The Place of Stars and Bones Page 6

  On I went, eyes probing, taking in every bend and twist, every bizarre grouping of architectural non-sequiturs. I listened to the wind as it sighed gently do-wn the stone canyons and spun and twirled through open doorways and oddly joined chambers.

  Several of these chambers I entered, giving their interiors a cursory glance. They were stark and bare. I could see nothing that might indicate what these rooms had been used for or who had occupied them. After these few brief glances I did not deign to invest-igate further. There seemed little point in lingering in empty rooms.

  At length the sound of the waves began to sub-side, and the water in the canals no longer moved with the rhythm of the tides. The wind began to taper off, then ceased to blow altogether. The atmosphere became oppressive and still. Soon all that could be heard was the sound of my own breathing and the echo of my footfalls.

  The canal branched of a sudden and I found my-self being guided along a path that moved to the right in an easterly direction. I had seen no bridges span-ing the canal, no way to turn back to the north. I had no choice but to follow wherever the walkway led.

  This new branch of the canal curved and wound its way between the queer yet grandiose agglomer-ation of buildings. It meandered this way and that, never confining itself to one compass point or an-other. Eventually all sense of direction had fled and I found myself wondering what sort of progress I had actually made. The city rose in elevation the further north it went; this I had seen upon my approach. Since I followed a canal that remained at the same elevation I surmised that I was going precisely no-where. It seemed I was making lateral progress, mov-ing eastward then back again to the west. The futility of this winding course began to gnaw at me. I must move north! In this there was purpose, direction. Every other point of the compass would lead only to more emptiness.

  I increased my pace, alert for either bridge or boat; some means by which to pass to the opposite bank and return to my northward advance. On several occ-asions I thought I spied something up ahead, but up-on reaching it discovered only another twist or bend in the canal, another relief filled to overflowing with depictions of suffering and death.

  Time continued to seep slowly by, moving at its accustomed dogged and uncaring crawl. I could not say how much longer I walked before I at last came to the bridge. Upon spying it in the distance I incre-ased my pace, darting my head from side to side as I went. I was acutely aware that, were I observed, this sudden burst might draw unwanted attntion. I was, however, greeted by nothing; no movement, no stirr-ing of corpses, not even the sigh of the wind.

  Upon reaching the bridge I slid to a halt, panting. For the first time since my arrival on the plain I felt fatigued. I had almost forgotten the sensation. I mu-sed for a moment on the strange lack of normal hu-man functions I had experienced since finding myself in this place of stars and bones, fog, and gently lapp-ing seas. As my wind returned I put such thoughts from my mind. There was no purpose in dwelling on such things for I had no means with which to feed myself or slake my thirst, should the need arise. If I fixated on such deficiencies I would simply make my longing all the more acute. So, swallowing dryly I star-ted across the bridge.

  It was a low, arching affair, unadorned save for the carved railing. The stonework underfoot was sur-prisingly well intact with few cobbles missing. I could see a set of three grooves running down the bridge’s center, each worn deep enough to have been created by centuries of carts passing from one bank to the other. This was yet more evidence that the city had been old even before it was abandoned.

  Once across I chose the street that seemed to have the steepest incline. It was cramped and narrow, run-ning between high and irregular walls. Being confi-ned to such a tight space afforded me little room to maneuver, but I felt for the first time since the canal had veered east that I was again moving in the right direction.

  I made my way through this glorified alley, past open doorways that led away into a labyrinthine coll-ection of small chambers. Watching these endless rooms recede into darkness I hoped my chosen route had been a wise one. The thought of having to make my way through such a maze was of no comfort.

  The street forked, then forked again. It jogged left, right, left, and left again, all the while moving steadily upwards. I did not bother to count the turns I had made or memorize particular buildings or junctures. I had no intention of going back the way I had come or, for that matter, remaining in this necropolis any longer than was necessary. Instead I focused simply on moving up and therefore north.

  Ahead there was another set of twists and turns accompanied by more bizarrely misshapen buildings. Once past this winding juncture I found myself stan-ding in an open plaza. I let out my breath in a great whoosh and stood bent over with my hands on my knees.

  My sense of relief at having freed myself from the confines of the alleyway evaporated within seconds of my liberation. Upon registering what stood before me I felt my face involuntarily contort with disgust.

  At the center of the plaza stood another carven effigy. Unlike the reliefs that adorned the surrounding buildings this was a freestanding stone sculpture, one made of intertwined human forms. They rose in a twisting column to five times the height of a man. Each body was flayed, their limbs thrown wide, vitals exposed. The figures’ stone flesh was joined, fused with that of its neighbors. The skin of these carven vestiges had been lifted from the musculature below and spread like wings or stretched taut over distorted limbs. In turn the muscles had been pulled from the bones below, winding and merging with the flesh of the closest soma. The sex of the figures was difficult to determine though some were tumescent, their ere-ctions boring into the open wounds of their fellows. This priapic violence was met with the rending teeth of some while others seemed to revel in the violation. The few that were obviously female cupped their stone breasts, fingers tearing through flesh, their empty eyes turned skyward, mouths agape as if in rap-turous climax.

  These monstrous phantoms wound about one another in a tableau that put to shame the hundreds of reliefs I had passed. The warped and aberrant fig-ures, both male and female, were equally as aroused by their debasement as tormented by it. Truly this sculpture plumbed the depths of a depravity more pernicious than any I had ever dreamed or borne wit-ness to. Together the statues formed an orgy of ang-uish and sexual abandon that was as malignant as it was immense.

  The sight of it bored into me, gnawing at my very consciousness. The longer I stood gazing at the statue the more my thoughts seemed to slip and run, pool-ing about my ankles like black ichor. As a cold empti-ness spread through my chest I attempted to look away. I could not. I knew I must fly from this place lest I go mad with the sight of it, yet I remained trans-fixed.

  The sun, having already begun its westward slide, momentarily broke free of the ever-present cloud cover. For the first time since I had come to this place it spilled warm golden light over my surround-dings. It bathed the baleful effigy before me, making it glow with an otherworldly fire. I squinted against the glare and threw my arm before my face.

  My efforts were for naught. The image of those distorted figures had already burned itself into my mind’s eye.

  I screamed aloud, a wet, gurgling shriek that tore at my throat. Blinking rapidly I tried in vain to dis-lodge those horrible figures from my sight. My eyes filled with tears and I found my vision afloat in a sea of liquid gold. Shakily, I started forward, stumbled, then rose again. I fled―an improvident, disjointed rush towards the nearest patch of shadows.

  Crashing against a stone wall I split my forehead, nearly knocking myself senseless. Heedless of the blood that trickled down my face I stumbled to one of the many narrow passageways leading from the plaza. I did not care where it went, up to the north or back down to the canals. All that mattered was that it led away from the statue; that radiant and terrible statue whose eldritch glow threatened to drain my very sanity.

  I ran for I know not how long. In my flight I blundered headlong into wall after wall, corner after c
orner, battering myself mercilessly. When finally I reined in my flight the sun had disappeared behind a cluster of distant spires. Its waning glow illuminated the veil of clouds overhead, its corona igniting the gossamer pall. I slowed my progress, stumbling hap-hazardly into another conjunction of alleyways that opened into a miniature courtyard. At the center of this space was an eight-sided well capped with a flat slab of stone. I backed myself against a wall at the edge of the courtyard and stood gasping for air. My lungs felt as though they were on fire. I sank down upon the time-worn cobbles, my head in my hands.

  I remained this way, trying to regain my wind, while overhead the sun continued to sink further be-hind the bulwark of spires, turrets, and domes. The shadows lengthened, snuffing the light from the small courtyard. Dusk filled the tiny, enclosed space and the air grew chill. I breathed in the scent of old stone and lingering fog.

  Images, dredged from I know not where, skittered one by one behind my closed eyelids. They joined with the vision of the statue, one bolstering the other. I saw men butchered before me, their women crying out. These same women were thrown to the muddy ground, their garments torn away. When the soldiers had finished with them they cut their throats or opened their bellies.

  I watched as the women screamed and crawled, hands outstretched. I watched and I did nothing.

  Why?

  Clenching my fists I drove them into my eyes. Why had I remained immobile? I did not know.

  The visions that came flooding across my mind’s eye inundated me with new horrors but offered no answers. Had the presence of the statue pulled them from my own memory, or were they merely a hallu-cination brought on by this accursed city? Whatever the case they meshed and intertwined with my mem-ories of past battles, of standing with pike up-raised before the onslaught of charging cavalry. Still, I could make sense of them any more than I could not fathom how I came to be alone on the plain, walking beneath unfamiliar stars.

  The voice that brought me out of my poisonous reverie was sweet and husky, neither wholly feminine nor masculine. At the sound of it I looked up, blink-ing tears from my eyes.

  “Our flesh is forsaken,” said the unseen speaker. “Our will is as nothing. In the face of what we behold we offer our bodies, our minds, and our souls to be flayed. We walk the pattern laid over the flawed and corrupt world.”

  I looked about, but could see no one.

  “Consume us,” said the voice. “Consume us and we shall rejoice.”

  A figure, tall and slender, stepped from the shad-ows of a doorway on the far side of the square. At the sight of it I started, my hand flying to the hilt of my sword. I loosed the blade a hand’s width as this new apparition made its way across the cobbles towards me.

  Like the Rider and the Boatman before it, this creature was thin and pale, its eyes dark. From the sides of its bald head jutted long and pointed ears. Unlike its fellows, however, this being was equal parts male and female. Muscular and lean, it was possessed of gently curved hips and graceful legs. Small breasts budded upon its chest and from between its thighs depended an undersized penis. Across its pale skin were painted neither runes nor arcane symbols, but swirling and graceful patterns. These wound about its limbs and torso, a continuous device that had no be-ginning and no end.

  Before me was a third member of this strange race, a hermaphrodite, adorned in naught but an alien motif and carrying nothing at all. Despite being un-armed, its presence was far more sinister than either of its counterparts.

  “You have looked upon the glory that was ours,” said the creature. “It could be yours as well. The Pattern awaits.”

  I tried to speak, but could not.

  “Come,” the Hermaphrodite said and extended its hand. “Come and I will show you the way.”

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  I moved as though in a trance. Ahead of me swung the narrow hips of the Hermaphrodite; around me were the cramped walls of what once had been in-sulae and shops. Through this maze we climbed ste-adily, passing over gracefully inclined avenues and up teetering flights of narrow steps.

  Occasionally, down a side street or through a gap in a wall, I glimpsed another courtyard or square. In these spaces were statues not unlike the one I had happened upon, each unique and terrible. I averted my eyes as we passed, shoving aside the images they brought bubbling from out of my subconscious. I had no wish to again experience the mind-numbing sen-sation that had come over me whilst I gazed up at the first statue. If the Hermaphrodite noticed my skitt-ishness it made no outward sign. It simply continued at a steady, unhurried pace. My own steps were clu-msy by comparison.

  As the streets rose in elevation so did the quality of the buildings. Before long we found ourselves walking beneath grand manor houses. These were ringed by columns and topped with the same domes, turrets, and minarets I had seen outlined against the sky. Here the carved reliefs were even more prevalent and I found myself having to focus my attention on the pavement lest my eyes stray to the horrors locked there in stone.

  At last we reached the level of the low hanging-clouds. They clung like fog to the street itself, ob-scureing the mansions that marched into the distance ahead of us. The clouds appeared to have shorn away the street and the buildings that rose on either side.

  I called to the creature ahead of me. It halted and turned. I bent over, placed my hands on my knees, and between labored breaths said, “I’ve felt not the least bit fatigued since first coming to this place, but now I find myself utterly drained. I must rest. Just for a moment.”

  The Hermaphrodite smiled ever so slightly and tilted its head to one side. “Despair not. Soon you will experience many things. The apathy of the plain and the vacant apprehension of the sea are behind you now. The dead city calls forth those things in you that have lain dormant. Rejoice.”

  I was puzzled at the thought, disturbed even, but nodded anyway.

  The route we traversed was more efficient than the one I had managed. Moreover, the Hermaph-rodite had made no attempts at violence. This was an improvement over its churlish contemporaries. Still, there was no warmth in its smile, merely a drawing back of the lips over straight, white teeth. Its eyes remained cold and black. I shuddered, feeling for the first time that I was being led towards something foul, something mellifluous. This sense of disquiet slowly began to sink into my marrow. Try as I might I could not shake it.

  “You think I lead you astray,” said the Hermaph-rodite.

  I started.

  The Hermaphrodite simply smiled. “I can see it writ large on your face. This is not why I am here. Look within and ask yourself if the destination to which I lead was not the one you pursued all along.”

  At this I turned my head away. Somehow I knew that should I choose any other point of the compass I would wander aimlessly, forsaken and alone. To move north was an imperative…

  I stood erect.

  “We shall continue,” said the Hermaphrodite with a smile.

  Tenuously I followed the creature as it disapp-eared headfirst into the clouds. With each step anoth-er portion of its body vanished until, finally, its heels withdrew from sight.

  When my own head breached the cloud layer I could at first see nothing but a gray-white veil. Worry continued to gnaw at me. Should the clouds prove too thick I would lose my guide and my way. To wan-der unseeing through this strange city was a thought I could hardly bear and so I quickened my pace. After a few steps the clouds thinned and I found myself with-in an umbral twilight. Ahead of me and to either side the dim outlines of buildings were barely visible, their angled contours the only features I could discern. At last I spied the shape of my guide.

  I jogged forward and soon was within a few paces of the Hermaphrodite. It smiled at me over one shou-lder, then returned to its measured strides.

  “Darkness,” said the Hermaphrodite.

  “Darkness?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said the Hermaphrodite.

  At that moment
the light failed. The wan glow that filled the upper city vanished and we were cast in near blackness. My breath caught in my throat and I heard the Hermaphrodite chuckle.

  “Wait,” it said.

  We stood unmoving while around us the darkness grew ever deeper and more oppressive. The sense of unease I felt increased as my surroundings were swal-lowed by the onrushing night. Then, in that all envel-oping darkness, there was light.

  It glowed small and pale, hovering just above the level of my head. I peered up at it. The light did not flicker or waver; it hung in the air unmoving, casting its rays upon the surrounding walls and paving.

  Movement off to my left caught my eye and I turned to see another of the lights spring to life. This was followed by another a few paces ahead and then another. As we watched the ghostly orbs flickered on, stretching ahead of us in a double column. Leading steadily upwards they illuminated the same avenue the Hermaphrodite and I trod.

  I looked at the thing that accompanied me, but it offered no explanation. I gestured for it to proceed and the Hermaphrodite obliged.

  As we walked, our way lighted by those peculiar floating orbs, I looked from side to side. Here and there I could see the faint glow of other lights blink-ing on. Throughout the city it seemed that hundreds of the luminescent balls were coming to life. I won-dered if perhaps they were a remnant from the days when the city had been inhabited or if they had come later. My host no doubt knew the answer, but to ask would more than likely yield naught but another vague, prognostic homily. I opted to keep my own council.

  The higher we went the wider and straighter the streets became. Soon we found ourselves in the cen-ter of a boulevard that could have fit ten horsemen abreast. The floating lights that flanked it were set far to the sides, their diffuse glow filling the misty air.