A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

He called out his observation to Cormrant, though neither seemed to think that the mechanism for it still worked. Oliver was of the same opinion. It was terribly rusted. Still, it begged the question of 'why here?'

Why, when they'd used wood for the gate, would they spare a stone tower and a portcullis just for this little entranceway into the cliffside? It was nothing if not foreboding. Faced with no choice, though, they passed under it nonetheless, straight into the passageway that awaited beyond it.

Northman carried the torch, illuminating the way as Oliver walked beside him. The entrance into the cliff was hard to track. It was hard to tell that transition from a man-made structure to that which was natural, for the way was lined entirely by stone brick for a good while. The floor, the ceiling and the walls, they were all laid with stone.

Yet again, Oliver asked himself why they didn't spare those defensive efforts on the front of the fort. They clearly had the resources for at least some of it.

Or perhaps they had? Perhaps it was simply the case that the stone bricks came from an even earlier time than the rotting wood? It was not inconceivable that a stone fortification had initially been built, only to be destroyed again, and then reformed by later settlers of the area.

Whatever the case, Oliver didn't feel like asking. Something about those stone walkways, angling downwards as they were, it all invited a sort of solemnness that he was unwilling to break.

After a little while, the stone bricklaying ended, giving way to what was unmistakeably natural stone, though this too was worn smooth beyond the point of which was natural, still angling down, at an evermore increasing rate.

Finally, Oliver asked it, once the tunnel had continued downwards for longer than five minutes. "What is this place? Why tunnel so deep into the side of a cliff?"

"I am unsure," Northman replied honestly. "It wasn't included in the information Skullic gave us. Perhaps the natives of the area might know. Or perhaps it's simply an escape route, and we've wasted our time."

That was a possibility that they'd all overlooked, one significant enough to return them both to silence. Quietly, many of them were likely wishing that it was so. At least an escape route would make sense, for this tunnel, it certainly didn't seem to make sense.

"What's that?" Northman said, pausing suddenly. His torch had caught a fraction of red on the wall. Oliver had seen it too. At first, he'd assumed it to be blood, but once Northman shone his light on it, the colour seemed far too orange to be blood.

"Paint?" Oliver guessed, well aware that the soldiers were beginning to slow behind him. He ran his hand over the area. It was just smooth stone now, worn away by the years, but there were fragments of different colours amongst that orange, blue and yellow and green.

"Paint… aye," Northman agreed, seeing the other colours. He considered it for a moment longer, his silence weighty. Then he gave his nod to the other men behind him and continued on his way.

The tunnel was still eerily quiet. For two hundred people to have passed down here and for it to remain as quiet as it was… It seemed unlikely.

The tunnel curved sharply to the left. It was hard to even see that the turn was coming until they stood right in front of it, with their torch lighting the way. Grey fading into grey and from a distance, it had made the tunnel seem infinite.

Turn though it did. So too did the downward sloping gradually stop, levelling out into something flat. The naturalness of the tunnel was obscured. There were chiselled lines on the walls and on the floors every now and then, as though they'd started on making stone bricks only to stop.

That tunnel felt like an introduction, if such a thing was impossible to instil into rock. There was something about it that seemed to invite expectation, as though preparing the passage-user for something. It was as though that entire section was a giant arrow pointing to something greater.

Oliver shared a look with Northman, his hand hanging from his sword. He began to pay more attention to the walls, noticing more marks, more careless blows of a chisel that seemed to have ended half-heartedly. More flecks of paint too, some of these still carrying fragments of pictures. A strange-looking blue face here, and then a sword and a spear over there.@@novelbin@@

The patterns extended to the floor, after a time. There would be ridges, here and there, seeming to be purposefully placed. Oliver's feet would brush them, once or twice, then almost expect the third that soon came after. It was as regular as a language, all of it bearing a warning, or at least some sort of suggestion.

Then the passage started to grow lighter, from a source that was not their torches. A bluish light crept down the walls, battling the orange of their flames. They could not have hoped to make it more foreboding.

The passage turned again, and the blue light seemed to disappear. It made a man question just where it had come from. The soldiers had been growing tense, preparing for battle, anticipating some sort of cavern or wide open room that they were sure was about to come up. There was none of that – merely more passageway.

Then the passageway turned again. The blue light returned. No cavern still. Oliver tried to track it this time, to see if he could spy where it came from. Even as he looked, he couldn't find the source… unless it was coming from the rocks itself. That seemed too silly a suggestion to be true and Oliver didn't have the time to check it out.

Again the passageway turned, and the light again disappeared.

Then again, once more, as if to spin them in a full circle, the passageway turned again, the steepest curve that it had forced them in since arriving, and now the blue light was strong enough to wash away the orange light of their torches. Now it was strong enough to illuminate all that was in front of them.

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Now it was strong enough to reveal an ominous half-open gate, three times the height of a man.