Heim- A Prequel to "The Lazarus Saga"

Ch. 1- A priest and a jarl walk into a cave.

"How much longer must we travel through this miserable cave? My bones are old, and this cold confined space does them little good Orwell." Bane, the Jarl of Fabyan, barked at Orwell, the priest of his city's church. The two bore nothing in common on the outside. Bane, a man in his late sixties, stood tall and thin. Whereas Father Orwell was short, round, and roughly ten years younger. Though, he didn't look it. In fact, Father Orwell looked to be Bane's elder by a good measure of ten years. However, with eyes closed, the two were inseparable and reeked of wickedness.

"Relax old friend." Father Orwell said through a wheeze of breath. "I would not have you down here if it weren't necessary." Bane hung close to his torch, fending for its warmth more than its light. The stone tunnel around them was licked wet with the moisture of the constant, chilling wind. The floor was pitted, stone crawled out into points from the ground, and hung in suspense from its dripping ceiling. Even with a torch, Bane had to use Orwell as a guide in the dark. He'd hoped that his larger figure would provide shelter from the frozen breath of this cave, but the piercing wind bit at his back as they traveled deeper.

Mustering up the muscle control to keep his teeth from chattering Bane spoke up, thankful that the stone walls carried his voice farther than he could. "You've had me leave my home in secrecy like a child just to wander around underground in the unbearable cold." Fog from the bitter temperatures escaped Bane's mouth with every word, only to be devoured by the restless spirit in his torch. "The sun has never even touched the stone here. This had better be worth it. Old friend." The malice in Bane's voice frightened Orwell. But, only for a moment. Courage flooded back in by the knowings of what lay behind a red metal door that rested only feet ahead.

"I assure you friend that it is." Father Orwell said as he came to a rest, leaning his large figure against the bent wall of the tunnel. Once father Orwell lugged his wider structure to the side, Bane could map out an odd, unnaturally square object embedded in the stone wall ahead. "We are here my Jarl." Father Orwell gestured for Bane to get a closer look. Though the effort looked to drain him more than it should have. The jarl did his best to nod in agreement, but the movement of his head lacked fluidity. He was still fighting a never-ending battle for control over the muscles in his back and the constant chattering of his teeth.

He sacrificed the warmth of his torch to see the obstruction ahead. It was times like these he wished he'd studied a more elusive path. His path of the red dragon offered nothing but destruction, and any one of his spells would send the rock above him crashing down before they warmed his old bones. Yet, the cold cease to exist once his torchlight illuminated the odd structure before him.

A red door made from thick metal sat on the cave wall as if painted on its surface. The door had a large metal wheel fixed to its center. Above the wheel, was a yellow emblem that consisted of several interlocking rings. Bane had never heard of or seen such craftsmanship, nor did he know of such a large contraption for opening and closing a door. Bane's newfound curiosity gave him all the warmth he needed to stretch his torch even higher. Flames licked out, revealing three letters of the same yellow paint sitting at the top of the door. They read, "U.H.F.".

Bane looked back to Orwell in awe and wonderment. "Who? What is this? Has this been here all along?" Father Orwell gave Bane a grin that said he knew the feeling of intrigued shock Bane was experiencing now. "It has always been here. Even before this city came about. As for who it belongs to." Father Orwell gave a long pause breaking his oddly joyful character. "Well, the answer is, somewhat, disturbing. It belongs to us. To our ancestors." Bane had to shift to the side of the cavern wall as all that was Father Orwell made his way to the door. Presumably to open it, and shake any nerves dredged up from the topic.

" It is hard to believe, I know. But this structure was built by humans, some thousand years ago." He grunted and twisted the wheel free of the accumulating rust that held its threads hostage. He looked back to bane, the light of his torch bouncing as he shivered in place. Orwell let out a nervous chuckle. "The letters written in our language is a dead giveaway," Orwell said, pointing above him with one meaty finger. "What lies within will lead you to this very truth. But, my old friend-" Father Orwell wheezed out another breath before gripping the wheel tight. "You will not have to just simply take my word on it." He rotated the wheel several times before it came to a squeaking halt. The hefty priest then tugged hard, and the door gave way, opening on its ancient hinges. "You will see it with your own eyes."