The canyon shuddered as the dam that had remained stationary for centuries slipped downwards into the earth. Dried and caked soil cascaded from the grooves at each side of the dam, as if the land were coughing up the dust of centuries of slumber.

“It still works. This engineering is incredible.” Hope watched the result of their efforts.

“I understood little of what you made me do.” Brunhilde was tired from replacing stone beams and gears. Hope had known exactly what needed to be repaired for the dam mechanism, just from staring at the diagrams of it. “I’m impressed you understand it all.” She leaned against the side of the window. Behind them the gears turned and made thunderous noises. It had been hard work, but it distracted her from the memory of the fountains they had passed, all dry and surrounded by citizens who had waited and waited for water that never came.

“It’s simple counterweights, but I was taught there was nothing like this on the surface, not this size. Did my tutors not know, or where they so arrogant they could not imagine it?”

“Real learning is from doing yourself, not listening to the stories of others. A great tale is like a light guiding your way, but you still have to carve your own path. You’re learning more now than studying all day.”

Hope looked up at Brunhilde. “Am I arrogant?”

“Certainly. What’s wrong with arrogance?”

“It makes you inflexible and unable to learn new things. I hate my mother’s arrogance. She thinks she knows how everything should be, and how everything will turn out. Whatever doesn’t fit into her way of seeing the world is wrong and unworthy of notice.” She ran her fingers over her tattoos. They were empty of power, but she could read the secrets of power in them, still. She was a living document, a testament to the centuries of learning of her people. But she was still suspicious how much of it was under her control.

“That’s a harsh parent,” Brunhilde said gently. She had only warm thoughts of her mother and father.

“I don’t want to be like that. I came here because it was an escape from that suffocating destiny, to become a ruler just like her. I want to rule things my way. I want to petition the gods of my choice, not the ones she favours. I want to be surprised.” She looked up to the sky, still grey with drizzling clouds.

The dam sunk into place, sealing the underground path of the water. White spume churned against the dam, eventually spilling over the top. The water skimmed over the top of the dam, creating a wide waterfall.

“Look.” Brunhilde pointed to the carved trees along the lower walls.

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The waterfall spilling from the dam brought water to the canyon floor of the city, but also spread out amongst the stone trees carved at the bottom of the walls. Though they looked to be the same sandstone as the rest of the city, they drank up the water, darkening around their base. A deep crimson red colour crept up the trunks closest to the dams. As the water made its way further into the canyon more trees were drinking and awakening. Orange lights started to glow on the trunks

“This is a deep magic.” This was the kind of surprise she hungered for, magic she had never seen before. She hugged Brunhilde.

“Magic is magic. Why are the trees turning red?”

“They aren’t just trees. They’re the roots of the city. I wager they drink up water, clean it for the residents and push it around the city. And store it for dry seasons. Capillary and capacitor, fascinating.”

“I don’t bet on magic; I won’t take that wager.”

“You’d lose it for sure. Let’s go down, I want to see it.”

As they went down the spiral staircase they heard, a sound like chains being struck again and again. Too heavy and filled with purpose to be something blowing in the wind.

“Something is alive here.” Brunhilde cocked her head. “It’s on this level, and nearby.”

“We saw everybody dead.” Hope stroked her tattoos, she was bereft of power.

“We saw that, and now we hear something different.”

Brunhilde led them to the source of the sound, the guard they had seen earlier. But this was no alert warrior. He was staggering along the corridor, so unsteady that he careened from wall to wall as he went. The noise they heard was his armour clanking against the walls as he went. At the sight of them he lunged forward.

“Waaaaateeeer,” he croaked. His voice sounded like a thick barber’s blade scraped along an anvil.

His nails scratched at Brunhilde’s face. His face was bloated and grey, with sunken eyes and gums drawn up from his teeth. When she pushed him away, it was like hefting a bag of compost. His skin was loose and mushy in places, in others still bone dry. He was a patchwork of skeleton and bloated corpse.

He tumbled to the floor, then unfolded himself into an upward position and launched at them again. “Pleeeease,” he hissed.

Brunhilde twisted him away, using his arm as leverage. There was a crunching sound and she was left holding his arm as he crashed to the floor. She threw it away in disgust. He raised himself up slowly.

“I’ll give you a good death. If you can die, warrior.” Brunhilde readied herself to take him down again.

“We have to get out of here.” Hope grabbed Brunhilde’s arm.

“He’s no danger, he’s so slow.”

“Not him, the others.”

“What others? More guards?” She looked over her shoulder, but the passageway was empty.

“No, you leg-limbed oaf! The others by the fountains. The whole city is going to wake up like this.”

“The fountains are dry.”

The warrior was up again. He spun round slowly, leaning against the rock like a sack of potatoes trying to right itself. Brunhilde felt sorry for him, this was no way to fight.

“The trees are going to pump water back up; the fountains are going to fill with water.”

“How long could that take?” Brunhilde punched the guard in the face, and he fell backwards, but stayed upright. “Well done, warrior!”

Orange light filled the tunnel. The designs on the walls were not just patterns, they were roots that carried water. Ovals in the pattern pulsed with light as water flowed through them. From nearby they heard the heavy sputter of a fountain coming back to life. Even the guard turned his head towards the sudden sound of flowing water.

“Giantshit!” Brunhilde cursed.