Tomas’s eyes narrowed, then opened wide. “I . . . I remember.” His face turned slightly pale. He said to Pug, “I thought I had remembered all of those days . . .”
Tuan said, “We had thought you but men. The Rana of Maharta makes war upon the Priest-King of Lanada. His war elephants command the plains, but the forests are still ours. This year he is allied with the Overlord of the City of the Serpent River, who lends him soldiers. The Rana sends those against us. So we kill any who come here, dwarves, goblins, or serpent men.”
Pug said, “Pantathians!”
Tuan said, “So men call them. The land of the serpents lies somewhere to the south, but they come north at times to do mischief. We treat them harshly.” He said to Tomas, “Have you come to enslave us again, Ancient One?”
Tomas recovered from his reverie. “No, those days are vanished in the past. We seek the Halls of the Dead, in the City of the Dead Gods. Guide us.”
Tuan waved away his warriors. “I shall guide you.” To the others he spoke in a growling, guttural language. In scant moments they vanished into the gloom between the boles of the forest. When all were gone, he said, “Come, we have far to go.”
Tuan led them throughout the night, and as they travelled, Pug asked many questions. At first the tiger-man was reluctant to speak to the magician, but Tomas indicated he should cooperate and the leader of the tiger-men did so. The tiger nation lived in a small city to the east of where the dragon had landed. Dragons had long been hated by the tigers, as they raided the herds raised by the tiger-men. So a full patrol had been sent in case the dragon needed to be driven away.
Their city had no name, being only the City of the Tigers. No man had seen this place and lived, for the tiger-men killed any invaders. Tuan revealed a great distrust of men and when queried said only, “We were here before men. They took our forests to the east. We resisted. There has always been war between us.”
Of the Pantathians Tuan knew little, except they warranted killing on sight. When Pug asked how the tiger-men came to be or how Tomas had freed them, he was answered only by silence. As Tomas seemed equally reticent, Pug did not press the question.
After climbing the forested hills below the Pillars of Heaven, they came to a deep pass. Tuan halted. To the east the grey of dawn was approaching. “Here live the gods,” he said. They looked upward. The tips of the mountains were receiving the first rays of sun. White clouds mantled the peaks of the Pillars of Heaven, wrapping them in glowing mists, which reflected the light in white and silver sparkles.
“How high are the peaks?” asked Pug.
“No one knows. No mortal has reached them. We allow pilgrims to pass this way unmolested if they stay south of our boundaries. Those who climb do not return. The gods prefer their privacy. Come.”
He led them into the pass, which descended into a ravine. “Beyond this pass, the ravine widens to a broad plateau at the base of the mountains. There lies the City of the Dead Gods. It is now overgrown with trees and vines. Within the city is the great temple to the lost gods. Beyond is the abode of the departed. I will go no farther, Ancient One. You and your spellcaster companion may survive, but for mortals it is a journey without return. To enter the Halls of the Dead is to quit the lands of life.”
“We have no further need of you. Depart in peace.”
Tuan said, “Hunt well, Ancient One.” Then Tuan was off, with a running, bounding gait.
Without conversation, Tomas and Pug entered the ravine.
Pug and Tomas walked slowly through the plaza. Pug took mental note of every wonder. Oddly shaped buildings - hexagonal, pentagonal, rhomboidal, pyramidal - were arranged in an apparently haphazard fashion, but one that seemed almost to make sense, as if the beholder was not quite sophisticated enough to comprehend the pattern. Obelisks of improbable design, great upthrusting columns of jet and ivory inscribed with runic carvings unknown to Pug stood at the four corners of the plaza. A city it was, but a city unlike any other, for it was a city without markets, or stables, a city lacking taverns or even the rudest hut for a man to dwell within. For in every direction they could travel, only tombs rose up. And upon each a single name was inscribed over the entrance.
“Who built this place?” Pug wondered aloud.
“The gods,” Tomas replied. Pug studied his companion and saw there was no jest in his words.