THE TOMB ROBBER’S TALE, by Sean P. Robson:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The funeral procession wound like a wailing snake through Mourner\u2019s Row, out the Death Gate, and around the sepulchral neighborhoods of the necropolis to the grand mausoleum of House Torenescu.\u00a0 As the priests\u2014one each to represent the gods Thanatos, Mithra, and Heka\u2014began the rites of lamentation, two mourners detached themselves from the snake\u2019s tail and slithered out of sight behind neighboring tombs.<\/p>\n
Tariq pulled off his robe of bereavement and tossed it aside, unslung the satchel of tools that was hidden beneath, then pulled out a flask and took a long swallow before handing it to his nephew.\u00a0 \u201cWe\u2019ve got a long wait ahead of us, lad.\u201d\u00a0 He sat down on his discarded robe, leaned back against the tomb wall and stretched his legs out.\u00a0 \u201cMight as well get comfortable, eh?\u201d<\/p>\n
Faysal raised the flask to his lips, eyes bright with excitement, and took a long swallow.\u00a0 This was his first foray into the necropolis and he was eager to begin his apprenticeship in earnest.\u00a0 He surveyed the avenues of tombs, which sprawled over the hills and through the mist-shrouded valleys, punctuated by towering moss-covered cenotaphs.<\/p>\n
\u201cQuite a view, isn\u2019t it,\u201d said Tariq.\u00a0 \u201cNearly as big as Catapesh, itself, but with a hundred times more residents.\u00a0 You want to keep your head about you in here; it\u2019s easy to get turned around.\u00a0 You get lost, either the barrow wardens will get you or a gastlich will.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s a gast lick?\u201d\u00a0 Faysal asked.\u00a0 He sneered, but his bravado was betrayed by the tremor in his voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s gastlich<\/i>, you ignorant little trouser-stain; a spirit of the dead.\u00a0 Six-toed Tirsh reckoned he saw one once.\u00a0 Got himself all turned around after a job and saw something rise up right out of the mist, all pale and gaunt and grasping.\u00a0 He ran shrieking and gibbering straight to the wardens with his swag-sack still in hand, the silly bugger.\u00a0 They sent him up for grave-robbing and he was glad to go, even though they hanged him in the end.\u00a0 Anyway, they say this here\u2019s their<\/i> city we\u2019re intruding in, and anyone not under the protection of the priests, like that lot,\u201d he gestured in the direction of the funeral party, \u201cis fair prey for the gastlichs.\u201d<\/p>\n
Faysal looked around nervously and then took another long swallow from the flask.\u00a0 \u201cHere now!\u201d said Tariq, grabbing it away from him, \u201cThat\u2019s got to last us all afternoon, you greedy little nose rag.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you ever seen one?\u00a0 A gastlich, I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot even a wisp,\u201d said Tariq with a twinkle in his eye, \u201cand I\u2019ve been cracking tombs for going on ten years.\u201d<\/p>\n
When the day began to wither with age and tenebrous shadows reached from the tombs like cold, beckoning fingers, Tariq peeked around the corner of the shelter and checked that the mourners were all gone and the neighborhood was deserted. \u00a0He pocketed the nearly empty flask, shouldered his satchel then rolled up the robe and stuffed it down the front of his shirt.\u00a0 \u201cWe\u2019d best be about our business.\u201d<\/p>\n
Faysal hurried after Tariq and tried to imitate the sense of purpose in his uncle\u2019s stride as they wove their way along the avenues lined with the houses of the dead.\u00a0 Every now and again, Tariq would pause and examine a brass plaque above an entrance, and then quickly move on.\u00a0 He was obviously looking for a specific tomb.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe should just hit that Toronescu place,\u201d said Faysal.\u00a0 \u201cEveryone\u2019s gone now.\u00a0 Rich family like them\u2019s bound to have left a fortune in grave-goods.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tariq shot a scornful glance over his shoulder.\u00a0 \u201cRich family like them\u2019s also bound to have the barrow wardens keeping a close eye on the place, is bound to have trapped the tomb to do for the likes of us, and is bound to find out if anyone tries fencing their family jewels so soon after the funeral.\u00a0 You some kind of idiot?\u00a0 This is no business for idiots.\u00a0 They hang idiots.\u201d<\/p>\n
Faysal\u2019s face reddened.\u00a0 \u201cIt was just a suggestion,\u201d he muttered.\u00a0 \u201cI was only trying to help.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou reckon I brought you along for advice?\u00a0 You\u2019re here to learn the trade, not teach it so keep your mouth shut and your eyes open; this is serious business not an evening stroll along the fucking quay.\u201d<\/p>\n
Faysal muttered something under his breath that Tariq didn\u2019t catch, but he let it pass.\u00a0 He\u2019d never much cared for Faysal, but he had loved the boy\u2019s mother dearly.\u00a0 Tariq had been only ten years old when their parents died; Farah, just three years older than he, supported them both by selling herself on street corners to anyone with a few coins or some food to trade.\u00a0 By the time Tariq was old enough to make his own way Farah was worn-out and vacant-eyed.\u00a0 When Faysal came along, the by-blow of some back-alley paramour, she supported him the same way she had Tariq, and when she died of the pox Tariq swore to look after her boy, half-wit bastard or no.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou see that mark scratched on the tomb over yonder?\u201d said Tariq in a gentler tone.\u00a0 \u201cLooks like a pair of horns?\u00a0 That means the tomb\u2019s cleaned out. \u00a0It\u2019s professional courtesy to make the mark after you\u2019ve done a job and let others know not to waste their time.\u201d<\/p>\n
They wound their way deeper into the necropolis, and Faysal gaped at statues of strange alien gods, abandoned and long forgotten.\u00a0 \u201cWhat\u2019s that,\u201d he asked, pointing at the likeness in granite of a three-eyed, elephant-headed man.<\/p>\n
Tariq shrugged.\u00a0 Catapesh had been conquered more times over the centuries than he could count: ten, at least; probably more.\u00a0 Each invasion washed over the city like a surging tide and then receded, leaving murky puddles of culture in its wake.\u00a0 Bloodlines had become so mingled that it was no longer possible to tell who came from where.\u00a0 Even the noble houses had become so polluted that only their names hinted at their origin.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t know,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cMaybe nobody does anymore.\u00a0 Everyone who ever conquered the city brought their gods with them.\u00a0 Some stuck, but most of them fell by the wayside, like this fellow here.\u00a0 Don\u2019t reckon a god that\u2019s so easily tossed aside is much of a god.\u00a0 Course, the priests say our gods are the true ones, but I reckon someday, some tomb-cracker will look at a statue of Heka and ask the same question you did.\u00a0 What do you think?\u201d<\/p>\n
Faysal shrugged and scratched the scraggly hairs on his chin.\u00a0 He turned to the elephant-headed effigy and asked it to watch over them in their endeavors.<\/p>\n
\u201cHere, now!\u201d said Tariq.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t go praying to strange gods; they might be long dead, but then again they might only be sleeping.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought we ought to show respect to the elephant god if this is its ground, and to call upon its blessing; my mother said to always take your blessings where you could,\u201d said Faysal.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother died raving mad of syphilis; you might not want take her every word to heart.\u00a0 Best not risk waking things better left aslumber; not here in the necropolis.\u00a0 Save your prayers for your own gods and let the forgotten ones lie.\u201d<\/p>\n
Twilight was encroaching upon the city of the dead when Tariq finally led them to his goal: a long-neglected tomb concealed by overgrown brambles in a mist-shrouded gully.\u00a0 Its weathered granite walls were encrusted with lichen and overgrown with moss.\u00a0 A heavy bronze door stained with verdigris hung ajar on twisted hinges and was held fast by rusted iron chains.\u00a0 The plaque above the door bore the sigil of the noble house of Younes, whose last scion was laid to rest decades ago after the Overlord\u2019s conquest of Catapesh, leaving none to maintain the vault or to safeguard its contents.<\/p>\n
\u201cPick your targets carefully, lad.\u00a0 This is a big place and there\u2019s plenty of choice to be had.\u00a0 The charnel pits near the gates ain’t worth\u00a0the effort; that’s where they toss the convicts, slaves, and the indigent\u2014anyone too poor to pay the priests for a proper interment\u2014with neither grave-goods to bribe their way into Thanatos\u2019s realm, nor prayers to guide them there.\u00a0 Fresh-laid nobles are tempting, but risky.\u00a0 No, it’s best to go deep\u2014into the older avenues of the necropolis; there\u2019s hundreds, probably thousands of years worth of noblemen resting in these grounds, from lines gone extinct with no one left who\u2019ll recognize family heirlooms turning up in the bazaar.\u00a0 These are the ones to go for if you don\u2019t want to wind up doing a noose-dance in the plaza like old Tirsh.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tariq unrolled an oilcloth satchel containing a dozen curiously shaped iron picks, of which he broke three while attempting to open the weathered padlock.\u00a0 \u201cBloody rust,\u201d he muttered, half to himself.\u00a0 \u201cSomeone should keep these tombs in better repair.\u00a0 No respect.\u00a0 No respect at all.\u201d<\/p>\n
The lock finally yielded to his deft touch and sprang open with a loud click.\u00a0 \u201cAha!\u201d Tariq exclaimed in triumph.\u00a0 He removed the chains and pulled open the door, which squealed in protest.\u00a0 \u201cNow open wide, my darling, and surrender your treasure to us.\u201d\u00a0 He turned to Faysal and winked: \u201cTombs, like women, demand a soft touch; if you\u2019re clumsy and impatient you\u2019ll never get in.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tariq lit a torch and handed it to Faysal, then led him down a short flight of stone steps into the cellar-like crypt.\u00a0 The stale air was thick with the sickly-sweet stench of spice and decay. \u00a0Faysal gagged, then clapped a hand over his mouth and bolted back up the stairs; he returned shortly, pale and with a handkerchief covering his nose and mouth.<\/p>\n
Tariq rolled his eyes and made an exaggerated bow.\u00a0 \u201cDid you forget your pomander, your Grace?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt stinks,\u201d said Faysal.\u00a0 Tariq laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is nothing, lad.\u00a0 The youngest of these corpses was laid decades ago and the embalming spices mask the worst of the stink.\u00a0 Wait till you smell a corpse-fart: when a belly, swollen with gasses of putrescence, bursts in your face.\u00a0 Happened to me once, and splattered me with rotting foulness I don\u2019t even want to think about.\u201d<\/p>\n
Faysal paled even more.\u00a0 \u201cHow do you stand it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBy keeping my mind on the job and thinking about how I\u2019ll spend the swag.\u00a0 Speaking of which,\u201d Tariq gestured with a sweep of his hand to the burial alcoves that lined the walls.<\/p>\n
They lit a few more torches and placed them in wall sconces and then set to their work, liberating the noble house of Younes of its assorted charnel goods.\u00a0 From the occupant of each coffin, whose name was engraved upon a brass plaque, they took their bounty: from Lord Omar\u2019s withered finger, a gold signet ring; from Lady Danira\u2019s shroud, a silver brooch; from young master Kaelan\u2019s stiff-clutched grasp, an intricately carved ivory soldier; from mistress Sibilia\u2019s withered brow a gilded coronet.\u00a0 Then, from between the legs of Lady Shahira, Tariq plucked a jade phallus with silver filigree and emeralds set around its base.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow we know where they kept the family jewels,\u201d he said with a wink, thrusting the phallus back and forth between a circle formed by his thumb and forefinger.\u00a0 Faysal blushed.<\/p>\n
\u201cNever had a woman before?\u201d Tariq said.\u00a0 Faysal shook his head, his face reddening even further.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, we\u2019ll have to remedy that.\u00a0 With a bath and some new clothes they might even let us into Orchid\u2019s Blossoms, and with what we get from this haul we could even afford it.\u00a0 Orchid\u2019s prices are dear, but so are her girls.\u00a0 She buys them from all over the world: dusky-skinned beauties from the Jungles of Zahar, sultry and well-versed in the arts of love; alabaster-skinned wenches from the northern marches who know every way ever devised to keep a man warm at night; tribeswomen from the Kurgani Steppes, as wild and passionate as the four winds.\u00a0 What do you say lad, how\u2019d you like to be savaged by a she-panther?\u00a0 It\u2019s like I said, keep your mind on the job and what awaits you at the end of it, and pay no heed to the unsavory aspects of the work.\u201d<\/p>\n
Faysal returned to his work with renewed alacrity, jasmine-scented slave-girls dancing in his mind.\u00a0 He ventured deeper into the crypt and espied the family altar, laden with canopic jars and a golden effigy of Thanatos as its centerpiece.\u00a0 Entranced by the golden idol, Faysal reached out his hand to take it.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t touch that!\u201d\u00a0 Tariq yelled; such obvious treasures were often trapped.\u00a0 Too late: Faysal had already picked it up.\u00a0 A sound of stone grinding against stone was the only warning Tariq had.\u00a0 He hurled himself across the crypt and into Faysal, knocking him arse over tit.\u00a0 Faysal\u2019s furious protest was cut short as a massive stone block fell from the ceiling and landed where he had been standing half a second earlier.<\/p>\n
Tariq threw himself to the ground and covered his head against debris raining down from the ceiling.\u00a0 When it finally stopped, he looked around, coughing in the cloud of dust, and saw that the block had crashed through the floor of the crypt leaving a ragged hole like a gaping maw.\u00a0 He crawled to its edge and peered over the side; cold stale air wafted up from the darkness.<\/p>\n
Tariq took one of the torches from the wall, tossed it into the pit and reached a slow count of two before it hit the ground below; a large chamber was briefly illuminated before the torch extinguished on impact.<\/p>\n
\u201cSixty feet, more or less,\u201d said Tariq.\u00a0 He looked at Faysal who was climbing to his feet, still shaken by his brush with death, and continued: \u201cFor as long as I\u2019ve worked the necropolis I\u2019ve heard tales of the ruins of Golgotha\u2014the place of suffering\u2014buried deep beneath; older, much older, than even Catapesh and said to contain a trove of Atlantean wealth.\u00a0 I\u2019ve never paid the stories any heed\u2014old tomb-robber legends were what I took them for.\u00a0 But now\u2026\u201d \u00a0He broke off and licked his lips.<\/p>\n
\u201cAn Atlantean city?\u201d whispered Faysal, his eyes wide.\u00a0 \u201cI heard that Atlanteans were sorcerers, dark and terrible; that they bound the spirits of the dead and even demons to their will.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAye, they were terrible, and at the height of their power they ruled the world; all nations paid tribute to them\u2014incalculable wealth, and when they were driven from our shores they left it all behind.\u201d\u00a0 Tariq ran his fingers though his hair.\u00a0 \u201cThere is a time for caution,\u201d he glanced again at the pit in the floor, \u201cand there is a time for boldness.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s just go now,\u201d whispered Faysal.\u00a0 \u201cLet\u2019s take what we have and visit Orchid\u2019s Blossoms, like you said.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cForget Orchid\u2019s,\u201d said Tariq.\u00a0 \u201cIf what lies below is, indeed, the storied Atlantean ruins we\u2019ll score enough swag for you to buy your own harem.\u00a0 We\u2019ll, neither of us, need to work ever again; we\u2019ll spend the rest of our days at ease, sipping fine wine and eating fresh dates from the hands of naked slave girls.\u201d<\/p>\n
Faysal hesitated a moment, savoring the vision, then nodded and joined his uncle at the edge of the pit.\u00a0 They tied together their two coils of fine silk rope then secured one end around the Younes family altar, and the other around a burning torch, which they lowered carefully to the ground far below.\u00a0 Then, Tariq leading, they descended the rope, hand over hand into the ruins of a dead city that lay beneath the city of the dead.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
Tariq retrieved the burning torch that was tied to the rope and used it to relight the one he had earlier dropped, and then handed one to Faysal.\u00a0 The dim torchlight barely illuminated the full expanse of a huge karst cavern shaped by uncanny artifice into a large courtyard.\u00a0 The perimeter of the courtyard was surrounded by a series of seven-foot-tall alabaster statues depicting a human-like race with broad high foreheads, long pendulous ear lobes, and slack flaccid lips that drooped from their wide mouths.<\/p>\n
Faysal gaped at the statues, inadvertently mimicking their vacant expressions.\u00a0 \u201cAre these Atlanteans?\u201d he whispered.\u00a0 Tariq shrugged.\u00a0 He\u2019d never seen one.\u00a0 The sinister black barges of Atlantis would sometimes make berth in the harbor of Catapesh, but all commerce was conducted by their human slaves; Atlanteans, if any were aboard, never came ashore. \u00a0So far as he knew, none had set foot on Lemurian soil since mankind rose up against them centuries ago and threw off the yoke of servitude.<\/p>\n
From the courtyard, numerous passageways extended like spokes from a hub into the depths of Golgotha.\u00a0 Tariq chose one at random and they proceeded slowly, exploring its avenues and branches, searching for some chamber\u2014a temple, perhaps\u2014in which treasures of the ancient race might repose.\u00a0 The pair marveled at the ancient architecture, for the buildings that lined the subterranean avenues were not merely built from shaped rock, they were carved into the limestone, blending seamlessly into the walls.\u00a0 The skill and effort required to build such a city was beyond Tariq’s imagining.<\/p>\n
In a dining hall they found a long table set for banquet.\u00a0 Silver cutlery, golden goblets and crystal decanters lay lonely and abandoned, awaiting a dinner millennia overdue.\u00a0 The stone walls of the hall were adorned only by empty gilt frames; the paintings they contained had long since crumbled to dust.\u00a0 Faysal rushed eagerly to the table and began sweeping cutlery into his bag.<\/p>\n
\u201cEase up, lad,\u201d said Tariq.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t overload your bag with tableware; remember, we can only carry so much, and I\u2019ve a feeling there are more valuable troves than this to be found.\u201d<\/p>\n
As they penetrated deeper into Golgotha, Faysal became increasingly nervous, jumping at shadows and at the echoes of every dislodged stone that tumbled from ruined walls and ceilings.\u00a0 The boy was high-strung and foolish and, Tariq suspected, unsuited to a career in tomb-robbing, but even he, himself, was feeling ill at ease.\u00a0 Tariq was as comfortable in abandoned crypts and sepulchers as he was sitting by the fire drinking cold ale at The Slippery Vixen.\u00a0 He was not prone to flights of fancy or excesses of imagination, but he thought he caught glimpses of movement in the shadows, and heard sibilant whispers in the tomb-dark alleyways and buildings.\u00a0 He knew they must be his imagination, or else stirrings of the long stagnant air from some opening to the surface.\u00a0 Nonetheless, he had the distinct feeling that they were being watched; and followed.<\/p>\n
They entered a vast, colonnaded plaza fronting a jade ziggurat with a gold-domed chamber at its apex.\u00a0 It towered high above all the other buildings and monuments in the city, dominating them with its eminence and grandeur.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is it, lad,\u201d said Tariq.\u00a0 \u201cI can feel it in my gut; here\u2019s where we make our score!\u201d\u00a0 They paused a moment to gaze in awe at the structure looming over them.\u00a0 Unlike the ruins crumbling in the rest of the city, the ziggurat was undiminished by the ages; its cyclopean blocks of jade were unworn and untouched by moss and lichen and it stood sovereign as it had for time immemorial, its magnificence uncontested.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is this place,\u201d asked Faysal, softly.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t know.\u00a0 Looks like a temple, or maybe a throne room.\u00a0 Just look at it though; if there\u2019s swag to be had anywhere in these ruins, it\u2019ll be in there.\u00a0 Mark my words.\u201d<\/p>\n
A long flight of steep steps ushered them to the gilded chamber at the ziggurat\u2019s apex.\u00a0 Tariq paused, hands on knees, to catch his breath while Faysal fingered the golden filigree that ornamented the chamber\u2019s arched doorway.<\/p>\n
\u201cAfter you,\u201d he panted, gesturing for the boy to proceed.\u00a0 Faysal hesitated and scrutinized the entrance.\u00a0 “Shouldn’t we, you know, look for traps like you said before?” he said.<\/p>\n
“I think we’ll be fine; tombs draw thieves like flies to a dung heap so they’re bound to be trapped.\u00a0 Wouldn’t make sense to lay traps in a place like this, whether a temple or a throne room\u2014too many people coming and going.\u00a0 More likely they would’ve had guards to discourage anyone with light fingers back when the city still lived.\u00a0 But it’s good to know you were paying attention for once.”\u00a0 Tariq smiled and clapped his nephew on the back.<\/p>\n
They entered and were confronted by a riot of decadent opulence: jade walls carved in bas-relief depicting human figures engaged in activities sadistic and perverse, their faces contorted in agony and ecstasy, were adorned with golden censers and silver-chased sconces, and decorated with murals inlaid with lapis lazuli and ivory.\u00a0 Gem-encrusted golden candelabrums lay scattered on the floor, and nude statuettes carved from ebony and ivory were entwined in contorted positions of coital embrace.\u00a0 At the center of the chamber loomed an idol of jet and bronze: a four-armed, pot-bellied monstrosity squatting naked before an enormous bronze brazier.\u00a0 Its lower two arms gripped the edges of the brazier; its upper two held a massive, barb-edged sword above its head.\u00a0 Its demoniacal, leering face sported a wide toothy maw and two enormous rubies for eyes\u2014each nearly as big in diameter as a man\u2019s head.\u00a0 It was this last feature that drew Tariq\u2019s particular attention.<\/p>\n
As Faysal hastily emptied his bag of assorted cutlery and began refilling it with the treasures from around the room, Tariq climbed the idol, perched on its head and pried out its eyes with a chisel he withdrew from his tool bag.\u00a0 After wrapping the gems carefully in sack-cloth and stowing them safely down the front of his vest he climbed down and beamed at Faysal.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did I tell you, lad?\u00a0 We\u2019re set for life, you and me.\u00a0 Sometimes the reward is worth the risk.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCan we go now, Tariq?\u00a0 Please?\u00a0 I don\u2019t like this place\u2014I feel like it\u2019s watching us.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s just nerves, boy,\u201d said Tariq, chuckling at his own earlier apprehension.\u00a0 \u201cNothing ever lived here that is now aught but dust with nary even a memory to give it life.\u00a0 But, yes, it\u2019s time to go home.\u00a0 Let\u2019s get you a woman.\u00a0 Hells, let\u2019s get you a dozen!\u201d<\/p>\n
They started back down the ziggurat steps, hauling their heavy treasure-laden sacks behind them.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow are we going to climb back out with these?\u201d said Faysal.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat part\u2019s easy: we tie the sacks together at the end of the rope and haul them up after us.\u00a0 The hard part will be smuggling it all back into Catapesh.\u00a0 We\u2019ll have to cache most of it, then bring it in a little bit at a time.\u00a0 But I\u2019ve got a few stashes hidden around the necropolis where no one will\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Tariq stopped short, put his finger to his lips, and looked around the plaza.\u00a0 The sense of being watched was even stronger now than it had been earlier.\u00a0 He thought he heard whispering in the darkness beyond, first to his left, then to his right.\u00a0 Ahead, he heard the soft clatter of stone: litter falling from the crumbling columns?<\/p>\n
Quietly, step by step, Tariq advanced towards the edge of the plaza, alert for any sound.\u00a0 A shadow shifted at the edge of his vision: a trick of the torch light?\u00a0 The shadow detached from the darkness ahead, then another, then two more from each side.\u00a0 Whatever was out there had them surrounded.<\/p>\n
The dark figures advanced into view, slowly closing the circle around Tariq and Faysal.\u00a0 They were gaunt and long-limbed; their faces, framed by wisps of lank hair, were pallid, with parchment-thin skin stretched taut over their skulls.\u00a0 Their mouths were a rotting ruin of stained, broken teeth, and their milky-white eyes, sunk deep in the sockets, gleamed balefully in the torchlight.\u00a0 They had no noses, just gaping holes in the middle of their faces, and their black, slug-like tongues writhed over thin, withered lips, tasting the air instead.\u00a0 Their dry, sibilant whispering gave way to chuckling that sounded like the crumbling of dead leaves.<\/p>\n
When they reached out towards the pair with emaciated long-nailed hands, Faysal\u2019s paralysis gave way to a paroxysm of fear.\u00a0 \u201cGastlichs!\u201d he cried, then dropped his sack and bolted, bursting through the ring of creatures.\u00a0 He fled screaming into the dark\u2014directly away from their path of exit.<\/p>\n
Idiot!<\/i>\u00a0 But the gastlichs\u2014as Tariq guessed they must certainly be\u2014were surprised by Faysal\u2019s sudden flight and lunged belatedly after him, opening a gap through which Tariq could escape and flee back the way they had come.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m sorry, Farah<\/i>.\u00a0 Tariq made for the gap in the circle, then stopped, cursed silently, and turned back toward the creatures massing behind him.\u00a0 He swung his loot bag and hurled it into the chest of the nearest gastlich, knocking the gaunt creature off its feet; Tariq leapt over the prone figure, batting aside the grasping hands that clutched at his tunic, and sprinted after his nephew.<\/p>\n
The gastlichs were close on his heels; their crumple-rasp laughter crawled down his spine and sent icy tendrils of fear trickling from his gut down into his legs, sapping their strength.\u00a0 He closed tight his mind\u2019s eye, which saw only ragged talons clutching at his shirt tails.\u00a0 He focused instead on Faysal\u2019s torch, which bobbed, jigged, and weaved in the darkness ahead and, in a feat borne of desperate terror he pulled ahead of the shadows skittering at his flanks and left them behind.<\/p>\n
Faysal\u2019s bobbing torch suddenly winked out.\u00a0 Tariq strained to catch any glimpse of movement in the darkness ahead.\u00a0 Unbidden, his mind\u2019s eye sprang open again: this time it saw Faysal, ambushed and dragged to the ground then torn open by grasping, dirty, sharp-nailed hands, writhing in agony amidst his spilled entrails.\u00a0 Next, it showed a gastlich leaping onto Faysal\u2019s back and ripping out his throat with its jagged, broken teeth as the boy silently screamed out his last breath.\u00a0 These, and similar grisly vignettes, played out in Tariq\u2019s mind in a matter of seconds, overwhelming the more rational but less compelling explanation that the boy\u2019s panicked flight merely took him out of Tariq\u2019s line of sight.<\/p>\n
Tariq\u2019s lungs burned, and his legs were becoming leaden, and although he had left the gastlichs behind he could still hear them following.\u00a0 Soon his pace would flag and fatigue would cause him to stumble, and they\u2019d be on him in seconds.\u00a0 This was a race he could not win.\u00a0 Worse, his torch was beginning to gutter, its flame dying.\u00a0 He thought he might be able to face his end bravely as long as he had light for company, but the prospect of stumbling around lost in the dark, awaiting the grasp of unseen dead-cold hands, nearly unmanned him.<\/p>\n
The ruins ahead were more dilapidated than elsewhere, as if he was entering a neighborhood that was long neglected even while Golgotha still lived.\u00a0 Crumbling remains of walls jutted up from the ground like jagged teeth and the ground was littered with debris.\u00a0 The rocky ceiling hung low, and long dangling roots brushed Tariq\u2019s head as he ran.\u00a0 Tariq stumbled over a stone block and fell, and as he scrambled to his feet he saw Faysal, cowering in a corner, his torch extinguished.\u00a0 Tariq ran to him, grabbed the boy by his collar and hauled him to his feet.<\/p>\n
\u201cRun, you fool,\u2019 he rasped.\u00a0 \u201cThey\u2019re right behind us.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tariq ran, half dragging Faysal sobbing, gibbering, and stumbling behind him towards a narrow gap in a nearby rock fall.\u00a0 He pushed Faysal through the crevice and into an unworked cave beyond then crawled through, himself.\u00a0 It was a tight squeeze; they\u2019d be able to hold off the gastlichs here unless there were other ways in.\u00a0 There\u2019d be time enough to worry about that later, though; in the meantime Tariq crouched at the entrance and watched.\u00a0 In the dim light of his dying torch, he saw the pursuing gastlichs slow and then halt, almost warily, in front of the shelter.\u00a0 They tasted the air with their blackened tongues and then melted back into the shadows.<\/p>\n
Damned odd,<\/i> Tariq thought, why give up now?\u00a0 Unless…<\/i><\/p>\n
\u201cFaysal!\u00a0 Scout around, look for any other ways in.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFaysal!\u201d\u00a0 Dammit, where was that idiot boy?<\/i>\u00a0 Tariq was torn with indecision; he didn\u2019t want to leave the crevice unguarded, but if there was one way in there might be more, and the bloody things could be sneaking in to flank them.\u00a0 He peered through the crevice again; still no sign of the gastlichs.\u00a0 Tariq sighed, took one last lingering look through the crevice then went in search of Faysal.<\/p>\n
He clambered over fallen debris and through a narrow passage that opened into an even larger cavern.\u00a0 Its niter-encrusted walls and the stalagmites that grew up from the floor scintillated from the faint bioluminescence given off by a fungal efflorescence that carpeted the cavern floor, casting the chamber in an eerie glow.<\/p>\n
\u201cMithra’s blessed bosom,\u201d said Tariq, blinking hard and trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light.\u00a0 For as far as he could see, fungi of every shape, size, and color sprouted from the ground like some unwholesome subterranean forest overgrown with tendrils and hyphae and gigantic mushrooms with pale white stalks as thick as tree trunks.<\/p>\n
Tariq stepped into the cavern and grimaced at the sickening squelch of molds and slimes bursting under his feet as he picked his way between massive stalks of hyphae that sprouted like rushes in a marsh.\u00a0 They swayed toward him as he passed, as if aware that the juice of life was near at hand, and Tariq used his now-dead torch to push them aside so that he wouldn\u2019t have to touch them with his hands.\u00a0 He also took care to avoid the crops of huge mushrooms with their lurid red and purple caps, and the abundant clusters of puff-balls that were pregnant with spores and waiting to burst.\u00a0 In the midst of this putrescent bloom was an ancient stone altar, moldy and crumbling.\u00a0 Faysal knelt before it, beseeching its unnamed god for salvation, while a nearby brain fungus twice the height of a grown man pulsed and coruscated red and pink and blue.\u00a0 Filamentous tendrils extended from the enormous rugose mass and entwined about Faysal like a jealous lover.<\/p>\n
\u201cFaysal, no!\u201d\u00a0 Tariq dashed forward, slipping and sliding across the slimy floor, heedless of the risk.\u00a0 He grabbed Faysal by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet and away from the altar.\u00a0 There was slight resistance and a soft sucking noise as the fungal filaments parted reluctantly from the boy\u2019s flesh.\u00a0 Tariq spun Faysal around and shook him roughly.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat were you thinking, boy?\u00a0 Gods only know what those Thanatos-damned tendrils would have done to you let alone what you might have awakened with your prayers.\u00a0 What did I tell you about letting sleeping gods lie?\u201d<\/p>\n
Faysal smiled beatifically.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t worry,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cSapros will watch over us.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tariq paled slightly.\u00a0 \u201cFaysal,\u201d he said, in slow, measured tones, \u201cwho is Sapros?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ll soon find out,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cEveryone will soon find out.\u201d\u00a0 He picked his way through the morass of mushrooms that sprouted up from the mold-carpeted floor towards the far wall of the cavern opposite the entrance, stooping every now and then to pluck a swollen puff-ball from its stalk.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t touch those, they could be dangerous,\u201d said Tariq.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe came down here for treasure, didn\u2019t we?\u201d\u00a0 Faysal looked over his shoulder at his uncle and grinned.\u00a0 \u201cWe mustn\u2019t go home empty-handed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTreasure?\u00a0 What are you talking about?\u00a0 What in the seven hells do you want with those things, Faysal?\u201d\u00a0 The boy didn\u2019t reply; he just stood fondling the spore-laden balls with a rapturous expression on his face.\u00a0 Tariq wondered if terror had unhinged the boy completely, sapping away what little sense he\u2019d had to start.<\/p>\n
Near the back of the cavern a huge, fleshy stalk grew out of a mass of pustulose sacs on the floor and up through the crumbling ceiling far above.\u00a0 Without a word of explanation, Faysal began to climb, using the numerous shelf fungi growing along the length of the trunk for hand and foot holds.<\/p>\n
Tariq paused a moment, mouth agape, and watched Faysal ascend the stalk.\u00a0 The fungal growths bent slightly under his weight, but they held.\u00a0 He sighed, then shrugged and followed the boy; at least he was heading in the right direction.\u00a0 He placed his hand upon the stalk and shuddered; it was smooth and soft like a fish\u2019s belly, and it pulsed like some huge pallid artery.\u00a0 He repressed his revulsion and started to climb towards the ceiling high above, cringing each time one of the fungal shelves bent as he put his weight on it.\u00a0 He was high enough now that a fall would surely kill or cripple him, and he didn\u2019t fancy the idea of lying, dying and helpless upon the fungal carpet below, feeding the greedy, grasping tendrils with his life blood.<\/p>\n
Finally, he reached the cavern ceiling and climbed into the darkness above.\u00a0 Though he could see nothing, his nostrils were immediately assailed by an all-too-familiar scent: the stench of decay.<\/p>\n
\u201cFaysal?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m right here,\u201d the boy replied calmly.<\/p>\n
\u201cHold up while I get us some light.\u201d\u00a0 Tariq fished a candle out of his satchel.\u00a0 He always carried some to test the air quality of old tombs, a habit he was doubly glad of now.\u00a0 Lighting the wick in complete darkness was harder than he expected, and the scrape of steel on flint echoed loud in Tariq\u2019s ears, but after a few minutes a spark caught.\u00a0 The small candle was a poor ward against the oppressive darkness, but even the tiniest flame helped to hold panic at bay, and by its light he was able to assess his surroundings.<\/p>\n
Dead bodies, clad not in rich funereal finery, but in tattered rags, were heaped, one atop another, in huge mounds.\u00a0 Tariq knew that he and Faysal must be in a charnel pit, a long trough quarried deep into the ground, located far from the mausoleums of the wealthy.\u00a0 Each day the human detritus from such neighborhoods as Hope\u2019s End was swept up, dumped into the pit, and covered over with rock and soil, creating a long line of partitioned chambers.\u00a0 It was into one such chamber that Tariq and Faysal intruded, but they were not the first to do so; feeder tendrils extended from the main stalk and permeated the corpses.\u00a0 Most of the bodies were now just withered husks, and Tariq saw that the tendrils had penetrated the walls into neighboring chambers, too.\u00a0 The charnel pit, he realized, was a huge feeding trough.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on, lad,\u201d said Tariq.\u00a0 \u201cLet\u2019s try to find a way out.\u201d<\/p>\n
They made their way slowly through the narrow confines between the mounds of desiccated bodies as Tariq searched for an exit to the surface.\u00a0 The flutter of his candle flame alerted Tariq to a wisp of breeze from some nearby opening.\u00a0 Yes, there!\u00a0 Soil had eroded away revealing a small gap between stone blocks; it wasn\u2019t much\u2014only the size of his fist\u2014but if he could shift the rock slightly and widen it they might be able to squeeze through.<\/p>\n
Tariq withdrew a hammer and chisel from his satchel and set to work with single-minded determination.\u00a0 He chipped, and hammered, and pried, and little by little the opening grew until it was nearly wide enough to fit head and shoulders.\u00a0 He looked over his shoulder to share his progress with Faysal and saw pale, milky-eyed revenants crawling amid the corpses towards them.<\/p>\n
\u201cMithra, fuck me,\u201d he whispered.\u00a0 \u201cNot now.\u201d\u00a0 He looked desperately at the opening then turned and flung his hammer at the nearest gastlich.\u00a0 The creature skittered aside, and the hammer vanished into the darkness.\u00a0 Tariq half slid down the pile of bodies he was perched upon, to the floor where Faysal sat, unperturbed.<\/p>\n
\u201cTime to go,\u201d he said.\u00a0 He grabbed the boy by the back of his vest, dragged him to his feet and shoved him up the pile of bodies toward the gap and freedom.\u00a0 The boy\u2019s languid indifference to their peril was confounding and inexplicable.\u00a0 Was he so caught fear\u2019s grasp that he\u2019d completely given up hope or care of escape?<\/p>\n
\u201cMove your body, you fermenting sack of pig piss!\u00a0 I\u2019ll not die in this stinking pit, nor shall you.\u00a0 I promised your mother I\u2019d look after you, and by the gods I mean to do it; now move\u2026your\u2026arse!\u201d\u00a0 With a feat of strength born of desperation and fear, Tariq pushed Faysal all the way up the shifting corpse heap.\u00a0 His exhortation appeared to have jolted Faysal out of his languor, for he began to wriggle through the narrow opening of his own volition.\u00a0 Tariq shoved hard on the boy\u2019s backside, trying to hurry him through.\u00a0 He was absolutely certain that at any moment clawed hands would clutch his leg and pull him back down into the pit to join the nameless corpses in the pile; a juicy morsel to feed that which dwelt below.<\/p>\n
With one final hard push, Faysal was through the opening, and then Tariq frantically squirmed through, heedless of the cuts and scrapes he suffered in his haste to be free.\u00a0 The kiss of the cold night air on his face as he emerged from the stifling, fetid confines of the charnel pit was just about the best thing he had ever felt; better than his first time with a woman; better, even, than a good long piss after a night\u2019s hard drinking.\u00a0 But there was no time to relax and enjoy its cool caress.\u00a0 He scrambled out of the breach and away from it as quickly as possible, fearing the gastlichs that might follow him out.<\/p>\n
Moments passed and there was no pursuit.\u00a0 Why?\u00a0 They\u2019d been keen enough to chase Faysal and himself through the ruins of Golgotha; why not now?\u00a0 It was damned odd, but Tariq reckoned it was better to accept the rare boons that Mithra handed you without putting them to the question.\u00a0 He sighed deeply and felt the tension of the past few hours drain from him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe did it, lad.\u00a0 We\u2019re out, safe and clear.\u201d He put a fatherly hand on Faysal\u2019s shoulder.\u00a0 \u201cCome on, let\u2019s go home.\u201d\u00a0 They moved quickly away from the charnel pit and back into the necropolis proper, aiming for Death Gate.\u00a0 Faysal remained uncharacteristically silent.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know you\u2019re thinking about all the loot we had to leave behind, but we aren\u2019t going home completely empty-handed,\u201d Tariq said with a smile.\u00a0 \u201cThis\u2019ll put some spring back into your step.\u201d\u00a0 He reached into his tunic and withdrew one of the enormous rubies he\u2019d chiseled out of the idol.\u00a0 “This gem alone will set us up for the rest of our days.\u00a0 We should thank Mithra for her blessings\u2014by all rights them gastlichs should’ve had us in the charnel pits.\u00a0 We got lucky, lad.”<\/p>\n
“Luck had nothing to do with it, uncle, nor did Mithra.\u00a0 You said it yourself: those not under the protection of priests are fair prey for the gastlichs<\/i>.”<\/p>\n
Tariq stopped short and stared at Faysal.\u00a0 Suddenly everything started to make sense.\u00a0 “What did you do, Faysal,” he whispered.\u00a0 “What promise did you make before that altar in the cavern?”\u00a0 Faysal’s reply was cut off as four barrow wardens stepped out of the shadow of a nearby tomb and leveled their crossbows at the pair.<\/p>\n
“Look what we’ve got here, lads; it’s either two lovers out for a moonlight stroll in the necropolis or we’ve bagged ourselves a pair of thieves for the Overlord’s dungeon.”\u00a0 Tariq spun around, surprised, and cursed himself for his inattention and for this sudden bad turn of luck.\u00a0 It seemed that what Mithra gave with one hand, she took away with the other.\u00a0 The sergeant stepped forward and plucked the ruby from Tariq\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cLooks like we won\u2019t be going home empty-handed, either, eh, boys?\u00a0 A couple of fine ornaments for the gallows, and a nice tip to boot.\u201d\u00a0 The sergeant chuckled and held up the ruby for the men behind him to see.<\/p>\n
\u201cHere, now, what\u2019s that you got,\u201d the sergeant asked, seeing a curious-looking sphere in Faysal\u2019s outstretched hands.\u00a0 \u201cGive that here,\u201d he said grabbing it and holding up to examine it more closely in the moonlight.\u00a0 \u201cWhat do you lads make of this,\u201d he asked his men.\u00a0 The puff ball suddenly burst, filling the air with a cloud of spores.\u00a0 The sergeant and his men dropped their crossbows, blinded and choking, and began to claw at their eyes.<\/p>\n
Faysal reached out and grasped the sergeant\u2019s head with both of his hands and pulled him in close as if for a kiss.\u00a0 The warden\u2019s mouth was penetrated by something that Tariq was certain wasn\u2019t Faysal\u2019s tongue; he fought desperately to escape Faysal\u2019s grasp for a few moments, then his struggles began to weaken.\u00a0 The man\u2019s cheeks became sunken and his eyes bulged from their sockets; his face started collapsing in on itself, as if was being sucked dry from the inside.\u00a0 After what felt like an eternity, Faysal broke his embrace and let the withered husk fall lifeless to the ground.\u00a0 He stared hard at the three other wardens who stumbled frantically away from him, their crossbows forgotten on the ground.\u00a0 There was an uncharacteristic sense of focus and fierceness in his gaze.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are the first,\u201d he told them.\u00a0 \u201cNow go forth, and multiply.\u201d\u00a0 The three men, still coughing and wheezing, turned and fled without a backwards glance.<\/p>\n
Tariq stared in horror at what his nephew had become, and wondered what it portended for himself, for Catapesh, for the world.<\/p>\n
Faysal looked over his shoulder at Tariq with a feral gleam in his eye. \u201cNow, uncle, let\u2019s get me a woman.\u00a0 Hells, let\u2019s get me a dozen.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
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