by Eyal Kless
Vincha shook her head as if trying to wipe the memory from her mind.
“Who was the man?” I asked, trying to keep her talking. “Did Rafik describe him to you?”
“He would wake up screaming every time,” said Vincha quietly. “He told me the man had a ‘melting face.’”
“Melting?” I looked at River, who was already back and listening intently, but he shrugged.
I looked back at Vincha and knew with certainty that she was holding something back, and that something was really important. I also knew there was no way I could fish this one out of her now, exhausted as we both were. This one cut too close to the bone. Still, I tried.
“Do you think this man really existed?” I asked, but before I got an answer something blipped.
River rose to his feet. “Company,” he said quietly.
Vincha stood up, then immediately crouched low, swearing softly when she realised she had no weapons. Galinak didn’t even bother opening his eyes; he simply rolled away, out of the circle of light.
“Relax, everyone,” I said, coming up on my feet. I didn’t want another unnecessary fight like the one in the Blade. “I’m expecting company, don’t worry. Over here!” I shouted and waved. River opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t need to hear him to realise that once again I was so very wrong.
The heat stone exploded into smithereens, and the power of the blast sent me flying backwards. A voice shouted, “Give up, you are surrounded, this is the—” There was an abrupt gurgle followed by silence, as Galinak’s knife found its mark in the darkness. I was still sprawled on the ground when the attackers came. I saw silhouettes moving in the darkness, and I guessed I was the only one seeing them clearly. In the last few days I’d witnessed violence and been its victim several times, yet I had retained a cool head and clarity of thought.
This time panic grasped me by the throat. I could only lie there, gasping for air, unable to speak, my heart pounding in my chest, until Galinak came rushing out of the darkness and lifted me off the ground without slowing down. They probably would have gotten us then, but River’s blessed gadgets were doing what they were meant to do: explode and flash, disorienting the offensive enough to cover our retreat to the last remaining guard tower.
“Give me my weapons back!” Vincha shouted, as we took shelter inside the empty shell of the guard tower.
I found my voice. “How many?”
“One short of twelve, now,” Galinak said and added, “Tell me they aren’t who they seemed to be.”
I nodded grimly and watched his expression harden.
“This should cost you extra,” he said. “You’re a real trouble magnet, Twinkle Eyes.”
“Who are they?” Vincha asked, then added, “Someone give me my rusting weapons back, now.”
Another explosion, this time a big one, lit up the entire courtyard behind us. River came running, crouching low as bullets and death beams crisscrossed after him.
He dove for cover, panting, and rolled around to put out the fire that was licking at his clothes. When I turned back Galinak was handing Vincha her full arsenal.
“I didn’t give you permission to give her her weapons,” I said. I knew I sounded petty at that particular moment, but frustration and fear were clouding my judgement.
“Well, you should have told me the rusting ShieldGuards were after you as well,” he answered dryly.
Vincha’s jaw actually dropped. “ShieldGuards?” she repeated, “You have shock troops after you as well as the guild mercs? Rust, what have you done?”
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully, but my skills of persuasion were not in their prime. I noted that her weapons, together with Galinak’s, were suddenly aimed at me.
“I suggest we turn him in,” she said.
I looked at Galinak, but he shrugged and shook his head. “ShieldGuards,” he said. “Who’d have rusting believed it?”
River was still coughing from the smoke, but against these odds I didn’t want him to have to choose sides.
“They’re not after me,” I said.
“Oh really?” Vincha grabbed me by the collar. “I guess they’re just here for a picnic? Well then, shall we go and have a chat?”
“They’re here for you,” I said, just as she was about to propel me forward.
She froze. “You lie.”
“No, I just didn’t tell you all the whole truth,” another explosion caused us all to duck, but Vincha did not let go of me.
“Why do you think I was searching for you all this time?” I blurted as fast as I could. “Why am I paying you a fortune to hear about a long-dead boy? Why are the guilds and the Council after us? You’re important, Vincha—you may not be a Puzzler like Rafik was, but you are, in a way, a key.”
“How am I a rusting key?” Her shout of frustration probably helped the ShieldGuards pinpoint our location because we were suddenly blasted to the floor again.
We ended up crawling up the crumbling stairs of the guard tower as everything around us exploded to bits of burning stone. My guess was that the ShieldGuards’ orders included the words “dead or alive,” and that we were way past paying attention to the “alive” bit. In a weird, distorted way, it was actually a good sign. The Council was spying on the guilds, and the guilds were spying on everyone, including us, so the information they had was probably vague. If they really knew how important Vincha was they would have used nonlethal weapons—unless, of course, the ShieldGuard captain was just a trigger-happy Troll.
Our position was far from ideal. We were forced to climb to the second floor, which was half ruined, exposed from two sides, and isolated. There was nowhere left to run. Three ShieldGuards rushed us but soon retreated, two of them carrying their wounded comrade. Now they were doing it by the book: spreading out, taking position, waiting for reinforcements, and blasting the upper part of the tower brick by brick. A constant trickle of dust and debris rained down on our heads.
“What now?” Vincha asked.
“Maybe you could complete your story,” I said, quickly adding, “Just kidding!” when I saw the look on her face.
River was more pragmatic. “I have two smoke grenades and one flash.”
“Can those help get us to the gate?” I asked.
Galinak shook his head. The courtyard was a killing zone, and the grenades would not suffice to cover our sides the entire way, not to mention that four guards were now covering the tower’s exit. With my sight I detected six guards moving around the tower in close proximity, so there was also no chance of sneaking out.
Vincha patted dust off her hair. “Do we have a choice?”
I shook my head. “My LoreMaster told me to spare no expense in finding you so you could tell me about Rafik. I don’t know why he or you are so important to everyone, but if the ShieldGuards catch you they will eventually find out what you know, and if you survive the interrogation, they will kill you just to cover their asses. Vincha, I’m sorry, but they will, because they can’t take the chance that things could get even worse in the Valley.”
I could sense she wanted to strike me with frustration. “How does my rusting story relate to the shit storm that is the Valley?”
“I don’t know,” I said, and that, for once, was the truth.
I could see that this information didn’t sink in, which was fine, I was not in the mood to answer any more questions.
Vincha summarized the obvious. “Then we have no choice—we jump.” She pointed at a hole in the wall, then turned to River. “Once we are out, throw your grenades to the left. We shoot to the right and run straight to the gate.”
I looked through part of the wall to measure the distance of the fall. With an even ground on a lit day it would have been simple to accomplish with perhaps a few minor bruises. But the debris under the tower meant twisted ankles and a few broken bones at best. As if listening to my thoughts, Vincha ordered River to throw down the flash bomb before we jumped. “That will clear some bits from the area of
the fall,” she explained.
“And alert everyone to our attempt at collective suicide,” completed Galinak smoothly.
“On my mark,” Vincha ordered, ignoring Galinak. “Last one at the gate is left for dead, go.”
Galinak and River jumped first, straight into the bright flash of light. Vincha grabbed me and we jumped a heartbeat later, so close that I was expecting to land on someone’s back. I was always an optimist. Instead, I landed on the hard ground, rolled, hit my chin hard on my knee, felt my elbow bash against a brick, and heard my own grunt of pain.
I have no idea how I got up, but I found myself running. The area to my left was full of smoke, and rays of death tore through it, trying to find targets and several times giving me a close shave. I could see Vincha ahead of me, which meant I was last, and that meant I was the dead one. I tried to speed up, but I guess I was going as fast as I could. Then I stumbled and almost fell, bending down to prevent a full sprawl just as a death ray that would have cut me in half flashed above me.
Terror made my feet find new traction. I rose like one of the sprinters in a Pre-Catastrophe sporting competition and ran for my life. I saw the gate ahead of us, then I saw a ShieldGuard coming through the smoke cloud to our left, like a horned fiend. He was in front of me and was aiming a rifle, nice and steady, straight at Vincha’s back. She didn’t see him and kept on running, but the outline of her body was plain. The ShieldGuard was tracing her movement with ease, his finger already on the trigger, his headgear leaning against the butt of the weapon. There would be nothing left of her.
The ShieldGuard was left-handed, so the weapon and his own arm were blocking his peripheral view from his left side, which was the side I was coming from. I can’t recall exactly when I decided to commit suicide, or the thought process involved, or even how I ordered my legs to hurtle me towards the ShieldGuard, but I slammed into him just as he pulled the trigger. His power armour took the brunt of the blow, but the momentum was enough to topple us both. Punching him in the body was useless, and his head was in a helmet, so all I could do was try to slow him down, which I did to the best of my very limited ability.
It didn’t last long. The man was not a ShieldGuard for nothing. Soon he was pinning my head down with one hand while raising a metal fist to finish the job. They say that your entire life flashes before your eyes just before you die. Well, best I can tell, they’re wrong. The only thing I saw was the flash of a big metal fist rushing towards my exposed face. He let go of my head too early, and I managed to move it and his fist hit the ground instead of my face, the side of his gauntlet cutting a deep gash on my cheek. The ShieldGuard grasped my head again and raised his arm, which then exploded in front of my eyes. I was sprayed with blood and flesh, and I heard muffled screams from within the helmet. The ShieldGuard fell to the side and thrashed around in pain.
There was another flash of light crossing the space just above me, and this time I was quick enough to roll to the other side. Everything got a bit more confusing after that. Half blinded, gasping for breath, and trying to wipe off the gunk I was covered in, I was suddenly grabbed by a hand and dragged for a while before being rolled into a shallow ditch. I saw a familiar figure standing above me, firing a rifle just above my head before disappearing from view. There was more noise, but it was receding as if the fight were fading into nothingness.
I turned my head and saw River lying next to me. He was completely still, blood covering his face. I found that he still had a pulse, and then I realised the cavalry had come. My next thought was that Vincha and Galinak, if still alive, might not be in a very discerning state of mind. I have no idea how I did it, but I was up on my feet again and moving forward. I found Galinak and Vincha standing back-to-back, holding weapons in their hands. They were surrounded by five figures, and four of them held much heavier weapons.
“Stop!” I shouted with all my reserved strength. “They’re on our side,” and for no reason at all I added, “for a change.”
Then I fainted.
37
They didn’t wake me up gently, and I couldn’t blame them for it. Vincha must have refused to give me the kiss of life, but Galinak had kindly administered the slaps of awakening, and it was his grinning face I saw when I first regained consciousness.
I rolled to my side, then got up on my knees. And eventually, on the third try, I got to my feet and looked around. The remaining ShieldGuards had retreated, but they would be coming back in force, probably soon. We had to get out of the Keenan guild house, but before that, I had to make some introductions. River, who’d regained consciousness before me, had already smoothed things out a bit. Vincha and Galinak luckily decided to stay with the armed strangers who’d helped them in battle rather than try and sneak past the ShieldGuards at the gates. There was a sharp pain in my ribs when I got up. I wiped my face and neck with a piece of cloth given to me by one of our rescuers, but it was too bloody to give back when I was done with it, so I shoved it in my pocket.
I turned to Vincha. “This is LoreMaster Harim,” I said and gestured towards an older-looking man who patiently stood nearby. “Head of the Guild of Historians. He is my teacher and mentor, and the man who can give you the answers you seek.” I turned to my master and bowed as deeply as I dared without risking toppling over. “Thank you for coming, LoreMaster. You didn’t come a moment too late, and you certainly saved our lives.”
LoreMaster Harim smiled sadly as he bent his head in acknowledgement. “I’m afraid the opposite is true,” he said. “I have betrayed you, my friend. I deserve nothing but contempt.”
I saw Vincha and Galinak exchange meaningful looks. My master sighed deeply, sagging a bit where he stood. “We were compromised, perhaps from the very beginning,” he spoke slowly, “and whoever spied on us alerted the Council about your mission. We were raided tonight.”
The implications raced through my mind.
“They took everything, notes, letters, Tarakan pads, and arrested everyone they did not kill.” He gestured around us. “We are all that is left of the Guild of Historians.”
“What about Genix?” I asked about the language expert. “Saviar? Paullina?”
My mentor shook his head sadly. “Taken or dead,” he said, “and I am sorry to say, those who died got off lightly.”
I looked at the others. They were guards, not scholars, and I recognised only two faces. Their expressions reflected their realisation of the bad choices they’d made tonight. Being questioned by ShieldGuards was a bad experience, but killing a ShieldGuard was something you never walked away from.
LoreMaster Harim turned to Vincha and Galinak and said, “I owe you a great apology, Vincha. I sent my assistant looking for you because you are important to understanding our recent past—” he paused and tilted his head in a familiar gesture that meant he was considering his words carefully “—as well as our future. But by finding you we have put your life and the lives of your family at risk, and for this I apologize dearly, for what it’s worth.”
“It’s not worth much,” Vincha spat. “So you can stuff your apology and start explaining why this is happening and why the entire rusting city is trying to kill me.”
I winced at her tone of voice, but LoreMaster Harim didn’t seem to take offense. “I understand your anger,” he said quietly, “and there is no point in asking you to trust me, but let me spell out your options right now. You can try to sneak past the ShieldGuards, or you can hide here for a while and hope you’re not found when they come back in force and with scanners. If you manage to escape, you’ll need to get out of the city to reach your family. The tube lines and the bridge of light are crawling with guards. You’ll have to sneak out on foot through the Pit, climb the walls, cross the swamp, and hope you reach your family before the others do.”
I could see Vincha’s eyes narrow.
“The other option is to follow me out of here.” LoreMaster Harim’s voice was calm, logical. “I will take you to a safe place, tell you why this is happenin
g, and send a messenger on the next tube with a warning to the caretakers of your daughter.”
Vincha breathed twice before saying, “I’m not promising anything, but how do we get out of here?”
“The same way we came down from the Upper Towers,” said Master Harim, as we all turned our heads to the Upper Plateau. “We’ll have to jump.”
38
I had no idea how my master managed to get his hands on so many precious Tarakan antigrav suits. But between escaping a second attack, blowing a hole in the wall surrounding the Plateau wide enough for us to jump through, and falling into the pit, I never got a chance to ask.
In retrospect, I shouldn’t have been surprised. LoreMaster Harim was exploring the remnants of our world long before I was born. He was what was once called a Renaissance man; knowledgeable, resourceful, and with an innate understanding of human nature. He’d travelled as far and wide as many truckers and he even took a sea voyage, though it only hugged the coastline. One persistent rumour claimed he’d been approached by the guilds and offered the leadership of the Council but had declined the honour. He certainly never said a good word about politics and did only the minimum required to win the Council’s recognition of his own Guild of Historians. In short, if anyone could secure a dozen antigrav suits, it would probably be LoreMaster Harim.
I remember reading that in Pre-Catastrophe time, the suits might have been used by the military for reconnaissance or infiltration, though LoreMaster Harim theorized about them being used for some kind of perverted leisure. There was definitely not enough power in them to support a fully loaded warrior, let alone a Troll. Falling at high speed through the city’s complicated architecture, not to mention landing, was not something the Council encouraged, although the suits were never actually decreed illegal, and if someone was resourceful enough to find one and rich enough to feed the huge amount of power it consumed, law would not have been a deterrent. The fact that we were not actually breaking any laws felt like small consolation as we fell to the Pit at stomach-churning speed. Even with the antigrav suit, the best way to move down was to let gravity do most of the work, using the power only to steer and, hopefully, stop.