Niobe clambered up to sit alongside him. ‘I wanted to be alone,’ he said. ‘We are alone,” she pointed out. ‘How stupid of me. Of course we are.’ Turning from her he gazed down into the cone of the tower. A shaft of moonlight broke through the clouds and illuminated the cone.
Niobe’s hand touched his shoulder. ‘Look at the ledge down there,’ she said.
‘I am in no mood for sex, my pretty. Not at this moment.’
‘No, look! At the far end of the ledge.’ His gaze followed her pointing finger. Some twenty feet below and to the right there was – or what appeared to be -an entrance carved into the rock.
‘It is a trick of the light,’ he said, peering down into the cone.
‘And there,’ she said, ‘steps!’ It was true. At the far end of the ledge a series of steps had been cut into the wall of the cone.
‘Go and fetch Druss,’ he commanded.
‘That is where the demons live,’ she whispered, as she walked away.
‘Tell him to bring a rope, torches and a tinder-box.’
Niobe stopped and looked back. ‘You are going down there? For why?’
‘Because I am a naturally curious man, my darling. I want to know why anyone would carve an opening on the inside of a volcano.’
The moonlight was brighter now, as the clouds dispersed, and Sieben edged around the crater, moving closer to the ancient steps. Immediately above the first of them there were rope grooves in the soft rock. The steps themselves had either been hacked with great speed, or had weathered badly – perhaps both, he thought. Leaning over the rim he pushed his fingers against the first step. The rock crumbled away at his touch. Under no circumstances would these steps any longer support the weight of a man.
Druss, Nuang and several Nadir warriors climbed up towards him. Niobe was not with them. Th old Nadir chieftain leaned over the rim and stared at the rectangular entrance below. He said nothing. Druss squatted down beside Sieben. ‘The girl says you want to go down there. Is that wise, poet?’
‘Perhaps not, old horse. But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering about it.’
Druss peered down into the cone. ‘That’s a long way to fall.’
Sieben gazed down into the black depths. The moonlight, though bright, did not reach the bottom of the cone. ‘Lower me down to the ledge,’ he said, hanging on to the last of his courage. There was no way now that he could withdraw. ‘But don’t release your hold when I reach the ledge. The rock crumbles like salt crystals and the ledge may not support me.’ Tying a rope around his waist, and waiting until Druss looped it over his huge shoulders, he swung out over the rim. Slowly Druss let out the rope until Sieben’s feet touched the ledge, which was solid and strong.
Now he stood before the entrance. There was no doubt it had been carved by men. Strange symbols had been etched into the rock, swirls and stars surrounding what appeared to be the outline of a broken sword. Just inside the entrance a series of iron bars had been cemented into the black rock; these were now red with rust. Sieben gripped one of them and pulled hard, but it did not budge.
‘What is happening?’ called Druss.
‘Come down and see. I’ll untie the rope.’
Moments later Druss, holding a lighted torch, joined him. ‘Stand back,’ said the axeman, handing the torch to Sieben and removing his rope. Taking a firm grip with both hands, Druss wrenched at the first of the bars. With a grinding groan it bent in the middle, then ripped away from the surrounding rock. Druss hurled it over his shoulder and Sieben heard it clanging and bouncing down the walls of the cone. Two more bars were prised loose in the same fashion. ‘After you, poet,’ said Druss.
Sieben eased himself through the gap in the bars and held up the torch. He found himself standing in a small, round chamber. Turning, he saw two chains hanging from the ceiling. Druss appeared alongside him, and approached the chains, from one of which something dangled. ‘Bring the torch closer,’ ordered the axeman and Sieben did so.