Thirteen Years Later (40 page)

‘Chufut Kalye, Your Majesty?’

‘Yes. You know where it is.’

‘Certainly,’ said Diebich, becoming more alert.

‘Arrange it then.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ then, ‘Why, Your Majesty?’

‘Why?’ asked Aleksandr, with an indignation which Aleksei perceived as affected, but perhaps Diebich did not. ‘Because I am your tsar.’

Aleksandr turned back to his room and noticed Aleksei for the first time. It was unspoken, but the same question – ‘Why?’ – was on Aleksei’s mind too. Aleksandr must have guessed, for he averted his eyes and hurried on into his room.

They left Bakhchisaray on horseback, under the gaze of the great stone skull. The route was flat for the first few versts as it headed out of town, but then the path began to steepen. The road – if it could be called such – hugged the hillside on its right, with the valley sloping away to the left. Beyond that, on the other side of the valley, another precipice rose, equally unassailable. While the land remained relatively flat, gypsy encampments were scattered, displaying horrendous poverty. Aleksei wondered whether the tsar might stop to learn more about them, but he seemed too intent on his goal even to glance to one side. Most of the remainder of the party were pleased to bypass such squalor and head onward into the narrowing gorge.

Aleksei kept his neck craned upwards, searching the tops of the hills that overshadowed them. Though steep, they were still largely wooded until close to the very top, where they became craggy and vertical. There, little plant life could take root. There were plenty of caves in view, but none seemed inhabited. The soldier in Aleksei felt fearful of the whole terrain. They were trapped on either side, with no open ground behind them for more than a verst and perhaps worse in front. For anyone looking down on them they were easy targets.

Suddenly, Colonel Salomka shouted and pointed over to the left, to the tops of the cliffs on the other side of the valley. There, through the trees, they caught their first glimpse of the citadel. It was still distant, but the straight edges of manmade structures could be seen to merge with nature’s more graceful curves. They continued up the slope and the trees began to thin, affording them ever better views of their objective.

As they came to the head of the valley, the path turned across it, almost doubling back on itself, and they found themselves at
the foot of the final slope leading up to Chufut Kalye. The soil was too thin now, it seemed, for trees, and coarse grass covered the ground up to the cliffs, interspersed with a few bushes. Here they were forced to dismount to make the rest of the way on foot. The entrance was a natural gap in the cliff, which had then been reinforced – effectively replacing the cliff – by a stone wall, in which only a small doorway allowed access. As far as Aleksei could see on either side, there was no other breach in the cliffside. If the heavy door was closed, then no creature without wings could reach the plateau beyond.

Through the doorway, a short path took them above the level of the wall and into the city itself. All were surprised by the degree of civilization. The Karaites who lived there were comfortable and well organized – a contrast to the gypsies they had passed below. The people – or at least the men; the women appeared bound to stay indoors – greeted the tsar with curiosity and some affection. Their customs might be strange, but Aleksei could see no immediate threat to Aleksandr. He certainly felt more comfortable than he had in the valley below. The greatest reason for this was that it was the middle of the day. The citadel was the highest point for miles around – nothing cast a shadow on it. And so, whatever it was that might make some move against the tsar, it would be of this world.

The Karaite chief took tea with Aleksandr and then introduced him to his wives and children. The women were all beautiful, but Aleksei was disturbed by how pale they looked – almost bloodless. Was it some Jewish law that kept the women indoors, or was there a greater need to protect them from the sun? A city of human men and vampire wives? It seemed impossible. Aleksei sniffed the air. He noticed nothing of that smell that he had learned to recognize in Kyesha, and which he hoped would be shared by any like him.

The tsar was further impressed by the school which he was shown. He was told that all the children in the city attended. He commented on his wish that every child in Russia could go to
school, but Aleksei remembered that the tsar had been making wishes like that ever since he had come to power. Nothing had come of them.

The citadel itself was partly built from stone blocks, but also constructed from existing caves, which had been further carved into shape by the hand of man. There could be little said against them, except perhaps that high on the hilltop and with the windows unglazed, the draughts might be discomforting. The tsar was informed that the earliest occupation, in natural caves with little human modification, dated back over two millennia. Those parts of the city were mostly unoccupied now, but Aleksandr expressed an interest in seeing them, and so some of the party – Aleksei, Wylie, Salomka and a couple of locals to act as guides – accompanied him as he left the populated heart of the city to view its wilder environs.

They soon reached the other side of the plateau, and Aleksei gazed down into a gorge even less hospitable than the one through which they had ascended. Again there was a steep cliff, perhaps three or four times his own height, dropping away beneath his feet before transforming abruptly into a slope of at least forty-five degrees. There were fewer trees than on the other side, and Aleksei could see no pathways. Across the valley, broader than the one they had come through, a similar slope led up to a similar plateau – though Aleksei could see fewer signs of caves. Far to the west he could just make out a collection of houses. He could not quite get his bearings, but it was not Bakhchisaray, or at least not the part they had come from. An outlying farm, perhaps.

The area they had come to was rocky, and the caves represented an earlier stage in the development of their inhabitants. Some still showed the neat edges that indicated human modification, but many appeared entirely as God had created them, with His usual disdain for anything so mundane as a straight line. Though they may not have been built by men, they had certainly been inhabited by them. The party went a little way down into one of them and discovered the walls covered with scratched writing
and drawings. The local who went with them said that these went back to the Middle Ages, and Aleksei saw no reason to doubt it. Beyond, the tunnel continued onwards into darkness. No one was tempted to go too far in and so they returned to the surface.

‘We should go soon, Your Majesty,’ said Colonel Salomka.

‘Yes, yes,’ said Aleksandr. ‘Just one last look at the view.’

Aleksei went over to Dr Wylie as the tsar took a few paces towards the steep valley slope. There had been no danger so far – nothing of any note at all – and yet he would be glad when they were back down from this ancient place. Even if they left now, they would not be back in safety for a few more hours, and Aleksei could not help but remember Kyesha’s certainty that it would be here that something happened.

‘A reminder of home,’ said Wylie.

Aleksei looked away from the tsar to see what the doctor was referring to. He had plucked out the dried, dead stem of a thistle that had grown amongst the grasses and shrubs that managed to find sustenance on the rocky terrain.

‘A sorry specimen,’ continued the doctor, ‘but it’s pleasant to see Scotland’s flower thriving so far from home.’

‘This place must be even more impressive in spring,’ commented Aleksei.

‘Indeed,’ replied Wylie, but he evidently had something else on his mind. ‘You know, it occurs to me that we’re making something of an assumption that your man Cain is English. He’s an English speaker, for sure, but he could be Scottish, Irish – even American.’

‘Can’t you tell from the name itself?’

‘Not really, though I’m no expert. Even if we could trace—’

‘Your Majesty!’ The shout came from Colonel Salomka. He repeated it seconds later. ‘Your Majesty!’

Aleksei and Wylie looked around, but there was no sign of the tsar anywhere near where he had been standing moments before. They rushed over to the spot and looked down towards the valley floor, but there was nothing to be seen. It would have been
impossible for them to miss him in that vast, smooth expanse if he had fallen, or even if anyone had taken him. And yet there was nowhere else for him to have gone. He could not possibly have walked or been taken back across the hilltop without one of them noticing, unless with the assistance of some magical invisibility. Aleksei doubted it. A more realistic possibility had occurred to him.

He lay flat on his stomach and pulled his body forwards, to lean out over the cliff top as far as he dared. He quickly saw what he was looking for. The smooth, vertical limestone was pockmarked with the mouths of caves – dozens of them along its length. There were three or four that Aleksei could almost reach out and touch.

In a moment he was up on his feet, looking around him. Just to the right of where he stood – of where the tsar had been standing – lay a cleft in the rock just wide enough for him to climb down a little way. It was precarious, but he was soon out on the very face of the cliff. A narrow ridge ran horizontally, allowing access to any one of the nearby cave mouths. The tsar could have been dragged into any one of them.

‘He’s in the caves,’ shouted Aleksei up to the two men on the precipice above him.

‘What?’ asked Salomka.

‘Just get help,’ said Wylie. ‘We need a search party.’

Salomka ran off in the direction of the city.

‘We’ve no time,’ said Aleksei, eyeing the cave entrances and wondering which to choose. Then a thought occurred to him; a ridiculous long-shot, but the only chance they had. ‘Wylie,’ he shouted. ‘Do you have the book with you? Cain’s notebook.’

‘I do indeed; it’s in here,’ replied the doctor, indicating the knapsack he carried over his shoulder.

‘Get it out. Expose it to the light.’

‘What? Why?’ Even as he questioned Aleksei’s instructions, he carried them out, unshouldering the bag and bringing out the book, still wrapped in the paper that bore Aleksei’s initials.

‘Do it,’ said Aleksei. ‘Now.’

The doctor opened up the paper, and Aleksei saw smoke rising from the book. He couldn’t smell the foul odour of decay, but he saw Wylie blench at it.

And there was something else.

As the skin began to blister and burn under the rays of the sun, a distant, tortured scream echoed from one of the cave mouths in the cliffside, just to Aleksei’s right. There was a broken exhaustion to the sound, and yet it was still powerful enough to carry from deep within the caves. Wylie clearly heard it too.

‘Cover it,’ shouted Aleksei.

Wylie did so, and the scream died away almost instantly. They waited a few moments.

‘And again,’ said Aleksei. Wylie revealed the book’s cover to the sun once more, and the howl issued forth from the same cave; louder this time, but even more weary. Wylie quickly drew the paper back over, and Aleksei felt a sense of relief as the sound faded.

‘You know what that means?’ said Aleksei. The doctor didn’t reply, even though he must surely have comprehended. Aleksei spelled it out. ‘It’s in there; the
voordalak
from which that skin came; still living – still feeling the pain, even though the skin is no longer attached.’ He remembered slamming his fist down on those severed fingers, and knew now that Kyesha must have felt that pain, wherever in the world he might have been.

‘It must be,’ whispered Wylie.

‘And wherever that creature is,’ continued Aleksei, ‘so is Cain. And so’s the tsar. I’m going in there.’

‘You’ll never find them,’ said Wylie. ‘The cave system is immense.’

‘Keep exposing the skin,’ explained Aleksei. ‘Every half-minute, just briefly, then let it regrow. I can follow the sound to its source.’

Wylie looked down at him, horrified, but nodded in agreement. Aleksei gave him a brief wave goodbye and then slipped into the
cave entrance. It was just big enough for him to stand upright. He walked a few paces over the rocky floor, and then reached into his own knapsack. Inside, he had a couple of candles. He lit one and held it up, searching for the path ahead.

From somewhere in front of him, that same scream echoed again, amplified by the close stone walls. It died away quickly. Dr Wylie was doing as he had been asked.

T
HE TUNNEL DIVIDED SEVERAL TIMES ALONG THE WAY, BUT AT
each junction Aleksei had only to stop and wait for a few moments until, on the hilltop above him, Wylie once again let sunlight fall upon the skin of the creature that lay imprisoned ahead, and the sound of its wailing would guide him along the correct path. As far as he could tell, he was heading a little south of west, back towards the centre of the citadel itself, and would soon be beneath it, but the incline was steep and he knew he had descended deep under the ground.

Before he had gone very far he realized that, though he had a means of finding his way into the labyrinth, there would be no similar siren voice calling him out. Mostly it would be easy – simply by taking the uphill path he would be able to retrace his steps – but at those few junctions where he felt he might be confused, he drew his knife and marked the rock with an indication of the direction he should go. He hoped he would be able to find the marks again, especially if he was leaving in a hurry.