"I wonder how many kids died in the years you did nothing," Crinnan scolded as he pulled a child from a cage and gently set him on the ground.
"All the world's problems are not mine to shoulder," Sage chided his companion, "I should say the only person I am obligated to keep alive is myself… not that I am without compassion. I did save you."
Crinnan remained silent. Sage was right, technically, but that did not stop him from believing the Elf had done too little. A child looked up at him and tugged on the hem of his shirt.
"Sir…" the bruised and sullen child softly whined, "Our friend, he is still upstairs. He is with a... a customer…"
"A customer…" Crinnan shuddered at the thought and growled with fury, "Is he like them?" He pointed to the bodies of Raad and Growe, and the child shook his head.
"No… he is like you. He is here to take Freyja away."
"No," Crinnan looked down at the child, "He is not like me… I will find your friend."
"Do not hurt Mister Garb," the child tugged on the back of Crinnan's shirt again, "Mister Garb… he took care of us. He is like us, their slave. He looks like them but… he is good."
Crinnan nodded at the boy and opened the cylinder of his revolver. He pulled out the empty casings and replaced them with new bullets. As he snapped the cylinder back into place, he turned to Sage.
"I don't know how this is going to work," Crinnan worried, "A dozen children in tow will make us a larger target and slow us down… Is there somewhere we can leave them?"
"I hope so. I should say there is a village of sorts nearby. We will try there." Crinnan nodded and turned toward a doorway that led to a flight of stairs.
As he began to ascend the ancient Humaan steel stairs, Crinnan once again heard Eshan.
"You are not very adept at fighting Ancients. Though, I suppose I definitely would not have been either. I am surprised you survived that encounter."
"Yeah, well just call me Mr. Surprise," Crinnan sarcastically exclaimed as he slowly walked up the stairs.
"You are, surprisingly, doing a noble thing," Eshan continued, "Risking your own life for a child you have never met, a strange move for a terrorist… for a demon."
"I don't care about looking noble. It's just the right thing to do. Nobody with a heart would leave a kid behind." Crinnan reached the top of the stairs and paused to listen for movement.
The hallway before him was dark, lit only by candlelight. While the hall itself was eerily silent, Crinnan heard the sound of wood creak ahead.
"I hope you kill whoever is making that noise," Eshan growled, "Nobody deserves to be a slave but... it takes a real monster to do this to children."
Crinnan nodded, and for the first time, he agreed with Eshan. He took a step into the hallway. The aged wood creaked beneath his boots as he walked. Crinnan thought that the wood surely had not been there for a thousand years; it had to have been replaced sometime within the past century. As the wood moaned, Crinnan saw movement from the other end of the hallway.
"Show yourself!" Crinnan scowled, "Are you… Mister Garb?"
"Yes!" a nervous but polite sounding voice called back, "Yes, I am Mister Garb… praytell oh warrior, what has happened?"
"Your masters are dead," Crinnan moved toward the voice, "The children are freed. I have come to rescue the last child."
"Ah…" Garb declared hopefully, "Yes, Freyja… quickly then, please, save the child."
"Where is he?" Crinnan demanded. Garb stepped forward out of the shadows and into the dim light.
He had hairless white rubbery looking skin covered in scars and stood a head taller than Crinnan. He was very thin and wore only rags that barely covered his nasty bits. Like Growe, his arms hung down to his knees. Crinnan winced at the ugly creature and took a step back.
"Let not my appearance frighten you, child," Garb reassured with a warm expression, "I will bring you no harm. Please, save Freyja, for I haven't the strength to do so myself." He pointed at a door to Crinnan's left, and Crinnan nodded.
The sole of his boot slammed against the wooden door just to the left of the doorknob. The door cracked and violently flew inward. Crinnan quickly stepped inside with his sword at the ready. He saw an Elf male kneeling with his hands over his head. Crinnan furiously snarled and stepped forward.
"You're the Demon!" the Elf fearfully declared as Crinnan angrily walked toward him. He stood to his feet and held his hands out in front of him, "Wait, It's not what it looks like!"
Crinnan swung his sword, rapidly slicing through the flesh of the Elf's stomach and chest. Quickly, the Elf grabbed his wound trying desperately to keep his guts from falling out. His bowels slowly plopped out of him and splashed onto the floor. With a look of surprise and fear on his face, the Elf fell forward on top of them. Crinnan fired a shot into the back of the Elf's head and turned his attention toward the bed.
Silently sitting on the bed was a young Lycaani teen. He was brown of skin, bald-headed, and his tail appeared to be broken. His hands were bound in front of him, and he did not make a noise, only watched with emotionless eyes.
"Freyja?" Crinnan called out, "Hey, are you…"
"What," the boy answered with an empty tone. His eyes were dark red, and a scar ran from his the left side of his forehead to his chin. He wore an apathetic look and showed no fear.
"So… get it over with then…" Freyja looked down at the dead Elf and then back to Crinnan. "Am I next?"
"Not happening," Crinnan replied, "You are safe now. You need to come with me; we are getting you out of here."
Freyja ticked nervously and then once again looked down at the dead Elf and then back to Crinnan. He bit his lip with one of his pointed teeth and buried his face in his hands. He did not cry but sat silently.
"Freyja?" Garb's voice called out as he stepped into the room, "This being has saved us, my dear child. We are free."
"We will never be free." Freyja quickly snorted, not raising his head. He continued to sit silently, and Crinnan grew impatient.
"Get up!" Crinnan demanded, "We need to get out of here!"
"Please, mighty Demon," Crinnan winced at that word, it seemed that everyone wanted to call him that for some reason. Garb stepped between him and Freyja, "Give him but a moment. The child has endured much…"
"Fine," Crinnan relented, "I will go check the other rooms and make sure it is safe… I guess.” He slid his sword into its scabbard and left only the revolver in his hand, "Get the boy ready; we are in a hurry." At that, Crinnan turned and walked out of the room.
As he stepped into the hallway, he took a few steps and pressed his back up against the wall. In that moment, he could not help but sigh. The world around him was despicable. He thought of the Elf he had just killed and what his plans could have been for Freyja. He grit his teeth together furiously.
"Hey…" Eshan beckoned cautiously, "Look; I hate you so much for what you did to me, but… perhaps I respect you some."
"Okay?" Crinnan said with an annoyed tone, having forgotten that Eshan was there, "What? Is that supposed to make me feel happy or something?"
"I do not know," Eshan continued, "But you are the only being I can communicate with. Just, as a father, I want to say that you did a… I mean you did the right thing."
"Sure," Crinnan spat, "Though the kid may have been better off if I had just put him out of his misery. He's going to be fucked up for the rest of his life. Did you see him?"
"That is not what you really think, Demon," Eshan replied.
"Yeah, well, what do you know?" Crinnan retorted.
"Everything. I hear your thoughts; I see your memories. I do not believe you are a bad person. I mean, even though you killed me…"
Crinnan was beginning to realize that the ghost inside him could not be silenced. He wondered how long he could retain his sanity with someone constantly watching him.
"I don't care what you think," Crinnan finally growled, "Can you just leave me alone?" Eshan did not reply. Crinnan sighed and ste
pped away from the wall and forward toward another door.
He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. The room behind was dark and smelled similarly to rotting fruit. The odor was strong and overwhelming. For a moment Crinnan considered turning back, but then he saw something familiar leaning against the wall opposite him. He stepped inside the room and walked to the object.
The floor was covered with something that crunched beneath his feet. It felt like a bunch of sticks and pebbles under his boots. As he trudged through, he noticed the rotting fruit smell getting stronger and stronger. As he arrived at the wall that the object was leaning against, he reached out and took hold of it.
It was exactly what he had thought it was. An unlocked Agra Model 19 Combat Rifle. It was covered in dried blood, and engraved into the stock was the Centurion lightning bolt logo. It was the same image as the tattoo on his own collarbone, and the insignia of his squad. Underneath the insignia were the initials J.S.
"What the fuck?" Crinnan fearfully declared as he examined the weapon further. In all his wildest dreams he never would have imagined finding something so close to home in a place like that. He had known the owner of the weapon. It had belonged to Jeph Scaven, one of his fellow Centurions. It made no sense to him that the rifle was in that place, only the night before Crinnan remembered patrolling the Belhaasi Weald with Jeph and he carried that very weapon.
Curiously, he reached out and pressed the power button of the flashlight mod on the weapon. It flickered on, and he shouldered the rifle, eager to explore his surroundings, hopeful that he would find answers.
"By the Brothers…" Crinnan whispered as he took in the sights of the room. He quickly discovered that it was not sticks and pebbles he had been standing on but shattered skulls and spinal columns. The belongings of the dead were haphazardly piled against the walls, and when Crinnan looked up, he felt an overwhelming desire to run.
Hanging above him were dozens, possibly hundreds of severed heads, some with the spines still attached. Crinnan was ready to turn around and leave, but before he could, he noticed that one of the heads had a long fuzzy red beard. He shook his head, trying to deny himself the truth but before he left, he had to confirm what it was that he was seeing. Crinnan took a closer look and realized the head he was looking was, in fact, that of Jeph Scaven.
"What in fucking Hells!" Crinnan shouted as he got a full glimpse of the head. It looked like it had been hanging there for an eternity, the skin was black, bloated and split. His tongue poked out from between his lips, and his eyeballs had burst from their sockets.
"No fucking way," Crinnan continued. He could not believe what he was seeing. How had Jeph's head decomposed so much in just one day, he did not think it possible.
Crinnan shook his head. As he did so, he noticed Jeph's armor and rig piled in a corner. He quickly ran over and collected the spare magazines from the rig, sliding them in his own. The armor and rig were too big for him as Jeph was well over six foot tall and at least three hundred pounds. After he took one last confused look, Crinnan hurried out of the room and closed the door behind him.
Chapter Ten
Cade II
22nd of Ramlia – 346AG
09:00 – Lithaani Sentinel
Cade stumbled through the doorway that led back into the main dig site. He still felt mildly intoxicated from the Lodone that Dr. Smirnov had administered to him, but that was the least of his concerns. He stood in the excavated hollow with his back leaned against the dirty wall behind him and tried to keep up with his racing, throbbing mind.
"How is this even possible?" he panted as he tried to recall every detail of the vision he had seen, "How could he be alive?" He needed answers, and he knew he was not going to find them on his own.
Cade pulled a small black clamshell style communicator from his pocket and flipped it open. The small screen lit up, and he woozily punched in a number, promptly holding the device to his ear.
"Yes, Mr. President?" a calm voice on the other end greeted.
"Brake," Cade called out between heavy breaths, "Listen to me, I need a full neural scan done on me immediately. I just had some kind of message transmitted to me, and I need to review it. I need…"
"Sir," Brake interrupted with his placid tone, "Everybody received the message. We are already investigating it. We are working to find and analyze the transmission now. We surmise it was somehow transmitted through the NaNe, though we have only heard of such a thing, never seen it in our lifetime."
Cade nodded to himself and cleared his throat. "How soon will we have it?"
"We are preparing to initiate a neural scan on a subject now," Brake replied. "If we can find and isolate the message, it will only be a matter of minutes… however, if it is locked with some kind of encryption, we may need to awaken Haden."
"Haden is not to be disturbed," Cade commanded, "Listen, as of right now I am taking over this project. Any information gathered is strictly confidential, only you and I have access to it. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir," Brake dutifully acknowledged, "I am re-assigning the project to you and me now and encrypting the data. Shall we still use the subject allocated?"
"Negative, prepare a neural scan for me. Set parameters to the past twenty minutes, exclude all internal thoughts, only process incoming sensations. Use my override code: Kiersen334117Exgrane5."
"Yes Sir, please hold still for a moment so I can get a lock," Brake was silent for a moment and then returned, "Okay, I am locked on to your position, and a connection has been established with your NaNe. On your mark, I will run the scan."
"Now."
"Scan initiating in 3…2…1… please hold still Sir."
Cade felt a wave of vertigo come and go. It felt like his field of vision had been reduced to the size of a pin for a moment. He felt sick to his stomach and keeled over as he waited for it to end. He had endured neural scans before; they had never been comfortable.
Scan complete Sir," Brake relayed, "Downloading the data now. Please stand by."
Cade took a moment to catch his breath. He was not sure how long the Lodone was going to leave him fatigued, but he hoped he would recover soon. He heard footsteps approaching from his left, and turned just as Doctor Smirnov emerged from the door.
"Mr. President," the doctor frowned as he approached, "I saw you run this way, you should not be exerting that much effort…"
"Did you see the vision?" Cade quickly asked, approaching the doctor, "Did you see the Demon?"
"Vision?" Smirnov repeated with a flabbergasted tone, "What Demon? I do not have the faintest idea of what you are talking about, perhaps the Lodone…" Cade sighed and shook his head.
"Of course you don't," Cade cut the doctor off. He felt a bit stupid for his lapse of observation, "Humaan people have no connection to the NaNe…"
"That is correct," Smirnov replied, "We, not being native to this planet, are not blessed with Dura'Ana's gifts."
"Right," As Brake spoke again, Cade held out a finger to silence Smirnov.
"I have located the anomaly, it is not encrypted, but I cannot download it… well, I can, but it will do us no good."
"Why?" Cade asked.
"The code's function is to display content stored on a locked Govian server," Brake explained, "I cannot access the actual files, but I think I can replay the message for you."
"Do it," Cade ordered.
"Standby."
Cade stood and waited. After a moment, his head began to throb again, and the message replayed. Each time it played, it felt like his brain was being put through a vice. Along with the images and blinding light, there was a shrill high-frequency tone that felt like it was scrambling the insides of his skull. He once again saw the face of the Demon and heard the monotone female voice.
"Crinnan Jamiso, Demon, terrorist conspirator under influence of the Lord of The Hells, Ashwraith… Wanted dead or alive, last known location: Belhaasi Weald. Report whereabouts or deliver the body to local inquisitors. Praise Dur
a'Ana. Praise Cidro."
"Play it again," Cade ordered as he snapped back to consciousness. He took a seat on the floor and rested his back against the wall behind him to prevent himself from falling. Once again the message played, and Cade watched for anything he had missed the first few times. This time, at the bottom of the message, he saw a fourteen digit number that he immediately recognized as a NaNe address, an NPin.
"Brake," an exhausted Cade called out as soon as he returned, "There is an NPin." Cade took a couple of deep breaths and cleared his throat.
"Listen," Cade commanded, "Open the geolocator and prepare to enter the numbers I read off to you. The first number is four."
"Yes, Sir."
"Play it again," Cade viewed the message again and was able to remember four more numbers, "Four, two, three, two… again…"
Once again the message played. Cade felt as if he was having a terrible migraine. He was able to gather six numbers and relayed them to Brake "Zero, Zero, One, Four, Two, Three… one more time…"
Cade felt the pain of the message one final time and was able to remember the final three numbers. "Nine, Three, Two…" Cade said into the communicator, "That is all, run the search."
"Standby, just a few moments…"
"What is going on?" Smirnov stroked his chin, "What are you doing to yourself, you look terrible.
"Something weird," Cade huffed, "I could not really explain it to you… but do not worry about me. What I just went through is over." Cade got back to his feet and looked at the doctor. He pursed his lips together, and then Brake spoke again.
"Sir I have a location," Brake announced, "The address is pointing to the Belhaasi Weald… the ancient ruins of Belhaas."
"Perfect!" Cade nearly shouted, "I will depart immediately. Upload the coordinates to my computer and keep your communicator on. I may need you again."
The Black Knight Box Set Page 13