Elliot Hythe took the lead of the small group several weeks after the fall of the pass, as they walked down the paved highway past abandoned guard posts. Roe’s massive shadow cast him into darkness even though the great man took up the rear of the four. Aourel and Foxe took the center and followed an offshoot through a small village.
“The entrance should be up ahead,” Foxe said, looking over a map. “It should be just past Ambeshire, here.”
“I can’t believe Duncan has us chasing leads from Mirites… Mire does not have anyone’s interest in mind but their own.” Hythe spoke, looking at the sparsely populated village. “Has Duncan already started evacuating the countryside?”
Aourel shrugged. “I don’t know, I suppose he’s desperate, and really what other choice do we have? The Marok have already managed to sneak raiding parties through mountain paths.”
“Thankfully, with the pass blocked, they can’t supply a force large enough to threaten the cities directly.” Roe’s words came as they left the village and could now see the short, sleek tower of smooth black stone rising from the ground. They approached it. Sleek stone held images of the creatures that looked like jackal-headed armadillos who walked upon their hind legs, the Septrinian, driving before them, with whips, humans.
Hythe approached what acted as the entrance door. A great gaping hole in the stone a few shards of glass lined it. “Was this a window?”
“Aye. It’s a tower. The rest of the city is sunken below.”
“And we’re not falling through dirt, how?”
“Most of them have magical barriers over the top. Dirt can’t get through.” They stepped through and moved down a wide spiraling staircase. They passed burning candles, and Aourel pointed to a little C horse lighting a candle up ahead.
“Ah! Oh, hi. You nearly scared me out of my horsey shoes.” The horse said, striking flint and steel together, trying to ignite the candle wick. “I’m just getting everything ready so everyone can see.”
“You’re lighting up the city?”
“Well, some of it. There are a few of us down here. What you guys think all those acrid torches spewing eye burning smoke in enclosed spaces light themselves?”
“No. I didn’t. I figured the monsters who live there were somehow making light sources so they could see.”
“Nope. It’s horses.”
“Well, can you tell us what is up ahead?”
“I’m not really supposed to, but um there’s like big stone people.” The horse managed to finally get the candle lit.
“Golems?”
“I guess.” She drifted down to the next candle.
They descended past the horse into the murky darkness until they found the stairs blocked. A side door led to a balcony. Candles and lamps were sporadically lit, casting dim spots of light across the city below. The black stone had been twisted into delicate wirework forming a railing along the small balcony. Ropes had been tied and hung down to the city streets a floor below. Foxe poked the ropes and attached a fresh line. “Don’t trust ropes that have been hanging here. Don’t see any footprints besides ours in the dust, so they’ve been out here for a while. Started to fray even out of the elements.”
Aourel crouched down to hug Foxe. “Thankfully someone is always prepared.”
“The stairs were definitely blocked off on purpose,” Hythe said, inspecting the barricaded stairs.
“Aye, people don’t want what the Septies left down here wandering up to the surface.”
The air was musty, stale, and heavy with humidity. “Not sure how we’re supposed to find what we’re looking for down here.”
The great Roe knelt down and brought his hands together. Divine power coursed through him, and he held forth a hand a pillar of light descends upon a distant structure. “There.” He mumbled before finishing a silent prayer and rising.
“When have you ever succeeded in telling me what to do, Ellie?”
Roe drew his C-horse, Cherry Tart, from one pocket, and the small horse became a beautiful cloud-grey Pegasus which Row climbed upon and flew down as Foxe finished securing the line.
“Blueberry, can you do that?”
“Oh, um, yes, I can, but not for you.” Came the muffled voice of Blueberry Cream-Cheese. “You’re not a high enough ranked hero.” The little C-horse poked her head out of one pocket.
“So… rope it is.”
“Yup.” The horse nodded.
“After me,” Aourel said as Foxe finished. “Thank you.” She leaned down to peck the smaller man on the brow and climbed down first. “No offense, but I don’t trust either of you beneath me.”
“Fair,” Foxe said with a shrug.
“Offense taken…”
“Pretty sure I recall you had a crush on her.”
“As a boy. I grew out of that before I was old enough to even know it was wrong.”
“Still. Most men would die for someone like her.”
Elliot Hythe rolled his eyes. “I’m going down next. Since you know how to secure the line if it loosens any.”
“Right. Fine by me I imagine you won’t look up my skirt if only because I don’t have one.” He gave him a salute as Hythe slid down to join the others, followed by Foxe.
The streets were dark except for the occasional candle or lamp. C horses fluttered past, planting candles and doing their best to light them. Roe raised his great sword, the Herald of the True Born, and sheathed it in divine fire, casting the street in radiant light that did not flicker nor dim. They traveled down wide streets littered with twisting bones of Septrinian who died from some ancient divine plague the gods had sent upon them and through alleyways to avoid trudging stone golems. Aourel looked sick as she stepped over the ragged bones wrapped around a smaller set shielding its child to the bitter end. They neared the beacon that Roe had summoned and peeked out. “Not to question her divine brilliance, but are we sure this is the place?”
Roe turned a silent glare towards his cousin.
“Hey, Mire sent us, and they love to conceal, obscure, and fuck with mortals.”
Roe sighed. “I suppose. Foxe. You can read Selker; can you read Septrinian?”
“Eh.” He gave a middling gesture. “No one can fully read Septrinian but Septrinians. They apply perfumes since a lot of their tongue is scent-based, and after all this time I don’t think there is any left, so… even the Septies couldn’t read it properly.” He moved to the marked shop and ran a hand over the smooth stone marred by images. “Looks like some kind of map shop based on the designs in the stone.” He reached up and moved a hand over the sign. “The place… that shows the way. Is the closest I can really translate.”
“Sounds like the place,” Elliot said, pressing a hand to the door. “How… do we open this?”
Foxe pressed the center of the door and slid it to one side on some form of rail system in one smooth motion. “You lot stay out here; one wrong move and we’ll be marked as thieves and the golems will swarm us before we can figure out what in there we need.”
“You’re calling us clumsy?” Aourel asked with a faux pout.
“Yes. I’ve seen all of you half-giant fucks try to squeeze into shops before.”
“Hmph. Fine, it’s not like we can read anything in there anyway.”
“Correct. Be back.” Foxe slipped into the darkness of the shop, followed by several C-horses with candles trying to provide lighting for the audience to see.
Hythe waited outside with his cousins and frowned as he noticed shapes moving in the darkness. “Uh… Roe? The beacon can anyone see it?”
“Yes?”
“Including… say things like golems?”
Roe blinked and turned his gaze to the darkness. “Apparently, yes.”
“It might be too late… but maybe it’s time to cut the brilliance.”
Aourel rose, drawing the thin bronze thrusting sword she carried and the heavy leather whip. “Well, it will stop drawing them towards us.”
Roe placed his hands together, and the light went out before the area was flooded with light once more as Tres Facies and C-horses lit up the area with large lime lights set on seashell chariots. “Put those out.”
“Um, but how can people see the epic fight?”
“You’re going to make it worse,” Elliot said.
The C horse swam down through the air. “Hey, I don’t whinny you what to do. I’m just doing my coelestis duty.” She swam back up, and Muses descended, forming a choir as C horses formed a small band.
“We are so screwed.” Elliot drew his bronze trident. “Can we even hurt them?”
“I definitely can. I don’t know if bronze thrusting weapons will do much against them.” Roe readied the Herald.
“Of course.” Aourel sheathed her sword and readied her whip. “I’ll do my best to restrict and control them.”
Battle music began to play in a discordant cacophony before the Muses got the distracted C horses on track as the hulking stone golems lumbered into the lit area.
Roe charged forward; the Herald, wreathed in fire, smashed through golems, sundering and shattering stone with terrible screeches and thunderous cracks as trapped moisture turned to steam and exploded forth.
Aourel slashed her whip across one golem, drawing attention to the impact and moving between it and another golem. As it approached, she moved away from the approaching golem until it reared back and slipped to one side, smote the other golem, raining stone chips around her.
Elliot jabbed his trident against the stone, causing little damage to the stoneman but deforming the prongs of his weapon. He danced past strikes and, with his large gauntlet, struck the golem several times, chipping and cracking its body. He fell back as it advanced.
“I don’t think I can hurt these things.”
“We need to hold them off until Foxe gets the maps,” Roe said as he cleaved through another golem.
“That’ll be easier said than done.”
Aourel moved back against a wall as a C horse descended, playing a little trombone to simulate a tense, manic heartbeat as golems approached. Aourel seized the instrument, leaving a crying C horse whining about how that was hers. She played music, channeling her bardic magic into a song of decay, of collapse, of greatness reduced to ruin. The music washed over the approaching golems; their bodies smoothed, shrank, wore away until they crumbled. She breathed heavily, noticing the small horse clinging to the slide.
“Give me back my trombone.”
“Sorry.” She surrendered it back before ducking under a flying Elliot who hit a wall hard enough his pack burst open, various traveling gear spilling out, and the music stopped as the horses descended to snuffle about spilled buccellatum, puls, a vessel of posca shattered, spilling forth a vinegar-based drink. They seemed very interested in a small sack, which Aourel snatched; she opened it, revealing dried apple slices. “Well, I think we might have a way out if we can get Carabella to come.” More golems lumbered into the clearing, blocking the alleys and streets out of the clearing with their forms.
Foxe emerged from the shop with his hands full of large scroll cases. “Found the sea chart and possible destinations.” He blinked in the light of the Herald and the shadows cast by the golems. “Well, I suppose I wasn’t quite sleight enough with the old hands.”
Elliot fell from the wall to his knees, groaning. “How do we get Carabella here, and how is that going to help us? I don’t think she’s allowed to help us.”
“Just trust me, Ellie.”
“Fine…” Elliot struggled to his feet. He spoke loudly and with a amount of astonishment. “Oh, wow, is that a shirtless Fineth!”
There was a clatter of hooves as Cara came trotting over, sliding to a stop on the sleek road, smashing through several golems as if they were nothing more than paper walls. The goddess looked around the clearing, excited. “Where? I don’t see him.”
Aourel approached the goddess. “Oh, hey Cara look I have apple slices.” She waved the sack about to avoid the little C-Horses fluttering after it.
“Oh, I like apples.” The goddess trotted over to sniff the bag. Foxe, Roe, and Elliot hopped onto her back. “Hey! What are you guys doing? I can’t turn that much.”
Aourel tossed the bag at Cara and threw herself atop the back of the goddess as the Golems closed in. “Run, Cara, run.”
“What… I’m not going anywhere until you guys get off me. I am a goddess! I am power! HORSE POWER!” Foxe sighed and bit her flank. “Ah! Something wants to eat me!” The goddess reared up and ran, arms flailing, as she ran through golems, shattering stone and kicking off the floor, and ran across the open air towards the tower.
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