Speak, Cipher

A tribesman confronts a sentient door in an ancient maze designed for death.

Halig ran. He fled through winding corridors, past artificial eyes and artificial ears; silent spies watching his progress and tracking his footfalls, conspiring obediently to lead the Trachai to him.

They will not find me, he vowed, and realised even as he thought it that it was an impossible oath to keep. Halig knew it was only a matter of time, that only the vast size of the catacombs prevented the Trachai, the flame worshippers, from coming upon him sooner.

But they would find him eventually, so long as the electronic monitors were active within each identical corridor. And when they found him, they would lead him back, and he would have to play with fire.

Halig did not want to play, despised the games that murdered men for the Trachai’s entertainment, for the idolators’ exultant roar as their captives did battle in the pitch black Cauldron, the victor living to fight another day, his opponent first eviscerated, then incinerated—all while still alive—shrieking in anguish as Trachai watched his body combust, the flesh broiling, the blood boiling, bound to a pillar of burning magnesium to appease their fiery god.

Barbarous, he thought, recalling their chants, his legs shuddering with the shock of each pounding footfall. ‘In darkness, there is light.’ The wretched light of execution by immolation. Disgusting. A game for cretins. And yet, what am I? Is not my stealing the instigator of my plight?

Halig denounced his arrogance on the morning of his capture; his certainty of going unnoticed as he left the market, concealing inside his tunic the illicit spoils of several stalls. But he had indeed been noticed, and now he was here, in this labyrinth of hell reserved for rapists, thieves, and reprobates.

There came a hiss from somewhere behind him. Halig dared not glance back for fear of slowing down. But the sound was sufficient to identify the source: A door. Opening obligingly to allow his persuers entry.

The Eyes and Ears do well, Halig observed with grim dispassion. With them there is nowhere to run. But still I do. Better that then to halt and be snared.

He heard the shouts of triumph from behind; knew the Trachai were close; knew that it was too late now, that to abandon hope was the only recourse left to him.

Until he saw the dimly lit passage, its sliding door ajar, inviting. Whispering his thanks to the water god the Trachai despised, Halig ducked into it, and was dismayed to find it did not shut behind him. He struck out at it: once, twice. It slid shut with a hiss of disapproval.

The passage was short and narrower than the others, sloping upwards by degrees. The air was fetid, the walls and floor covered with an amorphous mess that crunched underfoot and stuck to his soles. An electric eye gazed redly down at him from the far end.

'Is there no refuge from these all-seeing watchers?' Halig moaned. 'They will find me even here.'

He hurried towards the exit, a portal of ornate design, flanked by torches. It would surely be mere moments before the Trachai located him, hauling him back to the Cauldron and its incendiary competitions. He tried to remain out of sight, evading the Eye, moving crablike through the filth as he closed the short distance between himself and the door.

It was only when he had reached the midpoint that Halig noticed the second artificial eye, an amber lens much larger than the others, staring unwinkingly down on him from the lintel directly above the stone mosaic of the exit door.

He stood up, then, realising the futility of his manoeuvres, and covered the remaining ground in half the time it had taken to traverse the initial stretch. Reaching the portal, he passed his right hand over the light-sensitive cell embedded in an alcove at its side.

The portal did not open.

Halig immediately struck it after the same fashion as the previous door. But this time there was no response.

He was still muttering curses when a voice interrupted him. 'Speak cipher,’ it said. Its tone was inhuman. Metallic.

Halig looked about him; could not locate the sound. It seemed to come from no particular source, and he gave up in frustration, turning back to the uncooperative portal.

The voice came a second time; startled him. 'Speak cipher.'

'Where are you?' he cried, spinning round.

'Not relevant. Speak cipher.'

'I must leave this place!'

'You may leave having spoken cipher sequence.'

Halig could not understand it; he had never encountered such a thing. 'Open!' he demanded, slamming the doorway with his fists.

'Cannot. Speak cipher.'

'Portals must open when requested!'

'Not this one. Speak cipher.'

Halig’s eyes narrowed. Was there a trace of sarcasm in the monotone reply?

'There are men after me,' he said, changing tack.

'Speak cipher.'

'They will kill me if they find me.'

A pause. 'They cannot kill that which is invisible.'

A momentary flicker caught the periphery of Halig's vision. He snapped his head around to see the electronic eye flicker erratically, its sullen red glow fading into obsidian. But the amber oculus remained alert, watchful. Waiting.

'What of the auditory sensors?'

'All deactivated. Speak cipher.'

Halig heard noise coming from the other end of the corridor, past the door through which he'd entered. The Trachai. Outside. His mind was filled with fear—and an irrational pride. At least I will die fighting them, and not at the hands of a slavering Contender.

The noise stopped, then resumed, angry fists pumelling the door, attempting to force it open. But the door was locked now; a minute more and the Trachai had moved on, and there was silence.

Halig breathed a sigh of pure relief. 'You saved me.'

The voice remained cool. 'The Trachai are animals. Speak cipher.'

'I have none.'

'Speak cipher.'

'I have none!'

The voice, or the portal, or whatever controlled both, seemed to consider the statement now that it had been voiced a second time. 'Then you must leave.'

'I cannot; the Trachai will kill me.'

'Then you must speak the appropriate cipher sequence.'

'That I cannot do either.'

A long pause. 'Then you will stay.'

A shorter pause. 'For now.'

Halig slumped against the unyielding hardness of the exitway. 'I am weary,' he said, and even as the words escaped him there was within him an irresistible desire to rest, to drowse.

'Then sleep,' said the voice.

Halig complied.