“Break the cauldrons and sink the boats.” - Chinese proverb

The sound echoed through the caverns. A soft shuffle, a scuff of boots against stone. “Be quiet,” Berenice whispered.

“I am being quiet,” he answered back.

“Look, you can whisper all you want, but the drones will still be able to hear you. You might as well speak with a normal volume,” Isla said in a matter of fact voice.

“You don’t know that,” Berenice responded. Something about Isla’s manner, the casual way she simply batted away inconvenient facts, was getting to Berenice.

It was bothering Martin too, he was better at hiding it though.

“Like you don’t know that there was a diversion which led to half the Host being led away from the Mountain,” Isla retorted.

“It makes the most logical-“

“Shush.” Martin’s voice broke through their chatter. “There is still that big Regial left, so why don’t you stop arguing about who’s right, and start coming up with a plan to deal with that, because we’re not getting Chassis as long as it is in the way.”

The silence lasted for almost a full minute.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“I wonder how big it is?”

“Probably bigger than your…”

Martin resolved himself to the fact it was going to be a long trek.

***

The path the three of them trod on began to widen, light filtering in from an unknown source.

“Wait,” cautioned Berenice.

“It could be a trap.”

Isla, for once, said nothing.

“Martin, go,” she continued.

He thought about arguing, but between Isla’s diminished stamina and Berenice’s recalcitrance there was little point.

One step at a time, Martin made his way towards the opening. He extended an arm to hold himself stead, and marvelled.

The first thing to call attention were the caskets. Just like Sviratham’s presentation, ten of them stood in a line. Unlike the instructor’s presentation, these were on no stage, but one of five huge pillars. A sea of mist rolled beneath the stone fingers, but no bottom could be made out.

To Martin’s immediate right, a series of stairs had been carved, descending below and terminating in a cliff that connected with one of the five pillars. To reach its siblings, Martin deduced, one would have to jump. Well, that’s why they had Isla.

Something moved in his vision.

Up and to the left.

A ravine, a torn section of the mountain interior. Through it, a tentacle writhed in languid manner. Using the pillars beneath as a yardstick, Martin estimated the limb to be in the excess of 40 metres. It was big. In fact, he thought it was too big. It couldn’t get through the crevice. Yet, all the same, the caskets had been placed at that location…

“It’s clear,” he called back.

The two of them rejoined him, staring at the challenge spread out before the group.

“They really went all out,” Isla breathed, excitement colouring her voice.

“Not really, last year’s test involved a sprint over floes. Frozen arctic winds, and I heard they even scrounged up a drone meant to mimic a Sovereign.”

“A Regial isn’t small either,” Isla defended.

“How do we get,” Martin pointed down at where they were standing,”from here to,” he pointed down at the pillars,”there.”

“There is a stair,” Isla said, not kindly.

“What Martin is saying is that if we go down that stair, the Regial will see us, so we’ll need another way.”

“We don’t know that,” Isla observed. “Besides, it can’t possibly get through the opening.”

“It’s logical,” Berenice differed.

“There you go with the logic again. And if the test isn’t made on a basis of logic?”

“And if it is?”

“We’ve come too far to go back,” Martin decided. He made to look both of them in the face. Isla’s eyes shone, and her teeth were bared; Berenice wouldn’t meet his stare and her lips were pursed. ”Be ready to run back.”