Valley of the Dead (24 page)

Chapter
38

Whereat I turned me round, and saw before me

And underfoot a lake, that from the frost

The semblance had of glass, and not of water.

Dante,
Inferno
, 32.22-24

Dante immediately felt how much colder it was at the top of the cliff, as strange as that seemed after such a short ascent. They again wrapped themselves in their blankets and began moving. The ground was frozen hard as stone, the frost on it crunching under their footsteps. As much as Dante had cursed the deathly stillness they had experienced on the previous plateau, here he quickly found himself longing for it, as howling, icy winds pummeled them. This assault seemed to have a special fury, for it swirled about them, constantly coming at them from a different side, rather than blowing steadily like a normal storm.

There were few trees this high up, so the wind was merciless and inescapable. After trudging for some time, they took shelter next to a boulder and a gnarled juniper tree, so they could get out of the wind and rest.

“I have never seen it this cold in the springtime,” Dante said. He rubbed his hands and face, trying to get warmth back into them. His teeth were chattering so much he could barely speak.

“It’s always colder in the mountains, and it’s still early in the spring,” Adam said. “But this does seem unnatural somehow, like a further blight and plague on this place.”

“Back there you seem to have gotten the hang of lying,” Dante said, stomping his feet before they became too numb.

“Yes, it was useful,” Adam said. “Shameful but useful. Unfortunately, it is often much easier to learn new vices than virtues, so this place corrupts everything and everyone in it.”

“Myra, that woman at the tent for the sick, did not seem wicked,” Radovan said. Dante glanced at him and was encouraged by his still noticing what little goodness could be detected in this pit.

“Yes. She was a rare and virtuous woman,” Adam agreed. “But so wounded by all the evil. We must pray she survives a bit longer, until someone can help her.”

They tightened their blankets around themselves and continued walking. Ahead of them, the ground was completely smooth and white. They had come to the edge of a frozen lake. Radovan stepped out on to the ice, and stomped on it with his foot to test it.

“Should we cross it?” he asked. “It seems solid enough.”

Adam looked to either side at the vast expanse of ice. “Yes, it’ll be much quicker than circling around it,” he replied. “We don’t have much daylight left. Let’s go.”

Once they were on the ice, it could be seen it was not perfectly smooth, but had many irregularities in it. Hunched over as he was, Dante could observe these closely. In places it looked like ripples in the water had frozen, and there were many shades of blue detectable in the ice. Here and there he could see what looked like strange, indistinct objects within the ice, but it was impossible to tell if these were real, or illusions made by various cracks and bubbles trapped deep underneath them. Ominous pops and groans came from underneath – sometimes right at their feet, sometimes from far away, sounding almost like thunder from a distant storm.

Although the lake was quite large, it was not wide in the direction they were moving, and they crossed it quickly. As they neared the other shore, Dante could see some motion ahead and to their right. As they got closer to it, he saw it was two human forms lying down, partly submerged in the frozen, marshy ground at the edge of the lake. Dante could barely hear their moans over the howling wind.

He looked more closely at them, since they seemed incapable of getting up or attacking. They were two dead men, both caked with frost over most of their bodies, though in some spots there were also smears of dark, frozen mud. Where their skin was visible, it was either covered with frost or a shade of white indistinguishable from the snow. Almost all the tears and gashes in their skin were bloodless and nearly invisible, for the frost had filled those in as well.

The way the two men were lying, it looked to Dante as though they had been grappling together when they fell into the swampy ground. Then they had frozen there in mid-fight. As Dante watched, they continued to wrestle. They didn’t really seem able to lift themselves up very much, so they clawed and bit at each other’s faces and necks. The one dead man forced the other down and partly climbed on top of him. Dante could now see a gaping hole in the skull of the one on the bottom. Unlike the rest of their bodies the brain appeared bright and pink, especially shocking and livid with no other color present anywhere around them. Inside the broken skull, it looked like part of the brain was missing. The dead man who had forced the other one down now tried gnawing away at the edge of the hole, apparently trying to widen it, since it was not big enough for him to tear out any more of the brain. As he gnawed, the dead man’s one clouded eye lit on Dante, but he made no move to leave his grisly feast. His jaw just worked slowly up and down as he stared.

“I didn’t think they attacked one another,” Dante said quietly, for the wind had suddenly died down.

“The dead remember,” Adam replied. “This man must have hated that one with some special, intimate venom. A loyalty betrayed? A promise broken? A special humiliation that could only be delivered by someone he loved and trusted? Whatever it was, that hate now consumes him forever.”

The man’s teeth scraped along the skull with a small, rasping sound, like someone using a file on wood.

“So hate is stronger than love?” It was almost a whisper when Dante said it.

“Never believe that, my son,” Adam said with a note of sternness. “You know not to. You know what hate is, and you know its limits.”

Dante drew himself up more, though he still stared into the dead man’s eye. Dante stepped closer to the struggling corpses. Still they did not react to him. “Hate is a kind of love,” he said as he slowly drew back his right foot. “A twisted, stunted kind of love.” He swung his foot forward. The thing’s head jerked to one side from the blow, then turned back to resume chewing. Dante kicked it again with the same effect. “A love of pain and hurt and ugliness.” Dante stepped away from the horrible, useless things on the ground.

“Yes,” Adam said. “And for some people, it is the only love they know. As a man you must look on these pathetic creatures and pity them. But you must also scorn them and spurn their cursed life. It is the only way.” The wind picked back up, whipping their blankets around and stinging their faces with sharp needles of snow and ice. “Now let us finish this journey.”

They stepped off the surface of the lake and back on to frozen earth. Ahead to the left, Dante could see where part of the mountain had been torn away, as though a bite had been taken out of the black rock. It was a huge quarry, the wasted contents of which had been discarded to the one side in a gigantic pile of dully glistening slag. Where they were walking, the ground was covered with the black, pulverized dregs of the mine work as well. Dante picked up a rock and examined it, noticing several shards of dark red in it. Garnets? Rubies? Dante didn’t know enough about gems to tell, but if even a castoff piece like this one had so many jewels embedded in it, the ground must be richer than anywhere else on earth.

As Dante considered such untold wealth, his attention was drawn away by the clink of metal striking rock. He slipped the stone into his pocket without thinking about it, focusing on what might be a new threat. The metallic clanking seemed to be in time to a low, rhythmic chant accompanying it. An explosion shook the ground, as a huge plume of black smoke and dust shot up from the quarry. The clinking and chanting became the only sounds they heard once more.

They were close enough now to see the hundreds of men swinging their picks in the dark pit. As more and more of the miners turned to notice them, Dante saw their eyes were as dead as the stone at which they were hacking.

Chapter
39

He from before me moved and made me stop,

Saying: “Behold Dis, and behold the place

Where thou with fortitude must arm thyself.”

Dante,
Inferno
, 34.19-21

Radovan and Dante drew their swords. “There’s no way you can tell us we’ll prevail this time,” Radovan said, as some of the dead men dropped their tools and shuffled toward them. There were a dozen or more in the nearest crowd that noticed them, and hundreds more in the ranks behind them.

Adam moved to stand beside them and planted his staff in the ground. “Of course I can,” he said. “And we shall. You see how slowly they move in the cold. We will start running away from the quarry and straight toward the mountains, as quickly as we can. You, my daughter, move as fast as you can and get ahead of us. We will slow them down. It will give you the time you need to escape. You will have to trust your instincts to find the pass, but I know you can do it. The virtuous can find things that the wicked cannot see.”

“And us?” Dante said.

“We will prevail. I give you my word,” Adam said. “I did not say we would survive. But that is always a part of the blessed death: to die with honor and virtue, purpose and sacrifice. I know you would want that.”

“I do,” Radovan said.

“I do,” Dante said softly, as he hustled Bogdana ahead.

They trotted forward, angling diagonally away from the growing horde following them. She was moving more awkwardly than she had been, almost waddling, but it looked like she could keep up a pace faster than the frozen dead.

“You there!” Dante heard someone shout from the direction of the quarry. “You people! Stop! What are you doing?”

Dante turned to see many men running between them and the crowds of the dead. These men were alive and carrying torches, which they waved at the dead to drive them back into the quarry. Dante heard the crack of whips as well. He and his companions stopped and watched the men round up the dead and return them to their work. In just a few minutes, the clinking of picks and the steady chanting had resumed.

A group of five of the men with torches approached them. The men were all clad in leather armor and fur coats. Besides the torches, they all carried iron truncheons – thick, black, brutish weapons. Dante could also see black leather whips coiled at their belts.

“Now what did you think you were doing?” one of the men said to them. “You interrupted our work. Got them all riled up. I don’t care if you want to get eaten alive, but if they got you and went into a feeding frenzy, it’d take us the rest of today and all night to calm them back down and get them back to work. Might even have to put a few of them down, if they got too unruly. You were lucky you didn’t cause us more trouble.”

“But why don’t they attack you and eat you?” Dante asked, looking in amazement between the armed men in front of him and the dead ones swinging picks. “I don’t understand. You have them doing work.”

The man frowned and shrugged. “Ask me how you get a bull to plow a field,” he said. “The beast’s bigger and stronger than you and could kill you at any moment. But you beat it, whip it, and get it to mind.” He smiled: a very crooked and dirty affair. “And you feed it, of course.” He pointed his truncheon at them. “That’s where you all might still come in handy, if you don’t behave. Now, no one’s answered my question!”

The speaker swung his truncheon, catching Dante’s right arm just below the shoulder. It was a backhanded blow, so it wasn’t as powerful and debilitating as it might have been, but it still drove Dante to one knee with a cry of pain. Dante raised his sword, in case he needed to ward off another blow, but Adam and Radovan stepped between him and the men with clubs.

With his left hand, Dante grabbed Radovan’s arm, keeping him from advancing. Dante pulled himself up. “No, please, it’s my fault,” he said. It was shameful, to be sniffling with his eyes full of tears, but there was nothing to be done about it, the pain was so intense. Besides, it might put off the attackers from more violence if Dante and his friends appeared weaker. “I shouldn’t have asked so many questions. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you ought to be,” the man who had struck him said. “Now answer my question.”

“We’re all sorry we caused trouble,” Adam said. “We were just trying to get further up into the mountains. We didn’t know you had the dead working here. We didn’t mean to upset them or interrupt your work.”

“Well, you should be more careful where you go wandering around,” the man continued, still stabbing the air with his truncheon for effect. “The world’s a dangerous place. And people have work to do.”

“We should take them to Lord Ahriman,” one of the other men said.

The man who addressed them first nodded. “Yes. I think you’re right, Cassian,” he said. “Let him deal with it. It’s not far. Start going the way you were headed. Go on.”

Adam looked to Radovan and Dante and nodded for them to put away their weapons. Dying to save Bogdana from the hungry dead was one thing; dying so that these brutes could get a hold of her was senseless as well as useless. So they sheathed their swords and followed the men.

They were led past many more work gangs – some living, some dead, some striking at the ground out in the open, some being led into the mouths of mining tunnels that would take them further into the darkness to search for cold, sparkling stones. Whenever they passed the dead, the men with torches would shield the dead men’s view of the newcomers as much as possible and hurry them along. Finally they came to a huge pavilion. This one was closed all around and had two guards at the entrance. The men escorting them explained the situation to the guards then left. After waiting a few more moments, Dante and his friends were led inside.

The interior of the tent was opulent, though the whole structure retained the feel of a military camp, ready to be broken down and moved to a new location at any time. It was not fit for an emperor, but Dante could imagine a Roman general on campaign lived in something like this. A fire roared in the middle of the area in a large, round brazier, the metalwork of which was quite intricate. The tapestries on the walls were colorful and skillfully done. Their subject matter was mostly battles, especially those including the burning of cities, the slaughtering of children and old men, and the raping of women. It could have been the sack of Troy reproduced a dozen times, so far as Dante could tell. The floor of the tent was covered with furs and rugs, many of the latter with scenes similar to the wall decorations. There were a couple tables and many chairs; all of these looked of high quality, very ornate in their design. The more surprising furnishings were two large bookcases, full to overflowing with ancient-looking tomes.

They were taken before Lord Ahriman, who sat at the one end of the tent, flanked by four more guards. Behind a gauzy curtain nearby, Dante saw two voluptuous feminine forms reclining. The lord’s chair was a high-backed one that resembled a throne, though he had forgone any gilt or brocade. It was just a massive chair, as ornate as the others in the room, but not more so. The man himself looked a bit older than Dante, very handsome and well-groomed, especially considering the people Dante had been exposed to for the last few days. His hair and beard were black and closely trimmed, his eyes a cold and striking blue. He wore black pants and a white shirt, over which he’d pulled a voluminous red robe that hung open in the front. If the tent exuded the aura of a Roman general, the man and his garb looked more like a statesman or philosopher – elegant, but restrained, thoughtful, and in control.

Lord Ahriman’s demeanor also seemed more civilized than those they had encountered elsewhere in the valley. He waved them over and smiled at them; his teeth were perfectly straight and dazzlingly white. “So, I am told you entered my part of the valley and caused some disturbance?” he asked in an affable tone. His voice seemed oddly welcoming in this place, the exact opposite of his violent servants outside.

“Yes,” Adam replied. “We meant no harm. We were just passing through.”

“I see,” the lord said. “You picked a most peculiar place to come. No one comes up here. There’s no way out, I’m afraid.”

“There is a pass through the mountains,” Adam explained. “We will take it. We won’t cause you any trouble.”

Ahriman looked thoughtful and a bit puzzled at this reply. “Oh, it’s no trouble, really. The men who run the mine were being overly dramatic. They can certainly keep the ‘special’ workers under control. Or they should be able to, if they’re doing their job. But I’m confused about this pass. I have heard of it before. You’re one of those monks from that strange monastery, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” Adam bowed his head with this reply.

Ahriman nodded. “A most unusual lot, to be sure, with most odd beliefs. Nothing I could ever see the value in. But perhaps you know some secret path that we don’t. I can’t see the harm in your traipsing about the mountains. But you’ll stay away from our workers, and be on your way?”

“Absolutely. Without delay,” Adam said.

“Good. Then I see no reason to keep you. You may go.”

Before they were led out, Adam raised his hand. “My lord, if you please, I mean no disrespect, and don’t wish to take up any more of your valuable time, but I wanted to ask about this place. I was up here many years ago, and none of this was here. There were just a couple small mines, and a few miners – regular miners. Is all this new?”

Ahriman smiled again. “We’ve been here a few years, but our operation has grown a great deal since you were here. Isn’t it impressive? And finally putting the dead to some use. That was a real boon.”

“Yes, it is… fascinating what you’ve done here,” Adam said.

Dante wondered why they didn’t just get moving. Although his arm still throbbed from when he had asked too many questions before, Dante had to admit his own overwhelming curiosity about this infernal place. Dante thought even Ahriman’s tone contributed to this longing for more information, as though his voice had a special seductiveness to it, a low softness that made one want to hear more.

“But don’t you worry the army will come here and destroy it? They’re moving up the valley, you know. I don’t understand how you can stay here.”

Ahriman’s smile had a note of condescension in it now, though it was still quite captivating. “Oh, I’m afraid you don’t know our arrangements with the army. The
boyar
, the ruler, is my brother. He would never let the army get above the valley floor, to climb up to either of the two plateaus. All the lands up here are mine. And the people as well, both living and dead.”

“No!” Radovan exclaimed. “You can’t be! Lord Mihail killed his brother Ahriman years ago, after Ahriman killed their older brother!”

Ahriman laughed, a sound so infectious it almost made Dante want to join in. “Oh, yes. I know he still tells that story!” the handsome lord said. “How many versions of it have all of you heard? That he killed me in single combat? In a huge battle? Threw me off the castle parapet? Lay siege to my castle and burned it to the ground, with me inside it? That we fought on a frozen lake far to the north, where I’d fled, and the ice cracked and I fell through?” He lowered his voice a little. “Did it ever strike you as rather convenient and surprising that all those stories included my body being completely lost? No evidence whatsoever? And did it ever occur to anyone that my brother Mihail, the second eldest of the family, stood to gain from our older brother’s death, and not I? Don’t all these things add up, and show that Mihail was behind it all the time? That I just did what we both wanted done, with his approval and support?” He gestured to the contents of the tent and smiled again. “And now, with his protection and reward for a good deed?”

Dante could see that Radovan was crushed by this revelation. From his earlier description, this Mihail was some kind of local hero, someone whom boys were raised to admire, even idolize. To take that belief away from someone would freeze and kill a part inside him, much more than the snow and ice outside ever could.

“Where I come from, these things would be noted, and people would figure out what had happened,” Dante said. He looked down at the floor, out of shame for what he now confessed of his homeland. “Many would even praise the ones who had done it and call them shrewd, intelligent men who deserve to rule.”

Ahriman looked to Dante, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “Then you come from a land of very wise and enlightened people,” he said. “Where did you say you were from?”

“I was born in Italy,” Dante said.

The lord nodded. “Ah, yes, I have heard of this place. It must be glorious to be among so many people who are honest and direct about what they want, and what they’ll do to achieve it. I think I would like it there very much.”

“I’m sure you would,” Dante said. He cursed himself for continuing the conversation, but his curiosity was now completely in control of him. “I understand why your brother Mihail did this, but I don’t see exactly what you gained.”

Ahriman gestured to the contents of the tent. “I understand my surroundings might seem humble,” he said. “But they suit me. I range up and down these two plateaus, and everyone I see is
mine
. You might think the fawning and groveling would get old eventually – but they don’t! And I know, even if I don’t always show my hand, how far my power extends. My brother’s reign depends on the wealth we provide him from these mountains. The occasional outbreaks of the living dead mean he can keep such a large army at all times, and keep the people cowed and fearful most of the time, or jubilant and grateful when the monsters are destroyed by Mihail’s soldiers. But they’re never really destroyed, of course. I just keep them here, busy, working away. They have a purpose now. I’ve even given them a sort of happiness, as meager as it might seem to some. And our youngest brother, Gabriel, wasn’t left out, either. He became the leader of the church in our land, and the pews and coffers are always packed. The poor, frightened people need to pray their knees raw and empty their pockets, always asking for protection from the terror of the living dead, or pouring out their gratitude when the plague’s been quelled. So my dead are always useful, whether they’re working hard or being killed! Just their existence gives me more power than anyone in this land! I rule over the dead. What other ruler can say that, anywhere in the world? It’s like in ancient Greece. The world is divided between three powerful rulers: one for the earth, one for the sea, and one for the underworld. I got the underworld. Many might think it dreary, but I find it intoxicating and thrilling.”