The guard reappeared along the side of the cave and jumped back in the boat with a loud thud.
A short while later, a small wooden pier very like the one they had left on the far shore drifted into view. It even resembled the other in the way that its wooden pilings had rotted, leaving the planks along the top slanting toward the water.
The priest was the first to disembark when they reached the pier. The guard behind Ico pushed him lightly on the back. Though they were still inside the cave, the ceiling here was much higher, and the cavern seemed to extend ahead for some distance. A sandy path led from the pier, splitting to the right and left.
“Get the sword,” the priest said.
The guard with downturned horns nodded and walked off down the right path, disappearing down a stone passageway.
Ico stood examining his surroundings until the priest tapped him on the shoulder, indicating that he should proceed down the left-hand path. They began to walk, the wet sand making an incongruously humorous slup-slup sound under Ico’s leather sandals.
A round hole opened in the cave wall. They passed through, and the floor beneath their feet was now smooth. They no longer walked on rocks and pebbles; the passageway here was carved from stone.
Ico looked around, his eyes wide.
He had never been in a place like this before. It resembled a grand hall, with sides that rose straight up like a chimney. The room itself was perfectly round, and it hurt his neck to look at the ceiling far above.
A winding staircase, and in some places ladders, lined the chamber’s outer wall and would once have permitted someone to climb all the way to the top. But as Ico looked closer, he saw that the stairs had fallen away in places.
A thick, cylindrical pillar rose from the center of the chamber, reaching all the way up to the top-though, as Ico considered it, the structure was far too wide for a pillar. It must have been placed there for some purpose other than supporting the roof.
The smooth path extended into the middle of the chamber and ended at that central column, where Ico spotted two stone idols, roughly human-sized in height. The idols were rectangular, their sides meeting at sharp right angles, yet they had what looked like bodies and legs and even heads, complete with carven eyes.
Ico had never seen idols quite like these anywhere around Toksa. Their shape resembled the small idols that travelers prayed to for protection along the road.
The priest slowly approached the idols. The soldier with the upturned horns stayed back with Ico.
“Are you cold?” he asked in a voice so faint Ico could barely tell it from a breath.
Ico shook his head. The guard said nothing more, but he rubbed his own arms as if to say Well, I am. Or perhaps his gesture meant I’m frightened.
Heavy footsteps approached. The other guard had returned. Ico was startled to see him holding a giant sword. No wonder his feet were dragging. The sword was so long that if the guard placed its tip on the ground, the hilt might reach up to his shoulder. It was sheathed, though it looked double-edged by its shape, with a chain attached to the pommel. The grip was as thick as Ico’s wrist, and its color was the dull silver of ancient metal.
The guard hesitated, looking toward the priest. The priest nodded and indicated with his hands that he should stand in front of the idols. The guard took a few steps forward. He glanced at the other guard, standing next to Ico. Both men’s faces were hidden in the depths of their helmets, but Ico thought he could imagine their expressions: they were terrified.
“Draw the sword,” the priest commanded. “There is nothing to be frightened of.”
Holding the blade level to the floor, the guard gripped its hilt with his right hand. His arms shook with the weight of the blade. Though the sword appeared ancient, it slid from its scabbard without a sound, like the well-oiled blade of a soldier.
A light flared in the dimly lit chamber.
Ico closed his eyes and lifted his hands in front of his face. The light that bled through his eyelids was painfully bright.
He timidly opened his eyes to look and saw the soldier standing, feet apart, straining his shoulders to hold the blade level. A brilliant light emanating from the blade bathed the man’s body. The light swelled, enveloping both guards, Ico, and the priest.
Ico realized that the light wasn’t just coming from the blade-the idols were glowing too. Their glow echoed the brilliance of the sword, and both grew brighter until a light passed from one idol to the other and they split down the middle with a loud crack, sliding apart to reveal a passage beyond. The light faded.
“Sheathe the sword,” the priest ordered. The guard looked down, bewildered. The blade’s color had returned to a dull silver. After a moment’s hesitation, he reverently returned the sword to its scabbard.
The priest led them between the two statues. Ico reached out to touch one as they passed. The stone was cold beneath his fingertips. Where did that light come from? he wondered. Ico spied a cavity in the statue’s side with a tiny carving inside it. He looked closer and found that it was a depiction of a tiny demon. It’s like something from a fairy tale.
The passage opened into the central column. In the very center a small dais like a copper knob protruded from the floor, with sheets of steel radiating out from it in bands.
The priest said something too low for Ico to hear to the guard without the sword. He walked over to the copper knob, pulled something like a lever next to it, and the entire device began to slowly spin. With a reverberating clang, the floor began to lift and Ico nearly lost his footing.
The room is rising!
Ico reached out and touched one of the walls, feeling it slide against his fingertips. A deep sound rumbled beneath them, and he could feel vibrations coming up through the floor. They continued to climb.
Of all the things Ico had expected to find in the Castle in the Mist, this was not one of them. “Amazing,” he whispered.
The kind guard gave Ico a reassuring nod. The priest had his back to Ico, while the other guard held the sword with its tip against the floor, clutching its handle with both hands as though he feared it might walk away if he didn’t keep a firm grip on it.
The clanging stopped.
They had arrived at the top of the column. Here stood another pair of stone idols. This time, the guard stepped forward and drew the sword with a mere nod from the priest. Again, a brilliant light ran across the idols and they parted.
As soon as the way was clear, the priest stepped through, the hem of his robes drifting above the floor.
There were no signs of life. The only sounds were their own footsteps and the metallic chatter of the guards’ chain mail. The castle was abandoned.
At first, Ico thought they had emerged into a room with a low ceiling, but as he walked further on, he realized his mistake. The room had only seemed low because they had entered beneath a wide staircase climbing from the center of a vast chamber. Ico took a deep breath, trembling as he exhaled.
You could hold a festival with everybody in Toksa here and still not fill this place. The small stones covering the floor were as many in number as the stars he could see from the village watchtower, and Ico doubted that any of the hunters in the village were strong enough to loose an arrow that could reach the vaulted ceiling.
What is all this for?
Stone alcoves formed a grid along the walls, each cavity holding a strange coffinlike box with rounded corners. No, Ico realized. Not just like coffins. They were stone sarcophagi.
Ico followed the priest up the steps, recalling a story Oneh had told him.