Chapter 5: Baelon

Baelon unrolled the small scroll and compared the illustration to the bare rock of the mountainside before them. The structure was a perfect match—right down to the patches of moss that clung to the stone across its surface. He ran his hand across its surface, found a patch, and with one hand ripped it away, one small clump at a time.

There it was: the small, skull-marked glyph of Noben, the God of Death, barely larger than his thumb and the same color as the stone. Baelon stepped away and looked to the first of his three disciples.

"This is it. Our next step lies inside. You know what to do."

Godrid stepped forward and pulled his long, sleek black hair out of his eyes. Then he rolled his enormous shoulders, and pulled on his half-gauntlets. They were reinforced in the knuckles and made for punching, but also had a sharp bladed edge along one side, opposite the thumb. He squared himself up against the rock face, right where Baelon had indicated.

In one fluid motion, his feet slid into stance, he drew the blade of the half-gauntlet across his other palm, and delivered a punch into the stone that rang throughout the canyon. The rock shattered, spraying rubble in all directions. When the dust settled, there was a hole in the mountain face.

Baelon stepped forward and motioned for Godrid to step back. The big man obeyed. The hole broke through a hand’s length of stone to a hollow space on the other side, and was nearly as big as his head. Baelon peered inside. Faintly, in the darkness, he could see the neat shapes of cleanly hewn stone, and hear a faint trickle of water. A workspace. He turned to Godrid.

"Can you continue?" he asked.

"Easily."

Baelon stepped back again as Godrid threw his fists against the rock again. Then again. And again. Soon, there was enough space to walk comfortably through. Godrid had barely broken a sweat, but everyone knew the true cost of what he had done.

Baelon tenuously stepped inside, and his disciples followed. Though it was dark, the place was enormous. A half dozen tables stood carved in the same solid stone as the floor. Shelves with ancient, decrepit tools and supplies still on them were carved into the neatly square stone walls. A couple of the wooden chairs were still together; the rest had fallen apart from rot.

He turned to Histevul, who was peering into the depths, able to see far more than the others could.

"I’d like to avoid any surprises. Scout it, please."

Histevul looked back at Baelon with his all-black eyes and smirked, slipping on his bladed ring. He took a few steps away from their makeshift entrance, and into the nearest shadow. He sliced his finger, placed a pale hand on the wall, and merged into the shadow, becoming a part of the darkness itself. The others stood in silence for a long moment before Histevul re-emerged.

"It’s surprisingly deep," he said. "But they thought no one would find this place again. No traps anywhere."

"Good. That makes it easy."

Baelon pulled open the pack on his lower back and pulled out one of a small torch.

"Aleanna, if you wou-"

"Please," Aleanna said. She was already reaching for the torch. "I don’t even need to bloodlet for this."

She circled her fingers around the torch, and it roared to life.

"Thank you," Baelon said. He pulled two others free and lit them with the flame, then passed them to Aleanna and Godrid.

"So, it’s somewhere in here?" Godrid asked.

"No." Baelon replied, "They thoroughly searched this place before sealing it. If it was found, we would know about it, no matter how hard they scrubbed the records. But it can’t be far—and there’s bound to be clues. Spread out. See if anything obvious sticks out to you."

They went in separate directions. The place was centered around the large central workroom; ancillary rooms surrounded it, and those spun off into yet more spaces. After they had briefly searched each room one by one, they reconvened near the entrance.

"Anything useful?" Baelon asked.

"I found this." Aleanna said. She swung an ancient iron key on one finger. "I couldn’t find its match, though."

"Did any of you?" Baelon asked the group. The others shook their heads. "Disappointing, but we had expected as much. Even so, good find, Aleanna. When the Empire discovered this place, it had to be abandoned and sealed in a hurry—no time to haul out safes or chests."

"Little good it did them," Histevul said.

"Indeed. But no one knows we’re here. Get comfortable—we’ll stay here for a while. We can pick through everything here at our leisure, and plan our next move. For now, let’s rest."

Godrid sat down heavily on one of the remaining chairs, nearly breaking it. He rested his elbows on his knees, and hung his head. The strength of Falgen had worn off; he was paying the price now.

"How much time did it cost you?" Histevul asked.

"Eighteen hours, thirty-six minutes."

"Just to break a wall? That’s rough." Histevul ribbed, sitting on one of the stone tables. He couldn’t hide that he was getting tired too.

"And you?" Godrid asked.

"Don’t know yet. A few hours, probably."

"Lucky."

"Skilled," Histevul corrected. He turned to Baelon. "You’re sure this thing is worth it? What if it doesn’t even exist?"

"Oh, it exists," Baelon said. "I was told by Noben himself. I wasn’t the first to be tasked with seeking it, just the first to get this close."

"Well, if you’re sure, who am I to doubt?" Histevul said, staring at the ceiling, his pitch black eyes faintly reflecting the torchlight. "I don’t care how we do it, so long as the Empire falls."

"Noben wants the Empire’s demise?" Godrid asked.

"The Ten don’t care what nations men form among themselves. And the God of Death in particular doesn’t care where it’s aimed, so long as it’s used.

"What towns are around here?" Aleanna asked, pulling the map from her bag and unrolling it on a table.

"Only one:" Baelon said. He didn’t need to look. "Varenwald."