26

The Lythian Mines

The mine tunnelled deep into the cliff face, and the air grew colder and heavier the further they walked. Kathiya was well ahead and became lost to the shadows. They continued as the tunnel opened up, and they followed an underground ravine. A river stormed along deep below, and above the stone and dirt occasionally split and fell and gave way to bright shafts of sunlight. They followed along, avoiding some low hanging stalactites and rising stalagmites, and moved past the timber support beams.

They saw erratic shadow movement ahead. It was Kathiya. She was signalling something. She must have found something.

They extinguished their torches and continued in single file, keeping as low and quiet as someone possibly could, given the terrain.

They followed along and it brought them to another tunnel carved into the ravine. They continued down the winding shafts, uneven ground, and steep slopes.

The tunnel eventually gave way to a sprawling, yawning, dark cavern that rose so high they could not tell what was roof and what was void.

Below, further into this enormous chamber, the ground gave way to what appeared a bottomless chasm, where only darkness and mist existed.

The only way across was a bridge formed from the natural formation of stone. Where the rock had refused to give way to the chasm. It was far from wide, and precarious would be a gentle way of putting its current stability.

They crossed one at a time, except Ves’sa who simply flew over. While thin and seeming fragile, it held well.

A stone slab carved with strange runes and mysterious dails blocked their progress.

‘This is it,’ said Kathiya, knocking her fist against it. ‘Solid stone. Nothing’s getting in there without serious, noticeable work. Never seen a wordgate before.’

‘Are you impressed?’ Sethel asked.

‘Not really. It’s just a big stone door. And every door has its key, right Ludgar?’

‘Right.’ Ludgar took the folded piece of parchment from within his coat. He opened it and read aloud the word ‘Lythada!’

After a moment of strange clicking sounds and the shifting of heavy stone, the dais began to move and the runes began to glow. The slab split in two and opened inward, the sound of stone uncomfortably scraping against stone forced its way deep into their bones.

They entered another cavernous, dark, noticeably man made cavern. There were no doors in this peculiar construct, and it seemed the only colours available were of different shades of black. It held no flag, no banners, nor portraits or murals. Lifeless appeared an apt word to describe it. It only had pillars of at least five men wide that rose up and disappeared into the darkness of the roof.

Kathiya stood by one such pillar, examining its integrity.

‘Never seen anywhere like this before.’

‘Sethel,’ Ludgar directed, ‘you’ve got to know something about this.’

‘There are so many fallen kingdoms and civilizations; it’s hard to keep track of them all. There were some old references to some subterranean temples of Lythia. They conducted rather secretive magical research, but I never imagined it would be like this. How exciting.’ Sethel ran his hand lovingly over the dark stone walls. ‘Who knows what secrets we’ll uncover here.’

‘Or the Theocracy. You want me to scout ahead?’ Kathiya asked Ludgar.

‘Yes, but take Ves’sa with you. ‘We have no idea what could be here, and I’d prefer it if you had someone at your back. Be careful.’

‘Okay.’ Ves’sa nodded and followed Kathiya deep into the lifeless temple. It was not long before the shadows consumed them and they were lost from sight.

There was that feeling again. The one he found when he tried to move those stones in that old chapel. He didn’t know what to make of it.

Further they went, past towering stone pillars that reached up and faded into the darkness. The floor was either made from some unknown material or polished so well it had a mirror-like quality to it.

They wandered further into this unknown temple, walking through tight corridors. Of the few torches that were lit, their light hardly had an effect on the darkness. They just served to be a distant orange glow in the oppressive void.

They occasionally stumbled over the bodies of a few exemplars. The obvious handiwork of the girls.

‘Not this way.’ Kathiya sat atop a ledge above a door. ‘There’s a good number in there. Take the stairs to the left.’ She disappeared over a balcony above the ledge.

Up the stairs, across the balcony, and through another door, they crept onto a mezzanine which looked out over a long hall, where exemplars toiled on various tables filled with unusual equipment. At the end of the hall, an altar sat before the remains of a once proud statue; what the statue was of, he had no idea. It was just rubble now. Great banners hung from the roof, their insignias faded with age. For now, they served as fine cover.

‘Where is Paragon Esker?’ An authoritative voice yelled from below. ‘That moronic ram should have returned by now!’

‘That moron is going to get you all killed.’ A female voice. Strange. He thought women were not allowed in the Phaosian church.

‘You do not question a paragon! We may tolerate you now, but once our alliance has concluded, your land shall be next to burn in holy flame, along with you.’

‘Phaosian diplomacy sure is a wonder, and as far as holy flames go, I’ve felt worse. Besides, you won’t even get the chance once the League takes notice. You think they’re just going to sit back and watch as you spread your “word of Phaos?”’ Ludgar wanted a better view of her, but she was too far and her back was to him. All he could make out was her long, dark hair.

‘They will not send armies here. They cannot find this place, and they would dare not risk the possibility of outright war. Our plan is flawless.’

‘If you say so.’ With that, the woman stood and left, leaving the paragon to tend to his flock.

‘There’s a lot of them,’ Caspar said, more loudly than he probably should have.

Taking him by the shoulder, Ludgar pulled him down from the railing and spoke at a much more appropriate volume.

‘Yeah, there is, and I’d rather they didn’t hear us. What’re they doing, Sethel? Research?’

‘Most certainly so. Sites such as these are a treasure trove of ancient artifacts. It’s no wonder they ignored border agreements to come looking. The Theocracy is always interested in magical artifacts.’ Sethel was peering out over the edge of the balcony. It would have been obvious had his hood been any colour other than black.

Ludgar stuck his head out over the top, thankful for his naturally dark fur. He saw the exemplars working at the strange instruments on the table. The altar had something on it; he couldn’t tell what, from this distance. Whatever it was, it had the interest of several people. They observed it intently, made notes, and discussed with each other. It looked to be some long hunk of rock or metal held up by some kind of display strut.

As for the rest of the room, the exemplars toiled in torchlight, shadows twisting as their flames flickered in the darkness. Some filtered in and out of the room, possibly to rest in another area.

The rest of the mercs looked on, waiting for instruction. The buffalo seemed distracted by Ves’sa and Kathiya on the distant balcony at the far end of the room.

‘Let’s explore some more. Maybe we can find a better way down.’

They walked through corridors on the higher floor, most of the rooms turning out to be desolate ruins and rotted debris, while the ones that weren’t had been picked clean long ago.

Beyond that, the upper floors held little significance, so they made their way down the spiral staircases. They kept low and eased their way through the dark, stone hallways, and they entered one well lit by warm, orange light. Three robed figures hunched themselves over a table, examining objects and arguing between each other.

They were at a far enough distance to be a problem; his mercs were strong, but they weren’t much good at range. He had already lost his two archers to scouting, and if just one was able to break away, that would alert the rest of the area to them. And this hall was not a good position in a fight.

‘Sethel, he hesitantly said, ‘do you have a plan?’

‘Hmm… Just one.’ He stepped inside. ‘Good afternoon, gentlemen!’ he announced to the room. The three at the table stopped what they were doing to look up at this sudden interruption and were judging whether or not he was one of theirs.

‘Who are you?’ The first of them shouted. He was a short and stout pig who made up for that by being louder than everything around him. ‘How did you get in here?’

‘The front door, but I just have a simple question!’ Sethel exclaimed and raised his hand as a student would ask their teacher an important question. ‘Is Phaos the creator, the prophet, or the universe?’

‘What?’ the first responded. ‘Shut up! Don’t attempt to distract from our original question!’

‘Correct, fool,’ another chimed in; a much taller creature with a long beak and stick-like legs. ‘We all know Phaos is the only god.’

‘What?’ the first responded again. ‘No, you know Phaos is the entity. It gave life to the universe. All we do is unlock the gate and join his realm. This is basic Choir doctrine, how do you not know this?’

‘Um.. Brothers?’ the middle sized third tried to interject.

‘I was taught the Choir doctrine too, and it clearly states that Phaos controls every action in this universe.’

‘Wait, which Choir?

‘Choir of Phaos… I think.’

‘Well then, bugger off with that Seperatist nonsense. The Choir of Phaos has been official dictation since time immemorial.’

‘Brothers?’ the third tried again.

‘Traullshit, you full well know Archbishop Grull was an unclean glutton, his interpretation should never have made it into divine canon.’

‘Archbishops are ordained by the Pontiff himself! How can you deny his wisdom?’

‘Grull was never ordained in the first place! He took the position when Devii passed!’

‘That is propaganda by the Heavenly Adraelic Song of Phaos and you have fallen for it easier than its own followers!’

‘The mage has gone,’ the third one finally pointed out.

‘What?’ They looked back to find the space Sethel had been occupying was now missing its occupant. ‘Shit! Not again!’

‘That’s what you get for believing in Choir nonsense.’