The Deathless Quadrilogy

by Chris Fox

  Hades set the spoon in the empty bowl, placing it on the tray floating near his throne. He was about to depart the throne room for Olympus’s library when he felt a slight tug on his consciousness. It came from the strange golden cylinder his masters had provided. Hades waved a hand at it, and a river of light burst from the top. It resolved into one of the pasty-skinned grey men.

  “Hello, great emissary.” Hades rose from his throne with all the grace he could muster, putting himself at an equal height with the image of the grey man that had appeared in his throne room. He offered a bow. “How may I serve you with my meager abilities?”

  “Your enemies have been detected within the Ark,” the grey man began without preamble.

  “Are you certain?” Hades asked, trembling.

  The image captured the creature’s pasty skin and black, haunting eyes—but it failed to capture the utter terror one felt being in the same room with him, or the certainty that the grey man could peel apart the layers of your mind like an overripe fruit.

  “We would not have approached you were we not certain,” the grey man said. Its tiny mouth shifted to a frown. “There has been an incursion into the Ark of the Cradle. That incursion began with the light bridge activating, so whoever has invaded possesses the ability to control the Ark.”

  “Is it Project Solaris?” Hades asked, mind racing. Who else could it be? David might be able to control the Ark, and with the primary access keys missing he seemed the most likely cause.

  “Unknown,” the grey man allowed. It seemed angered by the ignorance. “You will send your demons to investigate. Find the intruder, and bring him to us.”

  “Of course, great emissary.” Hades bowed low, then straightened, licking his lips. The skin was dry and cracked, a reminder that he’d not yet achieved true immortality. Nor would he, until he was a full Ark Lord. “I will report as soon as I have more information.”

  The grey man’s image disappeared. They were often like that, using neither greetings nor goodbyes. They told Hades what they expected of him, and occasionally answered one of his many questions—though even that was done with their characteristic brevity—then they vanished until they needed him again.

  Hades spoke a word of power, channeling energy from his crown to send his voice to every demonic servant in Olympus. Hundreds of demonic faces peered up at the palace, waiting eagerly for instruction. “Someone has invaded the Ark below. Find them, and bring them to me. You may subdue them, but I want them alive.”

  All over the city, demons leapt from terraces and ledges. They floated toward the Ark below like a massive swarm of bats, winging toward the entrance. Hundreds upon hundreds of demons descended past the orbiting shuttles of the grey men, down to the Ark itself. Whoever had made the mistake of coming here was about to learn just how large that mistake had been.

  11

  Chamber of the Sphinx

  “So we’ve stepped into a closet. Wonderful.” Irakesh’s sarcasm was even saltier than usual.

  “Shut up,” Trevor replied absently. He studied the little room, considering. What the hell had Ra used this room for? The walls, floors, and ceiling were all gold, just like the light bridge platform. “Irakesh, I’ve got a shaping question.”

  “What is it?” Irakesh asked, pausing mid-rant. His interest was apparent—and unsurprising. Irakesh seemed to love teaching, especially when he could lord over someone about their ignorance.

  “Sunsteel conducts energy, right? The kind of energy we need for shaping?” Trevor asked. His idea wasn’t fully formed, but he suspected he might know what this place was used for.

  “Indeed. It is the single most conductive material for such energy, and Sunsteel’s molecular structure can be modified to create additional properties. You already know this. Why are you wasting time with such drivel?”

  “This room is made from Sunsteel. It doesn’t appear on any of the Ark’s internal sensors. This is a blind spot, but I think it’s a lot more than that.” Trevor knelt and pressed both palms against the floor. A trickle of energy began flowing into him. “I can directly access the Ark’s reservoir from here. That means we can bypass the black goop that’s stealing all the power.”

  “Can you siphon enough power to activate the light bridge?” Irakesh asked, perking up. His bald head shone like an egg under the soft light radiated by the ceiling.

  “I doubt it. Any energy I broadcast through the Ark is going to be siphoned by the crap coating the walls. The further the energy travels, the more it will take. If the energy goes very far, the stuff on the walls will get it all.” Trevor rose to his feet, frowning, and stared hard at the walls. There had to be a way.

  Boom. Something thudded against the other side of the door. Trevor could hear muffled voices—lots and lots of muffled voices.

  “The’ve found us,” Irakesh said, looking even paler than usual. “I know I’ve been derisive of your abilities, but if ever there was a time for you to impress me, it’s now.”

  “Give me a second.” Trevor considered the problem. This room looked like it could be used to perform complex shaping. Why had it been built? How had Ra used it? “You said your mother came in here. How long did she stay?”

  “I once spent an entire day watching the door. She emerged at the end of it, but I scurried away before I could see much.”

  “Your mother was surrounded by a court of murderous zombies, all trying to get one over on the rest. She stayed Ark Lord by being more ruthless and cunning than the rest, right? Why would she have come here for an entire day? This place isn’t even big enough to lie down, so I doubt she was sleeping.”

  Boom. Boom. A crack spread through the door. Boom. Boom. Boom. More cracks.

  “I don’t know,” Irakesh whispered. He’d shrunk against the far wall of the room, staring at the cracks in horror.

  Trevor tuned it out. He focused on the Ark, willing it to give him a list of locations that someone had light walked to. “It looks like Ra light walked to a location about a mile away, somewhere southeast of here. She did it recently too, since returning.”

  “You think she traveled there from this room? That would mean we might be able to light walk from here.” Irakesh wore his hope plainly.

  Trevor nodded, ignoring another wave of cracks. “We’re out of time, so I’m going to give this a shot. Let’s hope we’re not light walking into a pool of lava or something.”

  He thought about the light bridge activating and sending him to the same coordinates Ra had used. A high-pitched humming began, and the walls radiated light. It grew slowly in intensity, much more slowly than the light bridges.

  Finally, there was a sudden pop. Trevor was wrenched away, staggering as he landed against a crumbling stone wall. The air was stale, and the room was enveloped in total darkness.

  He rose quickly, raising a hand and creating a mote of green energy. It cast ghostly shadows on the walls, which looked nothing like the Ark. These were smoothly cut granite blocks, similar to what the ancient Egyptians had used to make the pyramids. Cubbies had been carved into the rock; each cubby held several books, their spines gleaming golden in the thin light.

  Trevor glanced up, estimating the ceiling to be fifteen feet high. The cubbies went all the way up. On the far side of the room was a doorway, so Trevor cautiously approached. Irakesh followed a few steps behind, flowing silently across the thin layer of sand covering the granite.

  The room beyond was similar. It held more cubbies, with many more books. In the center of the room was a granite pedestal, and atop that pedestal lay a scarlet crystal about the size of Trevor’s hand.

  “By Ra, we’re in the Hall of Records.” Irakesh’s awe was apparent. He stumbled forward, slack-jawed. If not for the mouthful of fangs, he’d have looked like a tourist seeing the Golden Gate Bridge for the first time. “I’d thought this place merely a story.”

  “Hall of Records?” Trevor asked.

  “Yes, a place I’ve heard myths about. This chamber was built long bef
ore my mother seized control of the Ark. She and Isis discovered it, and—if the legends are true—they used the knowledge they found here to overthrow the original Ra.”

  “Original Ra?” Trevor asked. “Are you telling me that your mother isn’t the first?”

  “No. She, Isis, and Osiris overthrew the original. The tale is a long one, but the relevant part is this: This place was built by a long line of sorcerer kings who used the Ark to enslave this land. My mother overthrew him, and took his place. I’ve always wondered what happened to the secret lore mentioned in the story. Now we know.”

  “That’s great, but I’m not sure if it helps us.” Trevor withdrew a book from a cubby. It was heavy—solid gold with maybe twenty-five pages as thick as his thumb. He opened the book. Every page was covered in a flowing script of glyphs. “Can you read this?”

  Irakesh leaned over the book, pursing his lips. “No. I’ve never seen the like. The glyphs are maddeningly familiar, but it isn’t our language. I suppose this must have been the language used by Ra and his people.”

  “If we can’t read the books, we need another way out of here. Whoever controls the Ark is eventually going to figure out where we went, and I really don’t want to meet whatever was beating on that door.”

  “You’re an excellent motivator, Trevor Gregg. Perhaps the gem will give us answers.” Irakesh walked over to the pedestal, touching the ruby gingerly with one finger.

  A scarlet hologram burst to life directly above the stone. It was a tall man dressed in something like African tribal garb. He gave a smooth bow, and spoke in a deep voice. “Oobaka con tiky.”

  “Tell me you understand whatever the hell he just said.” Trevor looked pointedly at Irakesh.

  “He’s welcoming us to this place.”

  “Ooconca bo baka,” the hologram said, steady eyes staring down at them over a broad nose.

  “We are the first since the usurper,” Irakesh supplied.

  “Does it know of a way for us to get out of here?” Trevor asked.

  Irakesh and the hologram conversed for some time. Trevor hated not being able to understand what was said. Irakesh could and would screw him over at the first opportunity. Who knew what the two were saying to each other?

  “You’ll want to hear this,” Irakesh finally said. He turned to face Trevor, a ghastly grin creeping onto his face. “He claims that he is the spirit of most holy Ra, and that the Usurper imprisoned him in the stone. The Usurper is my mother, of course. He does know a way to get us out of here, but I’m not certain I understand what he’s telling us to do. He claims that we can pay honor to the Builders. All we have to do is take the Gateway to the Heavens.”

  Trevor stroked his goatee, staring at the holographic Ra. The language was wrapped in superstition. What did it mean in modern scientific terms?

  He turned back to Irakesh. “While we were in the Ark of the Cradle, your mother showed me data from an observatory, and it looked like the same kind of data we’d pull from the Kepler or Hubble satellites. Maybe he’s talking about that—some sort of orbital facility created by the Builders.”

  “If so, how do we use that knowledge? Considering how quickly those things found us in the Ark, I doubt it will take them much longer to locate us here. As you said, I do not wish to meet whatever is coming for us.”

  “Come on,” Trevor said, blurring back to the platform they’d arrived on. It was a thin sheet of gold, perhaps six feet across, much smaller than a light bridge. Trevor knelt to touch the luminescent metal. “This thing is close enough to the Ark that I’m betting both are controlled by it. I’m betting this is the Gateway to the Heavens.”

  Irakesh blurred onto the platform next to him. “I hope you’re right.”

  Trevor closed his eyes, and willed the platform to take them to the installation in orbit. He figured if that installation didn’t exist, the platform would just do nothing. If it did exist, then hopefully it could whisk them into orbit.

  The platform sluggishly hummed to life, but Trevor felt an enormous tug at his personal energy. It flowed out of him in a thick torrent, into the platform. He tumbled onto his side, twitching, as the platform continued to siphon power. The room began to hum, the surface of the platform radiating brilliant white light.

  12

  The Black Knight

  I feel like death warmed over, Trevor thought, then immediately regretted the pun. His mind was a terrible place.

  They were lying on something very similar to the light bridge in the Ark—similar, but not identical. It had gemstones set in different areas, and looked a lot more advanced. Multicolored energy pulses flowed along the silvery walls of the room around them. Trevor could feel the signals in those pulses, but he couldn’t understand them. They were information—he was sure of it—but they had some sort of encryption.

  “Can you stand?” Irakesh offered a hand, and Trevor took it. Irakesh pulled him to his feet. Once there, Trevor was able to keep his balance. Barely.

  “I’m fine,” Trevor said. He wasn’t. Whatever had happened back there had taken nearly all his reserves, and if he hadn’t finally severed the connection he might not have made it. It would be a mistake to let Irakesh know that, though. Irakesh was bred to pounce on weakness. “Let’s see what we can find.”

  Trevor hopped down from the platform, walking cautiously to the doorway. A corridor led into a high-ceilinged central room. That ceiling was a transparent dome overlooking Earth. The view was breathtaking.

  The room was empty except for a quartet of consoles that stood about waist-high. They were adorned with a variety of gemstones, and Trevor was fairly certain he could interface with them.

  Heavy footsteps pounded up one of the corridors, echoing into the room. Trevor instinctively reached for the shadows, and was shocked when they refused to obey. Had the platform drained that much of his power?

  “I can’t shape,” he said.

  Irakesh shot him a confused look.

  A suit of power armor charged into the room, leveling a rifle in their direction. Trevor recognized the armor instantly. He would never forget the night that Mohn Corp had blown up his house, using suits of armor just like these.

  Trevor sprinted forward, dropping into a baseball slide. The rifle roared, and two feet of flame came from the muzzle. In the back of his mind Trevor knew that gunfire in space was bad, but now wasn’t the time to worry about it.

  The bullet cracked into the wall behind him, and Trevor rolled back to his feet. He shoulder checked the power armor, knocking both it and himself to the floor. Trevor tried to pin his opponent’s arms, but his opponent strained against him. An arm broke out of his hold, and an armored hand shot up to wrap around Trevor’s face.

  The hand began to squeeze, and Trevor screamed. He tried to change to mist, but nothing happened.

  Irakesh seized the helmet with both hands, and a shower of sparks shot into the air as he tore it away. The man inside elbowed Irakesh in the face, and Irakesh was knocked away. Trevor rolled to his feet, turning to face…a man that still haunted Trevor’s dreams.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “Is right, Gregg,” Yuri growled, circling Trevor like a panther. “Is time you and traitorous master brought to justice.” He flicked his wrists, exposing identical sets of humming claws.

  Trevor slid into a defensive stance, bracing himself for the charge. He was completely unprepared for the wave of electricity that arced across the floor, carpeting the area around him and Irakesh. It surged through his body and he collapsed to the deck, every muscle seizing. He was dimly aware of Irakesh doing the same.

  “Get clear, Yuri,” a young male voice commanded.

  The electricity stopped. Trevor shook off the paralysis, struggling back to his feet. Yuri had retreated away from them just in time. A cylinder of pale green energy appeared around them, just large enough to contain both Trevor and Irakesh.

  A man in his early twenties stepped into the room. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and looked like
he hadn’t been to a barber in a while. His eyes were completely at odds with the slacker student look, though. They held a weight Trevor recognized—the kind left by the sacrifices you had to make in order to survive in a world ruled by monsters.

  “Yuri, you said you knew them. Brief me,” the man commanded. He approached the cylinder, staring impassively at Trevor.

  “Is Trevor Gregg and Irakesh. Trevor is traitor to the Mother, enslaved by Irakesh. Thought Gregg had reformed, but clearly was wrong.” Yuri’s fire had faded, and his expression had gone rigid.

  “I’m afraid you’re incorrect, cretin,” Irakesh taunted. “Trevor no longer serves me. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

  Trevor elbowed him in the side. “Shut up, Irakesh. You speaking never makes anything better. Yuri, and whoever the hell you are, how about we take thirty seconds to discuss this like adults? I don’t know who you guys are, but I’m guessing you’re affiliated with Mohn Corp. We were allies against Set. I fought alongside the Director.”

  “Mentioning the Director is not helping your case,” the slacker said. He folded his arms, and his eyes took on a faraway look. Trevor couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he was doing, but signals shot back and forth between him and the wall. A lot of signals. The pulses slowed, and the man’s eyes opened. “My name is David. I lead a group called Project Solaris. I’ve just checked out your story—as much as I could anyway. I’ve found a number of references to you, particularly in Mohn’s records. Your designation seems to have changed quite often. First, you were an enemy, then a friend, then an enemy again. You don’t sound like the type of person I want to trust—so give me one good reason why I should?”

  “I can’t.” Trevor shook his head, smiling at the predicament. “You’re right. I have no way to prove my allegiance, and you found me with Irakesh. Of course you assume I’m an enemy. I get it. You’ll need to keep me locked up for a while. But at least make use of my intel. Let me update your files. What’s the last thing they tell you about me? I’m betting it ended five years ago, in London.”