Heartless

They came to the mouth of the tunnel, and she found herself looking down into a vast, dimly lit cavern. Red fires smoldered here and there, but no sun infiltrated these black walls. In the darkness arching above, she could almost discern signs of elegant architecture long left to decay, as though once upon a time this cavern had been a feasting hall of extravagance beyond anything she had ever seen. But that may have been no more than a trick of the light, and this cave nothing more than a natural cavern torn into the desert rocks.

In the dimness and smoke she could see many shadowy forms moving about. Some were upright but moved heavily. Some were bent double and seemed to be carrying invisible burdens. Some, like her companion, skittered here and there between the fires, swift as young snakes. She saw rickety buildings of wood and more solid structures of stone, but not many of either.

“Welcome to the Village,” her slit-eyed companion said. “Come. Come down with me.”

She followed him, still holding his hand, down a narrow path from the mouth of the tunnel to the cavern floor below. She felt ill at ease, stepping out of the closeness of the tunnel into that great, dark openness. Soon they were surrounded on all sides by shadowy figures hurrying hither and yon in the dark, though she could not tell where they hurried or why. Simultaneous sensations of heat and cold emanating from them overwhelmed her senses, and she was uncertain whether she was hot or cold herself. She clung to the hand of the stranger who led her but found no comfort there.

A heavy shoulder knocked into her, and she stumbled up behind the yellow-eyed boy. “Hey, watch your step,” he growled, but not at her.

The person who had jostled her stopped and turned. Man or woman, it was impossible to tell in the dark, but the frame was huge and the voice deep and rocklike.

“What have you there?” the giant asked the yellow-eyed boy.

“A new sister, just arrived. She is forgotten.”

“Ha!” the giant snorted. “They’ll always forget you, small one, no matter how pretty your little pale face may be. They’ll always forget you. Unless you make them remember. But then . . . Ah, then they do not forget so soon!”

The giant laughed from deep in her gut, and the sound sent ripples of fear through the dragon girl’s veins. She gasped in relief when her guide tugged and led her swiftly on.

“She was a queen once, long ago,” he said when they were well away.

“She?”

“Yes. And all this – ” he extended his arms as though to take in the cavern – “all this that you see and beyond, all this desert that we call our home, this was once her kingdom. But for a chest full of rubies, her lover betrayed her to her enemy. Long she languished in the dungeons of her own palace, waiting to be executed. Then our king found her. She was willing enough, and her fire was so great that the whole palace and everyone inside burned to nothing within the hour. Then she set upon the land itself. Many no longer believe the vast kingdom of Corrilond ever existed, she wasted it so beyond recognition or recall.”

“Corrilond?” She shook her head. “The Bane of Corrilond? But that is a legend five hundred years old!”

He did not seem to hear but continued speaking in a low voice, nearly a whisper. “Nothing but charred ruins. Great cities, shining Destan, luminous Aysel, and the magnificent Queen’s City of Nadire Tansu . . .

all gone. Now there is nothing but desert as far as the eye can see.”

He paused then and whispered, “I saw it, the Queen’s City, before it was destroyed. When I was young I traveled there with my uncle, and it was more beautiful even than the halls of Iubdan Rudiobus! And I saw it destroyed, and smelled the stench of burning death.” He turned to her. “Although her name has been forgotten, the last queen of –Corrilond never will be. Would you like to see the rubies, the dirty treasure for which her lover sold her?”

She did not respond, but he led her across the cavern to a still darker cave on the far side. He grabbed a red torch on the way, and it threw their shadows weirdly on the stone walls. Her dragon arms, gnarled and hideous, seemed to cast darker shadows than the rest of her.

“Here,” her yellow-eyed guide said. He blew on the torch. It flamed more brightly, and her eyes were filled suddenly with the glitter of innumerable jewels, mountains of gold and silver, crowns and coronets, goblets and platters, ropes upon ropes of pearls, and gilded mirrors. She could not breathe, for the air was heavy with the weight of riches.

Her companion let go her hand and stepped over to a nearby chest. He plunged his hand inside and lifted up a fistful of rubies, which cascaded and clinked between his fingers. But with each jewel that fell, she heard a scream, sometimes high, sometimes low, all filled with terror, so faint and far away that she almost missed them.

“What is this place?” she whispered when the last ruby had fallen and the last scream faded to nothing.

“The Hoard,” he replied. “This is where we gather our offerings for our Father. Whenever we venture out, we bring back something for his pleasure. Sometimes we bring him meat. Mostly we bring him gold.”

She shuddered and backed away. “Those screams . . .”

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