Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) (45 page)

Cautiously, he opened the door, and seeing no one, pulled his cowl over his head and walked briskly until he reached the door leading to the outside court. He waited for the court to empty before darting toward the stairs leading to the kitchen’s garden. Moments later, he was gone.

“The caves beneath the earth number like the stars of heaven. They groan in their great solitude, yearning to join hands and form Xirik Andaxil, the one undivided mine
—
a realm greater than the greatest empire of men. Beware of the mysteries hidden within, whose beauty will burn your eyes as surely as a thousand suns.”

–
Philology of the Dwarfs, Anonymous

Caves, arches, stairs, passages, and bridges followed one another in a seemingly endless succession, as if a giant mountain swallowed sun, moon, and stars, turning the world into an endless labyrinthine mine, empty and desolate. Boulders, stalactites, and stalagmites, became, in the dim light of distant torches, High Riders, giants, and monsters.

Alone, he ran. The thud of his feet was the only audible sound he heard, save for the faint echo of water dripping in dark corners, or the dim sound of rushing rivers like the clamor of armies in battle.

Swiftly, like a fleeting shadow, Ahiram moved from cavern to cavern, following the less trodden path to conceal his presence from arbitrators all too eager to help the team of Baal. Holding a torch to light his way, the Silent passed through giant halls that had never seen the light of day. Like a beacon of hope in unrequited darkness, he ran over bridges long abandoned by their makers
—
following deserted pathways, where long ago dwarfs and men toiled side-by-side to pry the precious metal from the stony clutch of the mountain. The miners were gone, swept by the tides of time and the passing seasons. Nothing remained of their toil other than the meandering caves and a few rusted picks and shovels he glimpsed in the trembling light of his torch.

He stopped in secluded corners of massive halls, where he knew fresh water flowed from the walls into dark pools. He drank and chewed on the dry pieces of meat and cheese he had brought with him. He had tucked them inside an empty pocket of his waterproof dart belt before he dove into the lake. Despite the monstrous geyser in the Pit of Thunder, the contents of his belt were still dry. Once more, he felt gratitude toward the dwarfs who created this little marvel of ingenuity that they commonly called a dart belt.

Having finished his meal, he crossed the large cave and as he was about to enter a narrow corridor, he heard muffled voices from the other end of the cave.

He snuffed his torch and crouched inside the corridor just when a High Rider patrol entered the cave. Silently, he followed the corridor, until he reached a rectangular cave with a low ceiling.
I’m back on the main exit route,
he thought, seeing the torches stringing the wall. Glancing behind him, he saw no one, so he used a lit torch hanging from the wall to relight his own and continued running.

Time seemed to stand still as Ahiram progressed from hallway to hallway. Once more, he had drifted away from the main route to follow the less trodden path. Shafts of light shone intermittently in the distance, shattering the ambient darkness that hemmed his torch’s halo. The lack of light made consecutive caves resemble one another, and he began to wonder if he was not running in circles.

He fought the urge to leave markings on the walls, firmly trusting his training and the days he spent scouting the mines.

I know I am getting closer to the exit,
he asserted silently.
In a short while, I will rejoin the main path again. Up ahead, there’s the Hangman’s Hall, and then, a little further away, the Cave of Bats. Then, I’ll go up the spiraling stairs to the Red Hall, and from there, I’ll follow a wide curve to the Merry Dwarfs Bridge. Then there is just the one hour sprint to the Shipping Hallway which leads to the exit.

Ahiram reasserted these thoughts several times during the next two hours until he finally reached the Hangman’s Hall, so called because of a massive stalactite that had been carved into the shape of a man hanging from the ceiling. The statue was grotesque with bulging eyes and a tongue dangling from the man’s mouth. The man grinned madly, as if enjoying the torture.
Miner’s humor,
thought Ahiram, averting his eyes from the intolerable scene. Beneath the statue’s feet, the anonymous artist had carved an overturned hat where an abandoned spider web fluttered gently.

The Silent was about to exit when he heard footsteps behind him. He took a quick look and saw a High Rider patrol coming fast after him.
These men are rested,
he thought
, and I am not. I won’t be able to outrun them.”
Quickly, he reached into his belt, grabbed two pellets, and without stopping, whirled around and threw them between his pursuers’ feet. He dodged the two spears thrown at him, whirled back around, and sprinted off. He heard them cough and sneeze as he leaped out of the hall and into a narrow corridor, which he recognized from his past visits to the mines. He took a quick peek behind him and saw the soldiers’ shapes profiled against the corridor’s entrance; he sped forward until he reached the fork. Holding high his torch, he followed the left corridor, threw his torch as far as it could go, ran back and sprinted down the right passage. As expected, the soldiers went after the light.

Presently, the passage inclined gently downward, easing the strain. He sped along, remembering where this path led.
No one who took this path even once, would ever forget it,
he thought.

“In the name of Baal,” said a strong voice behind him, “Stop.”

A third patrol was on his heels. They were carrying three torches shining brightly in the corridor.
They don’t know,
he thought,
and I have no time to warn them.
He sprinted forward in the dark as two spears whizzed past. The ground leveled beneath his feet, and he felt the warm draft from the wide opening ahead. He ran into a large cave, made an immediate left turn, felt the big boulder he was looking for, and crouched in the small space between the boulder and the wall.

Less than a minute later, the High Riders ran into the cave with their torches shining brightly. The cave was vast, with a ragged ceiling extending far above their heads. Ahiram overhead someone speak.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Ahiram peeked from behind the boulder, crossbow in hand. Hiyam and her team were right behind the patrol.

Despite the shortcut I took, she managed to catch up,
he thought.
She is using magic again, no doubt.

“We are looking for the slave,” replied one of the men.

“Under whose orders?” snapped Hiyam. “I gave strict orders to the captain of the High Riders. I want him to be left alone.”

What?
thought Ahiram, confused.
She gave that order? What is she up to now?”

“My apologies, Lady Hiyam, your order has been superseded by a higher ranked officer.”

“Who superseded my order?”

“Lady Hiyam, I am barred from disclosing his identity.”

So Babylon trusts the priestess no more,
thought Ahiram.
Looks like she couldn’t kill me fast enough. Well, no matter, I need to get out of here.

“Hiyam,” said one of her men, “if the slave is here, let the High Riders slow him down.”

“No,” she nearly screamed. “Enough is enough. Let him compete. I will not have his blood on my hands.”

“And you will not, my lady,” said the officer. “His blood will be on me and my men.“

Not if I can help it,
thought Ahiram, as he released the trigger. The bulky dart’s flight was flawless. Silently, it arced over their heads and exploded in a dazzling bouquet of colors.
Not bad, Jedarc,
he thought.
This silly fireworks dart you requested might just save me.

Hiyam, her men, and the High Rider patrol jumped. The bright light blinded them momentarily.

“Another one of the slave’s silly tricks,” jeered one of the High Riders.

A deafening shriek answered him. Ahiram’s dart had disturbed thousands of bats hanging from the ceiling. They descended on the men of Baal like a dark storm.

They don’t call this cave the Cave of Bats for nothing,
thought Ahiram as he ran along the edge of the cave dodging the occasional bat. He reached the exit and saw that it was partially blocked by a boulder.

The earthquake
, he thought. He glanced back toward the men of Baal. They were flailing their torches at the bats, which only made them angrier.
The best thing to do when in the presence of bats is to stand still in the dark
, he thought, amused.

He managed to squeeze through the narrow opening and then noticed a cluster of small rocks at the base of a boulder
. That’s why it did not block the way,
he thought.
But I can fix this.

He took a few explosive pellets from his belt and wedged them between the rocks. He ran a short distance, loaded his crossbow with an escape dart, aimed and shot, then sprinted away.

A muffled explosion snuffed the neighboring torches, and smoke filled the passage. Ahiram grinned: the boulder had blocked the exit.

Let them use magic against this,
he thought, grabbing one of the extinguished torches from the wall which he lit from the first burning torch he came across a few hundred yards away.

He ran nonstop for a good hour and reached the spiraling stairs, which he climbed two-by-two. They lead him to the Red Hall, a wide room cut into a brown rock. The torches the arbitrators had strung to two opposite walls cast a red-tinged light, the color of blood. In this vast space where thousands of miners had taken their meals on rows upon rows of stone tables and benches, many a man and dwarf had died, either from sickness or strife. As he ran across the hall, Ahiram’s gaze trailed on the pots, mugs, plates, and cutlery the miners had left behind after their last meal. Rats had long ago licked the plates clean and a thick sheet of white dust blanketed everything. The Silent heaved a sigh of relief as he crossed the threshold of the exit. He felt uncomfortable in the presence of these ancient, yet familiar objects, as if the dust that covered them had swallowed up the living, and no one was left to tell the tale.

Ahiram followed a narrow, winding passage that veered abruptly on a ten-foot-wide path. He smothered his torch, turned left, and settled into a comfortable jog, for he had a ways to go before reaching the Shipping Hall. The path hugged a series of underground hills within a colossal space that the miners refused to call a cave. Instead, they called it
Tanniin Sirind (
Dragon’s Hollow) for they thought that only the god himself could have dug such a lair beneath the earth. They refused to mine it, and holding it sacred, they stuck to the path. Arbitrators were convinced that the Undergrounders had hid in the Dragon’s Hollow, but these claims remained unsubstantiated.

The hillside to his left rose at least fifteen hundred feet, while the incline to his right fell precipitously to a narrow canyon that was supposed to lie four thousand feet below. Since no one had dared to explore the hollow, no one knew what lay in that canyon. A howling wind blew into a deep shaft behind the hills, an abyss separating the hills from the Dragon’s Hollow’s edge. The wind moaned and roared with a suddenness that sent shivers down the Silent’s spine. Involuntarily, he glanced up, half expecting to see a dragon gliding overhead. Even the dwarfs, who reveled in acrobatics, left this entire section of the mines alone, refusing to climb the hills, cross to the edge, or even climb to see how high the roof was. “The hallow hollow is significant significantly,” they would say in their odd manner of speech, “and a significantly significant signification that must be left alone in its lonely loneliness.” Thus, the hollow stood as a stern warning and reminder to men and dwarfs, to stay their curiosity and control their greed.

The path followed the hills for twelve miles, which Ahiram covered in a solitary run that lasted an hour and a half until he reached the massive Iron Gate that guarded the Merry Bridge. This bridge consisted of a single stone slab linking the path Ahiram was on to the Shipping Hall. Here, in happier times, miners celebrated weddings. The groom would hold his bride’s hand while she walked blindfolded on the edge of the slab. For as the miners’ saying went, “To marry a miner, a woman’s trust and courage must be deeper than Dragon’s Hollow’s abyss.”