The Keep

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 38As the group emerged from the main door the courtyard lights came on to reveal that it was snowing again. And quite heavily — the signs of Nyk’s unsteady flight from the Gatehouse were already beginning to disappear. Nyk and Josyff leading, they scurried across the courtyard, heads bowed. Adroyan came last, like a sheepdog watching for any spirited individuals that might try to bolt.

Josyff glanced up at the heavy bulk of the Gatehouse ahead. Despite the light it was difficult to see clearly through the falling snow but, as far as he could see, the looming structure seemed to have suffered no damage. He remarked on it as they entered the building and began climbing the stairs.

“Nor in here,” Badr said, looking around.

As they passed the hand-wheel that controlled the drawbridge, Josyff took hold of it in the faint hope that perhaps Nyk had in some way been mistaken about what had happened. He released it almost immediately with a sharp intake of breath.

“What’s the matter?” Badr asked.

Josyff did not reply straight away but tentatively touched the wheel again before taking hold of it. “It’s locked solid, but it’s shaking,” he said, confidently tightening his grip. “Feel it.”

Badr took hold in turn, his head inclined in concentration. “It is,” he said. He gripped the wheel with his other hand. “It’s picking up vibrations from somewhere.” His knuckles whitened. “And my grip’s not stopping it — not even changing it. What, in the name of sanity, is there around here that would cause vibrations like that?” He turned to Nyk who was just about to descend the stairs to the counterweight chamber. “Is there any machinery nearby?”

“Not nearby, no,” Nyk called back. “It’s all quite a way away — and there’s nothing that shakes.” He disappeared from view, Josyff following him. Badr released the wheel, flexed his hands a couple of times then ran them down his jacket as though to wipe something off.

Down in the counterweight chamber, Josyff found that Nyk’s description had been woefully accurate. The timbers that he and the others had struggled to bring there and erect had been scattered about like the unwanted toys of a wilful child: several of them were broken.

“Mind where you’re walking,” Nyk said, catching Josyff’s arm as he missed his footing and staggered. He looked down at what he had trodden on. It was an anchor bolt, bent but still solidly embedded in a large piece of stone.

The wall was pockmarked with damage where others had similarly been torn out and with the remnants of shattered wood where timber had yielded before bolt.

“Good bolts,” Nyk said, following his gaze.

“Indeed they are,” Josyff said. He frowned and gave voice to his thoughts as they came to him. “The forces needed to do all this are enormous, but the damage is too...” He struggled briefly to find the word. “Too localised... too much in one place for it to be done just by the ground shaking.”

Nyk gazed around. “I hadn’t thought about it — but you’re right. And, come to that, how could the drawbridge do this? It’s finely balanced — you can move it with little more than a push of your hand. Which means...”

“It can’t exert any force greater than a push of the hand,” Josyff said. “It should just... clatter up and down if it’s shaken.”

“Unless something’s levering on one end of it.”

The conclusion did nothing to clarify what had happened and they fell silent.

The others had joined them and were wandering about aimlessly. Adroyan, still the last, remained at the foot of the stairs, again as though to prevent anyone leaving.

“Ye gods,” Badr muttered softly. “What the devil did this?”

“Devil indeed,” Adroyan echoed from his watch post.

Badr went straight over to the counterweight and put his hands against it.

“You won’t move it,” Nyk said.

Badr nodded by way of reply then motioned Nyk and Josyff to come closer. “Feel this,” he said.

The two men did as they were asked, but both touched the face of the counterweight cautiously at first, as they might test something hot.

“It’s vibrating,” Josyff said after a moment.

“Just like the wheel upstairs,” Badr responded.

“Which means what?”

“I don’t know.” Badr turned to Nyk. “You’re sure there’s no machinery nearby that would do this?”

Nyk was mimicking Badr’s earlier gesture, looking at his hand as if expecting to find it stained in some way. “Yes, I’m sure,” he replied, with a hint of impatience sufficient to make Badr apologize.

“I’m sorry. I meant...”

“I told you, there’s nothing in the whole Keep that would cause this kind of shaking,” Nyk said definitively. “Everything runs — is running — smooth and well.” He waved an arm across the entire scene. “And there’s nothing here that could do anything like this.” The hand spiralled in to smack his chest. “Ask me what did do it — I’ve no idea. But it wasn’t anything here — and it wasn’t any earthquake either. Anything powerful enough to do this just by shaking the ground would have done damage all through the building — surely?” There was a small cadence of doubt in this last word, but it evoked no response from anyone.

Something prompted Josyff to take a chance. He looked across at Adroyan. “Do you have any thoughts about this, sir? It’s very like the pictures on the scrolls — the drawbridge jammed shut and destruction all around — and you managed to read more than we did.”

Adroyan looked around uneasily. Josyff watched him keenly. For a moment it seemed to him that the man’s authority had evaporated, leaving behind a hesitant and timorous shell.

Like a hunted animal, he thought. He’s afraid. What’s he afraid of?

Then, more alarmingly, the thought, what should I be afraid of?

“This is the Destroyer.”

As if in answer to his unexpected question, the words whispered through his mind like the sound of a distant crowd carried on a dying wind. Instantly he was back in his dream, struggling with the timbers in the dusty courtyard. But as quickly as it had come, the illusion was gone, as was the impression of Adroyan’s weakness.

Adroyan was looking at him strangely, his head craning forward slightly as if listening to something far away. “What did you say?”

“I asked if you’d any thoughts on this, sir,” Josyff repeated. “The scene here’s not unlike that shown on the scrolls.”

Adroyan looked distracted again for a moment then said, flatly, “No.” He turned and began walking quickly up the stairs.

“Destroyer, Destroyer, Destroyer...”

The voices returned to Josyff. Though echoing and fading they wrapped themselves around the sound of Adroyan’s footsteps and Josyff found himself clenching his fists to prevent his hands lifting to cover his ears. At the top of the stairs Adroyan stopped. Gripping the handrail — his knuckles were white with effort, Josyff noted — he addressed the watching group.

“Waste no more time on the why’s and wherefore’s of this, it is beyond you,” he said. “Surveyor, your work is more urgent than ever now. I can brook no further delay — this place must be measured — its Heart must be found as quickly as possible.”

And he was gone.

There was silence after his footsteps died away.

“What the devil was all that about?” Esyal was the first to speak. “Beyond us!” she mimicked, “Why’s and wherefore’s!” then looked at Josyff. “There was something about the Heart of the building in that scroll, wasn’t there?”

“The Heart of the Keep must be destroyed,” Josyff recalled.

Esyal waved her arms vaguely. “I don’t want to seem stupid, but is that some kind of technical term that builders — surveyors — use? Heart of the building?”

“Not that I’ve ever heard,” Josyff replied. “It made no sense in the scroll and it makes no sense now.” Noting that he was once again the focus of attention, he told the others briefly about the collapse of the framework around the drawbridge that he and Esyal had read of in the scrolls.

“All of which means what?” Badr asked.

“I’ve no idea,” Josyff said, resisting the temptation to kick a nearby piece of rubble angrily across the floor. “None at all — save coincidence. This place is nothing but questions and mysteries.” It took him a further effort to control the frustration that was on the verge of bursting out.

“I suppose you and I’d better do what we’re here for — get this place measured and down on paper, as soon as we can. That should keep...” He hesitated. “...our employer satisfied. And the sooner it’s done the sooner we can all bend our minds to getting out of here.”

Badr shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “Do you think the place is safe to... be in?” he asked eventually. “Shaking like this.”

“I don’t know what to think,” Josyff replied. “But Nyk’s right, whatever caused this seems to be confined to this part of the building. A few ornaments and the like might be rattling in the Keep proper but no damage’s been done — that we know of. Besides, safe or no, we can’t get out!”

Henk intervened, seeing the opportunity to pursue the suggestion that Esyal had made to him earlier. “I’ll put some food and outdoor clothes by the main door — and maybe bag some up and leave it out in the courtyard. We’ve got plenty. Then if anything bad happens, at least we won’t be stranded helpless in the snow.”

Josyff nodded appreciatively. “And water too,” he said. “Don’t forget the water.”

“And water,” Henk confirmed.

Nyk’s expression lightened. “That unpleasantness in the scrolls seems to have made a substantial impression on you.”

Josyff dithered briefly. “It did. I didn’t mention before but it seems that all the people involved in that incident died there — and died of thirst.”

Nyk’s face darkened. “Unpleasant indeed,” he said. “But at least that won’t happen to us.”

“Are you happy with Henk’s idea?” Josyff asked Badr.

“Yes, it’s good.”

“Right!” Josyff’s foot could be restrained no longer and it sent a piece of rubble skittering noisily across the floor. He felt better. “There’s nothing we can do here except mope around and ask unanswerable questions. I’m off to bed. It’s been a long and bizarre day.” He drew out the word ‘bizarre’. “Here’s hoping tomorrow will be a little better.”

* * * *

Even as he closed the door to his room behind him, Josyff’s forced enthusiasm slithered away. He slumped down on the bed. Were it not for the responses of the all-too-real people about him to everything that was happening, he would truly have begun to doubt his sanity. Dreams and unaccountable noises, even his experience in the Archive, he could, with some effort, attribute to his imagination and its response to this peculiar place — not to say, this whole peculiar project! But the damage done to the timbers that had wedged the drawbridge could not be set aside as some transient personal aberration, nor to the previously favoured explanation, an earthquake. This might perhaps have accounted for the earlier incidents but, as he himself had said, the damage was too massive and too localized for it have been done merely by the ground shaking.

All of which meant what?

He swung his legs up on to the bed, lay down and covered his face with his hands. For a while he neither moved nor thought much. So many strange things had happened in so short a time that his mind temporarily gave up all attempts to rationalize them. There was a childlike element in his stillness: if he did not move, nothing would happen, he would be safe. The insight made him smile a little. Quite deliberately, he was refusing to pursue the unresolvable aspects of recent events, knowing that it would be both futile and wearing. He would let them sink into the deeper recesses of his mind whence, if undisturbed by conscious ramblings and argument, would come either more inspired answers, or at least a more resigned attitude towards the insoluble.

His faith in the ability of his inner mind to deal with difficult problems was profound: it was tried, tested and reliable and, whenever he had paused to reflect on this part of his nature which, unseen and unheard, guided his thoughts, he had reasoned that, whatever it might be, it was on his side — it would work always in his best interests. How could it profit by doing otherwise? To work against his interests would be ultimately to destroy itself.

Still, it was intriguing, posing as it did the question, “who’s in charge?” Did he do something because of his conscious will or because he had been silently prompted by his inner self?

It didn’t matter of course. Many things happened in his body about which he knew nothing and it did not bother him. Indeed he was glad to have this not inconsiderable intellectual resource available to him, albeit not directly controllable. But then, he supposed, perhaps it was controllable to some degree. Was he not controlling it right now by abandoning his conscious concerns and effectively telling it to take over?

But maybe it prompted you to do just that.

Josyff laughed softly as the circling thought occurred to him.

“Enough,” he said, out loud. He felt oddly relaxed. “Sleep, then work. Let’s keep things simple. Let’s get this place dealt with and get back home.” Whatever Adroyan’s anxieties about, and ambitions for, this project were, he would keep away from them — they were none of his concern and he would be risking more than he cared to think about if he went out of his way to pry into them. He would do as he was told, then leave. The man could well be Ordrans, for mercy’s sake, he reminded himself finally and with some force — you got this far without attracting the adverse attention of the New Order by keeping away from such people and their antics, just keep on doing it!

What if sleep brings more dreams?

The question was as unwelcome as it was unexpected. Josyff growled at it, stood up and began preparing to go to bed.

But it was still there a few minutes later, when the room was dark, the pillow soft and restful on his face, and the empty part of the bed where his wife should have been had been patted ruefully.

Let them come, he decided. So much had happened since he came here that verged on the fantastic, that another dream would hardly be a momentous event. And, apart from some alarm and a bump on the head through sleep-walking, they had caused him no harm. Gradually he drifted into sleep, recent events occasionally bubbling to the surface as if to catch his attention and each time being dispatched into the depths. This much I do control, he thought fuzzily, down you go to where you can best be dealt with.

The image of another place, another world even, mysterious and alien, part of him and not part of him, affecting him and being affected by him, yet profoundly unknowable, was suddenly all about him, vivid with realization.

But the image was not his...