Blood of the Red

Chapter 30 - Dain

Chapter 30 – Dain

Dain pressed his lips tight together. He wasn't sure where the words that had had such an effect on Raymel came from. It felt as though the Voice had spoken through him. Ever since they had climbed the Rock he felt ... he wasn't sure what ... watched? More than that.

In the moment that Raymell killed the old man a sudden clarity stole over Dain. He saw Raymell's path from a distant child to the man before him. He saw the pressures, the pain, the choices. Dain shook off the image and hurried after the Arkasian. The Cloister loomed ahead like a threat. Its great iron portals were unattended.

The hilt of Raymell's sword rang dully against the iron door. Three times he smote the doors then sheathed his blade. They opened silently on oiled hinges. Torches burned within. Four tall warriors stood like statues, their breastplates and the helms that closed around their faces all enameled in crimson.

"What is your business with the priests of the Blood?" the foremost intoned. A fiery crest to his helm marked him as the ranking guard.

"Save your theatrics for the peasants, soldier. I come with news of a lost key. I will speak only with the Gate-Keeper. Inform your masters, they will admit me."

The guard gestured, and one of his subordinates hastened away into the building. He returned his hand to the pommel of his sword.

Dain stood uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the imposing warriors. He peered after the retreating man. A long corridor pierced deep into the Cloister with a dozen or more doors leading from it. At each door an armoured guard stood to attention. The air from within was warm and thick with an aroma like burnt cinnamon.

Dain wished Ingold were with him. He wanted to hear the bard's music. To hear him laugh. To learn his letters. To be anywhere but in the jaws of the Cloister.

The guard returned at a run, his mail clanking. "Priest Reshnu says they are to be escorted to the Gate Keeper immediately!"

The eight guards that flanked Dain and Raymell marched in unison. The tramping of their boots through the silent corridors seemed almost sacrilegious. Dain struggled to keep pace, alternately walking then trotting. Part of him longed to run wild down these deserted corridors, to play chase with friends, to skid on the polished marble and break the quiet with laughter.

Twice they passed guardsmen bound on solitary missions. Through one half-opened door Dain glimpsed a priest, robed in scarlet, his face hidden behind a scarlet mask. The smooth, serene, features of the mask could betray no emotion, but as they passed the doorway the priest's hand froze. The quill he reached for lay forgotten and he startled to his feet. The phalanx of guardsmen bore Dain on.

The escort halted in a vaulted hall, before an iron door deep within the Cloister, at its very heart. The men guarding the door unlocked it with an ornate key. They strained at the handle and the door stole into motion, swinging outwards. It was six inches thick. Four of the escort preceded Dain into the darkness beyond.

"Stay by the wall," the man behind him cautioned. He steered Dain through the doorway with a hand on one shoulder.

Dain caught his breath. He stood looking out over gaping hole. It was a well, fully fifty yards across. A stairway spiralled down along the inner surface like the thread of a screw. At twenty-yard intervals niches were cut into the rock, and in each one a single flame burned above a pool of oil. Innumerable such flames dwindled down and down, individual points of light becoming a thin line, swallowed by the darkness.

Dain's legs went weak. He felt thankful for the guard's steady grip. He turned from the well of night, focused on the stone wall and followed the men before him. The descent soon became hypnotic. The endless steps, the beat of boots on stone, endlessly down, endlessly circling. A fall into the unknown threatened on the left. Perhaps the danger of tumbling from the steps was small, but Dain ached for the security of a simple rail. The dark pit exerted a pull all of its own.