Milc/C.J. Milnes
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Chapter 22 - You’re nothing to us gods
🕑 Added 2025-03-10 21:21:35 +0000 UTCIt took over a week to locate the entry point to the underground sections of the barrow at Hellath. In the end it came down to me running around with Shape Earth activated and mapping the substructure of the palaeolithic construction. Fay had given up complaining about me not wearing shoes.
I’d learned a lot of pretty useless information about how to layer monoliths and build soil over them to create a barrow. The structure seemed to have grown organically over a long period of time. Each layer was an expanded version of the one beneath that disappeared outside the range of my ability to perceive through the earth.
I stumbled on the entrance when I was escorting the Arch Dreamers, who were a curmudgeonly group of cantankerous old bastards, fit to put Kril to shame, up the steps in order to return them to the simple tents they usually lived atop the barrow. I was currently standing about fifteen metres from the last step up the hill, surrounded by green grass, fresh air and disgruntled prelates.
“You cannot dig here!” Hatletek, the head druid, said angrily.
“Do you want to tell him or shall I?” I said over my shoulder to Kril who snickered in reply.
“He’s the head of my order, kind of. It’s not as though we’re a highly organised group. Take the dream-spice and get a true dream with Aresk? Then you’re a Dreamer. Still, I’d rather not piss off my nominal boss,” Kril said happily.
“Thanks for the support, oh wise mentor.” I turned back to the head Dreamer and raised a hand to forestall the volcanic, red faced outburst he was clearly building up to. “Look, Dreamer-Bloke. Somewhere under this pile of stone and dirt is the essence of a god’s power in this world. If it doesn’t belong to Aresk, my taking it will weaken that god and make Aresk stronger. I promise I’ll put the dirt back when I’m done, ok?” Being patient wasn’t easy. I was getting increasingly short tempered with the heads of the Sykareskyn religion who were immune to the effects of my god-mark. Kril had warned me that it worked on the peasants not the priests a long time ago but flashing the golden tattoo had bugger all effect on the men currently trying to block me from my goal.
“Hatletek, with all due respect you cannot stop me. There is something beneath this barrow that I have to take for Aresk. It will bring glory and strength to the tribes if I succeed. Get out of my way.” He scowled at me and his brother priests gathered around as though they could make a difference if I decided to act against them.
“I don’t want to be at odds with you. I’ll be careful, I won’t damage the structure. I just want to open a passage to the catacombs buried here. It would be in your interests to learn more of the ancients who built this place, surely?” I offered in a gentle voice.
“Want me to drag them out of the way?” asked Jandak. He was in a better mood since Haylin had confirmed she was with child but a surly element seemed to have taken root in his heart, making him permanently grumpy with everyone who wasn’t part of my inner circle. I held up a hand to stop him. The priests had flinched at his words but stood their ground. They were brave if nothing else.
“You cannot touch the sacred mound!” said Hatletek. Mune snorted a laugh. I glared at him over my shoulder.
“Look bloke-” he bristled at my words, “-lord Dreamer.” A hasty correction but it seemed to mollify him. “I’ll not damage the structure. I’ll make a tunnel down to the catacombs big enough for me and that will be it. The Huskar won’t be able to fit.” The cultural and religious differences between the Legion and my nomads wasn’t much of an issue outside of the leadership for each faction. The leaders of some of the tribes were rapidly becoming a major pain in my ass.
“The Ur-viles must not approach this sacred place. I will not have them come onto our holy hill.” I shot Mune a glance and he suppressed his chuckles at the priest's words.
“Fine. It will just be me going down… It’ll just be me entering the tunnel. Mune, maybe it would be best if you went and checked on the mounted archers to make sure they’re being resupplied properly with enchanted arrows?” My friend nodded and moved away, when he got a few metres away his shoulders started shaking and loud guffaws rang out down the giant-scaled steps. “Sorry about that. Look. This is happening, if you make a big deal about it I’ll have you replaced.”
“Arch Dreamer is a lifetime appointment! The only way to have me replaced would be to…” he began and Aresk’s aura briefly washed over us, a feeling of shields slamming together to hold off the enemy.
“So if I want you gone I have to kill you?” I asked flatly. He nodded slightly then drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I think he understood that it wouldn’t be an issue for me to off him and put Kril in his place. Hell, the thought was kind of tempting, now that it had occurred to me, and he clearly caught the gleam in my eyes as I accepted the benefits of doing so.
“Perhaps we can make an exception in this instance. I will have to supervise and accompany you as you delve into the darkness beneath our holiest site. I hope this is acceptable?” he asked. The bloke wanted to save face and I was happy enough to throw him a bone.
“Sure. Give me a moment…” I cast Shape Earth and as my perception drifted into the ground I began sliding the earth and stone to the sides. I built it up into rock-like supports around a short passage that was two metres wide and three tall. As soon as it reached the entrance to the substructure of the barrow I focused on reinforcing the surrounding earth. I had no wish for it to collapse while I was in the catacombs or to give this ancient bishop any excuse to complain about my treatment of their holy site.
I pulled a dozen torches from my storage space. I took one in my right hand and lit it with a cast of Summon Fire, the orb floating over my head for fifteen seconds, causing the ecclesiarchy of the nomads to stare open mouthed in awe, despite having seen me rain fire across huge areas during Mortimer’s ambush. People quickly forget the impossible in order to preserve the status quo they think is real.
I set off down the tunnel I’d mentally carved into the depths of the barrow. I turned as I heard scuffling behind me. Jandak and Kos were holding a priest up in either hand, eight devout legs swinging in the breeze. The fresh air rushing past me was hopefully replacing the stale air that had been sealed in the tunnels for centuries.
“Put them down!” I laughed. My friends dropped the indignant holy men to the ground where they stumbled on the glass-smooth surface I’d carved.
“Warlord! I must insist that these others return to the surface!” snapped Hetletik. “As Arch Dreamer it is my right!” The nomad’s love of hierarchy didn’t fail to make it into their holiest, it seemed.
“Fine. Fangs, take the others back up. Tik, you’re with me. Stay back. If this is another trap you won’t survive,” I said. The thought of letting him play guinea pig and leading the way was the first thing that crossed my mind but I rejected the thought as unworthy.
“Tik? He demanded indignantly as he pushed past me and headed deeper into the tunnel system, “Bring the light, if you’d be so kind.”
I suppressed my natural response and followed along. Maybe he’d learn a valuable lesson when –if– things went sideways.
The stone supports were all carved in intricate patterns. Snakes, some bird-like shape – possibly an eagle? – were prominent but aurox, mammoth and stags were all present as well. The animal shapes seemed to dance in the flickering light of my torch. The cross beams above me were all covered in elaborate geometric shapes. I couldn’t make out what any of them meant but I resolved to get Kril down here soon so he could take a look and see if anything sparked any memories from his time among the southern peoples.
I followed the wizened man deeper into the darkness, lifting the torch as requested when he wanted to study a particular carving or examine some part of the aeon old construction. The tunnel led down beneath the barrow. It was hard to tell how far but we’d been making progress in stops and starts for about half an hour, judging from how much mana I’d recovered in the meantime.
We finally emerged into a wide space with three doors set in the wall facing us. Each had a different animal carved into it. The one on the left had a bull’s head, horns and all raised out from the surface of the dark wood. The middle door had a rodent so some sort? Maybe a rat or a mouse but the nose seemed too long for either of those species. The last was clearly a jet black bird with a white ring of feathers down its neck. As the only one with any kind of colouration to set the carving apart from the wood I figured I had a good idea whose bloody source this was.
“Aresk you bronze prick, if this is your source just hand it over!” I called out. Tik shrunk in on himself and began edging towards the shadowy tunnel we’d followed to this room. Nothing happened and I caught Tik by the scruff of his robe and stopped him bolting back up towards the light.
“Stay here,” I said as I shoved him into a corner. I walked forward and reached out a hand to touch the crow-door. As soon as I did the thing shifted, painted wood warping as the crow head came to life. A caw rang out that I felt Glimpse imitate, far above the surface, in my mind.
“Sorry Ray. I can’t just let you take the Source. We all have to defend them. You might want to let the priest run away,” spake Prick the Crow-god from the centre of the door. I was finding myself increasingly frustrated by my generous patron deity.
“Why the hell not? Do I have to push through your aura? Do I need to find suitable candidates? Who bloody won out of Klip and Sulk? Which of my smiths is going insane? You gods…” I stuttered to a stop and the weight of the gods' aura washed out across the room. Tik whimpered in fear.
“Each of us chooses the nature of the challenge and we can’t show any preferential treatment, Ray. You’ve always lived by rules. Remember your code? Well we have codes of our own. Better let that guy run away before he pisses himself,” grumbled the crow-faced door.
I glanced back and nodded to Tik who hitched up his robes and managed a passable turn of speed as he ran back up the pitch black tunnel.
“He’s going to break his neck running like that in the dark, isn’t he?” I muttered.
“Would it be so bad? Installing Kril as the high priest of the tribes would be to our benefit,” said Aresk conversationally.
“Our benefit? But you can’t help me out with the Source? This is starting to feel a little one sided, bloke,” I muttered and the full weight of Aresk’s aura crashed down. I was crushed to the floor, not by the sensation of shields coming together or by being surrounded by shield-brothers in a formation but by the feeling of armoured boots marching over my body, grinding me against the stone floor. I’d never felt the full power of his aura, I realised in shock.
“Get up. You picked the right door so I can offer you a little advice. You’ll be on your own and there won’t be any magic so be fucking careful you stupid mortal.” I pulled myself upright and fought down the urge to scowl at the crow-door or say something I’d regret.
“Thanks,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Think nothing of it. You’re strong Ray, but you’re nothing to us gods. Just don’t forget it again.” Oh I wouldn’t. Not until I was strong enough to kick his bronze teeth out of his head and shove them up Poseidon’s…
“I can still read your thoughts, boy. You’ll have your equipment and your skills in the trial. Skills, not spells. I’m a god of war so martial strength means more to me than tricks and cheating!” rumbled the crow-door.
“Tricks and cheating are essential elements of war,” I grumbled as I straightened my tunic and reached out to push the crow in the face, perhaps harder than was strictly necessary.
“Now you’re getting it!” came the muffled words from the door as my hand squeezed its beak shut.
Beyond the door lay a dimly lit corridor. It smelt of rot and death. Air that hadn’t moved for decades or more, probably centuries, was stirred as I cautiously moved forwards with my torch held high over my head.
The corridor was wider and taller than it should have been if I’d gauged the space between the doors correctly, but I suspected that if I'd picked the wrong door something very unpleasant would have happened to me.
I couldn’t work out where the ambient light was coming from as I moved deeper into the tunnel. I flinched as the door behind me slammed closed. When I hurried back I saw that it had been replaced with smooth stone. I tried to activate Shape Earth but the spell fizzled, no mana was used and my senses didn’t sink through the surrounding rock. I pulled out my sword and plunged the blade hilt deep into the former-door. I worked the blade up and down and held the torch up to the slash once I withdrew the sword. Nothing. Just metres of rock.
I moved back to where I’d been before and moved onwards. Reaching an intersection I held the torch out in all three directions but the flickering light revealed nothing. They were functionally identical passages.
I shrugged and hefted the blade in my right hand. If Aresk wanted to screw around and make me jump through hoops, I’d do it. Being a champion of a god ought to have some perks, and I supposed I’d gotten something out of the deal thus far. However this felt like he was taking the piss.
