Rise to the Rahz

By Erik van Mechelen

He is rescued. He is trained. But can he escape the darkness? Deep within the Known Caverns, a young worker toils for faceless masters until discovering a secret that places him in terrible danger. Dangling from the great chasm bridge, he is saved from certain death by a mysterious stranger. Can he trust his rescuers, the resistance movement hiding in the crevices of the underground city? What makes them different from the all-powerful Rahz, who had enslaved him under the pretext of protecting him from the shadows of the Abyss? And will his newfound abilities and belief in the Above be enough to effect a daring escape from the darkness?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tablo Publishing
• Release date: May 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781925819342

Erik van Mechelen

I'm seeking cognitive estrangement. I find this most often when writing science fiction or fantasy, but like China Miéville I plan to win an award in every genre before I'm through.

Book preview

Chapter 1

It is possible Dimah had some presentiment of his rise. How else would he have known to experiment, to test his theories? Maybe that is why he grinned now as he gripped the limestone railing and surveyed Growing Room One. Under crimson earthlights wedged in larger stones, workers moved about between the plants creeping out of the room’s crevices. The glow lit Dimah’s grey cloak and wry smile. To watch the workers he’d trained filled his heart with anticipation. He had done well in his first season.

From the hallway that led to this overlook came a shuffling, and with it a vaguely hooded figure, arms folded beneath inarticulate black robes which shifted as though streams of air roiled within. The closer Dimah looked, the more the shape seemed only a shadow. Disoriented, Dimah wanted to look away, but for now he couldn’t.

The director had only seen one Rahz before, from a distance. It was ten cycles ago; as a youth, from the chasm bridge, he had watched the robing of a new Rahz high on the Great Spire. I’m fortunate to have seen it. Many descended without witnessing such an event. The Rahz lived long.

Growing uncomfortable, the director used a bow as an excuse to divert his eyes.

He tried to hide his grimace when he came up. The shadowy shape seemed to nod. The red luminescence suggested facial features like his own, but only subtly. Dimah was thrown for a beat into a memory: blasphemously, one of the older directors claimed the Rahz were merely human. But becoming a Rahz transformed you. This was one of many things Dimah had learned once being woken up from the workers' sleep.

Dimah returned to the present. Perhaps you’d like to hear how things are going? He gestured to the cave of flora and stone.

When the Rahz spoke it made Dimah shiver. Is the crop on schedule? His voice was like the rustle of air through a narrow tunnel.

We are ahead of schedule.

And the workers?

They have taken to my training. They still complete their work well before the first toll. The director stole a glance at the Rahz’s face, but the hood still aimed outward to where workers whispered words to the small light-giving stones; cleaned critters from the vines, stalks, and bulbs; and brought clay pots of water to let the plants drink.

Your crop is proceeding faster than Director Leber’s, said the raspy voice. The Rahz Circle will receive a positive report from me.

Relief overtook Dimah but he remained upright. In hopes of revitalizing the crop midseason, he had taken a chance. 

As if reading his thoughts, the Rahz added, Experimentation can be dangerous. When you set your thoughts on the unknown, it can swallow you whole.

The director noted the Rahz’s reference to the Abyss, the blackness stretching into nothing below the chasm bridge. It was where the descended went on their journey to the Source.

And yet, said the Rahz, I am familiar with experimentation—deliberate exploration is what we Rahz commit our lives to doing…in search of the Source.

What Dimah said next was a learned response. That’s why we are here.

There is one other thing I’d like you to watch for, said the Rahz.

Anything at all.

There are some workers who may exhibit strange behavior—perhaps you have noticed it already?

A trap? Better speak truthfully. Not yet.

The Rahz Circle has often looked Back seeking the Source. But there is talk about looking Forward now.

The workers are key to this…experiment?

You will do well, said a voice inside his head. It had a trace of the Rahz’s rasp, but it was clear, strong, younger, healthier.

Chapter 2

Through a slit in the stone wall, Kaydin watched the secret meeting. If only I could hear them. After the pair entered the balcony, he had downed a vial which contained a solution of water and turma. He moved the turma from his chest into his head to light Heighten. A moment later each of his five major senses improved. The room’s red glow brightened. The resinous scent of the turma plants strengthened. But even with enhanced hearing, only an indistinguishable murmur met his ears. Judging by the director’s grin, his first meeting with the Rahz was proceeding well. He was rather confident for a new director just woken from the workers' sleep. Then again, his arms held the railing like someone climbing for the first time grips the stones.

As the amorphous shape of the Rahz disappeared through the darkened exit, Kaydin heard Dimah sigh. The prior disturbance to his own hearing departed with the Rahz. Director Dimah’s grasp on the stone loosened; his first test was over. Red light from the Growing Room lit his smile once more before he too left the room.

Kaydin regarded the toiling workers, minds dulled by the enforced diet, hearts tamed by relentless ritual, fears stoked with mythology of the Abyss. The workers, dressed in plain smocks matching their skin, completed their last duties. Water was poured from clay pots into the crevices of stone. The plants twisted in delight.

The precision of their training saw each worker complete his or her duties in near unison. The last one filed out and the only noise remaining was the click of a lizard’s tongue and the buzz of a glowfly nestling into the folds of a leaf.

Kaydin felt for the pulley system hidden in the stone and a crawl space was revealed. Moments later he was inside Growing Room One.

He stepped up onto the railing, touched the ceiling for balance, then leaped onto the tallest nearby stone. He crawled down, avoided the snapping of a symbiotic pitcher plant, and disembarked clear of the turma plants near the stone’s base. He landed expertly. Hands on hips, he smiled. It was always fun making the jump.

With a dagger Kaydin dislodged a glowing earthlight. The resinous scent of turma crept into his nostrils. The powder from the bulbs of the very plants these stones gave light to were needed to bring out their light. Kaydin replaced the earthlight with a dimmer one from his satchel. When the workers returned, they would alert their director to the failing stones and he would have the light-giving stones replaced. Kaydin's teacher Ry was eager to keep the scale of their nuisances to the city small; if Haven’s activities grew to harm the directors or the Rahz, then they might align more concerted efforts to find and eliminate the escapees.

The workers, on the other hand, would soon forget they had even noticed the dying earthlights. Their diets of turma root would make them forget it all.

The same plants that keep them alive keep them asleep. Memories were perception. Ry had even argued memories were life itself. But if these workers had no memories beyond their duties, then did they even have a life? Am I one of the few among the living? Perhaps he was. The living few were the escapees calling themselves Haven, the Rahz, and the directors. And yet…no. If Ry was right about the Above, there were many, many more.

Kaydin moved to the next group of plants ringing a tall stone. He started and swung back behind the previous stone. There was someone else there, kneeling next to a plant, turma bulb in hand.

Chapter 3

Kaydin closed his eyes and considered the darkness on the inside of his eyelids. It was a space crowded with floating colored shapes from his just-viewed vantage of Growing Room One. The clusters of plants lit by crimson earthlights were the centerpiece to a shadow-cornered cave.

With turma brought from his chest to his head, he lit Retain. The shadow images behind his eyelids sharpened. It was the only way Kaydin knew to ensure the ability was working. Now he would be able to Reflect on his upcoming conversation with the worker. Every sensory detail of it. Even some of his own thoughts. When combined with Heighten it was quite useful.

Kaydin poked his head around the corner. The worker appeared like any other. About his age. Small nose, almond eyes like his own. But hairless. Plain smock matching his skin. Trousers down to his ankles, unlike Kaydin’s, which cut loosely at the shins and was colored slate to blend with the darkness. A belt of lizard skin. Weak arms, active fingers.

What are you doing here so late? Maybe he was curious how the bulbs had made their big turnaround since Director Dimah took over from his predecessor. Kaydin frowned; Haven still didn’t know why Director Leber was so suddenly sent to his death in the Abyss.

Growing fast, aren’t they? said Kaydin, approaching the worker.

The worker started, but turned the attention back on Kaydin. Why are you still here?

Of course, Kaydin should have assumed he would be taken for a worker. I’m new, so I was a little slower today.

Wasn’t your training sufficient? He kept glancing down at the leafy folds of the turma plant at their feet.

Kaydin tried to calm him. If nothing else, he imagined the worker might find his stubbled beard intimidating. I think I’ll learn fast. But maybe they will give me a new uniform tomorrow? Kaydin laughed to diffuse the tension.

Perhaps Director Dimah will provide you another back at quarters.

Sure, said Kaydin. So, what was it you were looking at?

I think I should be going.

It’s okay, said Kaydin quickly, I’m not a director in disguise. I’m curious, too.

The worker turned back to face Kaydin. Quickly. The toll will ring soon. He lifted a leaf to reveal the bulbs huddled around the stalk. Normally the turma plants have five bulbs. But this one has six.

Interesting, said Kaydin casually. But this was fascinating. With his knife he cut the entire bulb from the plant.

The worker gasped. You can’t do that, it’s not ready for harvest!

You mean I wasn’t supposed to do that? He flashed a sly grin.

The worker was distracted, felt his nose, sniffed, and looked down as he wiggled his toes. Kaydin knew he'd caught a whiff of the turma powder. He was going to make a comment about it, but he was interrupted.

A low tone echoed through the walls around them: the first toll.

We should go, said the worker urgently. You’re new aren't you? Do you know the way back?

I’ll be alright, said Kaydin, smiling again, brushing his hair from his eyes. The worker grimaced, confused.

"But you should probably go now, said Kaydin. As the worker continued to stare at him, Kaydin raised his eyebrows. If I were you, I wouldn’t want to be out past the second toll."

Well…then, goodbye, and, the worker searched for word, may you descend in peace.

Kaydin watched as the adolescent strode quickly to the front of the small cavern, only making noise as he replaced his tools in the alcoves lining the entrance wall. Kaydin shook his head. The poor boy thought I couldn’t handle himself when the sentinels came out to play.

Chapter 4

The stone steps led the worker from the growing room toward the chasm bridge. Underfoot, the obsidian was cool, and his leg hairs were made rigid by the air streaming up from the Abyss.

The worker walked along the middle of the bridge to avoid looking down to where those possessed spirits roamed. The shadows. They took the shape of an overgrown lizard and their movement was faster than thought. At the halfway point he glanced to his right. There was the Rahz Spire, a jagged obsidian tower rising like a disjointed finger from the knuckling limestone lips of the chasm. Against all judgment, the worker stopped to gaze upon the monument.

Empty balconies curled up its perimeter. He saw no-one, but he hoped the Rahz were watching over him. He hoped they were protecting him from the the shadows. He hoped. Then his eyes found a small patch of red like an earthlight's glow. So faint, and so high! But his awe was cut short.

A hiss sliced through the darkness. He remembered where he was, and where he should be going. He briefly imagined a scene where the noise hadn't come to him. He failed, and fear took him.

He urged his legs forward. As he carried himself along the bridge, he realized he had not run since he was a young child. At the bridge’s end he followed the path at chasm's edge. Glancing up and to his right the red glow remained and he asked for protection, reached out for it with his mind. Just a little further now. His heart thumped repeatedly.

As he neared the workers’ quarters, he wondered if he would be let in. Another hiss cut through the crevices in the stiff air.

He took the brief stairway two and three steps at a time. He slapped his hand against stone. Let me in! he cried. But there was no reply except his voice echoing through the cavern behind him. I’m too late. He pounded both his fists against the rock face. I’m here, outside! He pressed his ear against the stone, panting. Let me in, he whispered. He dared not turn around, afraid the shadows would greet him, lifting him in their jaws and carry him down into the Abyss. I guess this is it for me.

The wall moved and a hand was on the scruff of his neck, pulling him in. You’re late.

Chapter 5

Kaydin closed his eyes and unlit Retain. The sharp after-image of the boy’s portrait disappeared beyond the door, fading to mere echoes on the back of his eyelids. He opened his eyes.

On with the job. He exchanged several more earthlights. The first dislodged easily. The second forced him to scratch the stone with his knife. The larger stones within which the earthlights were embedded didn’t always want to give up their eyes. Just as he took the third, something wrapped his wrist. A vine. He tugged but the tendrils sunk their thorns deeper. Fortunately Kaydin had tangled with them before. He let his arm give, then slashed through the vine just as the thorns receded. He skipped out of range of two vines that had crept toward his feet. The plants liked their earthlights, too.

From his sixteen years of hiding in the bowels of this city, Kaydin knew the time lapse between tolls instinctively. He was almost out of time. His inner rhythm, which played in his consciousness as a drum, reached its climactic crescendo with a second gong. It had the same quality of the first toll, but a half-pitch lower. The start of the tone brought to Kaydin's mind the familiar image of a white cliff sprinkled with light. Part way through the reverberation the snow fell away from the cliff. At its conclusion, he glimpsed a forest path leading to a clearing; there, looking out on what Ry had called mountains, waited a bench.

Kaydin felt the satchel pocket’s bulge and knew he was almost done. He came to a dip in the room’s topography and leaned into a crevice. There an earthlight shone across the vines lining the alcove. The woody tentacles slid toward him but eased back when he showed them his knife. As Kaydin reached for the light-giving stone, he heard something he’d not expected quite so soon. A hiss.

He wanted to take the stone. It was a bright one, crimson blended with amber. But, hearing claws scrape against stone near the cavern's entry, he had to pull way.

Kaydin hugged the side wall as he moved away from the entrance. He climbed the large stone he'd used before. He spotted the holds he wanted on the balcony wall just as a hiss slithered through the air. He could hear the beast coming. The grips of its claws and the swish of its long tail. Catch me if you can, sentinel. Kaydin prepared himself. A mistake at this height could be fatal with or without the sentinel. Now or never.

For a breath he was airborne. His hands connected with the holds; his nine fingers tightly gripped them. A moment later his feet caught the wall too. He flipped himself up and over the railing, then, in one motion, located his crawlspace and dove through the opening. He found the hand holds, twisted them, sliding the block back into place.

Crouching below the slit, satchel of stones on his lap, Kaydin listened for the sentinel. The scrapes seemed to come from below, as if the sentinel was scaling the wall. More anxious noises rounded the room near the railing, nearing. The sentinel might now be right there on the other side of this stone wall. Kaydin wondered how long the creature would search for him. You can smell me, but can you see through walls?

Chapter 6

The second toll boomed in eerie harmony with the door to the workers’ quarters slamming shut. A brief image occurred in his mind: a white cliff followed shortly by a hiss and a shadow's eyes and jaws. There, then gone. How he wished to linger on these insights, but it was only moments per shift he could wonder on them before they disappeared like a glowfly extinguishing its light.

There were eyes on him. Heads jutting out from crevice-like alcoves along the walls of the narrow room. Others sat along the soup table under shards of blue earthlight lodged into the cramped ceiling. One of his peers sat statue-still, drips of green liquid spilling onto his lap from his suspended spoon. The worker imagined what must be on their minds, for it was on his mind, too. 

The door was not opened after the first toll. For anyone. He should have descended. He felt a pang of sadness for the worker he’d spoken to who must have suffered that fate; he’d not had the arguments to convince him to retreat with him to the workers’ quarters. By now the shadows would have taken him into the Abyss. To begin his journey to the Source.

He found a vacant spot at the long stone table. A bowl of goop arrived. In its waft the worker smelled something unmistakable. A similar but different scent to the powder that had sprung from the cut bulb in the growing room. Why have I not noticed this before?

He lifted his spoon, but a hand touched his arm. It was the worker sitting beside him.

You were out past the first toll! he whispered.

Yes. He followed the touch, seeing tiny bumps rising from his skin.

You should have descended! the other worker said. Yet here you are. Did you visit the Source and return? The door opened for you!

Too many questions to answer. The doorman let me in. He shrugged and smiled weakly. What else was there to say? It had happened so fast. 

He tried to take his first bite again but the worker grabbed his arm. The door opened for you, how?

A throat loudly cleared at the far end of the table. Standing was a tall man. He wore a dark lizard-skinned vest and an eyebrowed glare. Director Dimah. His thick arms were held behind him. His full head of hair shook dangerously as he paced behind the row of workers. When he spoke, his voice was as commanding as the tolls. The doorman was kind enough to let you in. Had he not, by now you surely would have descended. The shadows would have your soul.

Though he felt challenged, the worker remained silent.

Dimah stood behind him now. His breath was on the worker's neck as he spoke. If you please, worker, join me at the far end of the table.

The worker followed Dimah back to the head of the table. As he walked he could still smell the turma, and found that some of the powder was nestled into his nostril. He quickly hid his hands as Dimah turned to him and the room. The penalty for missing the second toll is descension by way of the shadow. This is not how the Rahz want it, but they can only do so much against the darkness. Even the Rahz must rest to keep their strength. But through their strength we have our equilibirum, and we can fight to find the Source. The worker imagined the hairless heads near the doorway stretching from their cracks to see. Dimah turned to the worker. You must not get in the habit of tempting the shadows. And to the room, You must all be reminded.

The worker saw Dimah’s thick fist swinging toward his face. But it wasn’t there yet; it was a shadow of what was to come. The worker dropped into a crouch to avoid the blow. Dimah’s hand glanced against the worker’s cheek instead of catching him full.

Kneeling, the worker brought his hand to his cheek and spat blood. A warm sensation grew, and pain came. But it was not so harsh as he feared.

Dimah looked unsure of himself. You must all be reminded, he said again, his voice wavering. Then he recovered, booming. Be back from work before the first toll. The doorman will not let you in afterward. It is too dangerous to open that door. And you, continued Dimah, grabbing the worker’s hand from his cheek and dragging him to his feet. Dimah’s breath was pungent; there was a hint of the turma powder tickling the worker's nostrils even now, Your life being spared is an example of why I trust the Rahz. Now, go eat your soup.

Dimah released the worker’s hand, then turned and headed towards a door at the back of the workers’ quarters. Lights off soon, he announced, and was gone through the stone door.

As the worker returned to his seat at the table, murmurs filled the room. He took shelter in a slow regard of his soup. Circling the bowl with his spoon, the worker found its texture decidedly unappealing. Its smell only made things worse. Glancing side to side, he saw that the others had already lost interest in him. He put both hands on the bowl, slipped it under the table, and dumped it out.

Moments later, when the serving worker came to collect his bowl, her narrowed eyes revealed her confusion as to how the worker had completed his soup so quickly. But I have also escaped the shadows. He showed his teeth, a mischievous smile to mimic that now lost worker he'd met in Growing Room One.

When the worker curled into his crevice, he found he couldn’t sleep. He thought about the sixth bulb, the lost worker, the chasm bridge, the glowing Rahz Spire, the confrontation with Dimah. When he finally did sleep, he didn’t dream of shadows pulling him into the Abyss, but of his next encounter with the lost worker. He didn't know how he knew, but just as he'd seen Dimah's fist before it arrived, he guessed he would be meeting the worker again. At the very least, he hoped he would.

Chapter 7

Seated, back resting against the stone