Blood And Stone

Chapter 53: The Catacombs

Peace knelt beside a young boy who had curled into a ball to sob in fear. Her hand rubbed the poor child's back as her words floated to his ears, attempting to calm him. She felt the desperation ripple through her chest. So many women and children were down here with her, listening to the sounds of battle and death as they floated down to them. The ceiling above their heads thundered with the falling of bodies. The screams of those injured and dying were bad enough but when coupled with the sobs and screams of the scared and innocent, it tore her heart to pieces. Mothers comforted children, the elderly comforted the mothers and Peace tried to comfort them all. What good was it doing? Precious little. There wasn't much anyone could do when people were listening to their loved ones die.

The Catacombs were spacious yet dark areas beneath an otherwise bright city. Torches hung on the walls every five feet, glowing with beautiful green and yellow light to help the darkness feel less thick with death. Bodies lined the walls in their thick stone caskets, each one holding a little metal nameplate to identify who was buried there. Most of these people had died of old age or when the odd disease found its way into Sitharu from one of their many charitable excursions to other cities. Very few were down here because their lives had been cut short by war or battle. Those that had died from battle, were adorned in decorative caskets inlaid with gold to pay homage to their bravery and sacrifice. Peace knew that soon, the Catacombs would be extended and many caskets of inlaid gold would be built and carried down to allow their dead to sleep. Beyond the golden caskets, sat the tombs of the unknown and the disgraced. These included various dead that the Sithaurians had encountered on their travels and the very few that had chosen to go against the Sithaurian way. They were still given tombs, nice caskets, and nameplates but, their area was small, darker, and cold. Yet another testament to the Sithaurian way of life.

Peace ran her hands softly up the boy's back again before letting it dive into his hair and come to a stop on his forehead. With a few simple whispered words, she pulled happy memories to the front of the child's mind. As her hand fell away, she knew he would have several minutes of happiness and calm before reality would surface and he would fall back into pain and fear. It was all she could do. It wasn't much but at least it was a few moments of respite for the young lad. She rose to her feet and cast a look around the dark area. All eyes were downcast and sparkling with wetness. Despair etched itself into every face. The ache that ran through her chest made it hard to breathe.

Past the main crowd of Sithaurians, the glow of various candles cast shadows on the walls. People on their knees prayed before their lost loved ones, asking their spirits to watch over those who were fighting. It made her heart squeeze hard. The shadows danced in the flickering light and the sight was so dismal and dim that it looked more like a painting than reality. But it was reality. This pain and fear was the most real thing any of these people had ever felt and it was destroying them.

A large crash echoed through the stone paths, rattling the torches and extinguishing a few. It sounded as though the very earth around them had exploded. The sound was followed by a very confusing stampede of hooves. Peace approached the stone walls and pressed her ear tightly against its cold surface. The soft whinny of horses assaulted her ear along with a thundering rumble of horse hooves. Her confusion lasted only a few seconds as she realized that the Bäckahäst must be using the wells in the city travel. The plan was clever.

Quite a few of the younglings began to sob and scream at the strange noises. Peace whirled around to face them. At the moment, no one knew they were down here and she needed to keep it that way. "Everyone, join hands." She commanded. They looked at her in confusion before finally clasping hands. The soft smack of flesh on flesh snaked through the halls. "Do not break the chain. Hold the younglings close, in your lap if they will not hold hands. Make sure they are touching your bare skin." There was a collective shift as younglings were pulled into laps and hands clasped each other again.