Ashes of the Sun

by Django Wexler

  “You started this fight,” the mercenary said. “We could have paid them off.”

  “With a blaster?” Kit snorted. “I hope you were willing to hand yours over, because I’m plaguing sure they weren’t getting mine.”

  “We were negotiating,” Ibb growled.

  “He was stalling while his friends got into position,” Kit said. “I saw them coming and decided not to wait.”

  “You put us all at risk.”

  “Coming down here at all is a risk.” Kit cocked her head. “I didn’t take you for a coward.”

  “That’s enough,” Yora snapped. Harrow was on one knee in front of her as she bandaged the bleeding cut on his leg. “Ibb, come and let me look at you.”

  For a moment, Kit and Ibb held their locked gazes. Then the mercenary turned away, growling, and sheathed his rapier, limping over to Yora. Kit caught Gyre’s eye and shrugged, then started prowling through the bodies.

  Gyre caught up to her, picking his way cautiously through the still-cooling debris.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Not a bad fight, honestly,” Kit said, grinning at him. She did her cat’s stretch again, rolling her head from side to side. “A little quick for my taste.”

  “Doomseeker,” Gyre said, shaking his head. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  “I never claimed otherwise.”

  Kit stalked forward. She’d found the source of the shrieking, the young woman who’d taken Harrow’s axe to the midsection. It had opened her, messily, and her eyes were wide and glassy as she plucked feebly at her guts with gory hands. Kit grabbed her by the hair, jerked her head back, and slashed her throat.

  “That’s better,” she said, when the bandit’s shudders had ceased. The praying man’s gurgles had died away, too, leaving the gallery in silence. “Now, let me see that map?”

  In spite of his wounds, Ibb insisted they start moving again as soon as possible, lest the bandits return with reinforcements. If there were more members to the gang, though, they didn’t show themselves, and Gyre and the others walked down the gallery for a time in silence. Kit held her glowstone high, examining each marking on the wall they passed, sometimes hesitating for a moment, then muttering and moving on.

  “You’re sure we haven’t missed it?” Yora said.

  “Pretty sure,” Kit said, without looking around. “Mostly sure. Kind of sure.” The bloody melee seemed to have improved her mood.

  “Wonderful,” Ibb grated. He had a circle of bandages around his head and another wrapping his leg.

  Finally, Kit came to a halt, bouncing excitedly on her heels.

  “Here!” She pointed to the carved character. “This way. It’s not far.”

  “Someone could be waiting—” Ibb said, but Kit was already darting forward. The rest of them followed more slowly, leaving the main gallery for a short side corridor. They caught up with Kit at a dead end, the smooth-walled passage stopping abruptly.

  “This is what you’ve been looking for?” Ibb said.

  Yora stepped forward, raising her glowstone. She took another step and ran her finger along the wall, knocking away bits of grime. “Is this a door?”

  “It is!” Kit said, sounding delighted. “Still sealed.”

  “Which does us what good, exactly?” Ibb said. “Unless you brought a centarch or a wagonload of alchemicals to blast it open and forgot to tell us.”

  “Better than that,” Kit said. “I brought the key.”

  She fished in her pouch and brought out a small device about the size of a drinking cup. It was flat on one end, while the other sprouted an organic-looking spray of metal and crystals. Ibb’s eyes widened.

  “Is that a code-key?” he said. “Where in the plague did you—”

  Kit shrugged. She stepped up to the door and placed the code-key’s flat side against it, where it stuck like a suction cup. The crystals began to glow, flashing a complex pattern in several colors. Then, with surprisingly little fuss, the rock wall slid open, each half retreating smoothly into the wall along a noiseless track. It made a doorway wide enough for two people abreast.

  Beyond the door, a smaller corridor stretched out to a T-junction. It was much neater than the raw, rocky space outside, the walls colored off-white and without cracks or fractures. On the ceiling, circular patches glowed with a flat, deadening radiance, giving the whole place a sterile look.

  “What in the name of the Chosen?” Harrow breathed.

  “It’s still alive,” Yora said.

  “More or less,” Kit said. “I imagine there’s been some degradation, but it’s better off than the rest of this place.”

  “How did you know this was here?” Ibb said. His usual calm, which had been severely shaken by the fight with the bandits, was now gone entirely. “I’ve never heard of a live ghoul tunnel anywhere close to Deepfire. Plague, I haven’t heard of one being found for a hundred years!”

  “I imagine there aren’t many left,” Kit said. “Unless you know where to look.”

  “And you knew where to look,” Ibb said. His lip twisted. “I don’t like it. We have no idea what’s in there.”

  “It’s been closed since the war,” Gyre said. “It can hardly be infested with plaguespawn.”

  “Halfmask’s right,” Yora said. “We need the destabilizer to finish the job.”

  “But…” Harrow began, then stopped at a look from Yora.

  Ibb sighed and made an effort to compose himself. He straightened his hat, knocked askew during the fight, and put one hand on the hilt of his rapier.

  “I suppose we do,” he said. “Stay close, then. And be ready for anything.”

  He paced forward, and the other four fell in behind him. Gyre, walking beside Kit, leaned close to her ear.

  “I’ve never heard of anyone with a functioning ghoul code-key,” he said. “The Order has some Chosen ones, but…”

  “It’s amazing what you can dig up,” Kit said with a smile. “If you know where to look.”

  What did she find, down in the Tomb? Gyre had pictured a ruin, like the tunnels under Deepfire, only grander. Now he imagined something perfectly preserved, kilometers of neat white tunnels like this one. And what else? Workshops? Arsenals?

  The ancient tunnel here even smelled different, the air fresher and without the stench of rot. Down at the edge of hearing there was a faint whirr, and Gyre felt air currents brush over his face.

  At the first junction, there was a gray metal sign on the wall, labeled in incomprehensible Elder script. Kit peered at it, then pointed, and Ibb led the way onward. They passed steel doors on either side of the corridor, labeled with more glyphs. Most were closed, but a few stood half-open, revealing chambers full of long, low tables strewn with strange metal-and-crystal arcana. One room was full of long-dead plants in metal pots, long-dead trunks in neat rows surrounded by their fallen, skeletal leaves. In another, the corpse of something had decayed in a dark smear, covered in mushrooms.

  “Every scavenger in Deepfire is going to want a chance at this place,” Yora said. “Nobody has found anything this intact since before I was born.”

  “They’re welcome to it, once we’re finished,” Kit said. “Sell a map, if you like. Consider it a bonus.” She gave a giddy laugh. “Nearly there, I think.”

  The corridor ended in another steel door. This one was open just a crack, enough to see that there was a large open space beyond. Ibb put a hand against it and shoved, and it swung inward. Lights in the ceiling began to glow, and the whirring sound grew louder.

  In the center of the room was a dais, clearly the focal point of everything here. Tables surrounded it on all sides, as though whatever had sat there had needed to be observed from every angle. Whatever it had been, it seemed to be gone now, and the dais was empty except for a few trailing silver wires.

  Kit was unconcerned by the absence. She waved everyone into the room.

  “Look for the destabilizer,” she said. “It’s a black rod about half a meter long. Pr
obably in one of those closets.” She pointed at a set of upright metal lockers along the far wall.

  Ibb caught Gyre’s eye, and Gyre only shrugged. Ibb sighed, and together they crossed the room and started opening doors. Yora followed, while Harrow stood guard by the entrance. Kit was poking around under the tables, though whether she was searching or merely idly curious Gyre couldn’t say.

  “I can’t say our employer is endearing herself,” Ibb muttered.

  Most of the lockers were empty, revealing only puffs of four-hundred-year-old dust or clusters of decaying mushrooms. Gyre poked through these with his dagger, then moved on. Another door revealed a leather case full of queer metal tools. It was exactly the sort of thing most scavengers would give their eyeteeth for, and he was considering jamming it into his pack when Yora straightened up.

  “I think I found it.” She lifted something that matched Kit’s description, a black rod about as thick as her wrist, inlaid in places with fine silver wire. “Kit?”

  “Yes.” Kit crossed the room at once, grabbing the thing like it was her long-lost child. “Perfect. Perfect.” Her face was a mix of glee and relief. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “Maybe we should rest a bit,” Ibb said. “Only one way in here. It’d be safer than out in the gallery.”

  “Not really,” Kit said. “Trust me. Let’s move.”

  Ibb’s eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you—”

  Something else spoke.

  The voice was deep and resonant, making the tables rattle and Gyre’s teeth buzz. The words were incomprehensible. For a moment, everyone froze, looking for the source.

  Except Kit, who was already heading for the door. “Run,” she said. “Run now!”

  In one corner of the room, a shape began to unfold. It started as a stone cube about a meter square, which Gyre had dismissed as part of the architecture. Now the surface split along invisible seams. Inside was a roughly humanoid shape, curled up with its head bowed. It began to straighten up, interlocking fragments of rock clinging to its body like plated armor.

  The flesh underneath was dark and striated, with visible, shifting muscles that put Gyre in mind of a plaguespawn. But this was no haphazard monster built from scavenged corpses. It looked designed, and it moved with the smooth purpose of a well-made machine.

  Standing, it was a head taller than even Harrow, with subtly inhuman proportions. Its articulated stone armor must have weighed half a ton, but it loped forward with strength. Kit was already halfway to the doorway, but Gyre, Ibb, and Yora were on the other side of the room.

  Harrow, directly in the creature’s path, drew his axe and stood his ground. He shouted and swung a two-handed blow as it charged, aiming for the base of its neck. The thing threw up one arm to block, blade rebounding from stone with a clang. Its other arm swept forward, slamming into Harrow’s chest, and Gyre heard the crunch of breaking bone as Harrow went tumbling.

  “Fuck me,” Ibb swore. His blaster was in hand, and he fired as the creature started to turn. The white-hot bolt of energy crackled across the room, but several inches from the thing’s armored skin it splashed, rippling outward like a droplet of water hitting a window. Gyre saw a blue translucent field shimmer around the creature for a moment, like a second skin, before it faded to leave the stone-armored thing unharmed.

  “Running sounds good,” Gyre yelled.

  They ran. Gyre vaulted the tables, putting them between himself and the monster, and Yora stayed close behind him. Ibb took a more circuitous route, still firing, but every blaster bolt simply splashed into nonexistence before touching the thing’s armor. The creature came at them, a single blow flattening the metal tables like tissue paper. Gyre tried to slip past, but it cut between him and the door, and he barely jumped back from the sweep of a boulder-like fist. Ibb’s blaster gave the high-pitched whine of a dead sunsplinter, and he swore again.

  “Harrow!” Yora shouted.

  The big warrior was back on his feet, his lips flecked with blood but axe still in hand. He charged the creature from behind, sweeping the big crescent-shaped blade down at the back of its leg. It was a well-judged blow, slipping between two armor plates and biting into the dark flesh between. The rock-thing twitched but didn’t make a sound. Before it could swing around to deal with Harrow, Yora leveled her spear and jabbed for its shoulder. The unmetal blade left a notch in the stone but failed to penetrate, and she had to dance back out of range.

  “Move!” Yora said, pushing Gyre past her. “Harrow, get away!”

  With an axe in its leg, the creature was a bit less mobile. Gyre threw himself past it, barely outrunning a hammering blow that sent bits of table flying. At the same time, Ibb circled in the other direction, breaking into a run for the doorway. The rock-thing turned to follow, but as it tried to take a step it found Harrow still holding on to the axe buried in its flesh.

  Gyre couldn’t tell if Harrow meant to hold the creature in place, or if he was only too stubborn to abandon his weapon, but either way the result was the same. One huge, rocky hand slammed down onto the warrior’s head, smashing it open like a melon against the monster’s armored flank. The other ripped the axe free and tossed it away.

  “Harrow!” Yora leveled her spear, ready to charge the thing. Gyre hastily grabbed her by one arm, and Ibb by the other. Between them they dragged their leader out the door.

  “He’s dead!” Gyre shouted. “Get out!”

  “Fucking plaguefire!” Yora snarled, but she turned to run.

  He’d hoped the stone thing might be restrained by the doorway, but the steel proved to be no more of an obstacle than flesh and blood. It burst through in a shower of rock chips and metal shards, coming to a halt in the flat white corridor. Though no eyes were visible, Gyre was certain it was watching them as they ran. The deep voice boomed again, and then the thing was running, slowly at first but picking up speed with every step, like a boulder rolling downhill.

  Yora was just ahead of Gyre, and Ibb farther on. Gyre looked up to try to find Kit, which proved to be a serious mistake. His foot caught on a loose piece of debris, and he went down in a tangle. Yora heard the sound and skidded to a halt, then started back toward him, reaching out a hand. The monster’s thumping stride accelerated as it closed.

  “Yora, don’t!” Ibb shouted from up ahead. “Go!”

  Some part of Gyre’s mind, calmly judging distances and speeds, told him he was right, that neither of them would make it. Yora grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet, the rock-thing only paces behind. The ground shook as he got his legs under him and started to run, the creature now moving faster than a galloping warbird, no chance—

  A blaster cracked, the white-hot bolt ripping past Gyre’s shoulder. Kit stood square in the corridor, weapon held cool and steady in both hands. Gyre waited for the blue field to intercept the shot, as it had with Ibb’s, but the bolt was poorly aimed and slammed into the ceiling. It detonated with a roar, and chunks of rock cascaded downward.

  Not poorly aimed at all. The creature staggered under the rain of stone, its momentum checked.

  “Fucking run!” Kit shouted. She fired again, her aim tracking along the ceiling, bringing the ancient tunnel down on the thing’s head. Gyre put his head down and ran, Yora pounding along at his side. As they passed Kit, she holstered the blaster and joined them, skidding around the corner at the T-junction.

  “Come on, come on!” Ibb shouted, already outside the hidden door. He had one hand on the code-key.

  Gyre gritted his teeth, sweat stinging his eye, and ran with everything he had. The three of them passed through the doorway as the rock-creature, dust-covered but intact, made it to the corner. As soon as they were clear, Ibb ripped the code-key from the door, which obligingly slid quietly shut and sealed with a final-sounding hiss. A moment later, the thump of footsteps from the other side came to an abrupt halt, and there was silence, aside from their labored breathing and the occasional crash of falling rock.

  Kit let out a wh
oop of triumph, brandishing her prize. Ibb fixed her with a poisonous glare. He’d lost his hat, and without it he seemed smaller. Yora had tossed her spear aside, fighting for breath, face dark with anger. Kit glanced between them, caught Gyre’s eye, and shrugged.

  Sitting on the table in their meeting room, the black rod that Kit called the destabilizer didn’t seem like it was worth the effort. Sarah examined the thing with a practiced eye, running her hands over the random patterns of silver wire that shimmered beneath its surface. Nevin, the thief, was nervously sketching on a long roll of thin paper. Yora herself sat several paces back from the table, jaw tight.

  Ibb, for his part, had replaced his hat and regained some of his aplomb. He sat, most of his face hidden, at the end of the table that was farthest from Kit. The look he threw Gyre when he came in was impossible to read.

  Kit swiveled on her own chair, as though the effort of holding still was too much for her. Her eyes were on the thing they’d retrieved with such difficulty.

  “Well?” Yora said quietly as Gyre entered. “What do you think?”

  “Frankly,” Sarah said, “your guess is as good as mine. I’ve certainly never seen anything like it.”

  Yora looked up at Kit, her eyes hard. “You say this thing will destroy a stasis web?”

  Kit nodded eagerly. “It takes all of a minute. Maybe less.”

  “That certainly makes things more possible,” Nevin muttered, not looking up. “Stasis webs are heavy, and unless you’ve got a centarch to help you, the only way to open them is with blaster fire. Risks damaging the contents, and it’s noisy. You said this thing we need to steal—”

  “The Core Analytica,” Kit supplied.

  “—you said it’s not very large?”

  “I could carry it easily,” she said.

  “Then we have a lot more options.” Nevin glanced shyly at Yora. “With a good team and the pick of the alchemists’ shops, I think we can do it.”

  “Assuming this thing works,” Sarah said, setting the destabilizer down. “Which I can’t guarantee.”