The Forgotten City

by Nina D'Aleo

  Copernicus sensed the heat of each of his team members flare, but he felt calm. The moment had come.

  He stepped forward and said, “I challenge you.”

  Even the silence fell silent as though everyone was not only holding their tongues, but now also their breath. A hologram of Copernicus opened up beside that of Caesar.

  “But not for land. I challenge you for rights over the machine-breeds. I make claim to their race, and I will fight for them. It is the gangster way.”

  Caesar’s eyebrows flickered with surprise. He hadn’t expected this, and if he refused it would look as though he didn’t believe in his own law. Copernicus could see Caesar was thinking fast, but not fast enough. He met Copernicus’ eyes and started to accept.

  “I challenge you for Level 1, 2, 3 – and Crook’d Town!” Another voice boomed out over the crowd. Copernicus turned to see Christy Shawe and what remained of the Greenway Galleys stomping toward them. Immediately all the gathered gangsters raised their voices, yelling their calls and holding up their hand signs, their animals growling, shrieking and snapping. It would be a rumble of the biggest Bosses of their time.

  “I accept,” Caesar snarled.

  Copernicus cursed. He felt like shooting Shawe dead on the spot. He was sabotaging their one chance to save the machine-breeds without resorting to all-out battle. The former gangster king was closing in fast on Caesar, making it clear this wouldn’t be going down in the arena. It was happening right here, right now and there would be nothing civilized about it. Shawe would die.

  Caesar gestured his son aside and backed further into the Hero’s Walk, getting one of the walls behind him – smart compared to Shawe, whose only strategy was to clench his fists. In response, Caesar flicked out his claws with the sound of ten blades being drawn from their sheaths. He lowered his stance, ready to lunge.

  Copernicus turned to the trackers and said, “Go to Plan B. We hit the machine-breed prison camps while the Pride is occupied. Move out! Go!”

  They started to press back through the surging crowd, but then something in the wall behind K-Ruz seized Copernicus’ enhanced sense of heat. It looked as though a fire had blazed to life inside the actual rock. The intensity grew until the painting hanging in front of the inferno exploded out, taking half the brickwork with it, and leaving a crater rift and sheer drop to Level 2 below. Both Christy and Caesar were blasted sideways, with burning debris crashing down on the Pride and other gangs inciting a howling, panicking stampede.

  Amidst the chaos, Copernicus saw Caesar’s little son with his clothes ablaze. He was running, screaming, fueling the flames – heading toward the broken wall and the drop. His mother chased behind him, but she was too slow, one leg smashed up by the fallout.

  Copernicus took off, leaping up the stairs, ripping his jacket free as he ran. He caught the kid on the edge of the rift and threw the jacket over him, tackling him to the ground – rolling him over and over until he’d smothered the fire. Half a second later Caesar was there, grabbing the boy out of his arms, terror in his eyes. He dragged back the jacket. His son was sobbing, his clothes scorched and back burned, but he was alive. Caesar’s eyes lifted to Copernicus, then the shrieking mother struck and threw herself down on top of her boy. The general crowd had dispersed, everyone yelling and fleeing. Those who had not escaped lay twisted, burning. The gangsters were starting to regather and return, not strangers to violence and death.

  Copernicus heard Eli’s sudden shout for him and spun around. His first thought on the explosion had been bomb, but now he saw they were actually under attack. Foreign soldiers stood among them, throwing flames and breathing fire, reducing people to piles of ash. Copernicus’ eyes zeroed in on their firebird dragon bloodline marks. Omarian. But how could it be? The Wraith had said Silho was the last Omarian left. Clearly she was in error and now they were here with the intention to harm.

  Copernicus scanned the confusion for Silho. He spotted Christy Shawe pinned under a fallen column but fighting to free himself. Diega stood close by, in the middle of the battle, trading electrifier shots for fire blasts with one of the Omarian attackers. Further behind her, on the other side of the platform, Eli, Jude and Silho had retreated behind a lion statue. He could see the main bulk of Omarians, directed by their commander, closing fast around them. The leader’s eyes were fixed on Silho and he was moving in from the side, keeping in her blind spot. Copernicus sensed in that moment that they were there for Silho and everyone else was just white noise.

  Bands of fear and fury tightened across his chest. He grabbed his electrifier and opened fire, blasting two of the enemy in the back. Others turned, coming at him, sending burning missiles roaring his way. He lunged sideways and rolled back to his feet, catching sight of the Omarian leader barging faster toward Silho. She was distracted by the forward-pressing attack, but SevenM, now perched on Jude’s shoulder, saw him coming from behind.

  The robot alerted Jude and he whipped around and ran forward to intercept the leader’s path. The Omarian sidestepped his attack, then raised his hand, driving a dagger deep into Jude’s chest, cutting straight through the heavy-duty armor. The Ar Antarian instantly fell. Eli saw him go down and tried to run to him, but the leader smashed him aside, ramming him face-first into the rock wall. Eli folded in on himself and lay where he fell.

  The Omarian reached Silho and grabbed her from behind, his arm tight around her neck. She struggled violently, changing to light-form vision, but she couldn’t shake him. Something was wrong with her skills. They weren’t working and he was overwhelming her, a disturbing look of savage ecstasy on his face. Every instinct and emotion drove Copernicus forward. He flew toward them, boots crashing over rubble and bodies alike. The battle fell silent around him and all he heard was his own heart thudding. He leaped over a fallen column and saw, from the corner of his eye, Caesar jumping beside him. They landed without breaking their stride, closing the distance fast.

  The Omarian leader turned and saw them coming. He hurled a fireball into their faces. It knocked them back, but Copernicus rolled immediately to his feet, numb to the pain, his eyes on Silho. He ducked beneath another blast and surged forward. A droning sound vibrated through the air, and all Copernicus’ strength rushed from his body. He slumped to his knees, too weak even to stand. He’d experienced this before with Silho – light-form vision – but not like this, never this strong. Caesar thudded down incapacitated beside him.

  The enemy leader gestured to his men to finish them and two Omarian warriors closed in, draining their life-force. Copernicus heard Silho scream for him, the sound echoing and fading, as the Omarian stopped in front of him, spitting sparks from his mouth, ready to exhale Copernicus’ life-force when it surged through him and out. The warrior looked him right in the eyes and sneered, then the Omarian’s face exploded as Christy Shawe’s fist punched through his head. Gore splattered down on Copernicus. The Omarian draining Caesar lashed out and stabbed Shawe in the back with a dagger that looked as though it was attached to his arm. Shawe whirled around, smashed him to the ground and stomped him dead.

  Free from the light-form, Copernicus staggered to his feet. He spotted the Omarian leader on the move, dragging Silho toward the shattered wall, toward the edge of the drop. He shoved through the mass of gangsters battling Omarians and ran toward them, but he was moving so slowly, his body weakened. He grunted, digging deeply into the reserves of his mental strength, pushing every last ounce of his remaining physical power into getting to Silho. He could see the leader’s arm tightening around her neck, choking the life out of her. Copernicus’ own throat constricted in response.

  Another fireball crashed into him from one side, setting his shirt alight. He ripped it off and kept running, finally reaching the stairs. Just above him the Omarian was hauling Silho to the broken wall. It looked as if he was trying to throw her over the edge. She’d ripped bleeding lines in his arms, fighting to get free. Copernicus staggered up the stairs and, ducking beneath a blast of fire, l
unged and grabbed Silho’s legs. The leader kicked him in the face, smashing him backward. He barked a command at his soldiers and they advanced on Copernicus from all sides. He scrambled back to Silho, seizing her around the waist as the Leader thrashed her around, trying to push her through the rift.

  Copernicus saw an Omarian dagger coming from his left and tried to block, but was too slow, drastically weakened by the light-form attack, with blood gushing from a wound in his forehead from the leader’s pointed shoe. Caesar was suddenly at his side. The Pride King intercepted the blade, and with a slash of his claws, he took off the attacker’s whole arm. Another Omarian trapped Caesar in light-form, but his hold was short-lived, as Diega shot him from behind as she ran up the stair. She blasted another round toward the leader’s head, but he roared fire, consuming the shot before it reached him. Diega dodged the flames and started morphing everything around them into weapons to stab at the Omarian leader, trying to make him release Silho, but everything they did only made him tighten his grip, harder and harder, until Silho was making empty, dragging gasps, completely unable to draw breath.

  Shawe crashed in over Diega and smashed the Omarian in the mouth. The impact shunted his head backward and burned Shawe’s fist. Shawe shouted a curse, but the leader just smiled at them with bloodied teeth. It was a chilling, deranged smile. Copernicus knew a psychopath when he saw one, and the terror that shot through him forced him to his feet.

  He grabbed Silho’s shoulders and sunk his fangs into the Omarian’s arm around her neck, but still it didn’t budge. Silho grasped uselessly at his chest, her gasps coming fainter and fewer. Almost blind with panic, Copernicus started to summon an Illusionist enchant to try to confuse the leader, but the Omarian raised his dagger and stabbed Copernicus through the shoulder. Immediately he lost control of his arm. He could feel poison burning through him. He slumped back to his knees, still hanging onto Silho. His senses were fading, but he held on, refusing to let her go. Through misting sights, he saw her attacker slide a small picture from his pocket. He spoke with a rough snarl: “Behind the red star smiles the darkness – Omar Montanya.” A blinding light flared inside the picture frame and the ground dropped away beneath them. The last image in Copernicus’ mind was Silho’s eyes, looking down at him, closing.

  Chapter 8

  Eli

  Aquais

  Scorpia (Sirenseron)

  They first met on the corner of Jabiru and Egret streets. He was eight year-cycles old and had just launched his first self-designed, remote-controlled miniature replica transflyer. He was completely lost in the moment – running, leaping, laughing, flying the small craft through the streets. The feeling was pure childhood joy, and in that moment, he was sure without a sliver of doubt that he was going to be the greatest inventor of all time. In fact he highly suspected he might even be a god, or at least closely related to one. And then he hit face-first into a brick wall.

  The impact slammed him onto his back, and he lay there gasping in shock. The brick wall shifted, it turned, and Eli saw it wasn’t really a brick wall – it was a muscle wall, with a face. Fierce green eyes glared him down and a huge, meaty hand grabbed him by the front of his shirt. It dragged him up at a dizzying speed, bringing him face to face with a human-breed boy who must have been only a few year-cycles older, but had the muscles of a fully grown man. He had a scarred-up face and, along his arms, the horn-like shapes of the Galley bloodline marks.

  “Smash him, Christy!” a squeaky adolescent voice, with a Greenway accent, yelled out from somewhere behind the boy. Only then did Eli realize that in his blind bliss he’d inadvertently stumbled into the gangland, and right into Christy Shawe, son of the Galley boss. Eli burst into hysterical laughter and passed out cold.

  He woke several moments later to find himself sprawled on the sidewalk with a massive boot about to stomp down on his face. It pulled back just before it hit and Eli saw another human-breed boy, with viper bloodline marks and eyes like a starless night, dragging Christy Shawe away from him.

  “Let him be, he’s just a kid,” the boy said, and there was something profoundly powerful about his voice that made Eli stare. His face was even more scarred than Christy Shawe’s and his presence a million times more frightening.

  Shawe shoved the viper-blood boy off him, but instead of proceeding to pulverize Eli’s face, he stomped down on the miniature transflyer, smashing it to pieces. He spat on Eli and slouched off with his gang-mates – all but the black-eyed boy, who stayed behind. The boy crouched down and picked up the destroyed flyer by its tail. He looked it over, then his gaze lifted to Eli.

  “Where did you buy this?” he asked.

  Eli willed himself to talk normally, to make sense – desperate to impress. Instead he began babbling absolute gibberish while cackling uncontrollably.

  The boy stared at him – through him – and somehow heard what Eli was trying to say.

  “Can you re-make it?” he asked.

  Eli pinched his lips together with one hand to stop himself from talking, and managed to nod once.

  The boy stood and held out a hand to help him up. As Eli reached for it, Copernicus’ face changed to Ev’r’s.

  She whispered, “My friend … I’m finished. Keep going.”

  And she changed into the monster, into the Ravien, and lunged at him …

  Eli jolted from a sleeping nightmare into waking terror. His senses bombarded him, screaming, shouting, competing for his first dazed attentions – charred air, tangy blood, crying, yelling, electrifiers zapping, a tapestry burning above his head, cool tiles under his wings, and pain … above all else p-a-i-n. It pulsated and swelled until it consumed all his other senses.

  Grimacing, Eli rolled onto his side and maneuvered himself up inch by inch. Blinding agony stabbed through his right arm. He gasped and a wave of lightbrain threatened to level him again. He swayed, fighting to keep himself conscious. A warm stream of blood trickled into one eye. He swiped it away with his good hand. The other arm he kept frozen against his chest, not daring to move it again. He could see the bone was broken and pressing up against the skin. Sweat prickled his back and face. His fingers fumbled over his weapon belt, feeling for the shape of his anesthetic shots. He found the syringe and lifted it out. Gritting his teeth, he stabbed the needle into his broken arm. There was one more second of torture and then the pain faded out. The sweats and faints subsided, and he was able to see past his injury to the scene before him.

  The Hero’s Walk was devastated – artworks hung precariously askew, blood splattered the walls, and heaped piles of ashes covered the ground. The square was largely deserted now too, except for groups of gangsters running around, shouting commands, searching, confused. Eli scanned over the faces he could see – no commander, no Silho, no Diega … no Jude. A cold dread filtered through Eli’s shock. He grabbed at his pocket to check Nelly and found her curled up in there, not sleeping, just trembling.

  “It’s alright, girl,” he whispered to her, but his voice was shaking so much he could barely form the words. Not exactly reassuring.

  He fumbled with a bandage from his belt, and rapidly formed a sling for his arm. As he struggled to his feet, snatches of memory returned to him. Something had attacked – he hadn’t seen clearly who or what – the smoke and fire had half-blinded him. He’d just felt the heat and heard Jude yell, and he’d run toward the sound of his voice.

  “Call the commander,” he told his front-core, continuing to search up and down the long open-air hallway. The com system reached out, but immediately flat-lined. Eli blinked open the menu. He checked the commander’s status and one word came up: Deceased.

  “Not possible …” Eli whispered. “Reboot,” he ordered the system, and waited for it to come back online.

  Terrible feelings constricted his chest. Nelly crawled out of his pocket and wound around his neck, so stressed she started eating the collar of his shirt. More blood dripped into his eye and he grabbed the coagulator from his belt and sprayed t
he wound to stem the stream.

  He heard a clatter of rocks behind him and Nelly darted back into his pocket as Smudge and Inski burst from the shadows. They almost knocked him down as they ran past.

  “Smudge!” he called to Caesar’s cousin.

  She glanced back at him, her eyes confused and distressed.

  “What happened? Where is everyone?”

  She shook her head and kept going.

  The front-core flickered back on, but the commander’s status remained Deceased. Tears rushed to Eli’s eyes and he started shaking. He was standing in ashes. This wasn’t possible …

  “Focus,” he whispered. “Do something.”

  Through misted sights he spotted the computer system the Pride had set up to project the fight-in. Eli limped to it and dropped down in front of the box. He hacked into the feedback function and sent the footage to his implant. A hologram recording of the attack opened and replayed in front of his eyes. He knew the attackers had been actual people, but on the recording they appeared as pillars of fire. He wasn’t sure why, and tried dropping some quick filters and debugs over the footage to fix it, but nothing immediately worked. He saw Jude being engulfed by flames, then himself running in to try to help him, only to be swatted away like a mosquito. He watched the flames reach Silho, and the commander and others fighting for her, the chaos moving closer and closer to the broken wall, until there was an explosion of white light and it looked as if they all fell over the edge of the rift.

  Eli blinked out of the footage and ran for the smashed-up wall. He stepped carefully out onto the crumbling edge and peered down. Several stories below, the remnants of the stonework had crashed onto a crossing bridge, beneath that was a staggering drop to Level 2. Eli couldn’t see any movement on the bridge, but it was possible that the team was down there, buried by the avalanche of rocks. Eli zipped up his pocket so that Nelly couldn’t unexpectedly jump out, then grabbed the blade off his belt and slid it down the back of his shirt, cutting the bandages binding his wings. Once they were free, he took a deep breath and jumped off the edge. Immediately the savage high winds snatched him up and tried to smash him into the side of the Hero’s Walk. He fought against it with all his strength – struggling, pushing, straining to fly down to the bridge. He only barely made it, overshooting his landing and having to grabble one-handed before finally dragging himself up.