John Fultz - Seven Kings

From the ceiling hung great columns of black and green rock, tapering to narrow points. Raw nuggets of yellow and purple crystal gleamed along their surfaces in wild patterns, refracting the fireglow into a flux of glimmering lights. The smell of deep earth was stronger here, yet a cool breeze blew from somewhere. Tong could almost smell the sweetly sour scent of the jungle, but he was unsure if it was only his imagination.

As he descended with his silent guide, the lights from below grew brighter. Now the floor of the massive vault came into view. Some of the depending rock columns fed into the ground here, massive columns linking floor to ceiling. Others rose from the stony floor like miniature mountains, pointed and gleaming with crystalline essence. Now he smelled water, and the air was damp with its presence. It was cooler down here, and the sweat on his bare chest and legs turned chill. He still wore only the stained loincloth of a slave. The eyeless ones wore no clothing at all. His feet, like theirs, were bare on the cold stone. Yet the heat of the butterfly broth in his belly kept him from shivering.

Now Tong stepped onto the floor of the vault, where a forest of the stone columns rose into glimmering shadow. He followed his guide through a world of bizarre beauty, past rock formations carved into the shapes of strange beasts, among outcrops of purple fungi taller than cornstalks and harvested by eyeless females. He saw no fellow humans among these harvesters. To what unknown labor could they be taking him?

Great mushrooms grew high as trees, dripping with moss and alive with crawling black beetles. His guide paused momentarily to snatch a few of these insects from a thick stalk and pop them into his maw. He crunched them hungrily between his fangs. He motioned for Tong to do the same, but Tong declined. As on the wall paths, other male beastlings passed about them, but they only sniffed in Tong’s direction or ignored him completely.

Here and there great fire pits opened in the earth. Flames leaped high from these deep fissures. Near to these flaming holes the cavern’s heat became great. The eyeless ones had no use for light, but they obviously valued fire for warmth and cooking. Among all the living things in this strange underworld, Tong might be the only one who benefited from the light of the natural flames. He silently thanked the Earth God for them. He could not imagine the horror of this experience if he had to endure it in complete darkness. How long he had lain in the high cave he could not say, but his wounds had all healed nicely.

Now he came upon another high wall of uneven granite lined with grottoes and ledges. By the light of nearby fire pits he saw that this new structure was actually a single great column of rock rising from the floor to be lost in the upper darkness. At ground level it was thicker than a Khyrein watchtower, with firelit caverns visible inside the carved arches. As it rose higher into the vault, it expanded, growing impossibly wider, home to a thousand more caves and cavelings. Suddenly he realized that the entire structure must be grown from the cavern roof into the floor itself. Otherwise its upper weight would surely collapse.

Ledges and stairwells were more numerous here, and they spiraled about the great city-column where cookfires danced and the children of beastlings capered. Whole families of the creatures moved about the place. Tong watched without words as the true scale of this subterranean tribe dawned upon him.

Beyond the great city-column, lights glimmered on an expanse of black water. The subterranean lake ran as far as he could see in three directions, rippled by constant drippings from the unseen cavern roof. Tong’s guide stood before the arches of the city-column and raised his apish arms high. He sang in a loud sonorous voice, his song deeper and harsher than that of his mate. His voice carried through the great underworld, ran along the maze of ledges and stairwells, penetrated the heart of the great vertical cityscape.

Tong’s blood rushed in his veins as clusters of the pale beasts came lurching from their holes, crawling and shuffling along the narrow routes toward the cavern floor. From the great arches marched two lines of eyeless ones wearing crimson robes, garments woven from plucked jungle foliage. Jewels and panther fangs hung upon their chests. Identical to the rest of the beastlings save for their ostentatious garments and clicking talismans, they approached Tong and formed a neat circle about him. They sniffed and gesticulated while Tong’s guide replied in some obscure manner. Before long an entire herd of the creatures gathered about Tong: male, female, young, adult, even tiny infants scuttling like crabs between the legs of their mothers.

Now the robed ones began singing, and a procession began. The mass of beastlings walked toward the dark lake. Caught in their midst, Tong had no choice but to follow. If he refused, they would only pick him up and carry him. He was well aware of their great strength, and the power of their great claws to rend flesh. Yet they seemed a peaceful people, if people they were at all. No sword, knife, or spear was to be seen among the masses. Of course, they did not need such tools to work slaughter upon men. Their whip-quick claws had dispatched a band of Onyx Guards in seconds.

A new idea came to him as the black waters glimmered. The sound of waves beating against a rocky shore filled his ears. He might leap into the lake and drown himself. But he must wait until this strange ritual was at its apex, when the beastlings would be too involved with their ceremonies to stop him. Now at last he might secure his own death. Not even such a horde of beasts could keep him from joining Matay a second time.

The black waters stretched into darkness, and a cold wind blew from the gulf beyond. A sense of vastness fell upon Tong as he approached the beach, surrounded by the singing priests. The lake was in truth an underground sea. How far did it extend under the earth’s crust, and how many weird kingdoms lay beyond it? The eyeless ones bowed low before the sunless sea.

He had no doubt of their religion now. They must worship this night-dark sea and the demons that haunted its depths. To either side of him along the rocky strand worshippers dropped to their knees, sniffing at the glimmering wavelets. The red-robed priests were the only ones who remained standing. Tong lost sight of his guide among the crowd of identical beastlings. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands gathering by the black waters. Understanding washed over him like a warm rain.

They mean to call up some blind Water God and offer my flesh to appease it.

So death would find him quick enough. He would not be a slave after all, but a sacrifice.

He smiled at the thought.

“Rise up, God of Beasts,” he said, voice lost beneath the cadences of the eyeless priests. “Come and devour me! I give myself freely!”

Matay… At last I come to be with you.

He spread his arms wide, raised his face to the cool wet breath of the underground sea. The ceremony went on for some time, and the dark tide rose to lick at his feet. The water was cold and numbing. The song of the red priests continued, unbroken, swirling, and maddening.

Perhaps there was no beast-god. Perhaps they were simply mad, these blind cave dwellers. How long would their wordless rites continue? Were they waiting for him to do something? He walked forward, up to his waist in the chilling water. Nobody stopped him. He would let the nameless sea freeze and drown him. The eyeless ones would have their sacrifice either way.

Suddenly the black surface erupted, sending a spray of chill mist across the multitude. The force of displaced water knocked Tong back, and he struggled to keep his footing. Now a cold rain fell upon him. The sound of falling water replaced the song of the eyeless ones. They had fallen mute upon the instant. Something huge rose from the black depths, shedding water and glistening in the reflected light of fire pits.