Slithering Maze 16: Whispers Beneath the Stone

Basysus, 28, 1278: Hidden Temple of the Sunfate Sisters. Mandami Hills. Playing with one too many dead things…

Author’s Note: Kingdom of the Slithering Maze is a serialized fiction story that is a part of a collection called the Windtracer Tales. It follows the adventures of Tela Kioni and her crew dealing with expeditions in and around the world of Awldor. There they hunt down lost, and possibly lethal, relics of the Ancient Order, a near-mythical kingdom lost to the centuries old cataclysm, the Great Collapse.

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Previously: The map and medallions led Tela and her crew to a rut in the Mandami Hills outside Arth Prayogar. A wind-scoured place dotted with grass, dirt and rocky outcroppings. Nothing special or even remarkable, at least until they found those outcroppings contained carvings for the Sunfate Sisters. Spaces that were a perfect match for the sundial medallions.

With the medallions in place, the outcroppings revealed themselves to be standing stones around a door hidden on the side of the hill. A dark opening leading to what the Fateweavers were chasing all along—a buried temple housing history whispering beneath the stones…

Basysus, 28, 1278: Hidden Temple of the Sunfate Sisters. Mandami Hills. Playing with one too many dead things…

The silence in the dead, stale air was so ancient, it snapped under my boots when I stepped off the stairs. Sunlight cut a tunnel through the moist darkness around me, making the chamber loom larger than it was. I pulled my whip off my belt out of instinct, just to be prepared.

Which, naturally, I wasn’t. Not entirely.

The air stank of dry clay and burnt radish-seed oil. A sharp, bitter kind that yanked a sneeze out of me.

Worse? It was as pitch-dark there as a money-lender’s heart. But at least that shaft of sunlight gave my eyes something to work with. I pulled off my goggles and stuffed them into my canvas shoulder bag.

The room was a smeared painting of dirty gray. Along the walls, vertical carvings of the Sunfates and celestial symbols told a rambling story. But it was the round archway across the room that held my attention.

“Hells and high tide. I need light, and we forgot lanterns.” I grumbled softly, glancing at the chunk of Automatic Crystal. “You’ll have to do.”

Mouth pulled into a tense line, I held the glowing quartz over my head. The limp glow surrounded me as I knelt to touch the gritty floor.

“Worked stone,” I murmured. “No mortar. Cut to a perfect fit that hasn’t shifted even after centuries. No hint of fake stones, either.”

The others eased down the stone staircase behind me.

“Sounds too easy,” Kiyosi commented and then reached back into the shaft of sunlight from the surface. “Let’s get better light on this that’s not quite so evil.”

He concentrated, then pinched the sunlight, drawing away strands of golden luminous threads. Quickly, he finger-knitted them into short lengths, then tied those together into a shape. Then, a glowing parrot launched from his hands toward the ceiling.

“Picky,” I replied over my shoulder, dropping the crystal back into my bag. Kiyosi’s parrot-shaped spell was a better light source anyhow.

Skarri glanced up quizzically at the glowing parrot.

“A bird?” she hissed at the healer.

“I like parrots,” he shrugged.

The added soft light danced off the damp brick floor. Immediately, both the wall carvings and archway picked up the light, then glimmered like a faded memory. It revealed the room was a temple’s empty antechamber. I eased forward carefully, expecting a trap. There was always a trap.

“After this mess is over, I’ve got to come back and study all this.” My voice was hushed as I gestured at the wet floor. “Could the water be runoff from a hot spring or underground river?”

“Hard to say,” Kiyosi murmured, a few steps behind me. “Next room might have something.”

Skarri slithered over to a wall and pressed a scaled hand against the engravings. For a moment, she closed her eyes, lowered her head, whispering to herself. Then she traced a sun emblem with a short claw.

“I think more dragon-glass,” she whispered in awe. “Every one of them.”

Mikasi lagged behind us. I glanced over my shoulder, raising an eyebrow at him. He gestured uneasily to the sunlight-filled door at the top of the stairs.

“Shouldn’t we bring the amulets? What if someone stumbles over the standing stones and the open door?”

Atha snorted as he walked around the halfling inventor to catch up with the rest of us.

“Then we make sure they don’t stay long,” he rumbled with a dark chuckle.

I gave Atha a withering glance, which was about as effective as doing that to a wall.

“What?” he grumbled.

I shook my head, then glanced back at Mikasi.

“We’ll have to risk it. Pulling them out might shut the door.” I sighed, staring at the looming dark archway. “I don’t want us locked in here with any ghosts.”

Kiyosi studied the archway with its glimmering amber lines, rippling like warm honey from one side to the other.

“Dragon-glass or not, I swear these are magic threads like above.” The tiefling healer’s tail curled then uncurled curiously. “They might even connect. Anyway, if the standing stones were the temple, wouldn’t this be the private chambers?”

“Maybe,” I replied, pursing my lips.

I stepped through the archway into the next room. My golden eyes adjusted fast. There were more greasy smears of shadows. A lot more, and taller.

Then fire exploded to life with a roar. Flames licked the air, racing along a stone gutter that lined the room.

“Hell and high tides,” Kiyosi swore in surprise as he stepped back. The others did likewise.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” I murmured at the room.

“Must be dinnertime,” Atha grunted, crossing his arms. “I wonder who getz to be the main course?”

“Not funny,” Kiyosi complained.

“Healer, I am a big bundle of sunshine,” Atha countered smugly.

Ignoring them both, I walked through the archway into the long hall beyond.

“There’s more to this than just some back rooms,” I murmured in awe, then walked down another short flight of stairs.

The fire around the edge of the room licked the stone walls, dusting them with fingers of oily, rancid smoke. It cast a warm, flickering light over everything, drawing out shadows from every stool, table, and a trio of tall statues. Those last stood watch in the middle of the room. Silent, reddish-brown sentries around a stone pool of water a good six Ancient Order meters wide.

I reached into my shoulder bag, pulling out my worn journal. Flipping several pages in, I compared my rough sketches to the statues.

“The Sunfate Sisters,” I announced, turning around slowly to take in the rest of the room. “Four doors on each wall. So, monastic cells?”

“Yes,” Skarri answered reverently. She slithered down the stairs to stop a few steps away. “This is an Ancestor Pool. It would’ve been used for meditation, and to speak with one’s ancestors for guidance.”

The temple guard moved carefully, as if worried about disturbing the dust. Her voice had gone small. I didn’t blame her. This was her people’s history staring back at her.

“Complete with the fire?” Kiyosi asked, crossing over to the edge of the pool as his glowing parrot perched on his shoulder.

Mikasi, now over any shock of the fire, hurried over with his smoke cheetah to the stone trench that lined the room.

“Fresh oil.” He pointed into the trench. “Broken clay seals, too. Tela, I think when we opened the doors, a hidden spigot in the walls poured out oil that the magic threads ignited.”

I tucked away my journal as I circled statues and pool, scrutinizing every ancient detail.

“Handy,” I replied. “Beats carrying around a torch. But why the fire pit and not Sun Orbs? The Ancient Order used those constantly.”

“Meditation?” Kiyosi asked, staring into the perfectly smooth, glassy water.

“Meditation, yes,” Skarri explained. “Light and heat to drive out the impurities of the mind.”

Atha grunted. “Sounds peaceful, but I have a question.”

He stomped across the hall over to a pair of ancient stone and wooden tables, and knelt down. When he straightened, he held a bronze vambrace in his hand big enough to fit a small giant. The inner curve glinted with dragon-glass.

“Why is this in a meditation hall?” he rumbled, raising his eyebrows at us.

I held out my hand. “Hey, let me see that?”

“Tela? There’s an inscription on the pool’s edge,” Skarri said quietly.

Atha handed me the vambrace. It was longer than my whole torso, but far lighter than it should’ve been. I hefted it, testing the weight.

“What does it say?” I asked her.

She traced the elegantly carved Tashkiran inscription with a blunt claw.

“This warns against disturbing the Iraxi’s tomb. Calls it a curse on my people’s soul, and anyone bothering it.”

“Now that sound cheery,” Atha commented dryly.

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Not helping,” I replied.

“What?” the minotaur countered with a shrug.

Skarri met my eyes with an uneasy look. I could tell that this place, with messages like that, rattled her. They had started to fray my nerves, too. Kiyosi squatted down at the inscription for a closer look.

“I’m not sure this was part of the original construction. Wear patterns aren’t as old.”

That, and the dragon-glass lined vambrace, made me frown. I walked to the pool.

“None of this makes sense,” I declared. “Ki? Feel this. It’s metal. Some sort of layered bronze and something else before that glass on the inside. I could almost wear this thing as a breastplate, but it’s not even close to being that heavy.”

Kiyosi turned the vambrace over. “Light as leather, but feels strong as steel or better.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Almost Ancient Order blacksmithing. Maybe better?”

I gestured to the engraving, glancing between Skarri and Kiyosi.

“Then there’s that message. It was added later, so that says the clerics here were desperate to warn people away. Almost like they knew this place might get uncovered. Skarri, these pools are open to anyone, right?”

She inclined her head, then glanced up at the trio of tall statues.

“Yes. Most anyone, provided they’re looking for solace and peace.” She tapped the hilt of her saber. “Weapons really aren’t allowed.”

“Still doesn’t explain why this is here, or why it’s so big.” Kiyosi rapped a knuckle against the massive vambrace. He handed it to Mikasi when he strolled over.

Mikasi squinted at it, especially the underside.

“Rough finish. There are still waves in the dragon-glass. Unpolished, almost raw.”

My stomach tightened. Liru’s story when we were in Ishnanor about armored elementals flickered across my mind. I swapped an uneasy look with Kiyosi.

“Like a fire elemental wore it?” I asked warily.

“Hyu joking?” Atha’s face pinched in a sour scowl.

“By the Lady Deep, I wish,” I replied.

Silence fell like a headsman’s axe. For an uncomfortable moment, we glanced from the vambrace to each other. I’d already retold Liru’s story about the armored elementals from the Iraxi to the others, though Skarri already knew some of that. So, I quickly explained to Atha. I’d never seen anyone frown that fast.

“Wonderful,” the minotaur grumbled with an irritated sigh.

I bit my lower lip, rubbing the side of my jaw with my whip.

“This means we’re on the right path. Everyone, check everything again. Look for levers, loose stones, anything.”

We spread out and searched every wall, alcove, and moldy stone. Eventually, other than more elemental armor, Mikasi spotted a shadow in the pool.

I squinted at the water. “A map?”

Skarri shrugged. “It’s a reflection pool. The devout go there for knowledge.”

Mikasi, practically nose to water, nodded.

“It’s a stonemason’s model. An enormous one under the water.”

I pulled my mouth into a thin scowl, arching an eyebrow at the elemental armor. It had wound up on a nearby table for later. Something about that intact, pristine armor just bothered me, like an itch I couldn’t reach.

“There has to be a way to raise it out of there for the stonemasons,” Kiyosi mused, then felt the pool’s stone edge for any hidden levers.

I grabbed his hand as he reached for the water.

“Don’t.” I shook my head with a sharp glance at the armor. “Skarri? Followers came here to reflect, right? Do they stand at a specific spot? Where would the clerics stand?”

“Yes.” Skarri slithered over until she was directly between the pool and the stairs to the vestibule. “Followers stand here with priestesses by the statues, one per Sunfate Sister.”

I glanced between the statues and the pool. An idea hit me.

“Skarri? Stay there. Atha? Ki? Check the statues, right where the clerics would stand. Mikasi, don’t touch the water, but look for chains or something attached to the model.”

Kiyosi’s tail flicked in surprise.

“Loose stone plate here, attached to a lever,” he announced.

“One here, too,” Atha added from the second statue.

Mikasi glanced up from the pool, nodding at me. I sighed.

“Ki? Atha? Stand on those plates. I’ll take the third statue. Skarri? I bet there is another plate under you.” I shot a narrow-eyed look at the statues. “They only wanted the devout to find this.”

I stepped up to the statue of the Sunbound Sister. Nicodemus joined me, eyeing the water, ears flat. I drew a deep breath.

“Why not touch the water?” Mikasi asked uneasily.

I glanced into the pool as a thin shadow rippled below the surface.

“Because we’re not alone,” I said, then stepped in front of the statue.

At first, the room was quiet with only the sound of us breathing. Then I heard a muffled groan of ancient levers moving against each other. The plate under my feet shuddered, then eased down.

Suddenly, I heard voices from the direction of the standing stones.

“The Windtracers came this way! Hurry!”

I knew that voice way too well. It belonged to a woman who’d tried to kill Skarri and I barely a day ago in a rundown flophouse in Old Quarter.

“Scatter!” I snapped at the others.

We bolted away from the reflection pool as footsteps hammered down the stairs, and the water quivered in anticipation.

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Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.