An Echo of a Sensation

Dust and Death: Part Two of Four

Dust and Death is the second in the Tales of The Lesser Evil and this is the second chapter.

This is a fantasy series—not quite grimdark, but dark nevertheless—with complicated and believable characters doing their best to survive in a world simply indifferent to their existence.

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An Echo of a Sensation

The walk into the canyon city revealed no new clues as to what had occurred: no traces of attack, no sign of a hasty retreat, no hint of violence. The route they followed took them uphill, initially along the lip of the canyon, then down, the path winding along a wide ledge on to another.

There was no one. The entire city was empty, silent and dusty.

‘This place is incredible,’ Strings said quietly, looking around at the many thousands of homes carved into and out of the rock all around them, on every wall of the huge canyon.

‘How I wish you had seen it first filled with my people. The sounds of laughter, of play—this is home. Or it should be. Now it feels, I don’t know, different, alien.’

‘Where do we go now?’ They had investigated several homes at random, entering cautiously, only to find a similar situation in each. In some, jewellery was left in plain sight, as untouched as the food they kept finding on the low tables. Whatever had happened had clearly occurred at dinner time and no one had visited since.

Dhinal sighed and paused, turning to look at Strings. She could see the fear and tightly-bottled anguish on his face, the questions she shared reflected in his eyes.

‘I need to see Aishah-Zaya’s home. If anyone would—could—have left a message, it would have been her. After this, we have only one further option, but it is not the easiest route. Yet I fear it might be something we must do.’ He did not elaborate, but turned and walked to some carved steps. Strings looked around once more, then followed.

There was nothing to distinguish the home of Dhinal’s mentor from any of the other dwellings they had passed. In his culture, power seemed to come with no extra ostentatious wealth.

‘Wait here, please. I need to be attuned to the air within and your presence could confuse the traces.’

Strings nodded, it was not the first time he had made such a request and, even when she did not entirely understand, she still trusted him completely. As he laid his pack down and slowly entered the nondescript home, she sat down carefully, lowering herself until her back was to the stone of the canyon wall. She looked at the scene in front of her and sighed, concentrating on what she had felt since entering the city, thinking about the place and herself.

As they had descended into the canyon, a strange sensation had twisted and spun across her mind. Strings had yet to mention it to Dhinal but guessed it was probably important. It had been like an echo of an echo, or the hope of an echo—something at once distant and ancient but also internal and new. She had tried to put it into words, try to work out how to explain it to Dhinal, but had yet to settle on something that made any sense. She pushed it aside and looked at the view.

The place, simply called Av—home, in Dhinal’s language—was remarkable. From the top of the vast canyon there was no hint of the city below, no idea that the whole was wormed through and carved out with surprisingly welcoming tunnels, caves and caverns, thousands and thousands of people living within. The dwellings would have felt cool in the day, an escape from the heat outside—and snug and warm at night.

Aligned north to south as it was, the sun lit one side of the city in the morning, the other in the afternoon. It was approaching evening and the lower angle of light made the rock rich with reds, with golds and with pinks. She thought back to their brief time in The Red City—of the way the light had played off the walls and buildings, of how the stone had looked in the setting sun—and compared it to the view in front of her. This was different, more multi-coloured, with layers and tones that had been missing there. The curves of the weathering on the rock added sinuous shadows the sharper planes of the city had not, each line of approaching night constantly moving, like the play of light through water over sand. The effect was mesmerising.

Strings suddenly found herself angry that she had not first experienced this with the sounds and sights and scents of thousands of people. She imagined the smell of cooking rising up the cliffs, the shouts of children and the laughter of all, swirling upwards on the warm thermals.

Dhinal had told her many of the details of his home, how his culture was based on mutual understanding and respect, how the desert and mountains had toughened The People to the point where fractiousness was virtually eliminated—all worked to the common good. She remembered how she had listened and thought it sounded too good to be true and, as it had turned out, it had been. But not for the reasons she had imagined.

What had happened? How could an entire city lose all its people, suddenly, with no trace? She shivered, despite the warmth of the day and the stone at her back, unsure as to whether the answer would be something she wanted to hear.

The sun had dropped from view and was nearing the horizon when Dhinal emerged, looking tired and sad.

‘Anything?’ Strings asked, rising from where she sat.

‘Perhaps. I felt… something, a warning, almost an echo of a sensation from my past.’

‘An echo?’ His choice of word was startling. ‘What do you mean, can you explain?’ Strings was used to the occasional need to try and pry further details; at times Dhinal slipped into the role of mystic too deeply and did not notice he was doing so. She could also tell that he was barely keeping the sheer panic of finding the entire city empty at bay.

‘I felt something gently pushing—or pulling—me in a certain direction, towards something buried deeply.’

‘Literally buried, or emotionally?’ More questions usually helped Strings and Dhinal both; it was something they had both talked about—how useful it was to have a deep connection, to use this to get to a better answer, a more complete explanation than would be possible alone.

‘Literally, emotionally, historically and personally. There is a place…’ Dhinal paused, looking down into the rapidly-darkening canyon. ‘There is a place below, far below, at the very lowest level and then deeper still. It is hidden. It cannot be visited unless you have been there before, or are in the company of one who has. It is very dangerous, but holds answers to many questions.’ He looked up and held her gaze, ‘I felt Aishah-Zaya and I saw that place.’

‘What are we waiting for then? Let’s go.’ Strings started to stand.

‘No,’ Dhinal did not move. ‘The sun will soon set and this place is far too dangerous to visit at this point of the day. From dusk until dawn it is unwise in extreme to enter, better to wait until tomorrow.’

‘But it will be as dark underground during the day as it is at night.’ Strings wondered what he was so cautious of, why they could not simply find the answers immediately.

‘Yes, but there are points of the day, as there are times of the year, when the distance between worlds is different, closer. Boundaries are not always as strong, they become more porous at these moments. Remember how we left The Red City? How I used the new moon to show the Forest People, the Twigs, who I am? What I can do? This is a similar thing—night makes it dangerous, dusk and dawn even more so. No. We shall wait until tomorrow, then enter rested and ready. I…’ He trailed off again and placed a hand on Strings shoulder. ‘Honestly, I do not want to go, nor do I want you down there, but I have no choice. For one person alone it is impossible, far too much risk, even for the most powerful. I will need your strength and I warn you—it will not be pleasant. I am sorry.’

‘Dhinal, my strength, my everything—you know they are yours. Whatever I can do to help, I will.’

They stood in silence for a time, watching as the light changed, the sun leaving the sky to fight her way through darkness to the next morning.

‘Come. It is best that we stay here in Aishah-Zaya’s—who knows how dusty my own home is? How long since anyone entered? I used to spend more time sleeping here than in my own bed anyway, it feels more like my own home. I checked and there is oil for the lamps, incense to burn, food to eat and wine to drink. Tonight we rest and recover from our journey, sleep as late as we need. Tomorrow is a day born anew. Tomorrow, you shall see things no outsider has, to the best of my knowledge, ever seen.’

Strings pulled Dhinal close and held him for a moment, then bent and picked up her pack.

‘What are we waiting for? Come on, magic-man, let’s see what there is to eat.’

The sun was high when they left the house the following morning, high enough to have already washed out any blue, leaving brilliant, glaring whites. They left their packs, blankets and cloaks and carried food for a single meal, water, a short rope, weapons and offerings. Offerings for what, though, Dhinal had not yet explained, as they had packed a candle, incense, food, wine and a small pouch of shining polished stones.

‘We need something else, I am afraid. It is not the most pleasant of thoughts, but we need a living sacrifice.’ Dhinal frowned. ‘Aishah-Zaya felt the same as I did and wished there was another way, but the truth is that a live sacrifice is the only thing that keeps us safe.’

‘How will we find that? What does it have to be?’ Strings did not ask for further details, she knew she would be told when she needed to know. Patience was a skill learnt and honed with practice.

‘We need to hope some goats are still close, catch one and bring it down the cliffs with us. If we can catch two that would be even better—one for each of us.’

It took longer to find the animals than Dhinal would have liked. He had hoped that the goats would have made their way back to the city in the absence of shepherds, but they seemed to have taken to their new-found freedom.

The sun was already beginning her downward trajectory when they made the journey into the depths of the canyon, later than he had wished for. There was still time enough to make the visit, but they could not afford any further delays.

It was not easy, navigating the narrow walkways—walkways that grew narrower and narrower the lower they travelled. It was made even harder by the belligerent goats, who really did not want to descend into the increasing gloom.

Strings had asked few questions. The trust she placed in him was remarkable, something Dhinal knew he would never take for granted and would always treasure.

They walked lower and lower, into cooler air, each switchback on the trail seemed to provide a new climate. Water began to appear on the smooth stone walls, a small seep here, glistening moss there. The goats kept pausing to investigate and nibble different plants, lick at the rock and generally make themselves a nuisance. Dhinal really did wish there was another way, but the goats were essential.

The river that had carved the canyon was heard long before it was seen, a deep and powerful roar felt somewhere in the chest. Dhinal smiled at Strings when she exclaimed,

‘Fuck me, there’s still a river here? How is it not heard above?’

‘The same reason it cannot be seen. Look up.’

They both shifted their gaze upwards—there was not a glimpse of the bright white sky visible at all, just a solid mass of rock.

‘Long ago it would have been different, but the earth moved and the land shifted to one side, blocking sound and the sight. It’s strange, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, very. I had not noticed that at all.’ Strings nodded, gazing up at the rocks overhead.

‘It is not far now. Let’s pause and have a drink and a brief rest. I need to explain some things.’

The pair tied the goats to a twisted, pale juniper and sat, sharing a water skin and chewing on some dried meat.

Dhinal took a deep breath.

‘What you will see, as I said, is something no outsider has ever witnessed. At least not that I know of. Look there.’ He pointed down and to the right of where they sat, at a large outcrop of brightly-painted stone. ‘That is the point beyond which no one of The People should ever travel unless they have permission and accompaniment. Not everyone in the city,’ he paused as a short, sharp stab of pain at the thought of the empty homes above threatened to overwhelm. He drew a deep breath and changed what he had been about to say. ‘Few know what lies beyond, only that it is death to risk the journey without the correct ritual and carefully-selected company. There are those who try, rarely, perhaps an older child encouraged by dares, or someone who feels they have nothing to lose, but it truly is rare—that I know of, this has only happened twice in my memory. Neither were seen alive again.’

‘What kills them? I have heard of caves where the very air is poison to those who enter, is it like that?’

‘No. You will see. This secret is something we have protected since the very first days of our city. Aishah-Zaya believes the city above was actually founded to protect what is below, to shield it and guard the world against it—The People adding to it over the centuries.’

‘And we still have to go there, there’s no other way?’

‘Yes, I need to find what has happened and I know this is the only way I can do so. You will see things that may prove difficult to experience, but I know you will survive—I have met no one not of The People as strong as you. For that matter, many of The People do not come close to your level of willpower. Whatever you do, you must not cross the line of white stones. That is the one thing you need to remember at all times—do not cross the line. There are treasures down here, things that may be tempting to touch or remove, but you can only ever do so with permission, remember that. Your senses may also betray you, pull you into other thoughts and memories. Stay focused on the white stones, stay focused on me. Here,’ he said, standing and unwinding the short length of rope he carried around his waist, ‘we tie ourselves together for the first part, it is safer to enter that way. I have visited this place nine times before and each time is difficult. I fear this time may be the worst. Without the protection of The People I… I worry.’ He breathed deeply, centring himself.

Strings accepted one end of the rope, stood, and tied it to carefully around her waist, checking the knot several times.

‘I am scared,’ she said, before moving to the goats. ‘Right. Let’s go, no point in wasting further time.’

Dhinal nodded, took another long, grounding breath, then made his way to the marker.

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