The eastern edge of the plateau gave way to a steep incline and there
Grinwallin perched, partly on the mountain, mostly within the ancient rock. The
incline was the first of many as the plateau marched into sharp and hostile
mountains. The mountains were bare, dark rock, forbidding and dangerous and
seemingly without a way through to the ocean beyond, although there were
pockets of forest nestled in folds further in, those currently inaccessible.
Hemming the ruined city was impenetrable forest and it, too, was dark and
sinister. It circled up the sharp rise into the inclines beyond, making any
approach from north, south and east a daunting task. Another army could lose
itself amid the trees. Massive cloud formations hid hostile peaks; it appeared
as if the heavens brooded deliberately.
Height, precipice, forest and ancient rock: Grinwallin was a private
and mysterious place.
Who built this fortress?
The city was of epic proportion and what was visible outside was but
a portion of the delved halls within the mountain. Caltian’s estimation to
Camot back in the wilderness was off target; the walls were not two men high,
they were closer to ten, and may have exceeded that once, given the evidence of
fallen stone, and were a minimum of five feet thick. The ruins spread across
the entire incline, four, five sals wide, and rose up in tiers for two sals at
its lengthiest incline before vanishing into the ancient rock. Within,
investigated later, were halls, caverns, stairs and ramps many sals in, delved
deep. Ancient pools of icy water supplied the city’s needs and great halls with
lofty ceilings were supported by marvellously wrought pillars of stone.
Grinwallin was once a huge city and could support hundreds of thousands
with ease, and under siege, perhaps as many as a million.
The company, first to Grinwallin proper in a thousand years, stood
awed at the foot of ancient, worn stairs that led up to a colossal arch in the
lower wall. Crossing the plateau they speculated about what happened here, but
now all were mute, overcome by the size and age of what lay before them. The
arch still balanced on two gigantic pillars and huge silver hinges hung askew
on either side. The remains of rotten wood lay below, proving a once imposing
gate system. Drawing reverent breaths, they commenced the climb to the entrance
of the forgotten city.
Out of breath at the top, they halted. Turning to face the way they
came they were astonished by the panoramic view. It was certainly not easy to
approach unseen…and the thought caused them to hastily face the city. It did
feel as if they were being watched.
The arch was wide enough for fifty walking abreast. Stepping
through, Torrullin noticed a slot between the pillars and in the shadows discerned
iron spikes; a portcullis to protect the great gates, perhaps from battering
rams. Why all this fortification, if not for war? Once people had died at these
gates, fighting on a narrow stair ledge against wood, iron and stone, and
whatever was thrown from above.
They startled a flock of birds and pounding hearts were first
settled before they ventured further. It was huge, on a scale few built in the
present. Grinwallin was of a whole, not cobbled bits; it was not growth that
had caused size over time. There were no skyscrapers, nothing to suggest
technology; everything reeked of antiquity and the terrain was as much the city
as was the spectacular view. Grinwallin was like a Valleur sacred site; built
of power to tap power to be power, but on a scale no Valleur site ever was. It
was staggeringly solid and no modern city planners could afford to build in
this way; the cost would cripple governments.
It was evident there was once numerous levels, abodes one above the
other. Old stairs led to levels four storeys removed, but the upper levels were
for the most part roofless with broken walls. Chambers on the lower floors were
still relatively intact. Grinwallin appeared reparable, if one had the wealth
to do so. Shrubs and trees grew in door lintels, out of unglazed windows, in
cisterns and in ancient guttering. On the upper levels forest seeds had formed
sapling gardens. Creepers crept down interior and exterior walls, and bright
flowers peeped shyly out of crevices in the paved ways. Flowers, Caltian
remarked in a hushed tone, found nowhere else on Atreidi. Lizards and geckoes
ran skittishly from the intruders and a variety of birds were inadvertently
disturbed, from majestic eagles to the tiny forest dwellers. The latter made
the overwhelming presence of Grinwallin bearable. It meant it had been abandoned a long time ago. And
it caused old ruins to be pretty and tranquil.
Glittering Darkness
(Petra: inspiration for Grinwallin)
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