73. The mysterious cave

“Yira!” Dashvara cried, appalled. Before she collapsed to the ground, he took her in his arms, panicked. The little sursha’s eyes were closed.

Atasiag crouched beside him, his face darkened.

“She has overused her energy. Don’t take the veil off her, you idiot.”

“I didn’t take it away from her. What do you mean by ‘overused her energy’?”

“She was using spells to hide from Asmoan that she is… well, you know what. I told her it was unlikely he’d notice anything, but… Well, she just wore herself out. One day she’ll scare me to death. Let’s keep moving.”

Trembling slightly, Dashvara lifted the sursha and followed Atasiag and Sheroda through the streets of the Dragon District, eager to return to his brothers. This day would surpass the most troubling of his life. He’d spent all morning on a boat, half sick, he’d struggled to unload barrels with thieves in them, he’d gotten married, he’d found out his master was a demon, and now Yira just fainted…

“And what would happen if he found out?” he asked suddenly. “All in all, if you and he are what I haven’t heard, it shouldn’t scare him too much to see her.”

They were already entering the street of Sheroda’s, near the canal. Atasiag stopped and looked at him, his face dark.

“You are mistaken. I am not like the ones of my kind. In general, we are staunch detractors of… this energy,” he muttered, indicating Yira. “If they were to discover it… I’d rather not think about what would happen. Let’s move on.”

He turned his back, and Dashvara looked at him, his eyes wide.

“Oh, devils,” he swore. And he resumed walking.

They arrived at the gate, Sheroda opened it, and Atasiag raised a hand to ask Dashvara to wait outside. Dashvara grunted and sat down on the threshold without letting go of Yira. Who knows what that demon was up to now. It took him forever to open the door again, and when he did, he was dressed in dark republican clothes and wore a tight black scarf around his head.

“Give her to me. I’ll take her to a room, and Sheroda will take care of her. Don’t worry, by morning, she’ll be back on her feet,” he promised.

Reluctantly, Dashvara gave him Yira, and Atasiag disappeared through a door in the hallway. He quickly reappeared, exited, and closed behind him.

“Follow me.”

Dashvara frowned but followed him.

“Where do we go from here?”

Atasiag did not answer, and apprehension began to stir in Dashvara’s heart. He remembered very clearly Asmoan’s words, ‘I won’t send anyone to kill him’. He had said it with such calmness… But it was absurd to think that Atasiag could want to kill him because of what he had heard: all things considered, he also knew that Sheroda was a shixan, and he had taken it for granted that Dashvara would not speak of it. And, of course, Dashvara had kept the secret. Besides, he was armed with two swords while Atasiag must have had little more than a concealed dagger. Of course, if they were magicians, perhaps he had other techniques to defend himself…

Honestly, Dash, stop thinking nonsense. You know Atasiag. Whether or not he’s a demon, you know he wouldn’t dare to kill you.

As they entered a completely deserted alley, Dashvara began to worry. He broke the silence.

“Damn it, Eminence. Will you finally tell me where we’re going?”

Atasiag turned his head slightly and shrugged.

“I want to show you something.”

Dashvara stopped, nervous.

“Very well. But first tell me what you want to show me.”

Atasiag turned into the narrow street. What little he could see of his face was shrouded in shadow.

“You’re scared.”

His voice sounded disappointed. Dashvara winced.

“No. I just have my doubts. It’s kind of natural.”

“It isn’t. I’m your master: you should trust me,” Atasiag retorted. Dashvara hardly repressed a sarcastic laugh. After a silence, the Titiaka added: “And now, you don’t trust me. You surprise me, Philosopher.”

Dashvara laughed through his teeth.

“You surprised me more tonight, Eminence. If I doubt, it is simply because I have no idea what it is like to be a… you know what. Perhaps what I was taught about these creatures in the steppe was all lies, but the word itself is not very flattering in any case.”

He sensed Atasiag approaching and took a step back. The Titiaka stopped.

“That’s ridiculous, Philosopher. I’m still the same. You want to see what I really am? Well, so be it. Come closer. I’ll show you. It’s nothing extraordinary. The physical changes are minimal. Come closer,” he ordered.

Dashvara took a deep breath, swallowed his apprehensions and approached. Atasiag lighted his lantern ever so slightly, and Dashvara could suddenly see his blood-red eyes and black pupils reduced to slits. With one hand, the demon pulled the black scarf away from his face and marks darker than night appeared, clear on his human face.

“Satisfied?” he asked briskly.

Dashvara saw his teeth sharpened, but he did not back down. Atasiag’s tone betrayed a clear irritation. And there was also a hint of expectation and fear. And how could he not be afraid: what he had just shown Dashvara would probably have condemned him to death in a saïjit town. He doubted that in Dazbon, monsters who transformed like that were well accepted. Even if he thought the changes were “minimal”, his master’s appearance was quite terrifying. But used as you are to seeing strange things, Dash, you shouldn’t be frightened. He swallowed.

“Satisfied,” he murmured. “Excuse me, Eminence.”

Atasiag arched an eyebrow. His marks disappeared, and his eyes, fixed on Dashvara’s, turned dark brown again. He turned off the thieves’ lantern.

“So, do you trust me?”

Dashvara nodded without hesitation.

“Yes.”

“Good,” Atasiag sighed. He looked relieved.

“So… what did you want to show me?”

“Don’t be impatient.” Dashvara perceived a clear change of tone in his voice: it had become more cheerful and light again. “Follow me and you will see.”

He followed him, unable to avoid asking himself a disturbing question: what would Atasiag have done if he had run away or if he had drawn the swords? He remembered that, when he saw the transformed Shixan, his first instinct had been to reach for his weapons. Then he had tried to run, but the shixan’s spell had prevented him from doing so… Perhaps Atasiag had similar powers and only used them in extreme need. Who knows? Sincerely, Dashvara preferred never to have to find out.

He dismissed his ramblings as Atasiag stopped near a wall, almost at the end of the dead end. He saw him reach down and pull something, but in the darkness he was unable to guess what.

“Come in,” the thief whispered.

Dashvara leaned close to him and discovered that he was now standing in front of a small open tunnel. It emanated an unsavoury smell. But Dashvara crawled into it anyway, down a ramp. He found himself in complete darkness. With some relief, he felt that Atasiag was following him. The Titiaka closed the door before turning on the thieves’ lantern and dimly illuminating the tunnel. It was narrow, but after a few steps the ceiling rose, allowing them to stand. They came to a crossroads, and Dashvara stopped, questioning.

“This way,” Atasiag whispered.

He walked past, picking out a narrowing tunnel, and ducked again. Dashvara crawled behind him, increasingly puzzled. Where the hell was this snake leading him?

After a long time, he began to hear a steady noise that made him frown. They came to some old wooden stairs going up. They were covered with dust. Once they reached the top, they found themselves facing a small door. Atasiag ran a hand over the lock and seemed to concentrate before pushing it open.

What he discovered left Dashvara even more disconcerted. They were outside again, in… a cave? That loud rumor was the ocean, he realized. Atasiag closed the door behind them, intensified the light of his lantern and said with a broad smile:

“This is the Cave of Black Song. We are on the Bones Cliffs.”

A solemn echo sounded in the cave. Dashvara silently cleared his throat.

“And?” he asked.

“This cave has saved my life more than once,” Atasiag admitted. He motioned for Dashvara to follow him. “Just be careful. There are rock jellyfish that live around here. If you step on them, you’ll slip. They’ll also grab your feet.”

“Fantastic,” Dashvara replied while following him with great care. “Tell me, Eminence, you didn’t bring me here simply to see a damned cave with jellyfish, did you?”

“What if I did?” He turned and smiled when he saw Dashvara’s grim face. “Actually, I brought you here to give you something that will interest you.”

Dashvara snorted. As they walked between stalagmites of rock, he noticed that they were encrusted with many small stones that gave off a soft light. He found himself staring at them, fascinated.

“Does Yira know this place?” he asked.

Atasiag shook his head.

“No. I used to use this cave more. It’s been a good five years since I’ve been in here. I hope nothing has changed.” He took a few steps and leaned over a broken stalagmite. To Dashvara’s astonishment, he inserted his hand into a hole in the center and pulled out an object. A bottle. Dashvara laughed.

“Tonight you keep surprising me, Eminence. First, your Cilian fit, then your blunder, and now the bottle… Frankly, you amaze me.”

“Take it and stop talking.”

Dashvara took it. The glass was icy cold. He also accepted the lantern and shone it on Atasiag as the federate continued to work, searching the hole in the stalagmite. He took out a small box and put it in his pocket. Then he walked away to another stalagmite and bent down near a cavity in the wall to pick up something that looked like it was made of wood.

“Help me get this out, Philosopher,” he panted.

Dashvara put the bottle and lantern on the floor and struggled with him, growing more and more curious. They made a terrible racket throughout the cave. When they finally removed the chest, he hissed through his teeth.

“Don’t tell me you put this here by yourself?”

“Lisag helped me. My youngest son,” he explained.

Dashvara studied his face in amazement as Atasiag ran a hand over his sweaty forehead. He hesitated before observing:

“You never talk about your sons.”

Atasiag looked up abruptly, and Dashvara flushed as he realized that he was intruding on what was none of his business. He pointed to the trunk and was about to ask if it contained any dead beech-shells when suddenly the light from the lantern went out. Atasiag hissed.

“Where the hell did you leave the lantern?”

“On the floor. It’s gotta be over there…”

“A thieves’ lantern never goes out so fast by itself. Did you sit on it?”

“No,” Dashvara muttered. “Damn it, I can’t find it.” He tensed. “I hear noises.”

In fact, there was some strange banging and whistling going on nearby. Atasiag grunted.

“These are not jellyfish.”

Dashvara heard him rise, and his eyes widened in the darkness. The light from the small stones did not shine brightly enough to see anything beyond the stalagmites themselves.

“Hey, Eminence, be careful,” he croaked. “You might hit yourself…” He heard a diffuse but high-pitched sound that didn’t sound good to him. “What was that?”

He stood up slowly, raising his hands to avoid hitting the rock of the wall. Then he drew a sword. He heard Atasiag’s hurried steps. How the hell was he running in this darkness?

“Philosopher. Help me carry the trunk. We’re leaving.”

“What is it?” Dashvara inquired as he sheathed the sword.

“Kraokdals. Something must have driven them up to the lower tunnels. Normally they live in the Underground. They must have moved in recently. By the Serenity, get moving. You wouldn’t want to run into them, believe me.”

“What about the lantern?”

“A rock jellyfish had taken it. Those damn thieves,” he muttered and huffed under his breath as they lifted the chest.

“If you have… the… lantern,” Dashvara gasped, “why don’t you turn it on?”

There was a silence, then Atasiag said:

“Very true. Anyway, the kraokdals are blind, so I don’t think it’ll attract them. I’ll put the trunk down for a moment.”

They put the chest down again, and soon the light of the lantern shone back into the cave. In a second Dashvara saw three details: first, that Atasiag had turned back into a demon; second, that several deformed masses of brilliant green were gliding across the rocky floor; and, finally, that a large greenish semi-bipedal creature had just appeared from a tunnel some twenty paces away. The growl it emitted did not frighten him as much as its enormous claws and fangs.

The next moment Dashvara had the swords in his hands.

“Forget the trunk, Eminence!” he growled. “Let’s get out of here.”

Atasiag shook his head.

“Then let’s put it back in the hole. The jellyfish would be able to steal what’s inside.”

For an instant, Dashvara stared at him, his eyes open wide. Suddenly, the kraokdal struck the rock and rushed towards them. They were blind, he said. My foot they are! Dashvara abruptly moved away from the wall. When he saw Atasiag hesitate, he shouted:

“Back off, you damn fool!”

Without further thought, he returned to Atasiag’s side and dashed past him towards the beast. He narrowly avoided a clawed blow thanks to a small stalagmite: the rock emitted a clatter when it burst into a thousand pieces. It was only a matter of time before the cave collapsed on them. He was about to receive another attack from the beast when, to his astonishment, the kraokdal stopped and turned its head towards Atasiag. It had no eyes: only a huge mouth with teeth and hair. And such claws! Dashvara took advantage of its hesitation and, without further ado, plunged the swords into the monster’s throat. He avoided another clawed blow and backed away hastily as the kraokdal screamed while choking and trying to attack him. After a strangled bellow, the beast collapsed. The rock jellyfish moved aside at once to avoid being crushed. From the tunnel where the creature had emerged, new growls were heard.

“Hey, Eminence!” Dashvara shouted, “this time we’re getting out of here for good.”

Atasiag’s red eyes looked into his.

“We’ve got time. Let’s get the chest out of here.”

Dashvara hissed, annoyed, and was about to protest, but Atasiag insisted:

“Come on, hurry up!”

Dashvara mentally cursed him, but he obeyed: he sheathed the swords, took one end of the chest, and the two of them began to stagger forward into the cave. The growling was getting louder, and Dashvara feared that they would find themselves surrounded by these creatures at any moment. If so, he got the feeling their chances of getting out of there would be slim. This madman was frankly stubborn with his crate…

They reached the door and set the chest down. Atasiag pressed his hands against the wooden door, and Dashvara guessed he was doing a magic trick. Couldn’t he have just left it open? he thought. Suddenly, the kraokdals began to scream. They must have heard their companion’s cries of pain.

“Quickly,” Atasiag said, pulling the door open at last.

“It’s no use,” Dashvara stammered as he lifted the chest again. The kraokdals were already almost upon them, and with his back to them to carry the damned chest, he wasn’t even going to be able to look death in the face…

“Down!” Atasiag roared suddenly.

Dashvara dropped the chest and rolled on the rock floor. A large stone crashed against the open door. Now they were throwing projectiles at them? That was all they needed! He tried to pull out his swords, when a cursed jellyfish grabbed his chest and another one his leg. He could not get rid of it, so he got up, and when he saw a kraokdal coming at him, he said goodbye to life. By a happy coincidence, the beast slipped on a mass of jellyfish and spread out in front of Dashvara. Dashvara finished drawing one of the swords and struck a deadly blow to its head before dashing for the door. He reached Atasiag just as another creature appeared between the shadows of two stalagmites, running towards them. He didn’t believe it when he saw the Titiaka, on his knees, on the threshold, struggling to pull the chest out of the cave.

He’s completely crazy…

Several jellyfish were climbing up his legs, but he ignored them and left his swords on the landing before grabbing the handle to join Atasiag’s effort. He pulled with all his might.

And then the trunk moved at last: it tipped over and fell down the stairs with a hellish noise. The lantern went out, but anyway, Dashvara hurriedly closed the door on the kraokdal. There was a loud bang on the other side of the door. The kraokdal was going to shoot him, he lamented.

“Oh, Liadirlá,” he growled. He picked up his swords in the dark, “Eminence, turn the lantern back on, will you?” He frowned and turned his head slightly. “Eminence?”

Then he understood that His Eminence had fallen down the stairs with the chest.