Shadow Blizzard

10 The Level Between Levels

Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. A hundred!

I surfaced, gulped in the air, and coughed. The evening sun was slowly sinking behind the horizon and there was no warmth in it at all. After an hour spent in the water, I was trembling and the only thing I wanted to do was to get out of the River of the Crystal Dream, dry off, and have a drink of something hot. Mulled wine, for instance.

“How long?” For’s voice asked, distracting me from my daydreams.

“A hundred forty-seven!” I lied, without batting an eyelid.

“Lies, you weren’t under the water for more than a minute.”

I gave my teacher a sulky look. For was squinting at the setting sun through half-closed eyes, like a cat, and gnawing on a little green apple.

“A minute’s a long time,” I protested, refusing to back down.

“Not long enough!” objected my teacher.

“It’s cold,” I said, trying to play on his pity. Uh-huh, some chance! It was easier to coax a gold piece out of a dwarf than to soften For’s heart during a lesson!

“What do you mean, it’s cold? It’s an exceptionally fine day.”

“Just try climbing in the water with me, and I’ll see how fine you think it is,” I muttered peevishly to myself, but For heard me.

“You’re a fourteen-year-old ignoramus, and you talk too much,” he remarked good-naturedly, and threw his apple core, which hit me right in the middle of the forehead.

“Why am I wasting my time on this nonsense, but Bass isn’t?”

“Because Bass will never make a decent thief.”

“And I will?”

“If you didn’t lie and argue so much, you might just manage it.”

“I don’t lie all that much!” I exclaimed indignantly.

“And you don’t argue much, either, I suppose?”

I had enough wits not to answer that.

“Come on, kid, carry on. You’ve still got time for another couple of dives before it’s time to go home.”

“All right, teacher,” I sighed miserably. “But what good is all this to me? I’m not a fish!”

“Being able to hold your breath is very important. Every second improves the chances of saving your life.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, if you get into a house and a trap with poisonous gas goes off, and you have to avoid breathing until you get out of the danger zone. Or if some sly fellow throws you off the pier. Tied up. And you need a little time to untie yourself. Or you have to dive under the water and sit there, so that no one can stick an arrow in you. See how many reasons there are to stop whinging and get on with your studies!”

“I’m not whinging! How long do I have to keep on ducking like this?”

“Until it’s no problem for you to sit there for at least two minutes.”

“Two minutes!” I gasped, horrified.

“But three’s better,” said For ruthlessly, to drive the message home.

“Three minutes!”

“Listen, Harold!” said the master thief, looking at me closely. “Did you decide to be my apprentice or not?”

“Yes, I did.”

“If you’re my apprentice, then dive! Time’s wasting.”

Uh-huh. That was exactly what I was after. The longer I could keep For talking, the less time I would have to sit under the water. The sun was almost hidden behind the sea that the River of the Crystal Dream ran into.

“I won’t be able to stay under for three minutes today, anyway,” I gloated.

“No, and not tomorrow, either. But don’t worry about it, kid, we’ve got all summer to practice, and when the cold weather comes, I’ll fill a barrel, and you can practice at home.”

A blow below the belt. I could see that my mentor would never leave me in peace until I sprouted gills and sat under the water for those damned three minutes. I looked at For resentfully, took a deep breath, and dived.

Ah, dear old For! Did my teacher know then that sitting in a barrel of water for hours at a time would actually save my life someday?

Because of the dim lighting, the water in the Palaces of Bone had always looked black to me. But as soon as I slipped under the surface I could see it was as clear as a teardrop. The light, attached to my left forearm with strips of cloth ripped off my abandoned jacket, lit up the vertical shaft I was falling down excellently. The shaft ended at a depth of four yards.

There was a round entrance in one of the walls. That way. And now a horizontal corridor. I didn’t need the magical lamp here, because the walls radiated a pale green light.

I swam in relaxed style, using powerful strokes of my arms and helping myself along with my legs. Forward, ever forward. One minute.

The round passage suddenly turned upward and ended. I shot out of it with the speed of a pike darting out of its burrow and found myself right under the ceiling of a hall that was completely flooded. The water was so transparent, and the walls were glowing so brightly that I could see every detail of the floor nine yards below me. Down to the smallest slab of marble, down to the images on the lids of the coffins. All this drifted slowly past below me. Here was the wall. I had to dive a bit to get through the opening into the next hall.

Two minutes.

Everything was the same in here. Dark spectres of tombs, statues, and walls. Elfin beauty. And I remembered very clearly that there was nothing of the kind on the maps. I swam on, keeping just under the ceiling, and spotted a new “burrow.” My chest was gradually filling up with lead and everything was starting to go dark in front of my eyes. I was already close to my limit. I dived into the “burrow” and left the hall behind. My lungs were on fire. I uncorked the vial, and the thick black liquid mingled slowly with the water. For a second nothing happened, and I started to panic.

Three minutes.

I opened my mouth in fright and … I breathed. The black liquid had dissolved in the water and now I was surrounded by a kind of large bubble with invisible walls. The water passing freely through the bubble could be breathed tolerably well. I had a little more than a minute.

I swam on, redoubling my efforts. The corridor seemed to be endless. An intersection. Three directions. Which one? The one in the middle! Straight ahead! That way, it had to be that way!

The magical bubble burst, giving me just enough time to fill my lungs. Another dead end ahead, and the passage turned down vertically. Three yards down the shaft, and I emerged from the gaping jaws of a gargoyle. Into a hall. There were thousands of little bubbles rising up to the ceiling, and I could hardly see a thing.

One minute.

I swam blind, unable to see the opposite wall. I tried to go down to the floor, but I couldn’t. I could feel hundreds of prickly bubbles pushing me upward. I didn’t even try to resist. There was no time for that. I swam on. The pain in my chest was getting worse.

Two minutes.

I’d already been underwater for nearly six minutes, but there was no sign of the way out I needed so desperately. Either the Messenger had lied, or I’d taken a wrong corridor. The wall! At last. I floundered from side to side like a tadpole in a boiling cauldron. No way out. And I didn’t have another magical vial! I struggled my way up to the ceiling.

Yes!

The bubbles were crowding cheerfully out through a ragged opening above me. I followed them and found myself in a vertical shaft again, but this time it ran upward. And there was something subtly beautiful shimmering up ahead of me.

I worked away with my legs. There was a dark mist in front of my eyes, and I was thinking it was about time to learn to breathe underwater or to pack my things for the journey into the light. The silvery shimmering was very close now; it looked like a thin membrane stretched across from one wall to the other. The bubbles passed through it easily. That meant I could, too. I touched the membrane. There were little needles dancing all over my body … I was flying.… And I wasn’t in the narrow corridor anymore, I was somewhere.…

I was sitting on the bank of a huge underground lake. Or perhaps it wasn’t all that huge, but the light of the magical lamp wasn’t bright enough to reach the other shore.

I was trembling. While I was swimming, the water had seemed very warm, but once I climbed out onto the shore, I suddenly started shivering. I would have lit a fire to warm myself up, but there wasn’t any wood. I immediately peeled off all my clothes and took the sweater wrapped in drokr out of the soaking-wet bag. Thanks to the elfin fabric, it was as dry as if it had never been in the water at all. Once I had the heavy sweater on, I felt better straightaway. I jumped up and down and waved my arms and legs about, which usually helped me recover after a long time in the water.

I didn’t know how I’d got to the lake, I didn’t know where it was—in a cave or in a hall—but the messenger hadn’t lied to me. This had to be the Level Between the Levels. Because there was certainly nothing like it in the Sector of Heroes.

But darkness! It was still cold! I wrung out my clothes, but without any sun, Sagot only knew how long they would take to dry.

I only had the one light with me, and its power was already fading. It was getting dark all around, and I had to hurry if I didn’t want to stick my nose against the wall like a mole and grope my way along. I tried not to think about what would happen after the light went out, and just kept running along the perfectly straight corridor with walls that were the color of dried blood in the light of the magical lamp.

I’d felt as if I had a blunt needle stuck in my side for ages, and I was forced to slow to a walk. I was very tired and very, very hungry. Two days of enforced fasting and filling my belly with water at the lake (even though after my underwater journey the very thought of water made me feel sick) had not left my stomach in a very calm state. I’d have given my right eye (or my left one) for a piece of bread.

The painful moment finally arrived. First the light of the little magical lantern faded away, then it blinked uncertainly and went out. It flared up again and fluttered in fright as it tried to glow more brightly, then flashed, lighting up the corridor for at least twenty yards, and finally went out forever, leaving me blind. Now I was as helpless as a newborn kitten.

I flung the small stick away in annoyance. Now I was in a mess. For always warned me that sitting in a cell in the Gray Stones was better than wandering through the darkness like this, not knowing what lousy trick to expect at any moment from someone you couldn’t even see.

After I’d enjoyed myself with enough whinging, I put my left hand against the wall and shuffled on (yes, that’s exactly what I did). And what followed reminded me very much of my tour of the Master’s prison. I walked in exactly the same way then. Keeping my hand on the wall and staring hard into the darkness.

I won’t lie and say I know how much time went by. I stopped three times to rest for a while, and once I tried to doze, but the hunger pains wouldn’t let me sleep.

Lift my foot, put my foot down. Hold on to the wall. Don’t stop. Keep going. I tried not to think about the fact that all my efforts would probably come to nothing. I tried to drive the bad thoughts out of my head, but they just kept coming back stronger than ever.

There was a faint crunch from under the soles of my boots, and I stopped. I bent down and rummaged around with my hand near my feet. My fingers touched some small objects, with sharp, jagged edges. They felt like fragments of bone. Someone else had tried to walk this way before me, but they’d never got out of here.

Crunch, crunch. Crunch, crunch.

After about fifty yards the bones stopped crunching under my feet. I strode out, walking faster, and I spotted a faint spark of light trembling somewhere up ahead. It looked as if I was going to escape from the darkness after all.

I took heart and walked on toward the yellow spark. A small point of light separated from it, trembled, and disappeared from view. I suddenly realized that what I could see was certainly not the light of torches or lanterns.

The fact that one of the lights moved worried me. I recalled the bird-bears and their lamps made out of skulls. This place was very much in their style. But the spark that the little light had separated off from still didn’t move and, after taking a moment to calm my long-suffering nerves, I carried on.

The accursed corridor was behind me now, and I was in … well, it was probably a cave. I simply couldn’t judge its real size. There was a real wind blowing here. And there was a smell of earth, fresh spring grass, and mushrooms.

The caps of the mushrooms looked like huge cathedral domes and they gave off a steady yellow light that lit up the area for twenty yards around them, and I could clearly see the grass growing in the cave and a path that led off somewhere into the gloom. I could also see four … hmm, I suppose you could have called them ants, bustling around.

At least, the creatures looked more like ants than anything else, although you’re not likely to see ants the length of a man’s arm anywhere else in the world, and completely white, as if they had been rolled in flour. Six legs, eagerly twitching feelers on long heads, massive mandibles, and nothing at all that looked like eyes.

They took no notice of me and it didn’t look as if they meant to attack, which was very cheering for my own peaceable and by no means aggressive personage. I walked round the brigade of oversized ants and set off toward the strange mushrooms. An ant was sitting on one of the mushroom caps and I stopped, uncertain whether to go any closer. Sagot only knew what kind of tricks the insect might pull if it was distracted from what it was doing and caught my scent.

Meanwhile the ant cut a piece out of the mushroom’s cap, which had already suffered plenty of damage, and clambered down the mushroom’s stalk, clutching the trophy in its jaws. I waited until the ant and its edible lantern were out of sight and then walked toward the mushroom. Why was I any worse than an ant? I ought to cut off a small lantern for my own needs as well.

No chance. An ant appeared out of nowhere and blocked my way. And this wasn’t a worker, he was a soldier, I could tell that from his size (a cubit longer than his brothers) and his massive mandibles (they could easily cut through your leg). I waved my hand, trying to attract his attention, but it had no effect, except that his feelers twitched. I took a step toward the ant and he clattered his mandibles irritably in response. Clear enough. I wasn’t going to be allowed anywhere near the mushroom.

“If I had my crossbow, you’d be a bit more polite.”

The guard didn’t respond to that, either. Why bother talking to me, if I didn’t have the crossbow?

Well, now we could try a different approach. I walked back a bit and waited for the ant to leave. Eventually, he did.

I then approached the mushroom, cut off a piece the size of my fist, and set off along the path.

The mushroom gave off even more light than my magical lanterns and, after the long dreary corridor between the hall and the underground lake, it was a gift from the gods.

The path was like a convolution in a Doralissian’s brain. No intersections, no branches.

What about food? May Sagot have mercy! I could have wolfed down an entire bull, stuffed with three sheep, and they had to be stuffed with wood grouse or whatever it was such dishes are supposed to be stuffed with. I was desperately hungry. The piece of mushroom I was holding gave off a divine aroma, and every so often I had to gulp down my saliva to avoid choking on it and dying the death of the bold and the brave. Or the death of the hungry. But I still hadn’t gone completely insane from hunger, and my reason refused to let me try the mushroom. In the first place, I wasn’t a goblin shaman, going around guzzling raw mushrooms and writing crazy books of prophecies. In the second place, I didn’t want to end up writhing on the grass in my death agony if the mushroom turned out to be a poisonous toadstool.

The cluster of mushrooms I’d come across when I left the corridor wasn’t the only one in the cave. From time to time my gaze fell on new islets of light. Naturally, every mushroom had already been claimed and had one or even two soldier ants guarding it.

The deeper I went into the cave, the more ants I met. Most of them were workers dashing about their business, but sometimes I met guards. They took no notice of me, as long as I didn’t make any sudden movements or go too close to them. The workers were obviously busily maintaining the welfare of their own anthill. I reined in my curiosity and didn’t bother the insects. Why provoke the local inhabitants, especially since I’d never get away from them if they decided to tear me to pieces? No weapon could save you against numbers like that.

But later I broke my vow and came into very close contact with the ants’ property. It happened when the number of insects dropped pretty sharply, to no more than two or three insects a minute, instead of fifty.

By the light of the mushroom I saw the following picture: Low thorny bushes growing alongside the path with a couple of worker ants crawling around them. The lads were plucking small green fruits about the size of an apple off the bushes. I waited until they’d eaten their fill and gone on their way, then I looked around and, since I didn’t notice any guards, I started picking the fruit and stuffing it into my bag, on the reasonable assumption that if it didn’t kill the insects, it wouldn’t kill me … probably. The huge thorns on the branches pricked my hands even through my gloves and I winced, but didn’t stop until my bag was crammed with fruit. As soon as it was, I got out of there as quickly as I could, before the ants could catch me at the scene of the crime.

But actually tasting the fruit still required great courage. It was covered with a thick skin and I had to use my knife on it. My nostrils were tickled by the aroma of plums and raspberries. My stomach started gurgling insistently. I took one bite and only came to my senses again after I’d wolfed down four of the fruits. Amazingly enough, my hunger disappeared as if I’d devoured an entire roasted goose. If the fruits turned out to be poisonous after all, at least I was going to die feeling satisfied.

Things looked better immediately. I cheered up a bit and the road ahead no longer seemed weary and endless. About forty minutes later I’d left the Cave of the Ants—as I’d decided to call the place—behind me and walked up a broad stairway into the next cave. The columns here reminded me of dragon’s teeth, and I felt as if I was somewhere in the mouth of a huge monster.

The mushroom was still shining away, and the path wasn’t showing any signs of disappearing, so Harold arrived at the final goal of his present journey without any problems or sudden surprises.

The teeth-columns parted to reveal the entrance to a rather small room. The path divided into eight branches, leading into eight corridors. But they weren’t for me—if what the Messenger had said could be believed, my journey through the Level Between Levels would end here.

The walls were covered with doors cast from bronze that had turned dark green with the passage of time. They had massive handles of the same metal, and there was no sign of any locks or bolts.

I stepped off the path and walked over the grass to the nearest door. After a spot of difficulty, I found what I was looking for. A small blue circle in the bottom corner. Now all I had to do was find a door with a red triangle, pray to Sagot, and walk into the eighth level. I set off along the doors, looking for the right mark.

A green circle, a yellow square, a red square, a black rhomboid, a purple circle, and a triangle—but it was orange. I walked past doors marked with circles, squares, and rhomboids of every possible color. But there wasn’t a single red triangle. Eventually I reached the last door on my tour. There was a green line on it.

Could I possibly have missed the sign I needed? Or maybe no such sign existed? Maybe this was one of the Messenger’s jolly jokes? I’d have to check the marks carefully again. I suppose I could simply have missed it.

The first door. There was a red circle on it.

What was going on? I remembered clearly that there was a blue circle there before. The next door—and now, instead of a yellow circle there was a white rhomboid. The next door—and instead of a yellow square there was a brown triangle. Once I went all the way round, all the signs changed.

Keep calm, Harold! I inspected all the doors again and still didn’t find what I needed. Every single shape and color imaginable, like the Great Market in Ranneng, but there was no little red triangle to be seen anywhere.

Round the circle a third time. The first door. A green square. How much longer could this go on?

I accidentally touched a cold bronze surface and recoiled sharply—the door had turned transparent for a moment. I’d seen what was on the other side! My curiosity was too powerful to resist, and I pressed my palm against the cold surface again. For a couple of seconds nothing happened, then fine ripples started running across the surface and the door turned transparent and I saw the Doors to the third level in front of me.

I went up to the next door and put my hand on it, too.

A huge, brightly lit hall filled with heaps of diamonds. I didn’t know where in the Palaces of Bone this wonder was, but anyone who could get to it was an incredibly lucky man. He’d be rich until the end of time.

I moved on, looking through the doors and not forgetting to search for the red triangle at the same time. Dozens of faceless halls on all levels. But after the Doors, I didn’t see a single place that was even vaguely familiar. In the time I spent walking round those doors, so many pictures of Hrad Spein appeared that my head was filled with a total muddle. The only thing I remembered was a skeleton striding from corner to corner in some vestibule and crimson sparks in some large hall. Imagine the smooth black velvet curtain of night, with crimson sparks scattering across it in the distance, looking very much like the fiery snowflakes of the world of Chaos. I had no doubt that this door led to one of the deepest levels of the Palaces of Bone.

Another door. I put my hand on it and gasped out loud in surprise. It was a night scene. The light of the slim moon was barely enough to light up the clearing surrounded by majestic golden-leafs. There was a small fire glowing close to the entrance to Hrad Spein. Its timid flickering awoke a strange yearning in my heart. There were soldiers sleeping beside the fire. There was just a still figure of the sentry standing on the boundary line between the firelight and the night. The sentry stirred and I recognized Eel.

This was my chance! I could escape from Hrad Spein this very moment! All I had to do was open the door and step through it, and I would be free! No more cursed stone walls, coffins, catacombs, fear, weariness, endless nightmares, and lack of sleep, no more hunger, no more running.

I could send the quest for the Rainbow Horn to all the demons of darkness, send the Commission even farther, and forget these last few days, as if they were nothing but a terrible dream. My hand reached out for the door handle against my will, and the door opened very easily.

A breath of the fresh autumn night and campfire smoke blew into my face. I breathed the aroma in like a gift from the gods. One step, and the nightmare would be over. Just one step, that was all. I opened the door a little wider and the hinges creaked gently. The sound was enough to alert Eel and make him start walking toward me. I didn’t know if he’d seen anything or was simply following the sound, but I wanted very much to shout out and attract his attention.

“Look to the right, Harold,” Valder whispered to me.

His voice broke the spell, and I looked. In the lower corner of the door to my right, there was a triangle. A red one.

Cursing all the gods and the Master, and fickle fate into the bargain. I slammed shut the door to freedom, lifted my hand off the handle, and took a step back. I was trembling convulsively, and no wonder! I’d almost ruined everything. Almost burned my bridges. Curses! What on earth had come over me?

“Thank you, Valder.”

“I just thought you might not like to walk through all eight levels again,” he said with a gloomy chuckle.

“You thought right,” I replied, still unable to gather my wits. “Thanks again.”

“Don’t thank me too much, I have my own interest in this business.”

“And what’s that?”

“My non-death started with the Rainbow Horn, when … well, you know what I mean.”

I certainly did. That was the very first dream vision I’d had.

“I console myself with the hope that—” He paused, as if afraid of extinguishing this timidly flickering flame of hope. “—that when I’m somewhere near the Horn again, I shall be able to leave this world and find peace.”

“Let’s hope you’re right, Valder, and the artifact does help you.”

“I hope so,” he sighed.

“Did you hear my conversation with the Messenger?”

“Yes.”

“Is he telling the truth?”

A long pause, and then …

“Yes, the Rainbow Horn is the force that can disrupt the balance.”

“What about the Master? Is what the Messenger says about him and those other beings, and about me, true?”

“I don’t know.”

“But if the Horn is capable of disrupting the balance, perhaps we shouldn’t…”

“The balance can be disrupted whether you take the Horn or not. It doesn’t depend on the Horn any longer.”

“But what should I do?”

“Fulfill the Commission and pray to Sagot,” Valder said, and stopped talking.

Fulfill the Commission and don’t think about a thing.… Hah! I walked up to the door with the red triangle on it, took a deep breath, opened it wide, and walked into the eighth level of the Palaces of Bone.