Void Walker

Chapter Nine: Night Descends

"Do not touch that."

Fingers hanging mid-air and twitching with irritation, Miklos frowned. "Why not?"

He went ahead and touched it anyway.

With an exasperated sigh, Luca stormed over, grabbed Miklos by the cuff of his neck and dragged him away from the dismal, dusty altar. All the while, strings of colourful curses flew in quick succession from under his breath.

They were in a large, underground chamber, accessible only though a broad flight of stairs next to the east entrance of the mountain. Here, the ceiling hung low, held up by several rounded pillars whose sheer shroud of mystery gave Miklos the impression that they were embellished with more care and precision than the four great pillars serving the level above. But in the dim light and under several coatings of filth, it was hard to tell. Above all, the chamber was solemn and desolate with disuse. Once a sacred place of worship, the altars all sitting snugly within alcoves were now lined with thick layers of grime and dust.

Miklos counted them. There were eleven.

How odd, he noted. Temples in the kingdom usually featured nine shrines , not eleven. It was however, too dark to warrant any distinguishable features of the altars dedicated to their deities.

Centering the chamber, a massive pile of furniture, odds and ends, unwanted objects and castaway weapons stood lying in a haphazard manner. Apparently, Orichon's mages had found a better use for the space carved beneath the mountain - a makeshift storage room, one which nobody had bothered to regularly furnish with light. Unlit lamps embedded into the walls contained oil from a bygone age. They had brought their own which Luca held, yet its light cast an eerie glow that made the darkness even more imposing.

"If it isn't obvious enough, Miklos, that is an altar. Those trinkets, whatever they are, are not for you to play with. Or do you fancy a divine bolt to your face?" He gave the boy a disapproving stare, and was met with defiant grey eyes that glared back at him from the gloom. When they at last ceded and dissolved into a grumpy scowl at having been denied the whim of prodding some odd metallic objects of worship, Miklos shrugged.

"Why does it matter? These don't look like they've been bothered for ages," he countered. "Besides, I don't believe in gods."

"When in doubt," Luca said flatly, "exercise caution. Just find the trunk, kid. I do not intend to stay here all night long."

"Alright," Miklos grumbled. "Fine."

They proceeded to rummage through the items at random. According to Rei, there was a trunk lying around somewhere that he could use. Naturally, the problem was finding it.

"Do I really need this thing?" Miklos wrinkled his nose, "I don't have any personal belongings."

"You will, eventually. Everyone has one." Luca's response was automatic, half-listening, as he continued to search methodically through the hopeless piles of. . . well, what Miklos regarded as trash. Some of them interesting, some not so. What did intrigue him, however, were the altars that had been long abandoned by the mages. His fingers itched to meddle with the objects, and kept casting wayward glances in their direction.

"Why not use them anymore?" he finally asked. "The altars."

Luca did not give an immediate response, but eyed them like an old adversary.

"We gave up on the gods," he replied. "Keeping faith means nothing to us here. These altars are but empty shells. Completely useless."

Miklos snorted. "I guess someone doesn't mind a divine bolt to his face."