-->
For
nearly three hours they descended. The touch of the ice tore the flesh
from their feet on occasion, leaving smeared crimson prints behind them.
They felt
nothing.
The
chattering of unseen things sounded out around them, hiding in the dark
recesses of the pit, watching the newcomers as they entered their world. The
call of their father was so strong here in his home that it blinded their
senses, pulled them along like a river's current.
At long
last, the crystalline stairway came to an end, a wide translucent floor
spreading out in all directions. The light from far above cast a circular shape
at its center and at its edge the darkness began to deepen. All was silent,
only the whistling of the frigid wind reaching them this far into the earth.
The boy
hesitated, his eyes full of uncertainty as he studied the black areas around
them. His sister grabbed his hand and moved ahead, skipping out of the light
and sinking into the thick shadow. Their eyes adjusted immediately, an apparent
gift from their father and all was clear to them. The way ahead led through
countless pillars of ice, formed when the waterfalls had frozen. The bones and
skulls of beast and man were embedded inside, their shapes distorted by the
nature of their tomb.
Among
these tall columns, thin figures stood watching, pale and fleshy wings hanging
from their shoulders like a cloak of dead skin. There was death here. The smell
of it filled the air like a long-slaughtered army of thousands. They soon noticed
the shapes of unrecognizable things entombed within the walls of the place,
mythic creatures only spoken of in fictional tales. They were preserved
perfectly behind the transparent surface.
"Almost
there," the girl encouraged, leading her brother down a narrow side
passage. "Father is very close."
They
passed scores of the Inquitis, the hissing breath of which emanated through the
corridors. Their cancerous flesh was as grey-blue as the sky outside, yet the
cold seemed to have no effect on them much like the siblings. Vaporous clouds
hovered about their skeletal faces for, unlike the children, they breathed.
Mournenhile had imbued them with the spark of life or a semblance of such.
The odor
of decay grew much stronger and ahead they could see that the corridor opened
up into an immense chamber. Then, the screams reached them, faint at first,
thousands of voices shouting in agony. They glanced at one another, puzzled.
The girl shrugged with an evil grin and pulled him along with a tug.
When they
reached the end of the corridor, the floor dropped off and the roof rose to
dizzying heights. At the edge, they carefully peered over, the overpowering
smell and cacophonous noise sending them back a step. Far below, in the dim
light, countless naked bodies thrashed, struggling to stay afloat in an icy
underground sea of slush. Even from afar, it was apparent that they had been
returned from death's veil, skin hanging like paper upon their bones. Sightless
eyes looked to the ceiling of the chamber as they climbed upon each other in a
futile attempt to escape the biting water.
They pulled
and scratched with nails long rotten, intertwined hopelessly in a mass of
broken limbs and ruptured organs.
Kripplemourn,
the keep of their father, melted from below.
Thank you for stopping by,
William
I am currently reading my first Brandon Sanderson book (Mistborn) and I really enjoy his writing. The magic system of the Allomancers is a great idea and I wish I had thought of it first. His descriptions are very well done. I can see the people and places in my mind as I read. I strive for the same thing in my writing though I am not sure if I am as successful as Sanderson. This brings up a question:
