Emboldened by the results of our previous experiments, I gave it a pull. As I did so, a metal bridge extended from the edge of the cliff and disappeared into the gloom. I stepped tentatively onto it, but it seemed easily strong enough to bear my weight. Encouraged, I ventured further, until I saw the mouth of a tunnel in front of me. The bridge appeared to extend to the very ledge from which Jan had fallen that morning.

I summoned the crew, and soon we were marching back along the tunnel. I looked back, just in time to see the twinkling lights of the city fade. We were leaving it just as we had found it... hidden in darkness inside the heart of the mountain.

It took us another day to reach the round portal at the rear of the cave in which we had taken shelter from the storm, but our journey was uneventful and I have little enthusiasm for recording it further. At my suggestion, the four of us heaved the doorway closed once more. I did not know if I would ever return, but I felt in my heart that it was right to keep the entrance to the tunnel secured. Perhaps its founders had never intended for the city to be discovered by others.

We signalled the ship, which still lay anchored in the bay. First mate Nikolaj and crewman Dorric came to meet us in the rowboat, both in a state of near-panic after our extended absence. A few short hours later we were on our way south once more.

And that is the end of my tale. Whatever few answers I had discovered – and I believed I now knew the source of the Archon’s servant’s strange appendage, if not the means of its creation – were outweighed by new questions. But nonetheless I am left feeling privileged to have seen with my own eyes the wonders of which another of the Divine’s beings were able to create.

Captain Brandt lowered the last page, placing it down on top of the others. Briefly, he scanned the illustrations that covered other pages. It was all there; the statue, the strange device on the cavern floor that had appeared to provide power to the rest, the giant metal city itself. Caspian had also sketched the cylinder he had apparently taken without telling the rest of them.

“I believe they are called Delvers.”

He turned, and saw the young man sitting up and resting on his elbows. “What?”

“The beings that created, well, everything we saw down there,” Caspian said. “Last night, when I finished writing, I remembered what it was that came to me that day, when we saw the statue.”

Captain Brandt took a puff of his pipe, and gestured for the young man to continue.

“On the Crag, part of the duties of the young novices and initiates was to return the Brothers’ books to the vault after they were done with them,” Caspian said. “The Deep Archive they call it.”