The Gravity Engine

by Kylie Chan

  Rohan grimaced. ‘To be honest? Yeah. I could only round up fifteen Horsemen with enough training and none of them are Immortal. We may be a little out of our depth here, man. The scout says there’s some really weird shit happening down there – the scout that returned, that is. Three were stationed in that area and only one came back, and he’s really disturbed by what he saw, and his memory seems to be wiped. The therapists are using hypnosis to help him recall what happened, but there’s something … wrong.’

  Michael held his hand out over the desk and his sword, the White Tiger, appeared on it. He stood and picked it up. ‘How are you planning to travel there?’

  ‘We’ll borrow one of Dad’s choppers.’

  ‘All right, count me in.’

  Rohan’s expression filled with relief.

  ‘But you’re writing the report for Dad when we get back,’ Michael said.

  ‘Sure, but I could copy the contents of the People’s Daily, hand it to him as a report, and he’d never know, because he never reads them.’

  ‘I know that – I’ve done it too.’

  The helicopter landed twenty kilometres away from the caves and Michael and Rohan quietly teleported the squad closer. They walked along the road to the tourist car park, a flat gravel area above the little valley that held the caves. The usual tourist-trap city had been set up, with camel rides and paid photo opportunities, but it was just on nightfall and all the stalls were closed.

  Rohan signalled a couple of soldiers and made them invisible to reconnaissance. The rest of the squad waited quietly until they returned and reappeared.

  ‘No surveillance we can see,’ one of the scouts said. ‘No guards, no cameras, no civilians. All clear.’

  Michael gestured for them to move out. ‘Number Two on point. I’ll bring up the rear.’

  The squad moved into formation and went down the steps to the caves, which were set into the side of a river valley only a hundred metres across. The yellow earth formed a steep buttress on the other side, and the only greenery was some straggly trees and shrubs clinging to the bottom of the valley and the water from the river. There was no other habitation for kilometres, and nothing grew for a great distance on either side of the little valley. Several archways carved into the rock of the valley wall led away from a wide flat area that overlooked the water.

  Rohan led them into one of the entrances and through the narrow corridors. The cave complex wasn’t large; each opening led to a narrow corridor that went three metres into the hillside, ended with an altar, then looped back out again. Some held brightly coloured Buddhist murals but most were bare rock, scarred where the frescoes had been chiselled away.

  ‘The German archaeologists took them,’ Rohan said as he led the team through the corridor. ‘Took them back to Germany where they’d be safe from the bloodthirsty local savages. Most of the paintings were destroyed when the museum holding them in Germany was bombed during a war between the bloodthirsty local savages.’

  ‘I believe it,’ Michael said. He put on a fake British accent. ‘But our wars are different. When good white men go to war it’s all about honour and valour, none of this Oriental savagery.’ He saw the way Rohan was looking at him. ‘I know, I know, I’m one of them. So where’s the nest entrance?’

  ‘Of course it’s the altar.’ Rohan gestured towards the wall, which held a fresco of an obviously European Bodhisattva; white skin and blue eyes. ‘I didn’t know there were gweilo Buddhas.’

  Michael shrugged. ‘The Wudang Energy Master is a Taoist Immortal. It could even be a picture of her.’

  ‘You’re right, it does look like her.’ Rohan checked around. ‘All clear. Looks like I was right and they weren’t expecting us.’

  ‘You’re right about surprise; I’m right about the Bodhisattva. Something has to go seriously wrong now.’

  ‘I hear you. On point.’ Rohan walked through the wall and Michael waited for the rest of the squad to enter, again guarding the rear.

  The tunnels on the other side looked exactly the same, but they hadn’t been damaged. Tan earth walls led up to an arched roof and more frescoes covered the walls. Michael stopped and studied one: it showed a group of Buddhist pilgrims, some Asian and some European, wearing saffron robes and carrying lotus flowers. A description was inscribed under each figure, saying where they were from and their humanitarian achievements.

  ‘This isn’t what you’d expect to find in a nest entrance,’ Michael said.

  ‘It changes further along, according to the intel,’ Rohan said. ‘When they first entered, the scouts thought they’d just reached a part of the caves that had been hidden by an Immortal.’ He gestured with his head. ‘Come and see.’

  The end of the tunnel opened into a large underground room with a domed ceiling, twenty metres across, decorated with more Buddhist frescoes. Panels within the dome held depictions of the twenty-eight Buddhas, from the most ancient to the Maitreya Buddha Yet to Come. The walls were still the same tan earth, but it was buffed and polished to a sheen that made it appear to be shining gold. The frescoes hadn’t faded with the years; they still glowed bright as jewels.

  ‘I am so glad the archaeologists never made it in here,’ Michael said, turning to see the contents of the room with awe. ‘After we clean this nest out we must do something about preserving this.’

  ‘The best method would probably be to lock it up,’ Rohan said, standing next to him and studying the brilliant ceiling. ‘Take a complete survey and digital record, and then make sure that nobody ever enters again.’

  ‘When we return, remind me to liaise with the Phoenix’s people about preservation,’ Michael said. ‘They’re the materials specialists, they should have some good ideas, and they’re deeply protective of the Buddhist legacy.’

  ‘Sir.’

  Michael glanced sharply at Rohan, who was still studying the ceiling. He nodded and turned to the rest of the squad. ‘Be very careful not to touch anything. Let’s go.’

  As they proceeded down the tunnel, the frescoes changed. The colours shifted from brilliant blues and golds to red and black, and showed scenes of battle and conquest instead of peaceful offering and celebration. Michael stopped when he saw a fresco that didn’t show a Buddha or devotee at all – it depicted a Snake Mother in True Form holding a screaming human to her impossibly wide mouth. A red inscription below the Mother said, Honoured Number Sixteen who brought more than a hundred humans for us to play with. Their skulls and bones adorn our nest and bring joy to our hearts.

  Michael sniffed the air; the earthy scent from the tunnel walls was strong, but there was a definite odour of nest from up ahead; death and decay.

  Rohan nodded. ‘Now it gets intense.’

  As they travelled down the tunnel, the frescoes petered out to nothing and the walls darkened from gold to black. They descended steeply, the floor sometimes slippery with moisture. They all felt it at the same time and stopped. Michael worked his way through the group to Rohan at the head.

  Michael sent his senses through the tunnels ahead of them and he and Rohan shared a look. There were at least three hundred small- to mid-sized demons ahead, with a group of twenty or so really big ones – either Duke or Mother level. Michael studied his own squad – he and Rohan were the only Immortals present – and nearly ordered them out.

  What did the intel say about the level of training? Michael asked Rohan.

  The demons don’t appear to be trained, they are big but not warriors. This nest has never been attacked so they’re complacent.

  Michael worked out the numbers and came up slightly positive on his own side. They could take them; and removing this many huge breeding Mothers from the Horde of Hell would give the Celestial forces a serious tactical advantage in the war to come. It could mean the difference between an improbable victory and a very likely Celestial defeat.

  He nodded once, sharply, and sent an order out to the troop. Me on point; Number Two on rear guard. Have your weapons out and ready.

>   The rest of the squad drew their swords, and Michael pulled out his own and held it. Rohan moved to the back of the group to guard the rear, and Michael made them all invisible and led them to the end of the tunnel.

  The tunnel opened into one of the largest nest chambers he had ever seen, short of the chamber containing the highest level Mothers in the centre of Hell. The cavern stretched higher and further than he could see, and the air was full of the dank odour of the demon inhabitants. Dry slithering indicated that the Mothers were on the move – they hadn’t settled for the night yet – and Michael led the squad along the left wall, masking their sound and scent.

  On my word, take them out one by one, pull them to the side and finish them, he said. Backs to the wall and defensive formation when we’re discovered. Try to quietly remove as many as you can before they raise the alarm.

  He led the group to the edge of the populated area of the nest, where floor hollows three metres across sat at five-metre intervals. Each hollow was claimed by a Mother for her eggs. One of the Mothers was reclining in her hollow nearby and Michael led the group towards her, still keeping them silent.

  The air exploded with loud bangs and the head of the soldier next to Michael burst in a gush of blood and brains and shattered bone that hit him with piercing splinters. Michael ducked and moved to the side; a group of Mothers armed with automatic firearms had been hiding behind their sisters and now raised their human front ends on their snake back halves to let loose on the squad. The soldiers fell, their bodies shredded by the force of the bullets that crashed into them. As the only other Immortal there, Rohan was fast enough to block bullets with his blade; but he was overwhelmed, half his head blew out, and his body disappeared.

  Michael sent a blast of energy into the middle of the Mothers and the two centre ones were destroyed. He needed to find cover and there wasn’t any. He snapped chi armour around himself, but it wouldn’t hold for long. He sent another blast of energy into the Mothers but these resisted it: too big. He changed to shen energy, the flaming energy of his half-god soul, and destroyed them.

  The chi armour faded. The Mothers moved faster than he could see and surrounded him. He needed to open his Inner Eye to destroy them but he was struck on the back of the head.

  Someone held his arms and was dragging him, on his behind, through the dirt. His head was splitting and he wanted badly to throw up. The nausea overcame him and he gagged, then spat some bile out to one side. He looked up to see what was pulling him, and only saw a confused jumble of brown and black. He collapsed and retched again.

  They stopped dragging him and he peered up at them. Two really big Mothers in human form towered over him, holding one arm each. They were exceptionally tall, slim, gorgeous women – supermodel gorgeous. One appeared Indian and the other looked Thai. Michael’s gut heaved again but he managed to avoid vomiting.

  The Mothers released his arms and he fell to the floor on his back. He stared at the ceiling; it was the arched room with the Buddhist frescoes. One of the Mothers kicked him in the side and he grunted.

  ‘Cut that out, Dad wants him alive and in one piece.’

  Someone crouched over him, blocking the view of the ceiling. It was another big demon, a Duke in female human form. She lifted his eyelids and shone a light into his eyes. He winced at the pain that seared through his head.

  ‘He’ll live,’ she said. ‘Well done.’

  They pulled at his left arm and he tried to jerk it away but failed. Something stung the inside of his elbow – a needle. They were drugging him, and he was too weakened and disoriented to fight it.

  ‘Take him through,’ the Duke said. They grabbed his arms and dragged him as it all faded away.

  His head was bumping painfully against something. He was sprawled, half-sitting, across a seat and bouncing – he was in a car. He pulled himself upright and nearly threw up again. His head pounded and he was deliriously thirsty. He wondered how much time had passed.

  ‘Take it easy,’ a male voice said. ‘They hit you way too hard. Can you see?’

  Michael opened his eyes and peered at the demon speaking to him. He was in a van, facing the back, and it lurched again; the nausea roiled up and he looked around for something to throw up into.

  ‘Sick,’ he gasped out.

  ‘Oh,’ the demon said, and quickly passed him a plastic shopping bag.

  These things usually had holes in them but Michael couldn’t stop the gush of bile and stomach acid. He retched a few more times, then bent over his knees, trying to settle his stomach and overcome the pounding in his head. His hands automatically tied a knot in the top of the bag and he dropped it onto the floor of the van.

  ‘Combination of a heroin overdose and concussion – unfortunately you’ll survive, Prince Michael, even if it feels like you won’t,’ the demon said.

  ‘Don’t want to,’ Michael mumbled. ‘Please, kill me now.’

  ‘What, and miss the opportunity my father’s about to give you? He’s going to take you into the European Heavens,’ the demon said with amusement.

  Michael’s head shot up to study the demon, and he realised with a shock that it was the Demon King’s Number One Son himself. He was in male human form with slicked-back blond hair and wearing a grey silk suit. Michael glanced out the window; they were travelling through the desert at highway speed, with no other vehicles around for any distance. He winced at the light and looked away.

  ‘Why would he take me to the European Heavens?’ Michael said. The Asian Shen had been trying for years to contact their European counterparts. If he could enter the European Heavens, he could discover why the European Shen were absolutely quiet and didn’t respond to any of the Asian Shen’s overtures. The fact that the Asian Demon King could travel there was seriously disturbing and this was a brilliant opportunity to find out exactly what was going on.

  ‘You’re the biggest son of the White Tiger,’ the demon said. ‘But better than that, you’re half-European and they may talk to you. Your mother was descended from the European Serpent people. Do you know about them?’

  ‘There were Serpent people in Europe?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’ Number One smiled and covered it by rubbing his mouth. ‘Suffice to say your mother was just as much demon as she was human. Considering what your father is, you should be glad you were Raised to Immortality the old-fashioned way and didn’t attempt to take the Elixir – it would probably do the same thing to you that it did to your dear old mum.’

  Michael inhaled sharply. ‘You know why my mother exploded?’

  ‘I just told you, didn’t I? She was a human-demon mix. So are you.’ The demon studied him carefully. ‘You and me together could probably take my father down, you know. I could rule in Hell, and you could go home to your girlfriend.’

  ‘You think I’d work with you after what you did to her? She’s a blind paraplegic with serious PTSD after what you demons did to her. She’s a broken husk of what she used to be.’ His voice thickened. ‘She thought I’d be her knight in shining armour and ride in to rescue her, and I never did because they told me she was dead.’

  ‘It was Dad that did it to her, not me. Even more reason for you to kill him, eh? I want him gone as well – he’s negotiating with the European demons. Those bastards will end up controlling the Asian demons, the same way they colonised and controlled Asia during the Opium Wars. I won’t let that happen, and you can help me stop him. We can work together.’

  Michael hesitated. The demon was right. Michael also knew in personal and excruciating detail exactly how much success he could expect if he made a pact with demons.

  ‘I’ll just go check out the European Heavens, thanks. Sounds like fun.’

  ‘Don’t let them take any genetic material,’ the demon said. ‘If they give you a sample jar, whatever you do, don’t fill it. They want to make copies of you.’

  Michael winced. More copies. This Demon King made copies of humans, demons and Celestials and using them as spies, and
only the Dark Lord himself could distinguish some of them. A copy of Michael could be inserted into his father’s palace undetected, and provide the demons with limitless information on the Celestial plans. Once he had enough intelligence, Michael needed to blow his brains out as quickly as he could and go home to Asia.

  The demon nodded. ‘If it comes to a choice of killing yourself or giving them a genetic sample, choose death.’

  ‘Why are you helping me?’

  Number One leaned back in his seat and smiled. ‘You’re really asking me that?’

  ‘I won’t help you take down your father.’

  ‘Just by talking to me, Prince Michael, you already are.’ The demon glanced out the window. ‘From here you’ll go on a private jet. Dad and Francis are in Europe waiting for you.’

  ‘Who’s Francis?’

  ‘King of the European Demons,’ Number One said with venom. ‘He has seduced our King with tales of power and is planning to rule us all.’ The van stopped and he slid the door open. ‘We have similar goals, Prince Michael. Both of us want to see the Asian King taken down. I can’t come to the European Heavens, they’re too far from my Centre. Only Dad and half-European demons can do it, with Francis’s help. I’m counting on you to help me stop the Europeans from enslaving us all.’ He took Michael’s arm. ‘Pretend to still be drugged and dazed, so they won’t wonder why you haven’t escaped. Come around on the plane – by then it will be too late for you to escape.’

  Michael half-closed his eyes and leaned on Number One as he was led from the van to the small waiting business jet.

  He didn’t have time to see where he was before he was dragged up the stairs into the private jet and the door closed behind him. He kept his eyes half-closed as a demon Duke in female human form pushed him into a large comfortable seat.

  Her presence remained in front of him for a long moment, then she spoke. ‘You’re pretending to be unconscious. Can you speak, Prince Michael?’

  His limbs were still like lead and he didn’t need to fake the struggle to sit upright and be fully conscious. ‘Huh?’