60

Madness Reigns In the Hall

Candle ran and collided with a warm body in the half-night of the passage. She nearly screamed but clamped her mouth shut. Hands outstretched, she felt blindly, meeting smaller hands in the dark. A single, golden witch-light bloomed in the air. It shone down on the little Necromancer girl who stared at Candle with wide, liquid black eyes.

They both stepped back. Candle's eyes went straight to the small silver horns poking out of the thicket of red hair. The Necromancer girl's gaze went to directly to Candle's shoulder – looking for her demon, Candle realised. The little girl was small and pale, with a voluminous halo of red hair that made her head seem tiny. She looked to be about ten years old, maybe a little younger, it was hard to be sure. Her skin was the moon-white pale of someone who had never lived beneath the sun and her eyes – her eyes were the same soulless wells of the darkness that Candle associated with the Necromancers. The pupils were completely enveloped, leaving no whites at all around the iris. Those black eyes were fixed on Candle with intense curiosity. The effect was intimidating and she swallowed, reminding herself that judging someone purely on their eye colour might be... premature.

The child wore a ragged dress made out of sackcloth and scraps of velvet. It was sewn together with strips of string and brightly coloured ribbons and had many pockets. Around her neck was a leather strip from which hung a single, solitary finger bone. Tearing her eyes away from the bone Candle looked up to the girl regarding her with solemn interest. A small frown creased the white brow, above pale eyebrows.

"What are you?" They said together.

The child giggled – a high-pitched girlish sound of delight that seemed out of place in the dark of the catacombs. Candle's lip twitched upward but the brief moment of levity was interrupted by the tread of heavy feet echoing down the passage. The little Necromancer girl extinguished her light with a snap of her fingers.

"Ronove is looking for you?" she whispered in Candle's ear.

"Yes."

"If Ronove is after you, then I won't let him find you."

Without waiting for further discussion, she grabbed Candle's hand and towed her into the blackness of the tombs at breakneck speed. The girl was fast and they moved so quickly that the air rushed past. Candle stumbled and tripped while her companion seemed to be able to see in the dark.

"I can't see," she gasped, after bashing her elbow on multiple unseen hard surfaces. The strange girl slowed and pushed her instead, guiding her forward with small, insistent hands. After a moment they came to a stop and Candle was dragged sideways. The air here was cool.

"In here. Quietly!" The child's voice low and hesitant, as if she wasn't used to talking. She prodded Candle up and along. Their breath ragged in the quiet. Candle's outstretched hands hit hard rock, and she bumped her head, swearing softly.

"Be careful of your head," the little one whispered, rather belatedly, as Candle rubbed her fresh bruise. "The roof is low here. Don't say anything, Ronove is close. We must be quiet."

Candle opened her mouth to reply and then shut it, remembering her companion could see in the dark. She nodded. Silence descended and Candle strained her ears to listen. There was nothing to hear and nothing to see. For a while there was only the soft breath of the girl next to her as they waited in what Candle felt was a claustrophobic abyss. Folding her arms around her legs, she rested her chin on her knees, resigned to wait. Behind her, she could feel the firm, slightly gritty texture of a rock wall and she leaned against it gratefully.

The seconds ticked by with agonising slowness. After what felt like an age, but was probably less than half an hour, a single golden witch light blossomed once more into life. The solitary light shone down, illuminating her companion and the small hollowed-out cave they were hiding in. The rocks were close on either side, the space precious. Veined threads of silver sparkled against dull grey of the rock. Candle breathed a sigh of relief. If she ever managed to kill Belias, she vowed she would leave the tombs surrounded by a galaxy of witch-lights. Blue ones, perhaps.

"Are you one of them?" Candle asked, turning her head towards her companion. They were sitting so close together Candle was worried she might inhale some of the child's hair, which took up more space than she would have thought possible. "Are you a Necromancer?"

The little girl shook her head.

"But –" Candle touched a hand to her own forehead, gesturing to the tiny silver horns.

"My father was," she said. "I think. My mother, she was a human. I am Zephi. What are you?"

"I'm human. My name is Candle."

"Candle," said Zephi, tasting the word. They stared at each other. "But you have a demon... Humans don't have demons. Only Necromancers have demons." Her eyes darted to the shadows, but Belias was blessedly absent, or hidden. "Why - why does your demon not protect you? Or help you make a light?"

"I shouldn’t have my demon..." Candle whispered, leaning forward into Zephi's hair. "It was a mistake. I'm trying to fix it... to get rid of it. To... to kill it."

At that the girl's brow lifted and Candle could only guess what wild thoughts were running through the girl's head.

"That's why I'm down here. I'm trying to find the demon’s tomb. Have you seen a tomb with this rune?" Candle drew the rune in the dust and showed it to Zephi.

"I know it," she said. "If I help you, will you be my friend?"

Candle looked at her in surprise. "Of course."

Zephi's smile was glorious, a warmth in the cold room. But then she frowned.

"I don't think humans can kill demons," she said. Candle drew the iron and moonsilver dagger from the folds of her dress and showed it to the child, whose eyes widened. The black of her eyes like twin pools of tar.

"With that?" Zephi asked.

Candle nodded, feeling foolish, but the younger girl merely looked thoughtful.

"I don't think that will be enough," Zephi said with a sigh. "Humans are weak. I've never seen one fight a demon."

"I'm not always a human," said Candle, awkwardly. "Sometimes I'm a dragon."

To her surprise, Zephi gripped her arm, her cheeks reddening in excitement.

"Really? Why do you walk around like this then?" She gestured disparagingly to Candle's body. "I've seen dragon bones in the Sky Chamber. Being a dragon is much better than being a human. Where do you live? Is it nice there? Please say we can be friends? I keep trying to make my friends out of bones but it hasn’t worked yet. Maybe you could help me after I am done helping you?"

"Of course," said Candle, amused and a little overwhelmed by the child's enthusiastic outpouring of emotion. Her company was an unexpected balm in this dark, horrible place. Candle's stomach chose that moment to groan loudly.

"Do you have anything to eat, Zephi?" she asked, pressing a hand to her aching middle. "I'm very hungry."

Zephi nodded with excited vigour, then rummaged in one of her many pockets. She pulled out a dead rat and held it out to Candle with a flourish. "Ah... thank you," said Candle, eyeing the raw rat. She repressed a shudder, not wanting to offend the child. "Err... You don't have anything else?"

Zephi shrugged and took a quick bite with her sharp teeth before stashing it back in her pocket. She patted herself down, then fished out what looked like a blackened stick. Leaning closer Candle saw it was an imp arm, complete with hair and fingers intact. This time she was unable to repress the shudder.

"No?" said Zephi, looking disappointed. She put it back in her pocket. "Yeah, the imp isn't very tasty. Rat is better. Mmm...There are mushrooms in the lower caves. I eat those sometimes, but meat is always better!"

"Mushrooms sound good," said Candle.

"And then I will show you to the tomb."

They set off, Zephi leading the way. She held Candle's hand tightly, as if she was afraid to let go, and led the way with the confidence born of familiarity. Candle was glad to have company, deep underground in this dreadful place, even if it was this strange red haired girl with pale, luminous skin and the disconcerting eyes.

"How do you–" Candle asked after a while. She gestured, in a poor imitation of someone calling a witch light. "You know – how do you make magic?" She doubted Zephi had access to art materials. Her mind went back to Jotham's explanation - time and sacrifice. Who knew what she had learned here in this terrible place?

"Oh!" Zephi's face brightened. "To make the lights?" She pulled the rat out of her pocket and held it up to Candle, who tried not to wince. "For mother," she said, then seeing Candle's confused expression, she touched the finger bone on the loop around her neck and then gestured throwing. "Into the flames. One for me, one for her."

"Your mother? That's your mother's... oh."

They walked on in silence, making their way deeper underground. The tombs had given way to a natural cave system that was partially carved out of the rock, the tool marks rough and visible.

"Does your mother speak to you?"

"Not very often. Sometimes in my dreams. Do you have a mother?"

"No."

"Not even in your dreams?"

Candle shook her head, and Zephi squeezed her hand.

"I have friends though," she said, smiling down at her, "friends who care about me."

"And now me," said Zephi.

"And now you," Candle agreed, although her heart was troubled. How could she leave this child in the dark? But then these thoughts were premature, she thought, looking around. First, she had to survive her encounter with Belias. First, she had to find Belias and his final resting place.

Reaching a fork in the rocky passage, Zephi frowned and sent her witch-light up to the ceiling. Still frowning, she turned slowly looking back down the passageway they had come. She wrinkled her nose. Coming to a decision she pulled Candle down the left-hand fork, pulling the older girl behind her with impatient zeal.

"This way," she said. "My garden is this way–" They rounded a corner and Zephi's smile dropped as she looked at the cave in front of them. To Candle, it looked like any other of the many caves they had passed through – unfamiliar and cold. But so far, Zephi had walked with the confidence of one who was at home in maze of passageways.

Together they made their way through the ancient tunnels, searching, Zephi stopping more and more. Here, at least there were no bodies, no festering remains. And so far no imps. There were the occasional clusters of spirits, but they were few and far between. They hung in the doorways and looked... less tortured than the ones in the catacombs. At least Candle thought they looked more peaceful. She let Zephi pull her through seemingly endless black corridors until the girl came to a sudden stop.

"What is it?"

"Lost. Something is wrong. This cave should not be here."

"Maybe we took a wrong turn?"

"No," said Zephi, with grim conviction. "I know the way. I never get lost. Never."

Candle's heart sank.

"Belias."

"Who?"

"My demon. He is hiding the way from us. Water, we need to find water. If I can find water, he won't be able to interfere."

But there was none to be found, despite the damp and chill of the air. The two girls walked on, uncertain now, both of them looking around. The passages were rough now, with jagged rises of stone and rough-hewn stairs made smooth with age and the passage of many feet. In one, the stone was black and shimmered where the light touched it. In another corridor there was a small rockfall that they climbed over, glancing at the ceiling nervously. How far had they come? Candle wondered. Surely they were not still under the Keep? They must be under the mountains that surrounded the valley. They were surely under the Night Guardians? Or very close?

"We are in the deep caverns," said Zephi, after a while. "Near the obsidian quarry. I think."

"Mines?" asked Candle, and the younger girl shrugged.

"We shouldn't be here."

She sent her witch light exploring, roaming across the high ceiling. It illuminated steep stone walls, carved from the very bones of the earth with the rough tools of the builders still visible. Lichen grew in patches here and there.

"So we need to go up?"

Zephi stared about her.

"Sometimes you have to go down to find the way up."

She set off again, pattering down a sloping corridor, Candle following in her wake. Various black openings led off the way, and Zephi hesitated before each one. She was counting doorways under her breath, Candle realised. But knowing Belias, doorways would be a simple illusion to work. They walked into another cave and Zephi gave a cry of frustration, sinking to the floor in a dejected pile.

"I'm lost," she said. "I'm sorry, new friend."

"It's not your fault," said Candle, pulling her up. "We can't trust our eyes, that's all. We'll be fine, you'll see."

Candle hoped she was telling the younger girl the truth. They set off again, this time with Candle in the lead, feeling her way along the walls. As she suspected, the surface beneath her fingertips did not match with what she saw with her eyes. Smooth stone was slick beneath her hands. The contours were different. Pressing forward eagerly her fingers fell through the illusion of wall and into an open space.

"Zephi! There's an opening here," she said. "Come on, but go carefully."

Together they pushed through the vision that gave way before them. They came to an abrupt halt, gazing upwards. They were in an immense cavern. The air was very cool and moved as if breathing from a giant set of lungs. The ceiling was so far above them that it was lost in the shadows. Zephi's witch-light illuminated a tiny patch of floor while the rest of the chamber was shrouded in darkness. Nothing this large should exist down here, Candle thought. Was it a natural cave or had the Ancestors built it so long ago that even the Mester didn't know of its existence? Gone was the scent of dust and decay and dead bodies softly decomposing over the centuries. In its place was the rich scent of loam and growing things. But how? They were deep underground.

Candle jumped as a fleet-footed shadow ran past. A single imp, scuttled into the gloom, looking back at them with malevolent green eyes. It was swallowed by the darkness.

Zephi pulled on Candle's arm.

"We shouldn't be here," she said again. Her hand was shaking.

"Do you know where we are?" Candle asked, but the younger girl only shook her head — sweat beading her brow. Zephi's eyes were stretched wide and fixed on something Candle couldn't see in the distant gloom. The child clutched at Candle and then pointed insistently into the darkness, seemingly having lost the ability to express herself.

“What?” said Candle, straining to see. There was nothing but echoing, empty blackness. "What is it?”

She swore as Zephi pulled away, running into the deep of the cavern. The witch-light went with its owner, bobbing serenely over her head. Candle hesitated, as the pitch-black pooled around her and then ran after her, following the tiny light source as it raced ahead. Her feet clattered over the uneven stone as she chased the little girl for several minutes – just how big was this cavern? Candle skidded to a stop as Zephi's golden witch-light multiplied into a hundred green orbs. The green light bobbed upwards and both girls stared, mouths open.

An old man, larger than life, sat like a sculpture on a massive stone throne. The ledge of the throne was the girth of an ancient tree trunk. His arms rested on stone slabs as big as houses, and each of his toes was as big as a wagon wheel. For an unearthly moment, Candle thought she was looking at a statue of some old forgotten god, buried beneath the earth. But then the giant's eyes moved under the wicked jut of his eyebrows, focusing on the two small figures standing before him in the gloom. He might have had moss for a beard or it might have been a trick of the light. His face was craggy, his wrinkles vast stone crevices, and the cavern shook as he shifted on his vast granite seat.

The enormous throne he occupied was surrounded by a wriggling throng of imps, men carved out of stone and more of the dim green witch lights. Spirits writhed and twisted in the shadows at his feet. Candle and Zephi stared up at him, dumbstruck.

The giant stirred, slowly in his seat. Dust fell from the ceiling and the floor quaked, and the two girls held onto each other for balance.

“Leave, little lost spirits,” he said, and his voice was the sound of granite chunks slipping down a mountain. The stone men clustered about his feet turned their sightless faces towards them slowly, straining with blank eyes to penetrate the night. The imps muttered and cried, crawling over the dais in a tangled mass of blackened limbs. “Leave before the abyss swallows you and you become one of mine.”

The rasping cadence shook the cavern, and pebbles and chunks of rubble crashed down the walls.

“Do not dally or you will surely lose your souls.”

“We don't know the way,” a small, thin voice replied.

It sounded ridiculously tiny in that vast space and Candle was surprised to discover it was hers. Zephi just stared up at the King of the Cavern, her mouth agape. "We need to find the tombs..."

“Little lost ones,” he said mournfully, his voice deep as the rumble of a rockfall in the high peaks. "Follow the passage by the twin waterfalls." He raised his arm, and the chamber rocked.

“Thank you,” said Candle, dazed. "Thank you."

She ran, pulling Zephi after her.