Our Little Gods 1: RABATEA, the first World of the Daughters.

Chapter 18.

Yes, and no, the Dead Lands were not like what the tragic poet had described of his voyage so long ago. Yet, they were almost as dead, almost because of the specks of life hidden here and there revealed in minute flashes of green and yellow one could find in the ash covered hills and the forests of ghosts trees, the dull gray black plains dotted with the collapsed roofs of so many buildings buried in so many tombs. They would ride past rectangular pits looking down their depth at broken timber and discolored tiles. Often they would glimpse the perfectly petrified remains of the simple homeliness of those who had lived there: a table still laid with crockery, a crib, a bed covered with rotting linens, a jar with the dried up mummified relics of wildflowers, a pair of boots by a chair. Their mood was sullen and hushed and they probably rode a little harder than they would have for it. 

***

Beginnings have a way to formally introduce themselves, this time it was sunrise, the perfect pink dawn of an immaculate spring day. They were looking at it. Of course one would, especially after a cold gloomy night exposed to wind gusts and the minute sounds of ash, sand drifting and ancient wood breaking under pressure. They had slept the sleep of those who wait for the night to be over, they had awaken so many time that it had felt like it would never end and the shy glow far away beyond the horizon had surprised many, bringing some to the verge of tears, tears of happiness, tears of solace, the nervous tears of exhaustion. They soon reach the Knilif river, clear and poisonous and followed it upstream, treading heads-down in silence.

His voice was sore from disuse but the astonishment was impossible to miss when Maasil shouted.

"Oh! Look at that!"

A vertical cleft divided the face of the Ignaiens mountains, cut by the flow of the river over centuries it went deep in the mountains creating a narrow valley upon which the sun shone on lush green foliage. The dull ash had given up climbing the slopes at some point and the color of rock, scintillating in the sunlight, looked marvelous to their eyes. The road was there, where the ash stopped. From afar it looked intact, pristine, the ancient imperial way covered by the heavy coat of dust and ash in the plains had become lost, even the memory of its course is now gone; but there, up in the mountain where the black rains and the ash clouds couldn't go, things were as they had been in the days just after the Cataclysm. As soon as they entered the gorge they were surrounded by trees and bush growing everywhere. It was like the herd of lush plant had found refuge between the clifflike walls towering above them on each side. Soon, the road rose above the canopy, cut from the very flank of the mountain and too fast the rock face hid the sun as it passed its apex and started to descend. They pushed on, on this easier terrain they were making good progress and when they reached the first tomb, a thin blue mists was forming below them above the trees and they could feel the cold from the snow capped peaks far above.

***

The brass doors had been ripped from their hinges and the main chamber pillaged. The second chamber which had probably sheltered the remains of the wife and the stewart had been broken open too. Scattered pottery and dried up offerings littered the floor. Chairs and bed frames had been broken to bits and even the heavy stone lids of the sarcophagi were pushed askew. Baalbek decided to stop there for the night even though it was still early. They gathered some of the broken furniture and lit a fire. Limero tidied up the second chamber and had Artonis and Hirrasto put the lids back in place and help him close the passage with the damaged cover-stone. The healer stood before the broken monolith along with Maasil as if they were praying for an instant and then they joined the rest of the party around the fire. The Thiriik and Baalbek were commenting that they had seen no trace of passage in the ash near the road and that despite the vandalized tomb no one had been around these parts in a while. Tomorrow they should reach the ruins of Nag early in the afternoon. Baalbek was already planning the trip back and soon most were looking at maps except Maasil who was already sleeping in the corner of the room, Oneg stood up and wandered off to the passage limero had had sealed, but in the flickering light of the fire, he could not see the cracked part that the thieves had used to enter the antechamber, he ran his fingers on the smooth surface but failed to feel the fissure. He was about to return to the fire when he felt her right behind his back.