From afar, they were merely giants.
But standing at the base of the tower, craning her neck back and shielding her eyes from the sun, Khadam could see where the avians’ sacred beliefs arose. Even Khadam was not immune to the soaring majesty of the tower.
She felt dizzy just looking at it. Breathless. Though, maybe that was because she still had to climb it.
Behind her, the retinue of falkyr stood still and silent, their eyes forward. One had two black stripes over his eyes, almost like angry-looking eyebrows that had been painted on. They should have looked silly, but with his razor beak and bulging muscles, his ‘eyebrows’ were more intimidating than anything else.
“Don’t suppose you people have invented elevators yet, have you?” Khadam asked.
He blinked at her.
“Elevators. You know, they carry people up and down. Like this?” she made a rising motion with her hands.
“Like a crane, Divine One?”
“Yes! Sure! That.”
“Not here.” He pointed over his shoulder, “There are many on the cliffs from the Highcity to Mid, or the Mid to Low.”
“Right,” Khadam said. Of course.
“My deepest apologies,” he bowed in deference to her. His feathers - rich, deep mahogany, ringed with black and tipped with white - rippled in the slight breeze of the Highcity. Underneath the long sheets of flight feathers that covered his arms, Khadam almost see his hard-trained muscles.
He can fly, can’t he? Wonder if he’ll carry me...
Khadam shook her head at the thought. Did she really want to put her life in the hands of one of these people? What if he dropped her? Sure, they seemed to worship her, but look how tall that damn tower is.
“Okay, thanks for the help. You can go now,” Khadam said. She turned to all the falkyr, and awkwardly bowed.
The falkyr’s feathers ruffled. He tensed his shoulders, looking at his fellow warriors. Not sure how to proceed. “Divine One, our task is to follow you, and keep you safe.”
“I said you can go.” Khadam said again.
Was that impolite? Was she supposed to be polite to them? This was the kind of thing that always got her in trouble. Something she never had to deal with back in Rodeiro’s clan. Everyone else there just knew she had other things on her mind, and social norms were painfully inefficient. Everyone was like that.
The warrior looked like he wanted to protest. But Khadam cut him off.
“I’ll tell the Queen you’ve been very helpful. Thank you.” And before they could say anything else, she turned on her heel and walked under the brickwork eaves of the tower. Inside, it was little more than a dusty temple. Clumps of fur, and candles and gas lanterns were lit down here, illuminating ancient frescoes that had been painted on plaster. Immense columns held up the ceiling above, some stretching high into the shadows, and out of sight. At the center, there was the pylon, walled in with bricks. A single stairwell wrapped around the pylon, rising up to the tower’s height, so she could see no hint of human-made metal anywhere. The stonework here was so thick, it was probably foundational to the whole structure.
Khadam sighed.
There was only one way in - and that was to go up.
Time to go to work, indeed.
Maybe ten steps up, and already she was feeling claustrophobic. The walls curved endlessly, and every step seemed to be a slightly different shape. Some of them sagged, some of them had cracks. Some of them were poorly cut, or had sunken into the mortar, so she had to lift her feet higher to find the next step up. One of the steps had a gold coin sitting on, sitting in the middle of the step, flickering in the weak candlelight. An avian face and beak on its front.
The further she went up, the darker it became. The odd sconce was the only light, and most of them were unlit. Some had melted so low until there was nothing left but a solidified pool of wax.
There was no way to know how long she’d been walking. No indication of how much further she had to go. All she could do was walk. Lift her legs, and walk. Lift, until her thighs daggered with pain and her lungs ached, and her calves burned. She walked in circles, up and around and up, pressing her fingertips to the wall to keep herself grounded, until they were scraped dry from dragging across the cold stone.
Hundreds of steps high, she realized the only sounds were her solitary scuffing footsteps, her own heaving breath, and the thudding of her heart in her ears.
Finally, she gave in, and impulsed her implants to fire into her muscles. An instant gush of cold relief flooded into her legs. Her lungs seemed to expand, filling with stale-but-breathable air. Back on the nameless planet, the Gate Walker had plenty of biochem supplies, so at least her reserves were topped off. Hopefully, the old conclave here would have some too.
Turning to her right. Walking up. Lifting her legs. The climb was mesmerizing. Every few hundred steps, she stumbled upon another coin. Probably some kind of ritual, she thought. And her mind played with that idea all the way up, imagining all the kinds of rituals that avian humanoids might dream about.
Eventually, there was another sound. A deep, rumbling sound. Eventually, she recognized it as a chorus of voices. They spoke in unison, and went silent. Spoke in unison, and went silent. There was a lone voice, leading them all. Half-singing, half-speaking. Filled with sweeping passion.
“...against the oppression of the cyrans. In this blessed place. Crying out for freedom against his stolen hands. Crying out to be free! To soar, once more!”
Turning. Walking. Lifting. Turning...
A light, so much brighter than any candle, bled around the endlessly-curving stairwell. Khadam could taste of fresh air, mixed with that pungent, almost spiced scent of too many avians in an enclosed space.
“May the Eight cast their blessings upon you!” The voice sang out. “May the breath of Asaiyam lift you into wisdom!”
The droning chorus returned: “Wisdom. Wisdom.”
“Maravaya, mother of all life. Grant us water and life, that we may become more than we are.”
“Water and life.”
Khadam’s foot lifted, and searched for the next step. And found none.
Her legs almost forgot what to do. How to stand still.
She was in a stone alcove attached to the main temple. Khadam leaned against the wall and drank in the air. The implants could only help so much, could only dull so much pain or add so many chemicals to her system. Sure, she had fabricated kidneys, just like everyone else, but why strain her system?
From the shadows, Khadam could see the whole temple before her. An octagon with sixteen columns holding up a cavernous ceiling. The brickwork beam that enclosed the pylon was still there, at the center of the temple, but there were also fixtures mounted to the brickwork, and stone artistry for some ceremonial purpose. Perhaps there’s a way in, up here.
Hundreds of avians, of every shape and feather were standing in hundreds of pews, their backs turned to eight separate shrines. Clouds of incense hung over them, and a rich, golden light poured in from the high-slit windows. One avian, with gold-trimmed shawls and a feather-lined frock, was slowly strutting around the central beam of the temple. He had two long strands that protruded from his forehead, and ran all the way down the back of his body, streaking over his dull, black tail feathers. On the twin strands, feathers rippled like multicolored flags as he gestured up at the shrines.
“Toh av’Esque, the Lord of the Dead, who loved Maravaya. Who has greeted so many of us over the last years, may we beg for your peace.”
“Peace,” the crowds uttered back, some speaking soft, some throwing their voices into it. “Peace. Peace.”
The priest continued his journey around the beam. Above him, there was a relief in the wall, a human face carved from stone. The face’s eyes were narrowed, and her lips pressed into a hard, determined line.
“Kanya,” the priest threw his hand out, splaying all the black and gold feathers of his arm, “Of the Iron Grin! So that we may abide that which the world hands to us, grant us your-”
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
The priest stopped, mid-sentence. His beak, frozen open and his eyes, caught on Khadam.
The chorus stumbled. They knew the next word, “Strength,” and some rumbled it out automatically. Others were still waiting for the priest to say his part. And more than a few turned around, their beaks flashing in the sunlight. Turned to look at her.
“Uh…” she said.
“Goddess!” the priest quivered. He slammed his eyes shut, and bowed until his twin crest feathers touched the floor. “You grace us with your presence.”
Then, as if the bow was not enough, he sank to his knees, and threw his arms out. Laying himself on the smooth seastone floor before her. The congregation moved to follow their priest, kneeling or bowing in the pews.
“No,” she shook her head. “No, you don’t have to do that. I’m only looking for the elevator. Please, uh, continue. Pretend I’m not even here.”
The priest sat back on his heel talons, regarding her with that curious avian stare.
“It is impossible to ignore your Divine presence,” he said with dramatic severity, “For you, we will sing.”
He used the nearest pew to push himself to his feet, groaning as he did. The priest lifted his arms, spreading out his wing feathers in their full, blinding white glory, calling all the faithful to rise once more. “Sing praise with me, my siblings!”
“Sing!” they shouted back, knowing for once - without a shadow of doubt - that their song would be heard.
Khadam was fixed in place, as if she herself were one of the statues standing in their shrines. She had seen the crowds bow before her, when she first came to the Cauldron. She had seen the way the people moved around her, filled with awe at her existence. But now, it was her turn to feel awe.
The power of their belief was a force as strong and tangible as any other. The way they sang, all together. All the same words. All the same faith. In what, exactly? Where did all this come from? Who told them to say these things? To believe this? To construct this soaring temple, with all its ornate gas lanterns and ancient murals and the gold and silver trappings of an ancient religion, around the aerial heights of an old, half-defunct shield pylon?
Maybe, this was pure chance. Maybe the desire to believe in something had simply latched on to the nearest mysterious icons. In a strange way, she could see the benefits such unity provided these people. Personal growth, a shared community. Ritualistic songs and nearly-hypnotic speech, that was a good way to stir emotions back and forth. To bind strangers together.
Some part of her brain sparked at the thought. Didn’t the ancient humans worship like this, once? What might the avians say, if they could see that?
The priest was talking again, preaching, and something caught her ear.
He was saying, “Never have we been so blessed. The Savior Divine, forever may he live, has finally come to us. Rejoice! Knowing that you are saved. Be not uncertain. Have faith. You will be delivered into the light!”
The Savior.
Into the light.
They had it all wrong. And the truth was so simple. Somewhere, these people had taken a left, when they should have taken a right. That’s all this was.
Now, they were celebrating the very person she was trying to protect them from. Calling him a savior. It made her sick. It didn’t matter what Poire believed he was doing. Khadam knew - all of humanity knew - how his path would end.
But how could she explain any of that? Khadam kept her mouth shut. Kept her back to the cold, seastone wall, trying to press deeper into the shadows without attracting too much attention. A group of young avians were creeping along the pews, poking up their heads, trying to get a look at her. Their parents were unsuccessfully trying to hold them back. Khadam did her best to ignore them.
The ceremony lasted another hour. At the end, the congregation was pulled once more into song. Their voices rose and rose, until groups of the avians were singing separate harmonies together, and the priest led them all, raising his hands as he strutted around the beam, stopping and bowing dramatically at each altar. And finally, the priest clapped his hands together, letting the masses collapse into the ecstatic release of worship, now ended. A collective sigh seemed to sweep across the congregation.
And in that stunned, exquisite silence, the priest spoke one last time, his voice bright and warm and airy. “In the name of the Nameless. In the name of the Face, and of Dottren and Kanya and the Bearer. In the Savior’s name, forever, may he live. Go and be in the light of the gods, my siblings.”
“Hail the Divine.”
All at once, the silence broke apart.
Hundreds of avians, standing shoulder to shoulder, turned to their neighbors and began to croak and chirp at their neighbors, to laugh and talk, to launch joyful screeches echoing up into the open expanse of the temple, or to silently finish their prayers. Most tried not to stare at Khadam, and failed. Dozens of elderly avians hobbled over to Khadam, nodding at her, saying words of thanks or respect. Some reached out to her, wanting to touch her, but also not wanting to come too close.
Unsure of herself, Khadam forced a smile and nodded curtly at masses. Hoping they would clear out soon, so she could get to work. But her hopes were dashed when the priest stepped through the crowd, and bowed before her once more. She had the feeling he was also trying to show off the long crest feathers that went over his shoulders, and trailed down his back.
Do you have to be born with those feathers to be a priest? She wondered. Or do they grow them after they’re appointed?
“Divine One, I hope our prayers were to your satisfaction. And that our song was adequate.”
She bit her tongue, afraid of what she might say. Her thoughts were still ringing with the way they spoke of the Herald, how devoted they were to him. How long could they have possibly known Poire, anyway? And already, they treated him like he was beyond sacred. This is dangerous territory, Khadam. The people looked peaceful, yes. But if they found out what she needed to do…
He cocked his head at her, those long, frond-like feathers sliding over his silken robes. Waiting for her response.
“Your people are so, uh, invested in all this.” She said lamely. The priest seemed to take it as the highest compliment, judging by the way his chest inflated, and his feathers perked up.
“Of course, we are. This temple is yours, Great Immortal, and we are merely guests here. It is our highest duty to worship. Please, feel at home here. If there is anything I can do for you, you need only ask.”
He bowed grandly one more time. Waiting for her response.
Khadam shrugged, “No, thanks.”
And simply pushed past him, diving into the crowd of onlookers as she made her way to the temple’s center. For a moment, she wondered if she was being rude. And shook her head, clearing away that useless thought. You have work to do, and you’ve wasted enough time.
The priest hurried after her, “Forgive the impertinence, but I and the other priests - we have so many questions, Divine One. So many things that require your divine intervention. And thus far, we have heard nothing. Perhaps the Queen failed to pass along our requests?”
“No, she is,” Khadam threw over her shoulder. “I’ve just declined them all.”
“You have?” This stopped him in his tracks. But only for a moment. “Of course, you have. You are busy. Even I can see that. The works of the gods are infinite and mysterious, and we mere mortals could never deign to comprehend your… the… Divine One?”
The pylon was walled in with layers of brick. Many of the bricks had been painted over, sealed and resealed over the years. Some were overlaid with more ornate architectural flourishes; stone molding, and intensely complicated tracery, and dramatic holy scenes that seemed to rise out of the masonry. Here, there was the outline of a door in the stone.
Most likely, the avians thought it was purely symbolic. It had words carved over it in elegant script, some avian prayer that Khadam didn’t bother to read. She pressed her ear to the stone - sucking in her breath at the cold touch of rock - and she began to tap the bricks. Listening.
Her implants did the real work, painting an internal picture of the structure beneath the stone.
Solid...
There, too...
“Goddess?” the priest asked again, almost beseechingly. “Do you disapprove?”
A whole chunk of the crowd was watching her now. Avians in dresses and suits, which were split down the back to give room for the tail feathers. Short, plump avians crossing their arms, tall, slender ones craning their necks, dozens of bird-like eyes watching as she worked.
Solid…
“Ah. There you are,” she said. The false, stone door was slightly out of place. Beneath it, and to the left, she could see an outline in the metal of the pylon, that suggested an entrance. She fitted her fingers into the ridge of the stone, feeling for a way to open it. There was a crack in the brickwork, where the handle should’ve been, but the stone wouldn’t budge.
I wonder if the system can clear it…
Khadam pressed against the stone door. And impulsed a command, hoping the net here would catch it.
Open!
She felt a slight tug in her mind as gentle confirmation chimed in her thoughts, followed by a digitized voice. The door is blocked. Would you like to enact emergency clearance procedures?
Yes, Khadam impulsed.
Stand clear, the voice said, and before it finished its last word, there was a series of rapid, shuddering thumps from behind the stone door. Screams erupted from the crowd of onlookers, and the mass of avians pushed back as the brickwork split open, and huge chunks of the rock began to fall out, smashing and breaking against the smooth floor of the temple. But the cracks didn’t stop - a huge vein split open the stone casing of the beam, forking towards the high ceiling, and the arches that held it in place.
For a moment, Khadam could only hold her breath. Staring in horror up at the ceiling as the crack continued to climb. Hoping that she hadn’t just caused the structural collapse of this ancient place.
The hammering from the other side of the wall stopped. Clouds of dust began to settle and the last chips of stone clicked against the floor. Another chime rang in her thoughts: The door is now open.
Where a door had once been, there was now only a hideous gap in the stone facade. Hundreds of miniature explosives had cleared away the wall. Behind her, there were shouts and cries of surprise (or was that anger?) and someone was sobbing. The priest’s beak hung open, wordlessly, as he stared at the irreparable damage.
Oops, she thought.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” she said.
The priest finally found his words: “The shrine!”
The crowds muttered behind her.
“It can be fixed,” she said. Unsure of herself. Surely they had ways to mend stone, right?
“The shrine...” he said again, still staring at the brickwork beam.
A voice saved her. It seemed to come from everywhere, somehow projecting itself across the whole cathedral, and somehow directing itself at her. “Welcome, New User!” Those last syllables echoed over and over, never seeming to die out. “I am the Oracle. What is your name?”
“Uh…” She said. Looking around at the crowds again. Their faces were unreadable. Even the priest. Was he terrified? Was he furious? Why didn’t they speak?
“Your name please.”
The crowds behind her rippled nervously, but stayed silent.
“Khadam.”
“Khadam!” the voice announced cheerfully. All the people gathered echoed her name in reverent unison: “Khadam.” They spoke, as if it was the highest prayer ever given. “Khadam.”
Each time they said it, icy shivers ran down her spine. It took every ounce of her will to not turn around, and stare back at them. Instead, Khadam kept her focus on the Oracle - or, where she thought the Oracle was. “Does the elevator work?”
“This elevator one is at five-thousandths of one percent battery remaining. Emergency reserves requested. Routes a through f are-”
“Please,” She uttered, keeping her voice low. “Just open.”
They were still chanting behind her. The priest had joined the group, exulting in her name. Khadam! They sang, Khadam!
A gap opened in the smooth metal of the pylon. Khadam stepped inside. Turned around. Before the door sealed closed, she saw the hundreds of alien eyes, staring back at her. Filled with awe.
She hoped that didn’t mean anything.
A light illuminated the elevator, soft and blue. The Oracle’s voice sounded near now, like he was sitting on her shoulder. “Where would you like to go?”