Page 27 of The Burning Mountain
It was midday, and the sun overhead was hot and bright as they made their way toward the entrance. The leaves of the surrounding trees were still. No birds sang; it was as if every living being waited and watched.
Veer kept expecting someone to stop them, despite knowing better. It felt surreal to be walking right into a prison in enemy territory with no fight or subterfuge of any kind.
Shota cracked open the door of the tower and slipped inside, with Veer pulling up his rear, carrying a heavy sack over his shoulder. He glanced back to see if any of the guards had come back, but nothing happened.
The entrance hall was enormous and gloomy, the only room occupying the ground level. Afternoon sunlight penetrated the darkness through the dusty windows to a few feet, leaving the rest draped in uneasy shadow. No one had bothered to light the torch brackets that lined the walls. It was silent as a grave as they made their way across the rough stone floor, the thick layer of accumulated dust muffling the sound of their footsteps.
Veer held up his forearm when cobwebs brushed his face. There was a general air of neglect about the place, but it was more than simple abandonment. Places carried an echo of their previous inhabitants, and this prison tower reeked of despair and fear.
The sound of flapping wings made him glance up. A flock of pigeons roosted at the topmost story, where Veer knew from his prior excursions through a rat’s consciousness, was a single room that served as a lookout.
Despite the square exterior, the interior appeared to be more like a circular tower, with several tapering floors. At the back of the hall was a narrow flight of stairs that curved around the wall, accessing each of the floors.
From a satchel he had over his shoulder, he fished out a small lantern and lit it. Borrowing senses from animals was easy, but Veer preferred to use his own when possible.
Shota inspected something on the far wall. Veer lingered behind, a weirdly shaped object in the center of the hall had caught his attention.
“Veer?” said Shota. “I’ll need your blacksmith tools. There’s a door that leads to the dungeons like you said, but it’s locked shut.”
“Veer?” he called again, a little louder.
“Come over here for a minute.” Veer’s voice echoed strangely through the tower.
Muttering under his breath about wasting time, Shota joined Veer at what appeared to be a ceremonial altar, ahomam.
The brick altar of thehomamhad splintered at its base. A spear rose from its central pit, but it was the human spine tied to it that held them spellbound.
“What in nine hells am I seeing?” asked Shota in a shocked voice, covering his nose with his hands as he coughed slightly. There was a strong, charred smell, but underneath was the faint bittersweet odor of burned flesh.
Veer extended his hand. The bones dissolved in a rain of white ash with the barest whisper of his touch.
“This is a seeking and binding spell,” said Veer grimly, crouching to examine the markings on the floor, faded and barely visible through the dust. “That’s how they were able to find Aditya. Definitely the work of a wizard who doesn’t mind dipping toes into arcane practices.”
They stared at the pile of ash for a long time.
“I don’t like this, Veer,” said Shota, still pinching his nose. “How are you familiar with such things?”
“We came across these practices during our research,” said Veer, offhanded, his mind far away. “Me and Virat,” he clarified when Shota raised a questioning brow.
Veer stood up, lost in thought. Something about the ritual altar left him with a deep sense of disquiet, an unease that skittered like rats in a graveyard.
“You think this is the work of the same wizard we encountered back in the temple city?”
“How many wizards do you know who can work magic like this?” asked Veer, but doubts assailed him.
Weather mages were rare, necromancy even rarer. He had met only one who could qualify as a weather mage and that man had worked as a merchant in a sea fleet, producing squalls that would fill the sails. Necromancers were shunned, even in Rajgarh, and lived at the periphery of society. Not all magic users were created equal. There were variations in the strength and type of magic manifested. “This raises lot of questions, Shota.”
“Yes, yes,” said Shota, nudging Veer. “But we need to hurry. We’re wasting daylight.”
Veer allowed himself to be dragged away. His blacksmith tools out, he went to work on the heavy door to the dungeons. The grinding sound as the door opened was loud in the silence. It was obvious it hadn’t been oiled or opened for a while. Veer briefly wondered how Aditya was faring without food or water if people never came down here.
Beyond the door, stairs descended into the dark bowels of the dungeons. Grabbing the lantern, the pair moved forward.
13
THE OBVIOUS CLUE
Chandra paced about in the narrow confines of her room, trying to calm her nervousness. Today Veer and Shota were going to rescue Prince Aditya. Yesterday, he had commanded that she, Matangi, and Billadev all leave theantahpuramby the end of this evening.
