Jadde - The Fragile Sanctuary (32 page)

The winding column began the trek along the
gorge bank and back along the sacred track. They picked up Seara and Palreth
the next day. The two had a group of women and children with them amongst the tall
walls of a roofless ruin. All around were scorched demon corpses some showing fletched
stubs of killing arrows.

Malkrin looked on in admiration, ‘A good
fight you two.’

‘Nothing for a couple of hardened
warriors,’ Palreth jested.

Malkrin noted the absorbed glances the two
gave each other. Seara had come through the ordeal with courage and strength
and had found someone new to trust. She had become invaluable to all the tribes.
Her new name according to many snatches of conversation was Jadde’s Angel, in
honour of her encouragement and healing in the Brightwater battle. It was even
more appropriate now with her protection of the women and children. She was
transformed into a talented healer and warrior, he was proud of her. Then he
thought of Nardin and his failing sight and how vital it was to get Seara back
quickly to heal him.

‘Seara, your work has barely started. We
all have great employment back in Cyprusnia.’

Two days later they were being trailed by quarter-men.

They destroyed two bands of roaming demons that
day and Deerhoove’s horsemen accounted for another group. Malkrin wondered if
the demons were reporting back to some leader or coordinator of their own. There
had to be some guiding mind behind the skirmishes.

The next day his assumption appeared confirmed
as he was summoned to the Magician’s Pivot where he found a logjam of people
waiting to file through the restrictive gully.

‘The slow progress is not what I would draw
your attention to,’ announced TrathWolf. He pointed to some heads impaled on
sharpened sticks.

‘A crude attempt to frighten us.’ Malkrin
strode to the vile sight and recognized the head of one of the brave Wolf warriors
who had helped haul the demon cart to Cyprusnia. The other two were a
Brightwater woman that Talgour knew and a Celembrie servant girl. Beneath the
heads was a message scrawled in their blood on the rock behind the stakes.

Malkrin stared hard.
Prepare for death
humen cattle. The Harvester of humen souls prepares to devour yew ALL
, it
said in badly spelt and crafted letters but recognizable all the same.

‘Demon fingers have other uses,’ he
muttered aghast. He had been correct, the quarter-men had organised leadership
– capable of any atrocity.

And during the first week of travel back to
Cyprusnia the staked heads were found at the dawn of each day and then each
night took its toll on lives and the morale of the tribes.

CHAPTER
TWENTYSIX

T
he velvet black shimmered with stabbing, glittering
grey.

A roar filled her ears, and flooded her
mind.

Consciousness groped from the depths and thunder
surrounded her whole body.

Her arms and legs lay sodden and immovable,
so she listened to the noise and realised it was a rushing torrent. The sound filled
her mind.

At last she made out the vague confines of
a ledge surrounded by cascading water – and she was sprawled on it.

Her hands groped around the narrow ledge;
no one else was there.

Who am I? She wondered – and failed to
remember.

Then reality froze the all pervading
splashing boom. The ledge spun and she remembered a terrible thing. Someone had
been in her care and must now be drowned.

A sad name sprang into her head . . . Bettry.

Bettry had been wrenched from her grasp and
nothing could have been done to save her. She choked back the sorrow, gagged
water and began to feel more alert. Her fingers and toes tingled, and she found
they moved to accompany her wracking shivers.

Who am I? She wondered and concentrated
hard. It all came flooding back with the sound of the Shimmerrath Falls as it sped
by on its long drop to the Fethwerth pool.

I am Cabryce Otterpaw.

Slowly she rose to her knees and retched.
Feeling better she pressed and flexed her body: nothing broken; just cuts and
bruises. A particularly sore bruise gave her a pounding headache. Her sodden hair
had dried to damp tangles and a gnawing emptiness added to her shivering body.

Dim light filtered through the roaring
water. She had rolled inward; the ledge had a slight incline which had
protected her from continuous soaking. Her eyes became more accustomed to the
gloom and she tottered into a deep fissure. The dim light reverted to the
deepest black and she staggered back to the ledge lip and peered down at the hissing
and booming torrent. Cabryce presumed the flood was falling into the mist
shrouded Fethwerth pool she knew seethed at the bottom of a vertical cliff.
There was no escape that way; she would be smashed to pulp by the water and the
rocks in the pool below. Above her, through the spray was sheer rock covered in
strings of drenched slime and impossible to climb. Her only choice was the
fissure which appeared to extend into the rock.

Without hesitation she squeezed inside the
cavity and crawled along a rock floor smoothed by flood water. The crevice
widened slightly and she felt her way along unseen walls, undulating to touch.  
Her heart hammered unnaturally as she thought of the towering weight of rock
above her, but she carried on inward regardless. The sound of the booming water
diminished. Soon she lost track of left, right, up and down in the absence of
light. Cabryce paused, and slowly the hammering in her chest eased as she
realised it was the total darkness that was panicking her.

The roof sloped down and she dreaded the
fissure coming to an end. Sometimes crouching then crawling, she fumbled along
the narrow space for an interminable length of time.

Cabryce started to have visions of
daylight, she blinked and they disappeared. Then the visions expanded and she
felt hot sun on her face. She had to shake her head to remove them. It was
crushing to realise that reality was the interminable black of a tomb.

Then at last it opened out and she stood
again. Her fingertips told her she was in a narrow passage, the walls felt smoother
and drier. The roof above just touched the top of her hair and she edged along,
her arms extended like a sleep walker. The floor was now smooth and dry under
her feet, and she edged further along the passage. The sound of booming water finally
disappeared to be replaced by a horrible silence. Deprived of her last sensory
input she started sweating. Her heart pounded again and her breath rasped
loudly in the confined passage. She raised her hands to massage her face and
shoulders; then kept them locked across her chest in a last vestige of comfort.

Suddenly she smashed headlong into a solid
obstruction with such force particles of stone clattered around her. She fell backwards
with the impact.

The passage had come to a dead end and this
place was to become her grave. She screamed and curled into a ball.

How long she lay crumpled with blood pounding
in her temples she never knew, but eventually she willed herself to rise and
think her situation through.

She would have to go back and dive into the
pool. It was the only way out. The plunge would probably mean death, or if
Jadde was with her, then just serious injury. But at least someone will find my
body, she thought with finality. Then with the sudden anger of defeat she
smashed her fist involuntarily into the dead-end. A grating crunch echoed
loudly, and flakes of something brittle fell on her feet.

The surface had flexed.

A minute hope rose and she ran her fingers
blindly over the surface.

It was a metal grid like a dungeon gate but
much finer in construction. The latticed metal strands were cold to touch, with
a rough flaking surface. She hammered her fists and shouted, hoping someone
would hear. Flakes of metal rained on her like a hail storm. Her accompanied
shouts echoed back along the passage.

No one came, and after an interminable time
she slumped to the floor and cried. Then her spirits and determination rose
again and she hammered from the low squat she had assumed.

More flakes fell on her, and the grill
bottom grated on the rock base.

Had it moved?

Cabryce pushed and pulled frantically, skinning
her fingertips. A decayed edge dissolved into rusted fragments under her
frantic hands. She grasped more strands and wrenched, then pulled and pushed.
Corroded metal fell away and she bent another section upward. Soon the gap was
large enough, so she wriggled into it careful not to rip her clothing.

Then she was through and groping ahead
again. Metal steps found her feet and a cold hand rail was perfectly positioned
to help her. She climbed and in the oily black ran headlong into a door. Her
fumbling hands found a catch unlike any she ever known. She pushed down. It
worked, and the door ground open on unused hinges.

The protesting door created echoes which
bounced from unseen walls and became the signal for sudden brightness to sear
her eyes.

The light was real this time. She was
discovered, so she shrank into a corner waiting for the Brenna to grab her.

Later Cabryce opened her eyes, which were now
accustomed to the glare, and stared up a lit passage to another flight of metal
stairs. The light came from mysterious circles in the ceiling and from nearby
came a hum that she was sure had not been there until the sun-like-light had
appeared.

She climbed the next set of stairs and
another door opened under her wrenching of its handle. This time there was a
sharp hiss like a surprised snake and she darted back quickly as the door swung
open.

Nothing happened, and Cabryce walked
through, finding herself in a great cavern. The air smelt old, dry and –
strange. A smell of something alien wafted to her nose. Like pig-fat or the
urine laced liquid that the tanners used. She looked at the strange monsters in
the cavern. They all had glass eyes or large glass compartments and stood on
circular discs, a thick black coating slumped under the rounded shapes. She
prodded the black, it come away in chunks like stale bread and smelt of
something unpleasant. Instinctively she realised the circles rotated and
supported the monsters, and the black layers had once cushioned the metal
circles.

She walked round the largest of the
monsters absorbed in the revelation that the circles helped the monsters move.
In an intuitive instant she realised they were constructed by the great
ancients to serve them in some mysterious way. A dormant curiosity blossomed.

 Slowly she read lettering all around the
huge cavern. Occasionally a word made sense. ‘DH5 Command Vehicle’ one stated,
‘Snowplough 1’ said another, a sign above an empty space said ‘Jet ski 1 and 2’.

But why would you plough snow and not the
soil, she thought idly.

Cabryce found a door in the furthest wall,
another cold metal plate unlike the crude wooden panel-doors she was used to.
She entered another darkened room and lights flicked on. She glanced over her shoulder;
the cavern of metal monsters had gone dark. Before her, long benches bordered
the walls and faded signs were mounted above them inscribed with unrecognisable
words. Then in a far corner she saw a room enclosed by glass windows of an
extraordinary size. She recognised comfy seats through the glass and entered
through a transparent door.

 She spent an hourglass in there resting on
seats that seemed to comfort her aches. Her throat became dry and she realised she
was breathing stale air sealed within this intricate cavern. Swallowing failed
to relieve the itch so she looked around for a source of water. The room had a
few similarities to her small kitchen in the cottage. Strange metal recesses
looked familiar, as if they were sinks and cold ovens. Other machines held
scorched metal racks looking as if pans or spits had been heated above them.
She reasoned any leftover food would have turned to dust and bones lifetimes
ago and water could not be obtainable in this dry tomb. But Jadde whispered in
her head for her to search for sustenance – so she looked in cupboards and
nearby rooms labelled Cold Store and Freezer. Cabryce found nothing and her
stomach groaned in sympathy.

She wandered down a few steps and looked
into more empty rooms. Some had faded remains of containers that fell apart in
her hands, but all were empty. Then at the end of the corridor was a locked door
and Cabryce knew she had to search within.

She returned to the cavern of metal
monsters and brought back a heavy metal bar, then spent two hourglasses
levering at the lock and the door seal. Finally she worked the bar into a small
door crack. Using all her strength she heaved and the lock snapped with a loud
crack.

The room was stacked with containers; faded
lettering had mouth watering words she recognised, wheat, biscuit and apple and
other delicacies like bacon and lamb. It was easy to rip the first container
apart and packs spilt out. Cabryce sampled many still edible foods during the
next hourglass. She even found boxes of soft glass bottles containing fruit
flavoured water. Jadde had blessed her; surely there was enough food here for more
than a season. She wandered back to the room of comfy chairs, her arms laden
with packet food and bottled water.

She pulled two of the comfy chairs together
and slept. Then awoke and ate again, then explored further. She had never seen
such evidence of human ingenuity. Everywhere glass and metal boxes glittered,
vines without leaves snaked and strange lettering was inscribed on everything. She
realised the maze of creepers and box shapes were not mere decoration, but for
whatever purpose they had once served they were now all dead. She prodded one
and the shiny front cracked in brittle decay.

Cabryce slept and ate again, and her next exploration
in another glass windowed room revealed shelves of books. This room contained
many identical glass fronted boxes on small pieces of plain furniture. A large intricately
wrought box said ‘Server’ and some strange name. She wondered what it served
and touched it, leaving greasy prints. From a shelf she took a few books with words
on their covers that interested her. Then lounged in a chair and ate the
wonderful tasty food sealed in the strange parchment skins. She found out the comfy
chairs she slept on were in a ‘Canteen’ where cooked meals were served. Time
seemed to slow and then strangely expand as she learnt more words. Slowly her
fascination increased as she related them to some of the machines she saw in
the large cavern. She already knew the snowplough; others were for the Mountain
Patrol another was a fire-tender. That one would be really useful; her fellow
villagers always lived under the threat of fire in their homes. Perhaps the Brenna
could haul it out of here. Then she came sharply out of the daydream: it was
the Brenna that had beat and imprisoned her. But she felt safe here; they must
have given up searching for her by now. Cabryce let her thoughts wander
further; she would find a way of bringing the knowledge of this place to
Malkrin. They could plan to use it to free the people.

Later she found a manual that related to
some of the glass fronted boxes and she read until her brain felt heavy and ready
to burst. She continued, and then reread and then went over to a computer and
pressed the ‘on’ button. There was a sizzle and the components fried, acrid
smoke seeped from the device. Quickly she switched it off and tried another,
then another; then gave up. They had all died in the same burst of malfunction.

Cabryce discovered the ceiling lights were
controlled by nuclear powered generators. They also kept the atmosphere at a
constant humidity and heat, and only triggering the lights when someone entered
a room. There were back-up generators and she took a book and an installation map
and found the small generator rooms. Two generator machines looked scorched and
dead, but at some point a third had taken over, keeping the underground rooms preserved.
Some spaces and rooms remained pitch black; she avoided them as they reminded
her of her ordeal in the passage from the Shimmerrath waterfalls.