07 Conclave of Shadows 3 - Exile's Return by Feist Raymond E

Author:Feist, Raymond E. [Feist, Raymond E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-09-02T05:30:15+00:00

• CHAPTER THIRTEEN •

The Pillars of Heaven

KASPAR GRUNTED WITH THE EFFORT.

He and Flynn had rigged up the armour so they could carry it hammocklike in a sling, with Kaspar at the head and Flynn at the feet. They had each loaded up a backpack, and now they struggled to negotiate the narrow gorge.

Rock faces rose up on either side of them. The sense of menace was palpable. It was as if the uninvited might be crushed between two giant stone palms at any time. Even in the bright morning sun it was gloomy inside the ravine, with only a strip of blue sky showing high above them.

'How are you holding up back there?' Kaspar asked. He was worried about Flynn. With Kenner's death, it seemed that whatever reserve of strength Flynn had was gone. He seemed to be a man resigned to inevitable death. Kaspar had seen that expression on the faces of prisoners led away to his dungeons, men who were to be tortured or killed for one reason of state or another.

'I'm all right,' said Flynn, his voice lacking conviction.

'I think I see something ahead.'

'What?'

'The ravine is ending,' said Kaspar. As they rounded a curve in the rocks, he could see that the terrain ahead opening up. They left the gap and entered a large plateau, with a path leading straight across it. 'Let's rest.'

Flynn didn't argue, and they put the armour down. Each man then unshouldered his pack and put it on the ground.

Kaspar said, 'Do you see any shapes against the rocks over there?'

Flynn squinted against the brightness. It was one of those summer days when the sky was high, the air almost alive with the heat. The light was glaring after the hours they had spent in the ravine. 'I think so.'

They rested for a few minutes, then took up their packs again, and hoisted the armour. As they walked across the plateau, the odd shapes resolved themselves. Against the mountains, a small city had been fashioned, and the plateau gave way to a plaza.

Some buildings were cut into the rock, while others were free-standing in the plaza. Their shapes were mind-numbing, with lines and curves that confounded the eye and nagged at the senses. Hexagons, pyramids, a pentagon, a rhomboid; great obelisks jutting straight up between the buildings. These were also oddly fashioned, with a curved face, then a flat one, or a defiant-looking three-sided tower next to a spiral. 'Let's put the armour down,' said Kaspar.

They lowered the armour and again took off their packs, and Kaspar walked to one of the obelisks. 'It's covered in runes,' he observed.

'Can you read them?' asked Flynn.

'No, and I doubt any living man can,' answered Kaspar.

Flynn looked around, 'This must be the City of the Dead Gods, then?'

'Must be.' Kaspar looked around and inscribed an arc with his hand. 'Look at the design. No human mind could imagine this.'

Flynn looked around. 'Who do you think built it?'

Kaspar shrugged. 'The gods, perhaps. Those still living.' He stared about.

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