Spiral of Silence (The Unearthed Series Book 3)

by Marc Mulero

“You love him, don’t you?” he joked, sort of.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re annoying and he thinks he’s talking to his dead brother. The only thing I would love is for you both to go away.”

  Sabin smiled. “I’m still in it,” he said under his breath.

  All parties stopped to gather around Blague’s flickering device, which intended to show that their contact should’ve been right in front of them. Like clockwork, the wall faded away to reveal an unwanted face lurking on the other side.

  Sabin drew his pistol faster than he ever had before. He squinted an eye for better aim, readying to pull the trigger. “A trap, of course it was a trap…”

  The sight of a cold killer elicited Lesh’s instincts. Her body furled into a twisted spin, compelled to free her knives into the air. It took all of her strength to harness her release, recognizing that there was a turncoat at large, and that it could very well have been her.

  Eldra stepped forward, having faith that the palms of her empty hands would strike a different chord in the eyes of the Sins. Her expression surged with urgency: teeth clenched which created a defined jaw, muscles tensely flexed under skintight wear, and an eye that spoke of betrayal on all fronts. She tilted her head, as if to say, “Are you done gawking?”

  The Champion gently rested a gloved hand over the hunter’s gun. “Don’t… that’s our informant,” she said, looking forward in disbelief.

  “If that were true,” Biljin spoke up, “there must be some grave information that we are not privy to. A queen does not turn lightly.”

  “Talk later. Move now,” Eldra beckoned.

  The commanders all exchanged looks, some of wariness and others of awe, while Lesh focused only on the enemy she’d faced on the battlefield a time ago. Blague on the other hand, seemed almost amused by the turn of events. Of course, it was Eldra.

  Melissa was the first to move, putting aside her shock to attend to the dire situation. Their army was in harm’s way, and this team had a chance to prevent large-scale death.

  The unlikely group formed inside the walls of Nepsys under the Ice Queen’s direction. She motioned for silence before rounding a corner out in the open. The vast hallway that she had to fight to get across before was now mostly clear, except for the backs of Hiezer soldiers fading into the distance. She stuck a hand out for the group to wait when she saw a lingering pair of soldiers who were seemingly in a frantic search.

  “To your positions,” Eldra demanded.

  “We were advised to track you down on Mulderan’s order,” one of the two responded, his tone out of place.

  Before Eldra could speak further, a String Blade bit into the soldier’s neck and a signature knife struck the heart of the other.

  Eldra looked back at the assailants.

  “Oops.” Sabin shrugged with a grin. “Force of habit.”

  She ignored the hunter’s jest and turned, exposing her back to her former enemies with blind trust. Such an unfamiliar feeling. Terrifying and yet liberating, all at once. She shivered just from the thought of it. “Hurry. It’s only a matter of time before the Hiezers cave to Mulderan’s order. The lives of your people depend on us wreaking havoc from within.”

  Melissa gazed at the high ceiling of ornate marble above her, recalling her previous visits to the city. The indestructible nature of it had cracked since then, but the air of arrogance remained.

  “I know we spoke of logistics through radio, but I will be joining you in the mission to open the gates,” Biljin said as he jogged beside Eldra. “And when we succeed, you will sate my curiosity as to why you would help the lesser, when you were once the greatest threat to them.”

  Eldra quietly ran next to Biljin for some time before eventually agreeing to the physicist’s terms.

  “A shame we won’t be finishing our duel,” Lesh’s raspy voice sounded from behind.

  Eldra slowed her speed and cackled mockingly. “I’ve adjusted to my new vision.” She pointed to her patch. “You wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

  Lesh’s arms suddenly pulsed in blue. “And I’ve learned some new tricks, bitch.”

  “Hmph.” Eldra faced forward with a leer on her face.

  “Tell me,” Lesh’s tone grew more serious. “Where is the leader of The Spade?”

  The Ice Queen scoffed. “The Chief always had a soft spot for you, even when I thought you to be too dangerous. I laced into him when you turned to the rebellion. Ironic, isn’t it… that we landed on the same side?”

  Lesh offered no response, still waiting for an answer.

  “He’s in Hekata, the most organized and deadly of the exiled continents. What was left of The Spade were sent on an undercover mission. He’s been dark for years. But he’s loyal to the core. If you find him, he will not be a friend.”

  “He never was…” Lesh said.

  Blague rushed his way to the forefront with Aslock at his side. “Eldra, it’s time to point me to the source of all this. Where is my brother?”

  She looked to her device and then turned to face him. “The route to Mulderan’s residence was just transmitted to your device. Just follow the smoke.”

  Still silence. Blague’s pause ran deep with thoughts. “I cannot fathom why you’re doing this. I’ve watched you murder in cold blood. Steadfast in your decisions. I expected Veer to see reason. Even Jeck, before you. Why?”

  The Ice Queen hesitated. An instant of insecurity tapped the seasoned war general. “You will see it for yourself. Go.”

  Aslock and Blague followed Eldra’s instructions verbatim, to find the largest Ordinate structure at the center of the city. The closer they got, the more nightmarish the kingdom became. A strange darkness loomed at the peak of a cloudless day, as if the air itself what telling them to turn back. But they couldn’t. The duo had to continue on, using any means possible to keep cover. They hopped over golden waves of hardened crystal meant to decorate the city, and sped past archways of gothic stone that hung overhead. In between each elegant structure peeked a glimpse of Mulderan’s fortress framed by cascading spikes. Always taunting.

  Blague hard stopped at the next corner, lining his back with the wall in stealth, listening to the clanking of armor ahead of them. Further and further, the sound was moving away. He leaned out to be sure, and then drew his Desert Eagle with one hand while holding up a closed fist signaling to hold with the other.

  He counted their steps until the Hiezer patrol faded into the distance. Clear, he thought.

  Then with a dropped fist, both darted away from open ground, scrambling to find the next hideout as they inched closer to the Highest Lord.

  Eyes followed them from tall residences, but they were too quick to be pinned.

  Focus had to stay on the gates if any of this were to work. It was the only way.

  The Sin Leader moved onto the next open street, eyeing a sea of shadowed spikes above him right before his vision suddenly went black. It was as if someone flicked a switch to shut off the sun.

  “Aslock…?” He shuddered.

  “Be steady, adept. Rol’s new host is assimilating.”

  Red vines of liquescent smoke ignited to life as the only source of light. It crawled toward them like decrepit fingers, stirring air that had the murky fragrance of a swamp. The ground it scurried across transformed into a mossy mess that squished under Blague’s feet. Now the two stood under a cover from another world, in some warped greenhouse, face to face with the smoke seeping to corrupt the city.

  “I have to find my brother. His borrowed time is up,” Blague spoke, staring into the tendril of gory smolder that beckoned them both.

  “No, oh prized son of Orin. It is your gifted time that has come to an end,” a voluminous sound doled out in fact.

  Blague stepped back, feeling the uncertain direction of a voice that was both far away and close all at once - the voice of his brother.

  The scarlet vine expanded rapidly, puffing itself like a blowfish to resemble some sort of mythical beast. It toyed wi
th all of their senses. Next came loud clashes of thunder that spawned within the fume. Ears rang after every crack, and were further haunted by bodiless screams that shrieked every time the storm lulled.

  “I will be of no use in there. I have rejected Rol since my first encounter with it. It would only choke me if I engage it now,” Aslock said. “Withstand it as your father has, or cast it away as I have. The choice is yours.”

  Blague stared blankly into the abyss, knowing what he had to do. “Find them, Aslock. Warn the commanders before it’s too late. Mulderan knows we’re here!” he shouted, his voice drowning out by Rol’s advance.

  Rol bellowed and swung its streams of smoky matter in agitation, attempting to expand its reach.

  “I will see you on the other side, adept,” Aslock said, the sleeves of his cloak beginning to seep with Cryos.

  The smoke was done intimidating, done stalling. It shrieked with a terrible ferocity to announce the truth of it, tendrils growing molten and heated, and just as the growl waned, it lunged toward the Neraphis to strangle him.

  Aslock was not to fall so easily, however.

  He threw his arms out in counter – a flash of light and a pulse of blue erupted, working to scare Rol back for the instant he needed to charge up enough energy and leap into a horizontal whirl, to meet his enemy dead on.

  A spiral of Cryos encircled his body so he could become an azure javelin spearing a wall of crimson, parting the smoke in two.

  Woosh.

  He forced open a void to find clear ground, to land unscathed and out of reach. And after a somersault that ended with him on his feet, Aslock took one last look at his student amidst the cloudy haze separating them. There, he saw Blague give a signal, an unspoken blessing for what came next.

  With a final surge of energy, Aslock collapsed his arms together in such force that it billowed Rol away in its entirety and into his adept’s path.

  Blague closed his eyes and accepted his fate. What else could he do but submerge himself into the smoke once more? He was the only one who could negotiate with it, destroy it, do whatever it took so that Aslock could warn the commanders that their time in stealth was up.

  After one long blink, a familiar hazy blanket was pulled over Blague’s eyes as if he’d just dropped into another dimension. The sun - it no longer burnt gold. The walls, structures, everything around him was no longer still.

  Next went his sense of direction. Even his sense of smell, taste, feeling, it was all numb and burnt. Then came the worst of it. Shaking off that strange sensation in his limbs, wait, what limbs? He couldn’t feel his arms.

  Waves of scarlet haze rose up and down with each of his breaths as if the world itself was exhaling with him. Poison. He was inhaling poison.

  Everything was turning on him so fast. He was on strings - a puppet being reminded how foolish he was to pay Rol another visit.

  A bright beam shined in Blague’s eyes. At first, he thought it was a spot in his vision, like one that would appear from staring too long into a light. But then it began to expand, erasing away his sight along with it. A trembling panic started in his knees, rising higher to dry out his mouth. Every thought that followed screamed that his vision was gone. He swallowed hard, feeling his own neck constricting him.

  “No, Elaina, we were so close. My eyes… our sight…” Blague thought.

  Sound from the outside world dissipated and was replaced by the vibrations of his ticking heart. Blague had endured lifetimes of torture and havoc, but he’d never been robbed of his senses. It was a feeling of truly exiting a world against his will, and entering his mind in frantic terror.

  He delved deeper into his thoughts, trying to convince himself that this was temporary… that the smoke was playing with him. But time was lost in here the same way it was in a dream, giving Rol the stamina to wear the Sin Leader down, to reduce the great thinker of the exiled to a scared child.

  He dared open his eyes after what felt like days, only to find consistent blackness. Fuck, he cursed in his head. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t shake this feeling. And so Blague wilted to the floor in defeat, unable to move from atrophy.

  “You have nothing left, brother,” Mulderan’s voice rang supreme. “And in truth, you never stood a chance. I have been planning the re-world since you were chasing shadows and keys. At last, only the worthy will walk amongst me. I’ve weeded out the weak, so the strong can build anew.”

  He tried to respond, but found his vocal cords burning as he gasped for air. Deaf, blind, and dumb but for the sound of a merciless voice and a distorted image of his brother’s face - all Blague could do was stare back into a set of punishing hazel eyes. Skin was still as smooth as ironed silk. High cheekbones and a countenance of stone-cold arrogance was all too familiar, but the whites of his eyes were growing foreign, swirling with Rol’s essence.

  “Your quest is over. I sent you through a long probation. I spared your life and banished you to exile, because I believed that you could one day be worthy to walk with us. But you have devolved into anarchy and futility against my predictions. For that, you must be silenced.”

  Blague blew it all out, feeling the sting of poison as his throat constricted. What was he breathing in right now? His nostrils singed during every inhale, but what else could he do but fight through the pain? The alternative was death.

  “No,” a scratched sound escaped his lips. “Y-your lust for greatness… it blinds you, Mulderan, from everything.” The reverberations in his larynx made him cough through his words. “And through it all, your grand plans that were so carefully articulated – you made one glaring mistake.”

  It was coming, he felt the strength of Elaina rise through one of his arms. Yes. He would use it to lift himself.

  “In your hunt for immortality, you… you damned your people to extinction. Every last one of them. You found nothing but the opposite of your pursuit – transience. One lonely, extended life for this generation of Hiezers. That’s all you will find before you become nothing.”

  Mulderan quieted, his expression unmoved. He likely considered whether he was being baited, and then disappeared from the eye of Blague’s mind.

  The Grenich brothers played a game of riddles with each other in this crazed reality, both holding their cards close to the chest: one being the cause of the world’s current state, and the other, knowing the consequences of playing God.

  And then all at once, the Sin Leader’s senses suddenly returned to him.

  Good, he thought, I shooed him off. Now where am I?

  But the madness wasn’t done. He’d been refunded only to find a ball of fire the size of a Sin stronghold in descent toward the Grand City. It was directly above him, headed to his exact coordinates.

  What is this? Another trick. It has to be. Hah. My brother can’t summon meteors from the sky.

  But the inferno was growing larger and larger by the second.

  It’s all in your head.

  Crackling embers fell off of its molten base. The air around him - the temperature was rising. Fast. He was wrong. This was real.

  The only thing he could do at this point was brace.

  He got to his feet with fleeting strength, while clenching his fists and tensing the rest of his body, for there was no way to escape such a massive calamity.

  Overwhelming light from the comet’s flame finally overcame his surroundings. It crashed for longer than physics would permit, forcing Blague to endure the weight of a building slamming onto his chest. His veins burnt scorching blood and his body felt like it instantly disintegrated. He was sure of it. The sound of fire and rock bursting cascaded from his position, spreading throughout the whole city before blackness washed over him once more, pushing him to the brink of death. He couldn’t feel his body any longer. There was but one clue that life had clung to him, one hint that he still existed: the voice of his love transcending oblivion.

  “Breathe, Blague,” Elaina comforted, ignoring her own fears.

  And so he di
d. He felt energy return to him, blood flow through his veins. His limbs were his again. He punched the invisible floor. Yes, the thought, sanity, because the sting of knuckle plastering onto ground was real.

  The world was still spinning, and fast. Nausea kicked bile up into his throat. Closing his eyes did nothing. Dipping his head did nothing. His equilibrium was shot. But that was part of coming to.

  He shouted hard, followed by another slam of his fist onto the unseen floor. With these desperate flails he proved to himself that he still had might within him, that control was not lost.

  “My father lived in this world of red, standing tall and facing its wrath. He gained an identity and retained sanity,” he said to Elaina. “I can too.”

  Blague opened his eyes once more, now in full realization of what Rol was doing - testing him. Stalling him from reaching the source – his brother.

  “No more,” he proclaimed, rising to his feet, trembling from the fresh thought that he was just incinerated. Although he found strength, there was still a long way to go.

  In this instance of renewed fortitude, the spurious world around him stabilized. The fires dimmed and evaporated. The tall Hiezer spires phased back into existence and the ground reformed at his feet. Blague’s breaths were long and deep, feeling Elaina’s strength flow through him again like a shot of adrenaline. Sanity returned to the Sin Leader for but a moment, before he heard a resonance that made his hair stand on end.

  “What the hell was that?” he said to Elaina. “Did you feel it too?”

  “Blague…” was all Elaina could say, stunned.

  A presence drove goosebumps through his entire body.

  “Listen to me, son,” Orin’s voice boomed. “You must bury your brother deep under the ground, and with him, the crimson ichor from whence it came.”

  Rol clearly detested his father’s words, for it immediately sent a howling vapor to swirl around Blague. He held his head as his skin turned to ice.

  “It burns. God, it burns! Damn it!”

  He heard his father’s voice again, grumbling, but couldn’t quite place it.