Cassandra Pendragon
It wasn't as bad as I had first thought. The image of Amon emerging from the bowls of the earth with an army at his back had had me fretting for all I was worth, but after a minute or two I had realised that it wasn't exactly rocket science to put an end to that particular endeavour. Sure, asking Greta to quickly get control of and monitor the plethora of portals was an option, but simply pulling the plug, or rather demolishing the respective archway until nothing but dust remained was much more sustainable… not to mention easy.
Consequentially I hadn't dawdle for much longer, had asked Alassara which of the gateways her brother had used to reach one of the slave islands and had made my way across the mirror like lake without so much as causing a ripple on the surface. Which was just as well since I was prepared to bet that I had seen shadows move beneath the surface. Large shadows with, presumably, equally large teeth. Chances were it had been just my imagination running wild, the whole atmosphere didn't exactly promote calm and confidence, but I hadn't been too eager on finding out. Still wasn't, to be honest. I wasn't scared, not really, in comparison to Boseiju's fiery end most dangers seemed challenging at best, but I still wasn't overly keen on another reminder that pain actually hurt. A lot.
If you've ever watched one of those documentaries on the South- and Central American tribes, you have a pretty accurate image of what awaited me, once I set foot upon the lowest level of the pyramid. The edifice consisted of four distinct layers, each one a bit smaller than the previous floor, with a single entrance at the top, a gaping, dark hole that reminded me of a monster's maw, but again, in bright sunlight, with a picnic basket on my arm, it would probably have seemed entirely different. A narrow set of stone steps, carved in a straight line form the very bottom to the entrance, connected the different floors while archaic glyphs, proficiently chiselled into the dark rock, circled around each level.
I couldn't read them but with the sheer amount of memories I had regained by now I had developed an instinct for runes. They were a mixture of warding spells and simple scripture, probably retelling the story of the civilisation that had erected the pyramid in times long forgotten. Now, before you ask why the vampires hadn't figured out what this place was, even though it's history was written on its very walls, reconstructing a dead language isn't a walk in the park and I could wholeheartedly sympathise with neither Alassara nor her brother putting in the time and effort when they could use the portals just as well without the knowledge.
Once I landed, my wings vanishing with a quiet whisper, I felt cold. The whole cavern was chilly in comparison to the sweltering heat above, but the stones seemed to leech the warmth from the air and I almost felt like I had found my way into a glacier. My breath came out in fuzzy white clouds and the hair on my neck stood up, whether from anticipation or actual cold I couldn't say. I took the time to circle around the lowest floor once, glancing at the interwoven sigils carved into the base, but when nothing significant happened and I realised that I wouldn't be able to understand the foreign symbols I quickly climbed the stairs, only pausing for a few seconds to have a look at the runes on each consecutive level.
With nothing much to show for my efforts I reached the top, where the temperature dropped even lower. The moisture in the air turned into a chilly cloak, enveloping me like the first touches of an avalanche in the mountains, and the stiff breeze, wafting through the entrance, smelled of dust, mould and ozone. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realised that the cold was a result of the powerful spells, still working tirelessly somewhere in the darkness. The conversion wasn't perfect and a bit of energy was sucked from the surroundings while the magic did its work. As a result the temperature plummeted and over the countless years the imposing place of worship had turned into a frozen tomb. For a split second I wondered if the late Captain might have used this place to store his… let's say perishable resources, but I firmly believed that Alassara would have warned me if I had been on the verge of stumbling into a well kept storage, filed with conserved corpses.
The entrance itself was void of anything resembling a door or even an arcane seal, it was a simple, plain arch, revealing smooth, worn out stone steps that led into the bowls of the temple. The flickering light from the glowing crystals couldn't penetrate deeper than a few measly metres and while the enchantments stood out like a sore thumb to my second sight, a scintillating amalgamation of power and magic somewhere in the darkness, I couldn't see much of the actual architecture. I closed my eyes and listened for a few moments, but just as I hadn't been able to see much, I only heard the soft movements of the lake, the almost silent creaks, when the stones breathed with the minuscule change in temperature my presence had caused and the distant, muffled footfalls of Alassara pacing back and forth. All in all it really seemed safe, almost boringly so. Which of course made me even more suspicious but the vampire's declaration that she had never seen a trace of a trap assuaged my nervousness. At least somewhat.
As many wise men had said and I had reminded myself plenty of times, if you're reluctant to do something, better get it over with quickly and, by all means, I wasn't as thrilled to make my way down a tunnel, that could as well have led to the land of the dead, as I might have made it sound. I squared my shoulder and waved at Alassara before I reluctantly bade my goodbyes to the sparse light in the cavern and entered a world of darkness, magic and cold. Once the massive, almost oppressive walls closed in around me, though, I couldn't deny that I was actually curious. Not only interested but genuinely curious what I'd find at the bottom of the stairs, considering the deepest dungeon was most likely the place I'd have to visit.
From a strategic point of view the whole construction was a marvel. Not only would an invading army have to battle its way up the steep, entirely open stairs, it would also have to accomplish the even more onerous feat of fighting its way down and judging from the feel of the winding, narrow tunnel, a group of toothless grannies, armed with broomsticks, could have held the passage indefinitely against well trained soldiers. If said grannies had a few pans and ladles at their disposal, they'd be able to give even a unit of mages a run for their money.
Circling stairs led me from the entrance at the very top to the next floor. It took me a few heartbeats to channel enough power towards my eyes to see anything in the pitch black darkness while also keeping my mundane vision intact. On first glance the chamber appeared like a throne room of sorts, a large, empty space with an imposing stone seat at the centre. Pictograms of entire peoples giving tribute and celestial bodies, smiling warmly at a stylised monarch, were carved into the base, while arcane runes, symbolising power, wealth, fertility and judgement circled the backrest. The chamber itself was empty, not even cobwebs or the accumulated dust of the passing years marred the smooth, glossy surface of the tiles. Stone statues, similar to the great Terracotta Army, were placed along the walls, their dead, empty eyes seemingly following my every movement.
A cold shudder ran down my spine when I recalled the last instance where I had stumbled across ancient statues in an eerily similar situation, but those had been brimming with power from the get go and the ones here were simply expertly crafted pieces of stone. Admittedly, I couldn't rule out the possibility that they were simply dormant and might activate at any given minute, but for now I didn't see much of a point in fretting over inanimate objects while I might still encounter something much more… alive and dangerous. Plus, Alassara had asseverated that nothing bad had happened in all the years she had come through here.
Why had I insisted on going alone, again? Right, paranoia and chivalry. Goddamn, it was either about time to grow a spine or grow up. Not everything's a trap, Cassy. Plenty of things to fear in the real world. No need to add imaginary enemies to the list.
I took a deep breath but the plethora of information I had come to expect simply wasn't there. In the freezing cold everything smelled the same and, for the life of me, I just couldn't get past the lingering scent of ozone. By now I was also covered I goosebumps and felt the energy in my veins targeting my fingertips and toes, healing the damaged tissue. A Siberian winter couldn't possibly hold a candle to the biting chill, slowly creeping through me and I had only made it one floor down. There was no telling how much worse it'd get with the next set of stairs.
Speaking of which, at the far side of the chamber, behind the throne, for want of a better word, another passage led deeper into the pyramid. Again there were no obstacles but once I reached the backside of the chamber I saw the crumpled remains of erstwhile massive stone hinges, the doors they must have supported, once upon a time, long since rotten to dust. A short corridor let into another room with plain, unadorned walls and a well like opening in the middle of the floor.
I crept closer carefully, my rationalisations about the possible dangers about as useful as a fifth wheel on a wagon, and hesitantly pushed my head over the gaping hole. It wasn't as deep as I had first feared but I had to fiddle with my powers again to see the bottom. Steps were carved into the walls, leading downwards in gentle but treacherously narrow arches. After about 10 metres the walls vanished entirely and opened up into another, presumably large, chamber. I could only guess but chances were that I'd have to jump the last few metres. I couldn't imagine an elderly priest, or whoever else might have used this place, regularly risking life and limb only to get from one floor to the next, but back in the day there had probably been quite a few handy add ons which hadn't survived the ravenous hunger of several centuries.
With a gentle whisper my wings fanned out and I took the most direct route imaginable, straight down the middle. My boots produced a soft thud when they connected with the floor below and I immediately had to blink when dim lights flickered into existence all around me. An array of runes had activated as soon as I had landed and filled the chamber with a rosy, almost cozy light. The room wasn't as big as the previous ones and reminded me more of an antechamber, a circular construction with four distinct passages leading further into the darkness. The magical lights only illuminated the runes above each gateway and even my enhanced sight couldn't penetrate deeper than a few steps into the blackness beyond.
Luckily the glyphs were detailed enough to interpret them easily. One passage was adorned with the stylised depiction of a man wrapped in chains, the second showed the sun, surrounded by bowing priests, and the last an intricate web, the junctions turned into depictions of several temples. The lowest floor was probably divided into three segments, from the looks of it a place of worship, a prison or something similar and the the network of portals I was after. Again I had to admire the forethought that had gone into building the whole structure. If my assumption was right, the three areas could only be accessed from the floor above and as such, even if someone came in through one of the portals, they'd only be able to go one way with a whole bunch of nasty surprises lying in store for them.
I was sorely tempted to investigate the entire bottom floor, but after aeons it was rather unlikely that anything of value had survived and even if it had, the vampires would have found it ages ago. Consequentially I carefully tiptoed my way over to the passage, marked with the web, and hurried along another rather narrow corridor. Slits in the ceiling and on the floor indicated where massive slabs of wood, if it had been stone they would still have been there, had been used to block the path in case of an emergency and I even thought I recognised a few indents and scratches along the walls that could have either been made with an axe or a heavy club. The flickering light my wings provided wasn't enough to be sure, though, and I didn't spare the time to run my fingers across every little detail that caught my fancy.
A couple of steps later I came to another door, this one plain and heavy, fashioned form a single block of granite. Without tools or a veritable army it would have been impossible to move the gargantuan piece of rock even an inch but the strength of the undead, and mine as well for that matter, were enough to overcome the hurdle. I grabbed the slab along the edges with my wings and pulled it towards me, carefully anchoring my body to the walls and floor.
I only heard a deep grinding noise before it moved without so much as producing a single cloud of dust, a testament to how often the late Captain had used the passage. The mechanism was crude but efficient. The block of granite was much deeper than I had thought with just enough space that it could rotated to the side, allowing me to squeeze through. On the one hand this meant that rushing past in a hurry with several men was impossible but it also restricted the usefulness when it came to transporting goods or people in greater numbers, not to mention that it'd be one hell of a struggle to open and close the door.
Behind was a wing staircase, leading to the lowest level in a gentle arch. Several holes had been drilled into the ceiling, opening up the stairs to an attack from above while the steps were level and broad but just a bit to high to take them smoothly. I was rather tall, even in comparison to human men, but I still couldn't take them in stride, having to jump the last few centimetre of each step. It didn't matter much now, but the thought of having to fight my way back up against the resistance of invisible defenders, pouring oil and other nasty, heated substances down the pipes was a nightmare come real.
All in all the temple felt more like a fortress to me, which made some sense, considering it was a transportation hub and had possibly been used as a prison, too. Call me greedy but my first impulse was to ask Alassara what had happened to the treasury, surely located somewhere in the depths of the edifice. We didn't need more money, the chest Mephisto had enchanted and I was carrying around in my stamp ensured or liquidity, but if there was one thing you couldn't have enough of it was money. If you had something to spend it on, that is, and we surely had a plethora of choices at our disposal. Also, while I wasn't as much of a magpie as in my last life anymore, I could still very much see the appeal of accumulating a hoard. The thought made me smile when I pondered whether or not it was actually my fault that the local dragons fawned over every pretty bauble they came across. Maybe some of my vices had been transferred to Ancalagon, all those years ago.
The stairs ended at the mouth of another short tunnel. It didn't take me more than a handful of steps until I finally emerged in a circular, huge chamber, the walls polished and smooth with a dozen carved arches arranged in regular intervals. Most of them were dull, broken, but four still retained their lustre, their runes crackling with sparks and power. The temperature had reached a new low, cold enough for my lashes and eyebrows to slowly freeze over, and the oppressive scent of ozone made me feel like I had just tumbled into a bath of the stuff. And just as luck would have it, I wasn't the only one there. I just wasn't sure if my newest friend was actually still alive.