Brunhilde tightened her grip around the neck of the flying serpent. If she let go, she could see herself flipping into the air like a discarded doll. The thing hissed and undulated its body, its tail snapped in the wind like a tapering kite. It span and the earth was above her, then beneath her, then below her again. She closed her eyes and focused on clenching her arms still tighter.
The beast plummeted to the earth and her stomach rose up. Dust plumed around them and she felt herself scraping against the dirty ground. She saw her chance to escape. She let go and rolled away, keeping her eyes and mouth closed to keep out the dust thrown up. Before it realised it was free of her grasp, Brunhilde was already on her feet. She grabbed her hatchet from her belt.
“Hey!” she shouted.
The sky serpent raised its head and pounced down on her. Now with space to move she dodged its attack with ease and struck a powerful blow. The hatchet sank in behind its eye and the beast hissed. It fell to the earth, in its death spasms the long tapering body and tail whipped like a kite in a powerful wind.
Brunhilde stumbled sideways as dizziness hit her, she grabbed her head to steady the spinning and saw that Hope was holding off two more of the creatures. The serpents span around the tiny mage, rising and diving to strike at her. Every time they struck, a dark purple shield of energy rebuffed them. Hope was shifting from foot to foot in a strange almost dance-like rhythm. If it was part of her magic or she was just enjoying herself, Brunhilde could not tell.
“Do you need help?” Brunhilde called out.
Hope raised her hand and golden shards of light erupted from it. They sliced into one of the serpents as it struck. It flopped and fell to the earth. The remaining serpent, fled up into the air like a silver water spout. Then it was invisible against the sky.
Hope turned her head and flashed a sly smile over her shoulder. “Just a little sun- oh, you’re bleeding!” Hope exclaimed as she noticed Brunhilde’s wound.
“It’s a graze from the rocks,” Brunhilde said.
Hope fussed over the barbarian, making her sit whilst she bandaged her arm.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“Of course,” Brunhilde said. She stared up into the sky.
“I had seven doctors. One of them for duelling wounds- hold still. Although I never had the chance to learn much from him- lift your arm up. Not that high, you tree-limb. I inflicted more wounds in duels that I ever received. I could have been a champion in the games- put your arm down now. If I wasn’t a princess,” Hope said. She sat back and assessed her work. “Does it hurt now?”
“Of course. But I’ve suffered worse,” Brunhilde said, adding the last thought at Hope’s downfallen expression. She looked over to the fallen serpent. “Can we eat it?”
Hope scowled. “They look ugly,” she said.
Brunhilde went to retrieve her hatchet. She took it from the fallen serpent, whispered a prayer over it and then slammed it against a rock, breaking the blade from its haft.
“Why do you ruin perfectly usable weapons?” Hope cried.
“You know my geas. If I ever use a weapon again after killing an enemy with it, great doom will come upon me.”
“Even for cutting wood?”
“Even that,” Brunhilde.
“It’s stupid.”
“It’s a curse.”
Brunhilde kicked the serpent lying on the floor. Despite its strength when alive the body was light and airy. She knelt down and saw the scales were already fading in colour. In seconds it was as see-through as discarded snake-skin. She stroked the surface and it crackled and crumpled like dry autumn leaves. Then there was nothing but dust and a gritty feeling on her fingertips. She blew the remains from her hands and watched it trickle away on the wind.
“Nothing to eat,” Brunhilde sighed.
The other serpent, disturbed by the wind, crumbled and dissipated too.
“They probably weren’t alive. Elemental creations of a peculiar conflux of energies,” Hope said.
With no sign of their enemies left they made ready to continue. Brunhilde informed Hope of the caravan and the potential outpost ahead of them, and they continued their search for food.
As they trudged over the undulating lands, they saw the dust trail was caused by two small trading carts pulled by camels. A lone rider on a camel lead the two behind him across the waste. The trader’s goal became clear as well. A large obelisk of weathered stone stood well camouflaged amongst the desert. Centuries of winds had stained it the same colour of the sands.
The caravan reached its goal and stopped an hour before the two adventurers. When Hope and Brunhilde arrived the camels were tied up by the caravans and the caravan master was standing at the base of the obelisk, arguing with a slender figure. The great stone edifice dwarfed the two figures with its shadow. The surface had once been covered in carvings that were now just shallow dips and faint ridges.
They heard the end of the argument as they arrived.
“Take two, not three,” the slender man pleaded.
The caravan master threw his hands up and strode back to his camels.
The lone figure stood forlornly like a wilting reed. He was skinny with untidy brown hair in a puff and the scratchy starting of a beard across his face. He heard Hope and Brunhilde’s approach and turned to greet them. “Strangers!” he said with a smile. He patted his hair in an attempt to straighten it. His dried and frizzy hair fluffed out even more.
“Are you with that caravan?” Brunhilde asked him.
“Oh no. I live here, my work is so important. I don’t miss the crowds at all, I am quite content. Every day I make a new discovery or connection in my research. I shouldn’t be talking to you at all really, I’ve wasted enough time with that stingy devil all ready. I should get back to work, maybe you could join me for tea, I can tell you about all the things I’ve found. I do need some rest from my search-” his burst of speech was interrupted by a coughing fit that doubled him over.
Hope pulled a kerchief from her robes and held it over her grimacing mouth. Brunhilde strode forward and slapped him on the back.
“You’re ill, where is your tent, you should keep away from this dust,” Brun said.
The young man gestured to the obelisk behind them. He led them through a carved doorway in its base. They passed through a store-room that was packed with broken ceramics, rubble and stone carvings. After that they came to a small alcove surrounded with crates to make a sort of bedroom. An altar in a nook was covered with books and writing inks, and a bed roll lay at the foot of it. The floor was strewn with digging implements, long lengths of string and more books.
“This is where you live?” Hope said.
He rummaged amongst the pile beside his bed until he found small tin, for holding snuff or sewing threads. But inside were small ovals of what looked like glass. He popped one into his mouth and lay down on his bedroll. After a few minutes his coughing subsided and he sat back up.
“Forgive me, I’ve been so ill. I haven’t had any time to go down into the ruins, and I was so close to making a breakthrough, I’m sure I was close. And now that tight-fisted merchant wants to starve me! I have nothing to give him, nothing I want to part with-” he stopped talking when Brunhilde gently kicked his leg.
“Rest your voice. Why do you trade with him if he’s so difficult?” Brunhilde asked.
“Because obviously nobody else travels out this way. Who else will bring food?” Hope said. She clutched her stomach and groaned. “Have you no scraps to spare two starving travellers?” she cried.
“I really have nothing,” he said. He smiled apologetically. He re-opened his tin and gently spat the glass oval in his mouth into it.
“Fine,” Hope said. She straightened and started flicking through the parchment and notebooks on the table.
“Be careful please,” the young man said. He took a deep breath, ready to launch into another burst of description about his work, but a look from Brunhilde made him reconsider. “Forgive me. I rarely speak to anybody out here. I haven’t even introduced myself. Bedehv the Scholar at your service,” he said. He stood and bowed to them in a way that would have been quite formal had he not half fainted to the floor on straightening. Brunhilde grabbed him before he tumbled, and lay him down on his bed.
“What are you looking for out here?” Brunhilde asked him.
“Knowledge, only knowledge. Of course, this fallen world and the despicable brutes, like Zefen, who live in it crave only the sodden earthly remains of great works. Carvings made with impossible precision, artworks of vellum that cannot age or be torn, all proof of great intellects but simple children's tricks compared to the real power of past ages. And yet still, I must trade these baubles of embarrassment to sustain my own body so my mind can continue the search for-”
“Shush,” Hope said, cutting him off. She spun round with an opened notebook and held it up towards him. “Where did you see this?” she asked. She was pointing at an arcane diagram that covered two open pages.
“That’s it! You must be a fellow scholar to recognise the value in such a find. In the greatest depths I spent half a day scribing that. If only the dull-headed brutes of the cities could understand the real power and beauty and knowledge,” Bedehv said. He raised up into a sitting position with a gleam in his eyes. “When I pass through that gate, it will be like passing into the heavens themselves. All their secrets. Another year, maybe two and I’ll have that solved, then that rock-head camel-licking-” he was interrupted by Hope.
“I can open this,” Hope said.
Bedehv laughed with a distressing chesty rattle.
“I respect your recognition of the ancient magics, but to solve a complex ward of that nature takes years of immersion in the field. The idea that an unknown stranger would hold the secrets to the primordial magics of the flying cities, something at least from the Age of Rain or perhaps even the Age of Storm… Besides, it is a moot point, with Zefen so obstinate in his desire to starve me I shall perish in the next few weeks,” he said. He fell back onto his bed and assumed the placid face of the martyr. “All that knowledge lost, because of quotidian greed. Universities of the sciences across the land will mourn not my life but the loss of my work. I must accept my humble fate,” he muttered to the ceiling.
“This is a ward from Vis-Dimmud, the sky city that broke across a mountain and spread its bones across the land. I’m from-” Hope stopped herself and glanced at Brunhilde. “-a place of great learning. We know all about the power of the sky cities and their wards. I can open a door like this as easy as you open up a book. Sit up!” she said.
Bedehv was still staring at the ceiling. When he did not respond she nodded her head to Brunhilde. The barbarian shoved her hand under his head and raised it up so he had no choice but to look at the book in Hope’s hands. Hope stroked her finger across the bottom of the page and the light of her magic scintillated from its tip. The ink glowed and pulsed like fireflies chasing through a maze, patterns chased patterns until the entire complicated drawing was alive with light. Then, magic complete, the two pages evaporated. Bedehv’s eyes went wide.
“My work!” he cried. He leapt from his bed and grabbed the book. “What did I have on the other side? Was it the mushrooms or the moss?” he said.
He scrambled for a quill and spare paper to record the disappearing pages. Then he stopped. He carefully turned the pages of the book, checking one way and then the other. “You solved the sigil?” he said in a stunned voice.
“You made a good copy of the original. Not perfect, but good enough. I can open the real thing just as easily. Where is it?" Hope said.
"I can show you. What do you want in return?"
"Food, fresh water. Cooked meat." Hope cried. She grabbed him by his collar. "Pastries! Give that merchant some of your clutter for food, whatever he wants. Fill our bellies and I’ll fill your head so full of secret knowledge that you’ll see sigils of power every time you close your eyes,” Hope said. She jumped up to sit on the altar, rested her hand on her thighs and stared down at him with satisfaction.
“Yes. Please, don’t sit on my workspace,” Bedehv said with unfocused eyes. He flicked through his book again, wary of trickery, but the pages had disappeared and the stranger with golden hair and fierce gaze had solved the intricate magical seal that he had copied. He had seen the sigil of opening activate and destroy the pages it was drawn on. He had an opportunity to bypass years of work to obtain the treasures he sought.
In a daze he let them take intricate carvings of birds and fierce lion-like creatures to trade. The merchant Zefen was surprised but pleased with the haul that Brunhilde carried out to him. He tried to haggle but when Brunhilde lifted one of the heavy statues with ease onto his wagon and shook her head he reconsidered.
Bedehv was now richer by three weeks of food and water, including some sweet pastries and spiced jerkies that were delicious. The three new friends sat amongst the store of clutter and chewed on jerky and doughy bread. Bedehv tapped his book a few times as he ate, lost in thought.
“So, you can take us to where you found that?” Hope said impatiently.
“No. I think, I’m too sick. I need rest. But to see what’s on the other side…” he mumbled. Bits of bread tumbled from his mouth as he shovelled great chunks in.
“You need to eat and rest. Let us open it and bring you back some, treasures or carvings or whatever is beyond the door. Where is it?”
“It’s about a day and a half away.”
“From here?” Hope asked.
“From the Mouth.”
“There’s a river here?” Brunhilde asked.
“No,” Bedehv stood up and walked into his sleeping area.
“Did we offend him?” Brunhilde said to Hope.
Bedehv reappeared with a stack of books and parchment. He spread out a map covered in tunnels.
“This is the obelisk, and here is the entry, the Mouth,” he gestured to a point on the map which had a strange twisted face drawn onto it. “That dates from the Age of Silence- if I had the men to excavate it- I’m sure it’s a King or a hero from that time. Anyway, the statue’s ancient fall is my fortune as it cracked open the entryway to a buried city, another relic of the Age of Silence, interesting but nothing special in these wastes, guard outposts from all those broken kingdoms are scattered around, if you took-” Bedehv said.
“The doorway?” Hope prompted.
“Ah yes,” he replied. He traced his finger from the Mouth over the map. “Follow this trail for about a day and you come to the Coil. Now that is something older than the rest. They must have built their city around it. Or perhaps it was buried and they discovered it as they grew? Imagine. From there, go down the stairways until you reach a place like this-” he stopped and opened a notebook. The page showed a stone floor broken from underneath by a thick tree root. “And that’s where the doorway is,” he sat back and looked at them.
Hope pored over the map and made Bedehv show her again and again the path.
“Let us take this map,” Brunhilde said.
Bedehv looked at her with pleading eyes. “Please, this is my life’s work. If you lose yourselves down there, I’ll have no way to track you and find you. But you can take this notebook. See here, it shows you the landing you take to reach the door. And write down what you see. Make sketches, count the length of the room beyond…” he said. He held out the notebook and Hope scooped it up.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll bring you back treasures you can’t imagine.”
