by James Beamon
Just as suddenly as they had popped up to ambush them, more Sons of Kaftar appeared from the wall of debris. They cleared marble and large pieces of sheet metal from the road, revealing a downward ramp.
Any city this size would have an undercity. Mike knew that. Still, the sight of it was incredible.
The ceiling stood as high as a Gothic cathedral’s. Where all the marble had crumbled on the surface, massive columns still stood down here. The marble had figures carved into them; on some, a single huge visage, while others held several figures depicted, frozen in the acts of war and love.
Megalithic crystals dangled in the air, suspended by nothing at all. Not only did they all shine with glimmering white light, each one looked like it was made of liquid. Smaller crystals constantly dripped from them, raining down into holes cut in the floor. The floor was illuminated by a river of glowing cobalt blue. The stuff flowed like water yet glowed like it was liquid neon. This same neon-blue water flowed down whole walls in places.
“That look says it all,” Jal said as he nudged Mike. “Once you see this kind of wonder, it’s hard not to take the Sons of Kaftar seriously when we say the future is in our past.”
“Who? How?” Mike asked, looking at the giant crystals. Occasionally, a stream of small crystals would flow sideways from one giant crystal to another, lighting up the dark space around them as they passed.
“No one knows who,” Jal answered. “The job of the tech romancer is to figure out how. We’ve learned a few things, like how to make diskbows and lightning gloves. Still, we’ve just scratched the surface of what’s possible. The proof is all around us.”
The caravan serenely motored through the huge rooms. It felt like a world away from the destruction of the surface. Mike looked at the giant gears and pistons embedded in the walls. Even though all of it was dead now, the machinery looked capable of moving whole skyscrapers. Mike felt like he was an ant taking a tour of the inside of an engine block.
“So, this is why you stayed with the Sons of Kaftar?” Mike asked, distracted by the flowing crystals and still machinery.
“Part of the reason,” Jal said. “But I also believe in the cause. The mages have betrayed us all, starting five hundred years ago with the murder of Father Kaftar.”
Mike already had his fair share of mage betrayal. Apparently, they had a tradition of dirty tricks that started well before they sent his little brother off on a suicide mission.
“What happened with Father Kaftar?” Mike asked.
“That was when the Hierophane first started out. The mage tower was good back then,” Jal said.
“At any rate,” Jal continued, “Father Kaftar and his apprentice Wozencraft went to a small mountain town called Olukent to destroy an evil monster. Father Kaftar fought and defeated the monster, but he was wounded as well. Instead of helping Father Kaftar, his apprentice, the dark Wozencraft, killed him while he was weakened so he could take control of the Hierophane.
“Wozencraft then tried to kill Father Kaftar’s sons, the true heirs to the Hierophane. The surviving sons fled here looking for a technology to combat the power of the mage tower. That search continues today under Ego Friese, direct descendant of Father Kaftar.
“But while it continues, the Hierophane still maintains rigid control of all magical and techno-magical advancement. They’re forcing the whole of humankind to live under the heel of their factory mage boots,” Jal said, shaking his head in disgust.
The caravan stopped. Dozens of folks were in the room, splashing in the neon blue water, smoking, playing with strange devices. But Mike was stuck on the room itself. It came with an epic view.
Instead of a wall, the room stopped at a sheer cliff. Beyond the cliff, the massive crystals shimmered like stars for what looked like miles, all of them raining crystals and shooting streams back and forth.
The room’s remaining three walls flowed with the neon blue water, which ran into channels in the floor. The channels met at the center of the room in a pool, an infinity pool. The pool water ran off the cliff face, its neon water shining brightly as it fell into the unending darkness below.
“Welcome to the Heart of the Sons, home of the free,” Jal said.
Ego stood at the head of the caravan, his arms out. “Today us and I celebrate, we feast to new friends!”
Cheers went up through the room. Everyone started piling out of the caravan, Mike’s group and Sons of Kaftar alike, where everyone received a hero’s welcome from the people waiting.
Mike felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Jal smiling back at him.
“Here we celebrate like this day is our last. It could be. Come, Mike.”
Something nagged at Mike. It felt like a sense of danger, only it didn’t come from the gang. Maybe it was something Jal said.
He saw Runt, Ruki and Savashbahar having fun with everyone else. They knew how to let go of their trouble for a minute. He shrugged and followed suit.
MIKE WOKE UP WITH A fog in his head that only copious amounts of alcohol could conjure. He could have slept for another half a day if it wasn’t for Runt, who had nudged him awake.
“What?”
“We leave soon, Mike Ballztowallz.”
“Where we going?” Mike asked.
“Ruki and Ego discuss those matters now. First comes leaving The Sprawl,” Runt said. “After that is another question. East or west our best options. South is mage lands, north, only the Eural Mountains, home to small mountain towns.”
Small mountain town. It all came together. He remembered what Jal said and why it had bothered him. Maybe the post-binge cloud was good for something after all.
He saw a mountain town in his blood whisper. He saw signs, names in the street... the same name Jal had spoken: Olukent. That’s where he’d find Melvin.
Mike jumped up in a rush. “We’re going north to Olukent!” he shouted to Ruki, waking up a legion of sleeping Sons of Kaftar in the process.
Ruki and Ego turned and looked at Mike, Ego with that head tilt he did when he found something curious. “Why you head for the start of dark Wozencraft?” Ego asked.
“No, he’s drunk. We’re not going there,” Ruki said. “A place nicknamed ‘start of dark Wozencraft’ is definitely not on my list of near future destinations.”
“I gotta go,” Mike said. “The Hierophane sent my brother out to do a job. He’s going there. I need to stop him.”
“That’s our Mike,” Ruki said, forcing a laugh. “Loves to joke. Excuse me a moment, Ego,” he said, hurrying over to Mike. “I need to discuss some things with my colleagues.”
Ruki bent over and whispered. “What the hell, Mike? If we head north and the Hierophane picks up our trail, we’re done for. Nothing gets over the Eural Mountains. We can’t go backing ourselves against the wall like that.”
“I gotta go,” Mike said. “I’m finding my brother. You can come with or not, but I’m already out the door.”
Savashbahar approached, pointing a finger at Mike. “You listened as the blood whispered,” she said, smiling. “Mine whispered as well, and it showed me the Hierophane crumbled at your feet, all the Hollowers evaporating like dewdrops before the sun.”
She looked at Ruki. “I go where he goes.”
“So?” Ruki said with a shrug. Despite his nonchalance, he looked at Runt.
“No need to question,” Runt said. “I see things through.”
Ruki Provos bit his lip for a moment, then bared his teeth and growled with frustration. He turned to face Ego, “I need a route, friend. North to the dark Wozencraft start.”
Ego smiled. He turned and shouted at his gang. “History is repeating! Our new friends are in the middle of this familiar stew! But this time I and us around to sweeten the pot, take the bitterness out. Sons of Kaftar see to that!”
LESS THAN AN HOUR HAD passed since Ego had outfitted his new friends and seen them off when the tunnel scouts reported crazy news. The Clockwound Warders, them were coming in scores here, to the
very Heart of the Sons.
Ego wouldn’t have believed it but the scouts were always reliable. The Warders didn’t have the numbers to risk a topside fight, let alone the force needed to press the Heart.
“Them must be a rage, up in arms about their fallen leader’s goggles,” Ego said to Danda. “Wait for them to learn I traded those to I’s new friend,” he finished with a laugh.
Ego heard the sounds of skirmish in the east corridor. Revenge for their leader made sense, but not enough to try this suicidal attack. Ego had killed Pramus and deprived his body of the goggles six months ago. Why all the anger now?
The first wave of Clockwound Warders emerged through the corridor, them all wearing their signature eye goggles and chestpieces of turning gears. The Sons of Kaftar responded to their yells and raised clubs with well-aimed diskbows.
The sound of the high-tension springs in the diskbows releasing was music to Ego. Bladed disks shot out from the weapons and rained down on the Warders. Three steps into the room, and already that wave was cut into pieces.
Another wave was stepping into the breach. They were trying to gain ground while his men rewound their diskbow springs. Ego stepped forward with his lightning gloves. He separated his clasped hands and blue lightning arced in the gap.
Ego waved his hands and the lightning blasted out, sizzling through the Warders. They were just another wave of suicides to Ego.
More kept coming. While his men shot, Ego shouted at these warders and the ones behind them.
“You Warders have lost leave of your senses to come here to test I! Believe in I when I say the Sons of Kaftar will make you remember the fear you had for us after I killed Pramus!”
The Warders ran in, heedless of Ego’s words. His men hadn’t time to rewind their diskbows and it was too soon for his gloves to have built more lightning. Ego twirled his baton. It would be mostly melee from here on out.
His baton took out one Warder with a sickening crack. Another Warder took the fallen’s place. And another came at Ego from the side. He took them both down with quick, powerful strikes. Yet more came. They were attacking like they were mindless.
“It’s not that they’ve forgotten their fear of you,” a voice said from the corridor. Ego looked and saw something that made his blood boil with rage.
A purple robed mage stood in the corridor. Clockwound Warders streamed into the Heart of the Sons on either side of him, many of them already wounded, all of them with terror-stricken faces. The mage smiled as if he already owned the Heart.
“They still fear you,” he said. “But that’s my weapon. And they’ll never be as afraid of you as they are of me.”
Chapter 24
Diversions
The High Fane came for Melvin early in the morning. He was expecting it.
They had come for Rich last night in the garden, after Melvin had cried it out on his shoulder. Rich had refused to go until the guards had brought female attendants to see after Melvin.
Rich’s demeanor was amazing. He wouldn’t hear their protests or demands. He gave orders to those guards like they worked for him and looked at them like they knew better than defy him. The hesitant, scrawny kid Melvin had met half a year ago in the burbs had disappeared.
Now these same guards escorted Melvin down the hall for what amounted to an interrogation. Melvin walked confidently in his blue cloak and steel bikini. He was armed with an airtight story corroborating the others. And he was armed with a better mood now that the female attendants had provided the products that made monthly cycles manageable for a girl.
Thank you ladies, for showing me things most girls learn when they’re twelve, Melvin thought. He recalled how Rich had talked with the attendants before he finally left, instructing them to take Melvin under their wings like they would a girl new to womanhood.
Thank you, Rich.
The guards brought Melvin to the same grand chamber that had the twelve thrones carved into the rock wall. Only this time, all the seats were full except the last one. The guards showed Melvin to a chair facing the thrones.
Melvin sat, expecting a litany of questions. What he got instead was a litany of introductions. Even Taym, Elevated of Sen; Indur, Elevated of Yol; and Targhos, Elevated of Demir introduced themselves like they hadn’t already. The only ones who weren’t Elevated were Nadi the cat guy, Ananna the spider lady, and Menanderus the squid dude, but they came with their own special titles and epithets that were even more drawn out and tiring to listen to.
The first to actually address Melvin was Dreva, Elevated of Eula. Eula was the house of moths by the look of Dreva’s wings folded neatly behind her.
“State who you are,” said Dreva.
“I am Zhufira,” Melvin said. He didn’t add anything to it. More conversation from him only meant more questions from them.
“How did you come to know Cephrin and the gray robe Razzleblad?” asked Geldin, Elevated of House Otam.
Melvin had a hard time placing Geldin, but from the ears it looked like the Otam house was horse. Maybe it’s ass, Melvin thought. He suppressed a snicker and answered the question.
“I woke up with Cephrin and Razzleblad in Fort Law. I don’t remember anything before that.”
Durin, the one with the scales and forked tongue, leaned forward. There was no question about which animal characterized the House of Marad. He almost hissed his words even.
“Tell us what happened after you woke up.”
Melvin kept it minimal. The fact that he knew they had already heard the story twice didn’t put him in a storytelling mood. Besides, they were pretty much forcing him to tell it. They couldn’t have the full theatrical version.
More routine questions came from the fish man of House Baligoz and the question mark creature lady of House Zemishirus. What the hell was she? It’d be easier to tell if she had protruding ears like most of the Elevated, instead she had an elongated nose and some fierce hands, rough-looking and claw-fingered. Whatever animal she was, it was probably a burrower.
Melvin didn’t have the same problem with Ananna the spider lady. Her hair flared out in stiff dreadlocks that framed her face with eight distinct legs. Plus she had mandibles.
“You have been through much,” Ananna said. She had a regal composure as she regarded Melvin with her dancing eyes. “And you have come a long way. You must miss your homeland.”
Melvin thought of manicured lawns, the one-hundred and fifty channels available through DirectTV, the convenience store up the street that was loaded with preprocessed delectables. He thought of dad watching the game with Mike. Melvin saw his brother looking tall and impressive in his Army dress uniform and remembered the look of annoyance on Mike’s face when he agreed to play the game. Melvin sighed with regret.
“I definitely miss home.”
“Who wouldn’t, after such an incredible journey,” Ananna said. “Tell me, what do you miss most about your homeland?”
Ananna was asking about where Zhufira was from, not the burbs. Melvin didn’t know a thing about where she was from other than the climate must be hot enough to allow for her lack of wardrobe. It was a bait question... and Melvin had walked right into the trap.
“Just a feeling, you know,” Melvin said. “A sense of comfort when I think of home. I can’t remember anything specific though.”
“Tragic, your memory loss,” Ananna said. Her spider leg dreadlocks unfurled a bit. “And you think this black creature you uncovered at Fort Law is at the heart of your lost memories?”
“Pretty much,” Melvin answered.
“A fearsome entity if ever described,” Ananna said, her dreadlocks curling up close to her face. “Can you venture to guess why this black creature would manipulate your mind before you freed him and not after, when it could easily erase your recollection of its very presence?”
“Couldn’t tell you,” Melvin said shrugging. Now he was starting to feel like the prime suspect. “Maybe I went there to kill it in the first place and if I remembered tha
t we probably wouldn’t have freed it.”
“Hmmm,” was all Ananna said, leaning back into her throne.
Maybe it was spider lady’s casual nonchalance about Melvin’s capture. Maybe it was the seat he was in suddenly feeling hot. Either way, he wasn’t a fan of their version of twenty questions.
“I appreciate you all being thorough,” Melvin said. “But we’ve got some real evil out there. I know Jason doesn’t have marks, but really, is it that big a deal?”
Ananna smiled. “Before Cephrin appeared, the last time an aian went unsheltered was thousands of years ago. In those dark days, no one had the salvation of the marks; our race was bereft of the eleven houses. If you had lived through the maddening times, you would know how important the marks are.”
Melvin raised his eyebrow. “How would you know how bad it was? You weren’t there either.”
Ananna’s spider leg dreads furled and unfurled. “Child, you have no idea who you address, do you?”
“Um...”
“Allow me to help,” Ananna said. “I am Ananna, the Grower, Weaver of Fates, Protector of Destined Lovers. I am the Lady of the Third House, the house that bears my name.”
She was the god of the house, or goddess rather. Melvin didn’t stop to think these gods that Jason had talked about were still around, actual flesh and blood beings.
“Uh...” Melvin was at a loss for what to do or what to say or how to say it.
Ananna raised a hand to indicate two guys on her right, the squid and the cat. “Menanderus, Master of the Eighth House and Nadi, Master of Ninth House have seen the maddening times along with me and the other house masters. And if the others were in Nasreddin I’m sure they would attend you.”
She leaned forward. “That is how important this is.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Melvin said.
“No need for apologies,” Ananna replied. “It is hardly expected for you to know aian ways and heritage, especially considering your loss of memory.”