Demon of the Black Gate

As far as Cerra could tell, the tunnel ran straight into the mountain. She could feel the odd draughts and changes in sound as they passed various side passages. The rhythmic clops of Sugars hooves were a revelation as they echoed softly off the close walls. The tightness of the reverberations defined the edges and ceiling in her mind. She judged a tall man standing on a wagon could touch the overhead rock. The weight of the mountain felt enormous.

The tunnel had been carved out of the mountain centuries ago by miners. It was wide enough for two wagons to pass, and though it appeared straight and level, the passage sloped slightly downward in a long curve on its way to the grotto of the Dragon’s Egg. The grotto had been discovered from the eastern side of the mountains. Because the eastern approach was so treacherous, owners and engineers had determined the best way to extract the riches of the mine was to tunnel westward to the Stands. Rich veins of gold were followed, and the labyrinth of caves yielded a trove of precious gems. The mines had been played out after generations of service, ultimately deemed too expensive to maintain. For the last two hundred years they sat silent and forgotten. New discoveries to the north had drawn the miners.

It had taken many hours to make the passage to the Dragon’s Egg Grotto. Time was lost to Cerra in the tunnel. She had not dwelt on her blindness for awhile, but the sameness of the information that fell to her senses was numbing, as well as the heaviness of the earth about her. There were no winds to help the grasses and trees speak, nor birds to fill the spaces in the sky. The glories of light were denied her eyes, but she felt and relished the sun. No sun had ever touched these walls. The darkness and weight might have worn her down, but as she rode through the tunnel the solid pressure of the earth felt less oppressive. The dark of the tunnel had evaporated the measure of time. The earth had no need of it. The span it measured outweighed the mere passage of days. Cerra’s mind began drifting into the space beyond, closer to exploring the stars. The vastness of the sky, the night sky which she could picture so easily, held the same timelessness. The burden of earth remained though, and the steady sway of Sugar’s pace with the wayward lay of her mind left Cerra in a hypnotic daze. It wasn’t until the demon halted and Sugar stopped her gait that Cerra re-awoke to her surroundings.

The long tunnel ended in an empty cavernous space. A tongue of rock extended from the tunnel and the jutting shelf ended at the broken remains of a bridge which had once spanned the abyss. Kamir alit from the horse and padded to where the demon stood, his burning rock cast a feeble light into the empty space of the cave. Cerra turned her head one way then the other. The weight of the earth still felt crushing, but open space spoke with a differnt kind of silence. She had heard of the great halls of the kings and decided the heavy majesty of the cave must be like a throne room, where the expectations are vast and the responsibilities onerous.

The cavern and abyss were caused by the rent of one mountain from another. The fracture left a rip in the earth nearly to its fiery core. The ceiling dripped with stalactites, rough threads left from the torn fabric of earth. At the far side of the cut, the remains of the bridge jutted out from a much larger rock shelf. Abandoned trams and ore wagons jumbled the surface. Masonry and carved stone structures were built in to the cavern walls, where the foremen and assayers had managed the mine.

The space of the cavern felt wonderful after the close confines of the tunnel.

“Can we rest here?” she asked.

“There is a crossing to make.” said the demon. “You can rest beyond.”

“Crossing?” she echoed.

“A gap … the way is gone.”

Cerra caught his meaning immediately. “A bridge. Or, as you say. No bridge. How do we cross?”

“I will carry you.”

“My horse. I can’t leave Sugar here.” Cerra protested. The sound of her voice reverberated unevenly in the grotto.

“You may ride.”

He turned and walked to the broken edge of the stone bridge whose remains arched upward into emptiness. The demon dowsed the rock he held burning in his hand leaving the cavern pitch black. He carelessly let it drop, it’s now-jeweled surface sounding like a hard glass as it hit the stone and clattered to a quick stop.

The demon felt the stirrings of the rock and earth, the mortised stones beyond the gap calling to be reunited with its brethren. Urged by the marriage of stone, he began falling forward as though pitching into the chasm below. Bits and pieces of dust gathered as the demon lengthened his reach.

Sugar shifted in agitation as Cerra watched the glowing form of the demon dissemble and fall, becoming a path of glowing stars that stretched before her. The demon let the fire and stone flow through him as he caught the far side of the rent and formed the unity that closed the breach. The road lay before her like a vapor.

“You may cross.” came to her mind like a rumbled suggestion. She urged Sugar forward, but the horse shied at the prospect. The blackness of the cave made no difference to Cerra as she slipped from his back and grabbed the reins. The way was wavering but well-defined before her.

“Come on Sugar. I can see this.” she encouraged as she began leading the reluctant horse. Kamir scampered to the far side and meowed. The air felt as though the bridge was not there, that after each step she would teeter on the brink with the next. Only the thin gleam of the demon’s span led her on. There was nothing else to guide her. There were no bulwarks or rail containing the sides. She felt she was walking across the air itself and it was trying to call her into the depths. Even the tentative fall of Sugar’s hoofs was a muted suggestion of sound. She didn’t realize until her feet touched the solid firmament of the cornice beyond that she had been holding her breath. Sugar clattered on to the stone surface with relieved energy, tossing her head and snorting her triumph and aggravation.

“Good girl.” she said, stroking the horses neck inviting Sugar to calm. Cerra realized there was no light in the cavern. She lead the horse a few steps away from the edge from where Kamir had cried out and stood as the demon released his grip on the far side and re-formed in a churning profusion of dust and stone. Cerra could hear the reverberations of the stones as they clattered downward, the sounds dying into the deep rent in the earth.

“Thank you.” she said simply. The weight of the cave descended on her again and she felt suddenly very tired. Sugar was still clearly agitated.

“The light is gone”, Cerra thought. There was something in the way she framed the idea that included the demon, for she gathered the reply in her mind.

“Yes.” came the answer in the demons terse articulation.

The edge of the shelf was fashioned with stone balustrades. They were lined with braziers, as well as the buildings which were fashioned into the very walls of the cave. Many of the braziers still had oil in them, and the demon fired enough to light up the shelf. The flickering orange lights cast a hellish glow to the black walls of the subterranean grotto and disappeared into the darkness of the abyss.

“You will feel better for …” words failed the demon but he decided on “ … rest.”

“Rest.” agreed Cerra. “Comfort.” she added. “Comfort would be nice.”

The cavern, as the tunnel had been, had a very stable low and cool heat, like an early summer morning. The earth had its own temperature, and it was comfortable. Even so, Cerra was thinking of her crisp linens, and the warm airiness of awaking.

The demon paused, the word triggering a collage of a past and different realm from the other side of the void. He was also catching the expressions of Cerra’s ruminations. Ease. Relaxation. Peace.

“Comfort.” he said, a small rumble.

It made her smile.

“This way.” The demon led the small entourage to a raised porch abutting one of the buildings. A large stone bowl braced the corner of the wall. The demon grabbed a chuck of rock and pressed it into flame. He set it into the bowl. He thought about wood and grabbed a few torch handles. He crushed them to kindling and added the broken shreds to the fire.

Cerra extracted her cane from the saddlepack and tapped over to the flaming and crackling bowl. A bench presented itself to her and she sat down gratefully, displacing an age of dust.

“It’s been a while since any one has been into clean.” she said as she fanned the bloom of fine particulant from her face. “Gilings” Jessann would call it.

She brushed off the seat a little and sat back with her head against the wall. She would get to her cooking in a moment. The demon watched her. He could see the fatigue in the set of her mouth as she sat back, eyes shut. The cat was exploring the edges of the building, inspecting the cracks for prey. The routine of her cook fire came to his mind. He went to the horse. Sugar started to shy away, but the demon fished the pan from the saddlebags in a swift movement.

He left it next to the fire burning in the stone bowl. The woman was sleeping. He would not be missed.

Cerra woke to cool blackness. Kamir was pressed against her hip, curled and asleep. She turned her head. Nothing broke the familiar dark. No glowing form. He was gone! The anxiety hit her like the weight of the mountain that contained her. She fought it back as she sat up, searching her whereabouts for sound or clue. Sugar stood nearby, and the nearby bowl still pulsed with warmth. There was no alarm in the air, though that eased her mind only a little as she again sat back, trying to make sense of it. She let her imagination play with the senses and tried to form an impression of the vault she was in, but the weight and close atmospheres confused her. A rasp of stone caught her attention and she turned to it, seeing the blue coruscation of the demon emerge into her view.

She let out a sigh of relief, and let the thought exhale with her sigh. “He’s back.”

There was a great deal of gratitude in the sigh, and the emotion struck the demon. He felt welcome as he approached.

The demon dropped a pheasant at her feet. Cerra heard the feathery thud.

“That’s a bird I heard” she said enthusiastically and scrambled to catch it up in her hands. Cerra hadn’t realized how hungry she was.

“Thank you!” she cried. “Thank you so much.”

She still had a few of her small rations, so the bird would be savory and delicious. She knocked over the pan the demon had brought from the saddlebags, not knowing it was there. Though it surprised her, she caught it up deftly.

“You’ve been out. Out of the cave. Is it far?”

The demon thought a moment. “No.” was all he said.

“Oh, good. And thanks again for this … it feels like a pheasant. I’m surprised you didn’t roast it on the way back.” she added with a laugh.

The demon let the remark and her mood settle into his mind. She confused him with her remarks but the effect was satisfying. Cerra heard the low huff of his reply. She made him ‘laugh’ again.

Cerra pulled her knife and began expertly dressing the bird. The plume feathers were plucked and saved and the pheasant was gutted and cleaned in quick, sure parings. She left the organ meat for Kamir, who began eating hungrily. She skewered the bird on her knife and left it propped in the firebowl. The prospect of dinner gave her new energy. The bird cooking, she got up and felt her way over to Sugar. She pulled a handful of grain from her pack and let the horse nibble it from her hand. She held another, which was quickly consummed.

“That’s all for now, Sugar. We’ll be out of this soon.” she said, stroking the horse’s muzzle.

The smell of the cooking pheasant was ambrosia to her, a familiar scent in a strange place. When the bird was finally ready she sat back and ate with relish, scattering a couple of bits for Kamir, and saving a portion for the ride tomorrow. She had no notion of what day it was or even the time. Tomorrow would be whatever came after she slept. She sat back, sated and strangely content.

During all the preparation and eating, the demon stood looking out over the abyss, lost in his own complexities. Cerra drew a pipe and some sevenleaf flower from her pouch. A small tallow wick lifted a flame from the fire to her pipe and she sparked the mixture to life. She sat back to enjoy the herb’s soft, relaxing embrace. The sounds of the cave seemed to be more defined. The vaulted ceiling cast a weight on the ambient sound and layered it back.

“The earth is heavy.” she said. “It is very strong. Deeper than I can imagine.”

The demon heard her musings. The earth was part of his nature. He had come to the same conclusion.

“Yes. Yes it is.” he said.

Cerra let the impressions of the cave filter into her. The language of the earth was too slow for her ears, though she felt the solid weight of the words. She drifted into sleep, entombed. In the womb.

Morning was when she awoke, whatever time that was in the outside world. She engaged herself in recreating the habit of ‘eating on the trail’. They were new routines for her. She thought about every action, of where everything was, from the location of the oats in her pack to the steps she’d have to take to regain the small porch where she cooked. It was not a quick or sure routine, but she finished in her time and having cinched the remains of her camp inside the saddlebags, announced she was ready to go.

The demon had stood near the remains of the bridge. He could have been mistaken for a carved image guarding the ramp that extended raggedly over the chasm.

“Another being … human … has entered the cave. We are followed.”

“Really?” said Cerra. “There are few trails here it seems, and even fewer places to go. Are you sure?”

“It follows us.” the demon stated.

“It will be difficult to get this far.” she noted. “There is no bridge, is there not?”

“There is no bridge.” the demon agreed. He turned his attention away from the far opening. “We go.”

Cerra pulled herself up to the saddle, and with Kamir meowing close to where the demon stood, turned Sugar to the demon’s glow.

“We go.” she repeated, smiling to herself.