Ross Lawhead (13 page)

One of the guards standing around Daniel and Freya acknowledged the knight's request with a nod. “Well met,” he said in a soft but gruff voice. “I am Breca; I will take you there.” He turned and led them away through an arched passageway between two buildings and out into a wide street.

Freya's and Daniel's heads swiveled in every direction as they walked down the streets of the underground city, trying to take in as many of the amazing details as possible. Ecgbryt watched them and smiled. “Welcome to Niðergeard, young lifiendes,” he said proudly. “Perhaps the greatest of the hidden wonders of the world! I have heard of far-off kings, who spoke in tongues now dead, living in sandy kingdoms who have built strange and enormous structures to their own memory. I have heard tell of Elfin palaces in twilight kingdoms whose citizens have harnessed the power of the moon just as the
Laedenware
have tamed the rivers to their towns' purposes. There are people on the far side of this strange world who live in rooms of parchment, wear gossamer robes, and kneel to eat. There are dark men who live in forests with trees so vast and large that the sky is never seen. But were all of these far-off brothers and sisters to arrive here, in this hallowed place, they would think their homes small and their birthplaces of little consequence to the might and glory of Niðergeard, the
Slaepera-Burgh
!

“See that building there?” Ecgbryt continued passionately. “Carved out of the solid rock; no stone-joiner ever found a day's work at that place! And see there, that tall walkway which stretches near across the city, the work of twice twenty years' worth of solid labor—a hundred men, every day!”

“Did you hear that, Freya?” Daniel said, leaning towards her but not taking his eyes off the spectacle of a thin stone bridge that arced clear across the city. “It's absolutely amazing!”

The structures were truly incredible, although they had apparently needed repairs over the centuries. New stone looked incongruous against that much older. The streets and stairways were bowed and worn away, drooping in the centre like warm butter. Here and there, in the doorways and windows, Freya could see people watching them—their faces pale and drab. Living underground for hundreds and hundreds of years, their skin had turned almost grey, and their clothing was faded and worn.

“Why does everyone look so tired and . . . sad?” Freya asked.

“Is that it? Is that the Langtorr?” Daniel exclaimed, the unfamiliar word clinging to his tongue. He pointed to a massive pillar that rose before them, carved out of one of the enormous natural supports to the underground plain. Only the lower part of the tower could be seen in the light of the city's flickering torches, but its top must have reached to the roof of the underground land. The light of flickering torches could be seen through chiseled windows rising above the city, hanging in the air like a giant column of rectangular stars.

“Yes,” said Ecgbryt, “also called the Tall Tower. It is the heart of Niðergeard, designed firstly to hold the people of Niðergeard, should the town be invaded.”

“Have they ever had to use it?” Freya asked.

“To my knowledge, no. The walls have always been sufficient to repel attackers.”

“But why is all of this here? Why have an underground city?”

“Niðergeard exists to provide service to all the knights and warriors who sleep in these isles.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are times when tunnels need to be strengthened or closed or better hidden, when armour and arms must be polished, horses shod, and so on. A myriad of responsibilities. Those in Niðergeard have dedicated their lives to these small acts. That is their sacrifice.”

“How many sleeping knights are there?”

“Very many. I do not know the number, for many more would have been laid down since we went to sleep.”

Daniel and Freya, the knights, and their escort walked a path into the middle of the city, gradually approaching the Tall Tower.

After passing through a particularly narrow alley, they entered a large open plaza. Ahead of them they could see the base of the Langtorr, as well as the entrance across a plain, smooth floor paved mostly with white marble, paths of red and green marble tracing a complicated, seamless pattern that wove dizzyingly in and out of itself. Daniel tried to follow it but had to look up as he started to sway and lose his balance, staggering. He laughed and quickened his step to join the others.

Freya noticed one building near the Langtorr—a squat, circular building about twelve feet high. It was not ornately carved or adorned in any way; its rock was roughly hewn and reinforced with iron bracers. Atop it stood five stout, simple columns supporting a flat, stone roof.

“What is that?” Freya asked, squinting at a gleaming line of gold. “What's inside it?”

Caged in by the columns was one of the weirdest and most haunting objects that either Daniel or Freya had ever seen. Supported by a chain dangling from the roof and lit from underneath, it looked like some sort of ornate, golden horn. It started at about the width of an arm at the bottom, but the barrel gradually widened at the top where it ended in an odd animal-head shape. It had large, completely circular eyes and a blunt, sharp-toothed snout that opened up wide, as if the thing were shouting.

Swiðgar saw Daniel and Freya staring at the object and gave a small smile. “It is the Great Carnyx, æðelingas,” he said. “The trumpet that will wake all the knights and summon them to battle. It is the most guarded and valued item in Niðergeard—perhaps in all of the isle.”

They walked slowly past the Carnyx and came at last to the large, ornate doorway of the Langtorr. A huge stairway made of curved steps proceeded from the entrance. Every step was lit by a silver lantern that illumined the path to a thick archway containing many smaller arches, each one nestled inside the other, bearing wonderful designs. The farthest inside the arch bore an interlocking zigzag pattern, the next featured a row of stylised bird heads, the next a row of animals, then a row of warriors standing guard, and finally on the outside arch, a row of mythical beasts.

Two alcoves were tucked into the massive pillars on either side of the doorway. Here stood two guards with hair so white it almost glowed and pulled hard along their scalps to fall in long, thick braids, which were bound with gold circlets to their shoulders. Full beards jutted out from their chins and forked in the middle to reveal bands of twisted gold around their necks. They wore no armour, but their broad chests and massive arms had a heavy, immovable firmness. Here and there on the chest, arms, and legs, small, delicate whorled patterns were traced in faint blue dye. This, together with their blanched skin, made Freya believe, unquestioningly, that these guards were exquisite carvings—so she couldn't help gasping when they started to move.

5

The pale-faced escorts of the party marched wordlessly up to the two ghastly guards. Low, unfamiliar words were uttered and the stony guards silently moved to one side, allowing the company to pass. Daniel and Freya mounted the steps behind the knights, feeling very insignificant amongst all the ancient grandeur. Passing under the magnificent archway, Daniel stared awestruck at the huge metal doors that stood open against the walls of the inner forecourt; they seemed to be made of large plates of sheet metal, decorated with climbing wrought-iron swirls and whorls, all layered on top of each other, giving the effect of a massive wall of fire, frozen in metal.

Beyond the doors was a narrow greeting chamber. There was a red woven rug on the floor, a gleaming chandelier made from the silver lanterns, and several tall, dark tapestries on the walls.

Though they were dark with age, Freya could just make out the positions of a few of the larger figures, one of them climbing a rock face, one of them in a boat pitched at a dramatic angle.

The party passed through this room and strode towards a stairway that flung two flights of stairs out and up around the circumference of the inner wall. Daniel and Freya craned their necks to try to see the ceiling, but the hollow core of Langtorr ran straight up through the centre; the stairs rose with it, spiraling up and up like two paper ribbons in a tornado.

As they marveled at the ever-ascending steps, they became aware of someone walking down them. A tall, slender, willowy woman so graceful she seemed to drift on a cushion of air. She wore a long bright-green dress under a heavier dark-green robe edged with silver thread. The colours of her clothes reminded Freya of a tree budding in the spring. She looked neither old nor young. Her hair was auburn with dark streaks of rich brown and was swept back, secured at the back of her head with pins of gold, then left to fall about her neck and shoulders. Silver gleamed at her neck and waist. She wore a belt of finely polished silver discs and a weblike necklace made from many twining strands of the same metal.

Her face was pale, but her lips were a deep red, which seemed darker against the alabaster whiteness of her skin. Her eyes were large and sad looking, as if remembering a sorrow from a distant time. She paused a few steps from the bottom of the staircase and crossed her arms, tucking her hands into her sleeves. Swiðgar and Ecgbryt knelt in front of her. Daniel and Freya, unsure what to do, stood behind the knights, their hearts pounding in anticipation, overwhelmed with awe. Daniel thought her face the most beautiful he had ever seen—it filled his mind and made him forget, for a few seconds, all the things he had gone through to get here. Freya's awe was sharp and felt like a cold wind blowing through her; for some reason the woman's grandeur and self-possession made her afraid.

“Greetings, Modwyn, Richéweard,” said Swiðgar.

“Well betide you,
niðercwen
,” said Ecgbryt humbly.

The stately lady in green curtsied. “You are welcome in Niðergeard, Swiðgar and Ecgbryt, noble knights both. Rise.” A servant woman in a velvet dress appeared from a doorway beneath one of the stairs, approached her mistress, and handed her a silver pitcher and a small cupped dish. Stepping forward, Modwyn poured some golden liquid into the bowl and handed it to Swiðgar.

He raised it to his lips and drained it while looking Modwyn in the eye. Taking the bowl from him, she refilled it and gave it to Ecgbryt. He likewise emptied it and handed it back.

Modwyn's eyes then flitted to Daniel and Freya as the two knights rose to their feet. Her expression remained stern and serious, but her eyes seemed to grow more intense and lively.

“My lady, I bring before you Daniel Tully and Freya Reynolds, two lifiendes who have awoken us. We have escorted them here to beg your protection and petition your counsel.”

“I accept their charge,” Modwyn said in a low, emotionless voice. “Daniel and Freya,” she continued, turning her eyes to them, “do you accept my hospitality?”

Daniel and Freya did not speak. For some reason everything felt as if it was happening a long way away, and to someone else.

They looked to the knights.

“Children, this is Modwyn, the ward and protectress of Niðergeard. It is her constant and capable hand that ensures the safe and easy governance of this land. She is asking if you wish to have her protection.”

Daniel looked back to Modwyn and managed to force out, “Yes, please.”

Freya looked to Modwyn and blurted, desperately, “We need to go home now, please!”

Modwyn regarded Freya. “In time,” she said so softly that they were not sure she had said it at all.

“I welcome you,” Modwyn said, stepping past the two knights to stand before them. “Our doors are open and our fires high. Find rest and safety here.” She poured another bowl of drink and offered it to Daniel. He took it uncertainly and sniffed it. He was met with a sweet smell and tingling sensation in his nose.

“It is well,” Swiðgar assured him. “Drink.”

It was sweet like honey, slightly fizzy, and had a spicy flavor, which pricked at his throat and excited his stomach. There was also something in it that warmed Daniel and made him shiver slightly.

He returned the bowl to Modwyn and she filled it again and gave it to Freya. Looking into the bowl, Freya saw the shimmering dance of refracted golden light, which showed a deep golden hue. The scent made Freya's nose tingle and warmed her face. She stifled a sneeze.

“You are both wet and chilled,” Modwyn said, reclaiming the bowl. “Please dry yourselves and take some rest. We will talk when you have taken some sleep.”

At the mention of the word “sleep,” Freya felt herself becoming very drowsy. “If you please, miss,” she said hesitantly, “we would like to go home.”

“I understand,” Modwyn said, smiling a thin smile that failed to light her dark eyes. “But you have come very far and will have farther to return. That will be for Ealdstan to decide. For now, it would give me great pleasure to provide some food, dry clothes, and a bed for you both. Will you accept these offerings?”

Freya did not answer, only nodded.

“Okay . . . ,” Daniel said, his head starting to swim and his eyelids becoming extremely heavy.

Modwyn inclined her head. “I am glad.”

Two servants appeared from behind Daniel and Freya, entering so quietly that they were unnoticed. They were dressed almost to the knees in dark-green shirts, bound around the waist with bronze belts that also held up loose light-green leggings. Both had light-brown hair and broad faces. “This is Cnafa and Cnapa,”