From his earliest recollections, the young Kohl had been driven to rise above the confines of the drab brown ground of Back Tier. He had clambered up and down the rocky cliffs that circled the tier with agility and fearlessness, reveling in the freedom and unimpeded views. He would sit, dangling his legs over perilous precipices, dreaming of the day when he would be one with the sky. The cavalry, with its high-flying birduns, became his obvious ambition.

Kohl had barely broken a sweat before he hoisted himself through the opening and nimbly sprang to his feet. After allowing his eyes to adjust to the dusty dimness, he saw that he was in a utilitarian office where the furniture and cabinets had been cast haphazardly about as if in the wake of a great upheaval. He made his way through the clutter without giving it a second glance.

The dim room opened onto an even dimmer metal corridor that seemed to stretch the width of the building. Kohl drew his sword from the scabbard on his back and held it at his side, brushing against the annoying apron that he had tucked into his waistband like a sash. He scanned the featureless metal corridor, first for danger and then for clues. Kohl’s keen eye caught the subtle shape of an electrical conduit snaking its way along the crease between the wall and ceiling. He followed it, his soft footfalls marking his progress like a metronome, until he came to a gaping hole in the interior wall.

Kohl peered down and down into darkness. It was an elevator shaft, and it seemed to descend completely down to the bottom level, Kohl’s appointed goal. He sheathed his sword and swung into the void, moving down the elevator shaft without thought or concern. His hands found grip without searching. His feet fell confidently upon the slimmest of ledges. So casual was the climb that it never occurred to Kohl to be grateful for the gymnastic experiences of his youth. Anyone with less of a rocky start in life would surely have grown nervous as the darkness deepened the further he went, and his eyesight grew almost useless.

Finally, Kohl leapt the final few feet to the ground. His boots raised dusty rings into the air. His sword was drawn even before the dust settled, and he held it at the ready. The warman edged his head through the opening of the shaft and discovered a short hallway leading away in only one direction. He also discovered footprints. Many sets of them, some imprinted clearly on the dusty floor, others faded with time, all leading to a heavy metal door that stood slightly ajar at the end of the short hall.

Boots go in, but they don’t come out, he observed.

It was a sobering reminder of the failure of others, but, strangely, something else disturbed Kohl more. He could survey the empty hall quite clearly when it should have been blacker than the elevator shaft this far down. An amber light spilled feebly into the corridor from behind the cracked door.