by Chris Fox
“It is done,” Ka said, giving a tight nod. It blinked with those too-large eyes, pools of unreadable black. “This conduit will be enough to sustain the nexus until other Arks are strong enough to add their own flows.”
“Ka, can you tell me about those pulses earlier? The ones that shot into the sky? They shorted out hundreds of systems. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Blair asked, hoping the creature would both possess the knowledge and be willing to share it. The Mother had warned him to be cautious around Ka, but thus far the intelligence had been nothing but helpful.
“Accessing logs,” Ka said, its eyes going unfocused. They focused again after a moment. “I see the event you reference, Ka-Dun. The pulses were a communication generated by all Arks on the network with sufficient strength to create them. Each fired a trio of pulses designed to alert the Builders to the current climate of this world.”
“Current climate?” came a voice from behind Blair. He scrambled to his feet, abandoning the lotus.
Isis strode toward him, with Liz in tow. The diminutive goddess crossed her arms, glaring at Ka through narrowed eyes. So much distrust there.
Liz followed Isis into the chamber, looking dazed and more than a little ill. Blair caught her gaze, but she gave a slight shake of her head and looked away. Her eyes were red and puffy. What the hell had happened back on the island?
“Yes, Ka-Ken. The climate of this world is warmer than it has been in over three million years. The age you refer to as the Pleistocene has ended, and the Holocene has begun. These conditions are perfect to support the Builders, who prefer a much warmer climate than humanity can tolerate,” Ka explained, cocking its head to the other direction. “The pulse the Ka-Dun referenced was a means of alerting the Builders to this new climate, so they can begin re-colonization of this planet.”
“So this warning was generated automatically?” Blair asked.
“Unfortunately, no,” Ka said, giving a very human sigh. “The energy required to fire such a pulse is more than any Ark is capable of mustering at this time, with the exception of this one. This required an external power source to fuel the bursts in those Arks unable to produce them. Only an Ark Lord could have done this.”
“The Well,” Isis growled, taking a step closer to Ka’s translucent form. “You’re saying someone tapped into the Well to generate this pulse.”
“Just so, Ka-Ken.” Ka nodded vigorously. “Someone was able to tap into the vast reservoir of power offered by the Well. This allowed them to send a message, one that will reach the Builders in approximately four years, seven months.”
“And the Builders will return when they hear this message?” Blair asked, moving to stand next to Isis. “How long will it take them to return to Earth?”
“Unknown,” Ka said, pursing its green lips. “When they departed this world, the Builders did so as pure energy, broadcast to their new home as light. This process was much like the pulse you just witnessed. During the intervening eons their technology has changed. They now use craft for transport, or at least their progeny do.”
“Progeny?” Blair asked, blinking.
“Yes. The Ka-Ken knows of their existence,” Ka said, nodding at Isis.
“I know a little,” Isis admitted, looking at Blair. “Ka claims they’ve been here for millennia. Ka, what do you know of these progeny?”
“The progeny have been orbiting this world for many centuries, possibly longer,” Ka explained, giving another cock of its head. “I do not know how long, precisely, as they did not transmit any signals until they were ready to begin exploration.”
“Exploration?” Blair asked, raising an eyebrow. He did not like the sound of that. The idea that the pyramids really had been built by aliens pissed him off more than a little.
“Yes, I believe they were sent as scouts by the Builders. Their mission was to measure the appropriate climatological data, and ensure that the planet was ready for their masters’ return,” Ka explained. “This process involved seizing control of the Arks, but my involvement in helping the Ka-Ken create the first mutagen has prevented this. All Arks are now occupied, so the progeny were unable to seize control.”
“Apparently that’s changed,” Liz said, finally joining the conversation. She still looked a little nauseated. “How did they send a message? And what is this Well you spoke of?” Liz addressed the last question to Isis.
“The Well is a source of enormous power,” the Mother replied, folding her arms. “The center of our planet is a molten ball, and the Well connects to the power contained there. It supplements the energy of the sun, but it is located in the heart of the underworld, and therefore is nearly impossible to reach.”
“The underworld?” Blair said, blinking. “You can’t be serious. THE underworld, as in the one referred to by the ancient Egyptians and the Greeks?”
“I am quite serious, I assure you,” Isis said, eyeing him frostily. “The underworld is described in your myths, though the true place bears little resemblance to your fanciful tales. It is located under our world, hence the name underworld. To our knowledge there are only two ways to gain entry, and the progeny of the Builders would have had to use one or the other. The first is beneath the First Ark, in what you know as England. The second is Olympus, the stronghold of a rival group of gods. You’d know them as the Greek pantheon, led by Zeus and his brothers.”
Blair rested a hand against the central obelisk, steadying himself. It made sense, in a way. If the Egyptian pantheon was based on real people, why not the Greeks and Romans? Yet the sudden revelation still made him dizzy. He turned to face Isis. “So you believe these progeny are either in control of the First Ark, or have somehow used Mount Olympus to reach the underworld? That’s how they sent their message?”
“Possibly,” Isis replied, frowning. “We have little to go on, other than the fact that a message was sent. That message would have required access to an Ark, or to the Nexus directly. I do not think such access could have been granted from Olympus, as it is not directly connected to the Ark network. However, it could still have been used as a method of entry. If someone got in that way they could have travelled through the underworld until they reached the Well under the First Ark.”
“This hypothesis is correct,” Ka said. “Someone, or something, would have had to gain entry to the Underworld. Once there, they overrode the Ark Network’s security and forced it to send the message to the Builders. This is alarming, as the progeny of the Builders do not possess this ability. They would have needed the aid of a Homo sapiens to accomplish this. All Arks are genetically locked to your species, a side effect of the creation of the access keys.”
“So how do we use this information?” Liz asked, pragmatic as always. She tucked a lock of copper hair behind her ear.
“We must learn more,” Isis said, clearly irked by the situation. “If we can reach Olympus before Ra, we might be able to speak to Hades, or whoever controls the place now. If someone used that gateway to enter the underworld Hades will know of it.”
“How do we get there?” Blair asked.
“We use the light bridge,” the Mother said, her mouth tightening into a determined expression.
“I thought the light bridge only connected to other Arks,” Blair said, thinking out loud. “If we use the light bridge, wouldn’t that mean we either need to come out in the Ark of the Cradle or the First Ark?”
“That’s exactly what it means,” Isis agreed. “We will light walk to the Ark of the Cradle.”
“Won’t that mean a fight with Irakesh’s mother?” Liz asked, paling.
“It might, but we have to risk that. I will attempt to parlay with Sekhmet. Once she understands the threat she may be willing to work with us,” Isis explained. “She’ll want to learn the answers to the same questions we ourselves are asking.”
“So you just want to walk into her stronghold? Won’t she have a pantheon of gods?” Blair asked. “I know you’re strong, but wouldn’t she be able to overwhelm us?”<
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“Her servants are powerful, but none so old or powerful as me,” the Mother said. The Mother extended a hand and gold flowed up her arm. It coalesced into a golden staff with a winged scarab at the tip. The fist-sized sapphire in the thorax caught the light from the rejuvenation chamber on the far side of the room. “She has no idea I possess a Primary Access Key. This will even the odds enough that she’ll deal in good faith.”
“You’re certain she doesn’t know you have it?” Blair asked, raising a dubious eyebrow.
“Absolutely. There are only two, as I said. One is possessed by Osiris in the First Ark. The other was stolen from her by Sobek, who fled to the continent you call Australia. That means I have one, and she does not. With this I can wrest control of her Ark from her, and she’ll know that. I’m hoping she’ll be willing to parlay rather than risk battle,” the Mother reasoned.
Blair had a hard time finding fault with her logic, but he was still nervous. Invading the Ark of the Cradle sounded like suicide to him.
19
I Know Kung Fu
Trevor’s quarters were all golden metal and black stone, just like the ones back in Blair’s Ark. That much was similar, but there were definite differences.
A sea of hieroglyphs covered nearly every surface, and wooden furniture dotted the room. The nightstand next to the strange foam bed might have been mahogany, though he didn’t know a lot about wood. The statue on top of it was clearly Anubis, though. That probably meant something significant, but he had no idea what.
Trevor flopped down on the bed, allowing the contours to form to his body. He didn’t feel exhaustion in the same way he had when he’d been alive, but sleep was still welcome. It allowed him respite from his new existence, allowed him to lose himself in dreams of being alive.
His younger self would likely have been thrilled by the turn of events. After all, he was blessed with all sorts of crazy superpowers. But this was different than some Saturday night roleplaying game. He didn’t get to wake up on Sunday and return to normal life. He was dead. Immortal, sure. But still dead.
“Get up,” a heavy voice rumbled from the doorway.
Trevor blurred from the bed, dropping into a combat crouch. He reached instinctively for the pistol usually belted at his side. When he realized it was gone, he moved for the combat knife normally tucked into his boot. That was gone too, of course.
“What do you want, Anubis?” he asked, eyes narrowing. He knew the jackal could kick his ass, but if the thing wanted a fight he’d at least go down swinging.
The jackal didn’t answer, instead advancing into the room. He cradled that strange double-fan-bladed axe loosely in one hand, while the other rested on the hilt of a sword belted at his side.
This sword was more like a traditional scimitar, narrow at the hilt and wider as it approached the tip. It had a slight curve to it, and the weapon was probably heavier than a na-kopesh.
Anubis paused, unbuckling the leather belt that held the scabbarded sword. He tossed the weapon at Trevor with enough force to knock down a mortal. Trevor caught the weapon awkwardly, blurring slightly to do it.
“What’s this?” he asked, holding the scabbard at the midway point.
“Suspicious, are you?” Anubis asked, taking several heavy steps closer until he loomed over Trevor. “Perhaps there is something approaching sense in that head of yours, though I still remain doubtful on that count. That, young pup, is a sword. You have seen a sword before, have you not?”
“Of course I’ve seen a sword,” Trevor snapped, glaring up at Anubis. “Why the hell are you giving it to me?”
“Because you are useless in a fight,” Anubis rumbled, giving a very toothy smile. “Ra has asked me to remedy that. I have been given the monumental task of honing you into a soldier, though doing so may take more centuries than I have remaining to me.”
Trevor’s first instinct was to attack, to show Anubis he was wrong. Unfortunately, indulging that instinct would only prove the jackal right. He’d lose. Again.
“All right,” Trevor said, buckling the scabbard around his waist. “Teach me, then.”
“I have already begun, you mewling, pathetic wretch,” Anubis roared, looming closer with bared fangs. He waited for a long moment as Trevor simply stared up at him, waiting. “Good, you can contain your anger. Perhaps there is a tiny sliver of a chance I can make something from you. Follow me.”
Trevor did so, unsurprised that he recognized the path Anubis led him down. They wound through many corridors, arriving at a familiar room, one Trevor had used often in Blair’s Ark.
It was a spacious chamber, with an enormous ring in the center. The ring was set about two inches above the rest of the floor, black stone with a gold trim just like in the Ark of the Redwood. Trevor had used it many times for training bouts against his sister. Liz had almost always kicked his ass, though he’d definitely improved through the experience.
“Who’s that?” Trevor asked, nodding at a pale-faced deathless that knelt next to the edge of the ring. It was a man of perhaps sixty, or had been before he died and risen as a deathless. Now, alert grey eyes sized up Trevor from a rotting face as he approached.
“I am Abdul Azked Akbar,” the man said, his voice hollow and raspy. He rose slowly to his feet, and Trevor noticed a scimitar belted at his waist.
“Is this guy going to teach me the basics?” Trevor asked, turning to Anubis. The jackal watched him impassively.
“In a way,” Anubis growled, blurring across the chamber so quickly Trevor couldn’t track the movement. The jackal reappeared next to Abdul, his fan-bladed weapon scything through the man’s spine with alarming ease. The man’s broken body collapsed to the stone, his eyes now dull and lifeless. “Abdul was barely more than a nascent deathless, but he retains something you are in grave need of. Knowledge. He spent a lifetime learning the sword, though I gather such knowledge was deemed of little use in this age.”
“You want me to eat him,” Trevor said. It wasn’t a question, because he already knew the answer. He’d feasted on zombies before, but never one that could speak. It smacked of cannibalism. “And if I refuse?”
“Refuse?” Anubis asked, kicking Abdul’s body to the ground outside the ring, near Trevor’s feet. “Why would you do such a thing? If you wish to survive, you require this knowledge. We don’t have years for you to learn to wield a blade. You must gain that knowledge swiftly, and this is the only way for that to occur.”
Anubis speaks wisely, my host. If you do not accept this gift he will think you weak. He will be right.
Trevor hesitated, staring down at the corpse at his feet. Somehow this was crossing a line he knew he couldn’t uncross, though he couldn’t find any logical fault with feeding on a corpse specifically to gain memories. He’d done that, back in Panama, when he’d devoured a man’s mind to learn how to pilot an aircraft.
He knelt swiftly, embracing the decision. Abdul’s body was nothing more than matter now, and feasting on it was no different than a normal human eating a steak.
Trevor began to feed. It was quick, grisly work. Before long, a torrent of memories flooded his mind. A young man on the streets of Cairo, born in a time when survival meant quick work with a knife. That man had been adopted by a beduin, the last of a breed that still valued the sword. Decades passed, and with them Abdul’s mastery increased. He trained dozens of students, some idly, others going on to become masters in their own right.
The knowledge of sword forms seeped into Trevor, first into his mind, and then into his body as muscle memory. Fascinating, but terrible. Part of Trevor cried out at the crime of it, but mostly he was grateful for the knowledge he gained. Only through strength could he ever hope to escape Ra’s court.
“I am a blade master,” Trevor said, rising to his feet. He whipped his weapon from its scabbard, twirling it expertly as he tested the weight. It wasn’t identical to the scimitar that Abdul had known so well, but it was close enough that he was confident he could fight with the
weapon.
“Show me,” Anubis said, stepping into the ring. He beckoned for Trevor to follow as the ring flared white. The steady rhythmic pulse he’d grown used to was gone, perhaps because neither he nor Anubis had a heartbeat for it to sync with.
Trevor entered the ring, which instantly shifted. There was a moment of vertigo, then everything changed. A deep, otherworldly cavern sprang into existence around them. Stalactites and stalagmites broke the room at uneven intervals, and the floor was slick with condensation. It was damnably hot, and a faint red glow came from the corridor leading into the distance. It played across the jackal’s golden armor, glinting off the fan-bladed axe. The rest of the jackal was lost in darkness though, his midnight fur blacker than whatever Trevor was allowing himself to become.
“Where is this?” Trevor asked, circling a stalagmite as he assumed a combat stance. It felt so natural, something he’d been doing his entire life.
“The underworld,” the jackal rumbled, also dropping into a combat stance. He began twirling his axe in slow arcs as he circled the same stalagmite.
Trevor blurred, rushing the jackal. He came in low, aiming an upward slash at the jackal’s belly. There was a surge of elation as his blade closed in, apparently faster than Anubis could track. The instant the blade touched fur, the jackal exploded into green mist. Trevor’s weapon sailed harmlessly through the cloud, and he stumbled forward. It only took a fraction of a second to recover, but that might as well have been an eternity. Fire exploded in his back as the fan-bladed axe burst through his chest. Trevor toppled to the ground, dropping his weapon with a clatter.
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