by J M Guillen
“Make the call.” Aaron paused for a moment. “If Thorne lit outta here, it means you’re the top runner.”
“It does.” Firenzei sighed, tapping his fingers against the wall in a fast sequence. “You sure you checked real good inside the Atrificia? There’s no chance some fucking Asset slipped by?”
“No chance.” The words crackled over the communicator. “Not unless they can turn invisible now.”
“Don’t assume,” Firenzei muttered.
“If they’re still on Sathantür, they’re outside somewhere. I guarantee it.”
“Then I guarantee I need you to peek around outside.” He gestured to the men at the table, who began to mutter and stand up.
“How far outside?”
“Well, Collins, we sure as hell could stand to know exactly where they are.” Firenzei pointed at the thin man with the scar, who nodded as he moved toward the door. “But here’s the sweet bit. Even if you find them, you shouldn’t engage.”
“There’s six of us, Chief.” Aaron sounded certain. “I don’t think we need to worry.”
“Six monkeys in tactical vests against the Gentlemen?” Firenzei sneered.
“Hey, we ain’t the monk—”
“Thorne wore one of her fucking reverberators. John too. He went down, hard from the sound of it. She had to run.”
“Both of them wore one of those freaky siphon contraptions?”
“Um, yes. You think I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“No, you tried to convince me you and five of your monkey-boys would be enough to take care of our Asset problem. I’m saying Thorne failed. You ain’t gonna do better.” He paused. “Recon only. Do not engage.”
“Understood,” Aaron replied. He sounded as if he might think Firenzei overreacted.
“Look, Aaron. I’ve sent the Kabs downstairs now. They’ll let us know when the next cycle winds down. We’ve got plenty of Radonic Transmitters left, enough to get us all Earthside.”
“I wondered about that.”
“What I’m saying is, let’s get your boys home, right? Once the next cycle terminates, we’ll get the fuck off this rock. In the meantime, I just need to know we won’t have any more surprises.”
“Okay.” Now Aaron’s tone felt more solid. “I get it.”
“Good man,” Firenzei replied. “I’m going to take these boys to the Cliffside Bays. If our Assets took off for the caves, that’s the next closest entrance.”
As he spoke, the other men nodded and made general sounds of assent. The slender fellow picked up the automatic weapon he’d been cleaning and began to load.
“Got it,” the words came scratchily over the box. “We’re stepping outside now.”
“Gotta move, boys.” Firenzei stepped over to one of the lockers, opening it smoothly.
“Cliffside?” One of the men grunted. “You think they’d go that far?”
“I think I don’t take risks with the Gentlemen.” Firenzei pulled out a large weapons case, which appeared to be nothing more than a bulky leather briefcase. “All we have to do is make it one more cycle. Then we can light this fucking place up and say good riddance once and for all.”
What did that mean?
Bishop, we got company. Wyatt’s link startled me. Couple of your pals in those white cloaks.
Crap. I watched Firenzei gesture to his thugs, who followed him out into the original passageway. I’m not exactly in a position to run back outside, Wyatt.
If I have to engage, it won’t be pretty. I can take these out, sure. But the moment I do, their screamin’ will give us away.
I get it. I gritted my teeth. I can’t get there, man. Sorry.
Understood. I felt the large man sigh. Just wanted you to be aware.
Our situation is green for the moment, Anya informed me.
“Let’s get this done,” one of the men grumbled as he walked past me. “I’m ready to go home.”
I stood alone in the empty room. It took an act of will to not instantly toggle down the Wraith. After running it this long, I couldn’t help but tremble, feeling as if I were strung out on diet pills and espresso. Making matters worse, I faced an important decision.
Wyatt and Anya weren’t exactly geared for combat. Obviously, they’d both come through brilliantly so far, but we’d been pushing the odds.
I didn’t care for that. Experience showed if we pushed the odds too long, they’d begin to push back.
Firenzei had proven to be a wealth of information, even in the brief moments of discussion I’d caught. More than anything, I wanted to follow him to the Cliffside Bays. I felt certain, if I spent enough time around the man, most of my questions would be answered.
Except that required continuous use of the Wraith. Driven by jitters, hyperactivity, and poor decision making, I’d eventually misstep. Or even face the more dire side effects of the Wraith. Our situation remained rather delicate. I truly felt as if I needed to give the packet a rest.
Tell me you’re okay, I linked.
Do not over concern yourself, Michael. I felt Anya’s cold calm. The hostiles have not seen us.
They haven’t exactly been hostile yet, I pointed out.
They’re still very close, Wyatt interjected. However, our situation seems to have downgraded from “fucking insane” to “batshit crazy.”
We are well in this moment. Anya paused. Michael, you are considerably closer to the emanation point. Do you have any data to report?
I have lots of data to report, I confirmed. Without realizing it, Anya had refocused me on Locale One. Despite Firenzei and all the weirdness, one fact remained:
We needed to get home.
Anything interesting, Hoss?
It’s not vital this second. However, I haven’t quite closed on Locale One. Which is what matters.
Correct, Michael.
So if you’re safe enough, I’m pressing on. I’ll inform you when I’m on site.
Inform us soon, Hoss. Wyatt’s seriousness surprised me. I’d rather not hafta cook anyone alive out here. We still ain’t got a plan to get blondie and me inside.
I hope we don’t need to. I peered down the passage to make certain the thugs had moved on. If I can patch Anya enough data, I hope she can direct me once I’m inside. Maybe I can shut this device down, and we can return to our entry point and punch our way home.
Possible, she mused. My readings show the realmwall suffered damage where we came through. If I can assist you to halt the emanations bolstering it, we may not need to enter at all.
That’s my hope. I gave her a small grin.
A reasonable plan, Michael. Contact us when you know more.
Will comply. I nodded.
As I severed the link, I turned toward the other door in the room. The triangle indicator blinked cheerily, pointing toward the source of the emanations.
It hung just a bit below my feet, several meters in front of me.
Downstairs. Firenzei had sent the Kabs below—obviously referring to the cloaked individuals. Some kind of cycle, wasn’t it? He’d said something about a device that would allow him and his goons to go home. It didn’t feel like a huge stretch to consider Anya’s emanations might be involved.
After peeking back out into the empty hallway, I powered down the Wraith. Instantly, the sensation of hyper-jittery energy vanished, even as color bled back into my sight.
Stilettos drawn, I trotted toward the door.
4
The stairwell beyond lay wreathed in partial shadow, illuminated only by one of those floating orbs of radiance. Now that I didn’t have to struggle with the colorless view of the Wraith, I saw the sphere burned an electric blue.
Heat brushed against me the moment I opened the door, but as I passed deeper, it only became more pronounced. Under my feet, the stone steps remained smooth, mirror -perfect black. I took care with each stride, noting again the twisted echo that came from the slightest scuff or misstep.
If I canted my head just so to listen, I occasionally heard a thick burble, a noise akin to boiling mud.
“¿LLemviis nor an Twai?” The phrase came from below, warbling and reflecting around me. The words felt graceful, fluid to my ear.
“K’sai.” The light tones of the robed woman reached my ears. I quickly took a few more steps down and hoped their conversation would mask my echoing footfalls.
Ahead, the stairwell bled into a room. The chamber extended to my right, most of it around the corner. I couldn’t see much of the space within.
According to my mapping overlay, I entered from functional east, in the southernmost corner. Dull light flickered on what I considered to be the southern wall and cast dim shadows against that dark surface.
“Rev’anata.” The first voice’s musical tone captivated me. I felt certain this language must be different than the harsher one spoken by those in the white robes, but as I could understand neither, it scarcely mattered.
Carefully, I peered around the corner.
The entire chamber might have been constructed from one piece of smooth, volcanic glass. Its reflective surface caught and amplified every bit of available light, causing it to shine in the dark. The only source of true illumination in the room stood near the center, yet I couldn’t see it well. Great stone columns, ringed in a reddish shine, cast stark shadows all around the alcove.
One of those columns, ten times as thick as my torso, lay directly between me and the origin of that luminescence.
I frowned, thinking. I really shouldn’t engage the Wraith again, not this soon. Yet one important fact taunted me, forcing me to truly consider all my options.
Directly behind that stone pillar, in the center of the light, the blue triangular marker merrily twinkled. Whatever it might be, this also happened to be the source of our spectral emanations.
I needed a closer look.
Fuck.
Cautiously, I picked my way across the floor, choosing each step with care. The thick column provided a wide shadow for me to move within and kept me well out of sight from my two robed friends.
If that muffled conversation ended, I could trigger the Wraith in an instant. No reason to rely on technology when simple stealth would do.
They continued their discourse as I crept forward, musical, lilting speech followed by short phrases with lots of hard “ck” sounds. I paused, listening intently.
Nothing. Nothing I could make out, anyway. For the thousandth time, I wished my Crown came with translation firmware. After a moment, I gave up any attempt at understanding and focused on the chamber around me.
And paused, attention snagged.
Within a few steps I saw the odd pools. Crystalline growths surrounded them in a ring, scintillating violet structures approximately the diameter of a small barrel. The crystals jutted up out of the floor, none more than twenty centimeters high. A reddish-silver liquid burbled within the pool releasing shimmering waves of furious heat.
The first of these wells lay quite close to the shadow I used to hide. I crept up to the stone pillar itself, pressed against its coolness, and studied the boiling liquid.
Metal. It reminded me of a mudpot, boiling and burbling away. However, instead of volcanic fury and mud, the primary material seemed to be molten ore.
I crouched and squinted. Using my optics to enhance the image, I zoomed in as if I had binoculars.
“Un’vala din,” that sweet voice crooned from the opposite side of the column.
I ignored it as I took several images and stored them in my Crown. The small well resembled a tiny volcano. Its crystalline walls had pushed up through the obsidian of the floor, cracking and marring the surface. At the top, an unknown element boiled and burbled with unimaginable heat.
And yet, as I studied the formation with my optics, I saw even more I couldn’t understand. Attached to the side of the well, tubular, gelatinous tendrils suckled on the crystalline formation.
What is it with tentacles today? I snorted, though these appeared completely different from the floating masses of murder tentacles I’d seen earlier.
The one I examined had three grotesque, arm-like organs latched to the outside of those amethystine stones. These appeared as ichor-covered parodies of human hands with five grasping phalanges. Where a person’s wrist might be, the tentacles resolved into a singular membranous tube, colorless and clear. This vein looped and stretched out of my sight. Inhuman organs pulsed and writhed within, performing tasks I couldn’t comprehend.
I turned away, revulsion boiling in my gut to match my suddenly aching head. After a couple of breaths, I examined the area further and noted even more amethystine volcanos. They felt natural in this environment. The wriggling, suckling veins, however, inspired an elemental dread, a feeling of base disgust.
Pressing myself against the stone column, I slipped around the edge to better study the source of the emanations.
“Yvari Ness.” The sibilant whisper echoed in the chamber.
As I peeked around the edge, I beheld the speaker for the first time.
I stared into that burning gaze and froze in place, eyes wide. The two Kabs stood with their backs to me, stark silhouettes against the bright orange light. Within the circle of pillars stood the largest of the crystalline wells—a structure approximately four steps wide and over a meter high.
Within, a figure of molten wrath loomed.
It stood at least four, maybe five meters tall, its body a dully glowing reddish-silver. Its head appeared somewhat like a malformed skull, covered with viscous, molten ore. The body stretched from within that well, comprised entirely of whatever unknown element boiled inside. It gazed down upon the Kabs, eyes shining with raw, crackling force.
The power of the creature terrified me for reasons I couldn’t say. I didn’t feel threatened by it, exactly, not like I had with the tentacular horrors of earlier. No, this particular awe felt akin to gazing upon a vast thunderstorm or visiting a city while a hurricane swept through the streets. It felt like staring at an ocean in storm or beholding the eye of a volcano.
I triggered the Wraith, specs be damned. The scene faded into monochrome as cool shadows settled around me.
“Ienrym Eaildrin Nie,” the hulking shape informed them, its dulcet tones calming. It motioned, as if about to say more, then glanced sharply up.
Those hellish eyes bore directly into me. Or, at the place I crouched, invisible, on the other side of the pillar. I felt their touch like burning silk across my skin.
Shit! I linked, completely by mistake. I hurled myself back behind the pillar, hoping against desperate, unreasonable hope that the creature had failed to spot me.
It couldn’t have seen me, after all, couldn’t have. The Wraith functioned perfectly. The initial readouts on my visual array showed the packet in impeccable order.
I forcibly calmed my breath. My pulse felt like a hammer in my temples.
Hoss? I felt Wyatt’s worry much more than his snark. Here’s where you tell me yer situation is green.
Hold please, I linked as I slipped around to the other side of the column. After I made certain the Wraith remained toggled, I peeked cautiously around the edge.
The molten behemoth gestured toward me with one elongated, sinuous arm. A sphere of molten material broke off from the main mass, instantly forming a reflective globule. As if imbued with a will of its own, it darted out from the main body, straight toward my hiding place.
I whirled to keep that sphere within sight. Yet, instead of stopping where I crouched, the globe shot by. It came to an instantaneous halt approximately ten steps back in the direction of the stairs, over the upraised hand of a dark figure.
Its light shone across his features and made the truth plain. The third of the Kabs, the man I’d seen charge off into the caverns rather than speak with Firenzei, had returned.
“Kavast din!” The older man called to the other two figures. He moved his hand around and the hovering globe followed—al
lowing light from the molten sphere to shine further into the gloom. Squinting, he scanned the area.
When that light drifted across my form, I felt sick, certain I’d be caught. More than once, his gaze drifted across me.
Michael, I must insist upon an update.
Anya, I need to focus on what I’m doing. I’m safe for the moment.
The man took a few steps closer, again scanning in all directions. He seemed certain he might find something and stepped with exceeding caution.
I remained still as a stone, taking only the lightest and quietest of breaths. The Wraith did its best work when it had little to mask. If I simply remained still and silent, the packet would keep me hidden.
As the robed man drew closer, I took several stills from my visual array and saved them. I found it difficult to determine exactly why I felt him to be so much older than his two counterparts. Without significant hair on his head, I couldn’t see a lot to make out the vagaries of age. With each step I searched for other small details, such as some faint wrinkles around his eyes or an overall slimness of his hands.
I finally realized it was his gait. The man strode with a kind of quiet grace, certainty in each step. I associated the way he moved with someone both cautious and wise. Therefore, he appeared older.
“Korvassi?” a feminine voice called out uncertainly from the other side of the pillar.
“Kavast din,” the older man repeated solidly. He walked to the place where I’d previously crouched, the exact spot I suspected the molten monster might have glimpsed my shadowed form.
There he turned and strode straight toward me.
I pressed myself against the column as quickly and quietly as possible.
The robed figure stalked my way, eyes scanning left and right. That globe hovered over his outstretched hand, liquid, molten light. Without word or warning, he leapt, nimble and amazingly swift.
Little more than a blur, the Kab spun in mid-air, and connected his booted foot to the side of my invisible face with a swift, devastating kick.