Shaft and Hideout

In the brightness of the aurora-illuminated night, Wanderer made their way toward the possible entrance to the city, a small bundle of hope beginning to build in their chest discovery.

Yet as they reached the dark pit that qualified as a secret exit, sudden hesitation took over them and they stopped.

All other humans they had met had rejected them, with either fear or instant hostility, who was to say that whoever was on the other side of this shaft was not the same?

It was not by their own volition that they overcame their worries, instead, the small verdestry at their hooves made that decision for them.

Perhaps they were annoyed by their inability to scale the wall, or maybe they just wanted to be somewhere new and were sick of the Golem’s idling, but after leaving only a moment for the Vessel to sort their thoughts, they all but yanked Wanderer down the tunnel.

Figuring it unwise to upset their friend, the Vessel followed behind the monster, struggling to fit their body within the tight confines of the sandstone walls.

The shaft went far deeper than Wanderer would have thought, the walls turning that same red-yellow stone as in the canyons as they decended.

As they spelunked into the depths of the earth, smouldering lanterns began to adorn the walls, slowly spluttering out but recently lit, providing the Golem with some light beyond the glowing red of Emio’s eye.

Very suddenly, the man-hewn shaft ended, opening out into a large bright room of ancient make.

The walls and floor were formed of a red stone, deep and vibrant in colour, like that of a flame.

Intricate geometric carvings of interweaving knots skirted the base of the wall, spreading in mirrored artistry to the floor with patterns of fractalic dunes.

Dark sand marred some of this beauty, spilling from high-up windows and doors that would have once opened to balconies and fresh air.

Bright, fresh lanterns adorned empty spots on the floor and inbuilt benches on the walls, showing that the otherwise empty room had only recently been abandoned.

As if on cue with that thought, the heavy stone door directly opposite them opened, showing the faces of three humans.

The first was clearly another slave eager to escape their bonds, blindfolded and dressed in clothes only slightly better than the last.

The second was a bare-faced man, cleanly shaven and of dark skin.

He held a torch in one hand, providing even more light to the room, and had an unsure look upon his face, as if he were new to the business of benefiting the lives of others.

The final of the group was an imposing figure and one that sent instant dread into the Vessel’s soul.

Upon their face rested a dark stone mask, impassive and solemn in its purpose, hiding everything but the wearer's dark eyes.

A great colourful robe adorned their figure, with a base of golden weave that reached right down to their tough leather boots.

Instantly, Wanderer’s mind went to the guard in the caravan, who wore a similar robe and mask, if this figure was the same, this would surely be their demise.

Yet, when the human did not reach for their weapon, a brutally curved khopesh, even barking orders for their companion to put down their own, they realised fate had been kind to them.

Or perhaps it would have been far more unlikely for the warrior in front of them to be the same as their attacker, after all, the mask and robe seemed to be a common thing in the desert society.

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The warrior strode toward them with a commanding gait, pushing past their cowered companion and a confused escapee, before stopping just a few steps away from the Golem, hand on the hilt of their blade.

“Korehaka morekersha koreshe orshuheh”, they questioned in a language unfamiliar to Wanderer.

The use of this language sent a bolt of dread into the Vessel’s soul, they had thought that if they were questioned they would at least be able to understand the interviewer's intentions with their limited understanding of the human language.

Yet if the warrior continued to use this unfamiliar dialect, then the single chance Wanderer had been given may be lost.

“Korehaka morekersha koreshe orshuheh”, They repeated, tone carrying only the slightest hint of impatience.

The Golem had no idea what to do and their Spirit was of little help so, seeing little other option, They stepped past Emio and held all four hands up in blatant confusion.

The human paused for a second, face indecipherable behind their stone mask, before speaking up once again.

“Reyio are you here”, the obscured figure pronounced, switching their language to one more familiar to the Golem.

After a brief panic over their lack of voice to reply, the Vessel settled upon merely pointing upwards, toward where they thought the city would be.

“Reyio” the warrior repeated, which Wanderer assumed to mean “why”.

Perhaps, if they had some way to talk or communicate they could have replied succinctly, yet they could not, so they once again pointed toward the surface.

The fighter seemed to realise their plight, as they barked a few orders to their compatriot and motioned for Wanderer to follow through the doorway.

The Vessel picked up Emio and pushed past the confused escapee and their guide, to keep up with the warriors' brisk pace.

They exited from the opening room into a dimly lit hallway, made of much the same stone and with the same inbuilt benches in the walls.

Yet in contrast to the first room, ancient furniture still adorned the hall.

Beautifully carved tables and stands of worn stone stood proud, some still carrying their precious cargo of glazed vases and items of beauty.

The rotted remains of paintings and wood carvings adorned the walls, little more than eyesores now, yet the Golem’s imagination more than managed to appreciate the value they would have once held.

Frequently, new doors would show themselves on the sides of the corridor, leading to rooms unknown or in some cases, more hallways.

It suddenly dawned on Wanderer just how massive this complex had to be, if this single hallway managed to contain so many rooms, if that number was the same for every one of the many corridors then the underground compound may be as large as the city on top of it.

Their escort suddenly stopped, turning toward a particularly large door with a few brighter lanterns on each side to it, and pushing it open.

Wanderer was greeted by the sounds of friendly banter and a view of almost fifty people sitting around two massive tables, gladly devouring a humble yet seemingly filling dinner.

In the centre of the room, two men stood in a dark sand-filled pit, brandishing sticks covered in colourful cloth and attacking each other with them.

For a moment Wanderer went to stop them, yet they hesitated when they realised that both competitors, despite their welts and bruises, were bearing smiles on their faces and throwing light-hearted jeers at each other.

Yet their competition did not last much longer, as one of the fighters grew distracted at their entrance, and was soon forced out of the ring.

A round of cheers went up among those who had not yet noticed the Golem’s presence, a hearty roar that was soon spoiled as more and more people looked their way.

In moments, the whole room had their eyes on the Vessel, a mixture of fear, confusion, apprehension and anger present on every one of the many faces.

Suddenly, Wanderer felt something they had never felt before, like a thousand ticks crawling up their spine and bringing out every inch of their insecurity.

They realised they didn't know what they looked like, or whether they were making a good impression and they began to possess a great nervousness inside them.

Their escort, however, did not stop, unknowing or perhaps uncaring of Wanderer's inner turmoil.

With a bristling Emio in their arms, who was similarly unnerved by the many eyes, the Vessel hurried along, brushing past the two confused fighters and through another door.

They entered a hallway much like before, yet now other people were commonplace, and the Golem could hardly focus on the wonderful world around them under their many stares.

Blessedly, their guide soon stopped and opened the final door at the far end of the hall, one that led into a chamber with a layout similar to the room inside the mine.

Furniture of smooth, light wood lay around the room, clashing with the darker walls while trinkets, coins and papers lay haphazardly on a large desk.

And behind this desk, hunched over a small note of paper, sat an immense tower of a human, and the undoubted leader of the organisation Wanderer had found themself inside.