The vast bronze doors swung open at but a touch, testament to whoever had designed and built them. With barely a sound they opened as Ivkarha pushed on them, revealing a hall beyond, one well lit. Shafts of light shone through gaps in the roof, and motes of dust glittered as they drifted through the air, caught by the light.
Ivkarha walked on in, headed towards a statue in the centre of the hall. Following, Aedmorn gazed up at the statue as it loomed above, reaching almost to the ceiling. Of ivory and bronze was it constructed, showing a man with a forked beard, one hand outstretched, upon which sat a flared winged eagle. Aedmorn knew of whom it represented, one of the desert gods; Az-Ashar, Lord of the Desert Winds and the Dead.
It came not from the builders of the palace complex, for it lacked much of the sophistication and elegance that showed in the ancient buildings, yet its size and imposing demeanour were enough. More, there seemed about it, within it, a presence, one alien and unknowable. It felt not of death, yet nor did it feel of life.
Before it sat a brass brazier, field with coals, for the offering up of sacrifices and incense to the effigy of the god. Between the brazier and the statue sat a low stone block, long enough to lay a body out upon, to present it to the god.
Ivkarha knelt before the statue of her god, touching her hands to head in humble supplication. If she offered words up to the god, Aedmorn could not hear, and nor did he wish to pry, for what transpired between the Ra-Armal woman and her god was between them and them alone.
As he waited, Aedmorn gazed around the hall. Besides the statue, there was little to be seen; a few benches around the walls, a few standing braziers, a tattered old banner hanging from the roof above the door and naught else. No bodies could be seen, no indication as to where the fallen of the Ra-Armal were laid to rest.
In time Ivkarha rose from her knees, and turned to Aedmorn. “Here were the bodies prepared and presented before being laid to rest, under the watchful eye of Az-Ashar. It is by His touch should the darkness be kept at bay.”
“Yet that is not so any more.”
“Aye, you have the right of it. Some darker power has come to rest upon this place, and Az-Ashar can do no more than to restrain the restless. You are no god, merely a man, yet if you can give rest to my people, then it shall not be forgotten.”
“Where then are the bodies of your people, so that I might attempt to delve into whatever is the cause of these troubles.”
“They lay below,” Ivkhara announced. “Level upon level had been carved out of the heart of the mesa, and within the dead were interred. Come, see.” Thus saying, she strode over to the statue, to stand beneath it. A patch of the floor showed different there, a stone slab with iron rings set within it.
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She took a hold of the rings and gave a great heave, the stone coming clear with a grinding that echoed above and below. She dragged it aside, and the opening revealed stone stairs leading down into the darkness beneath.
Down she plunged, into the darkness below, descending beneath the effigy of her god. As Aedmorn made his own way down the carved stone steps, ahead he saw a spark of light, a flare in the darkness, and a lamp began to glow. Ivkhara stood in a chamber beneath the hall of Az-Ashar, holding the lit lamp that had been stored in the chamber, upon a small pedestal nearby to the stairs down. A second she collected, a simple clay thing formed into the shape of a bird of prey, lighting it from her own lamp before passing it to Aedmorn.
As his eyes adjusted to the soft light in the gloom, Aedmorn could see that niches had been carved into the halls of the chamber, and open doorways led off into other chambers. Each niche held a body, clad in finery, of desert robes elaborate and embroidered in many colours. Often with jewellery sparkling upon arms and hands as it caught the light of the lamp, of gold and silver and gems precious in nature. Swords lay upon their bodies, their silvered blades naked, and withered hands gripped the hilts. The bodies were desiccated, their skin like parchment, dried by the heat and dry of the deep deserts. Dozens of them were laid to rest around the chamber, level upon level from the floor to the roof.
“Behold the chiefs of the Ra-Armal,” Ivkarha pronounced in a voice both proud and respectful. “Herein lies the greatest of us, from the days we first wandered the deserts to the last chief of the Ra-Armal.”
Closer did Aedmorn draw to where a number of bodies lay, and he gazed upon them. Even in death, preserved as they were, they held a proud mein about them, strength and resolve still evident in their long dead visages. They were truly dead, but no more, for they stirred not and he could feel no hint of the darkness upon them.
“These still rest,” he said quietly.
“Aye, they do,” Ivkarha replied. “Az-Ashar keeps them still within his grasp, closest as they were to him. It is further in that we shall come upon those whose eternal rest has been disturbed.”
Thus saying, they plunged deeper into the labyrinth of chambers and halls, through winding halls hewn by hand from the earth, all the time Ivkarha leading the way, holding her lamp aloft, the flame dancing and casting twisting shadows around them.
Chamber after chamber they passed through, and in each were many bodies laid to rest, men and women and children, all the dead of the Ra-Armal, from greatest to least. All the withered corpses were on display, clad in their finest clothes, with grave goods about them. Young and old, rich or poor, whether wise, strong, proud, weak, or humble, they were all as one, gathered together into the embrace of the earth.
Down further still did they descend, deeper and deeper via stairwells that plunged from one chamber to the next, two, three levels, and in each were yet more of the dead, so many that Aedmorn could not but guess at their numbers, thousands upon thousands, all the dead of a desert tribe.
Coming to another stairwell that delved deeper yet, Ivkhara halted and drew her sword. “We come now to where the dead stir and sleep is denied. Ready yourself, for ahead lies but danger to plague our path.”