by Sandell Wall
“What’s stygian marble?” Remus asked Pitor, both of them standing at the mouth of the crevice.
“Stygian marble is the rarest form of black marble,” Pitor said. “Absolute black with veins of lustrous purple flowing through it. One slab of good stygian marble would bring more profit than an entire year’s worth of any other kind.” Pitor was becoming excited as he talked. “It’s never been found in this quarry. If we extract stygian here, Lord Burtick himself will visit!”
While they talked, Crast had been planning the extraction. “We can set up a winch at the top of the hole,” he said. “Much easier to lift the marble out.” He turned, looking for Pitor. “Pitor! Get over here. Let’s blast this thing open and see if we have a vein here.”
Pitor looked unsteady on his feet as he climbed up onto the ledge. “This will do,” he said, after inspecting the blasting hole. Without any sense of urgency he rummaged around in his satchel. “Aha!” he finally said, as he pulled a small round object out of his bag. Impatient, the group below watched as he inspected the item. When he was satisfied, he carefully dropped the sphere into the blasting hole. That done, he jumped back down to the quarry floor and walked through the crevice back the way they had come.
The group followed Pitor, so Remus went as well, although he was a little confused. Once they were safely behind a bend in the narrow canyon, Pitor stopped and searched through his satchel again. He pulled out a small orange runestone and wrapped his fingers around it. Remus realized that what had been dropped in the blasting hole must be some sort of rune explosive, and Pitor was about to trigger it. Before the thought left Remus’s head, he heard a muffled thump that could be felt through the rock. A hail of small stones pelted into the wall in front of them.
Foreman Crast was the first around the corner to inspect the results. Remus was the last to see, but it was obvious from the other miners’ reaction that they had found marble. The blast had sheared away stone, and it looked like they had blown open a doorway into pitch-black night. But that was not all they had found. Miners in front of Remus fell over themselves, clawing at each other to get away from the freshly revealed marble.
What in the hells?
As the men cleared out of the way, he got his first look at what they were running from. Suspended in the stygian marble was a vision from a nightmare. Four scythelike mandibles raised in attack, hideous needle maw gaping, an insect the size of a man reared from the black stone. Remus flinched at the sight, every instinct screaming at him to follow the fleeing miners. But he knew this thing could not be alive. It looked like the blast had broken stone away from the monster without damaging it.
Its shell must be stronger than iron!
With tentative steps he approached the horrifying fossil. He stood only as tall as the top set of mandibles. Had the beast been alive that gruesome mouth would have been able to bend over and bite his head clean off. Remus reached out to touch one of the barbs on the double-jointed limbs. He gasped, snatching his hand back. The barb had drawn blood even though he only grazed it.
“Get back here, you maggots!” Crast shouted from behind him. “The new blood’s got more balls than you lot!” He pointed at Remus. “You. You didn’t run, so you get to dig that thing out.”
Pitor stood next to Crast, investigating the insect. “The fossil may be more valuable than the marble,” Pitor said.
“Don’t be a sodding idiot,” Crast said. “Who wants the skeleton of some dead bug, no matter how big it is?”
“I don’t think you understand,” Pitor said. “This isn't just some bug. I’ve never heard of anything like this.”
Crast snorted. “You’ve not heard much of anything passed out in that shack of yours.”
“I’ll have you know, before Lord Burtick put me on retainer I was an archaeologist of some renown,” Pitor said, standing up tall and trying to look dignified.
“Sure you were, and I was a bleedin’ praetor.”
Pitor ignored Crast and spoke to Remus. “Everything in this quarry belongs to Lord Burtick. Do your best to keep the bug intact and he will decide what to do with it.”
Remus nodded, testing the black marble with a pickaxe. The head of the pick glanced off, leaving only the faintest of scratches. He groaned inwardly. This was going to take forever.
Chapter 8
MUTED SOUNDS OF CLINKING tools and distant voices echoed throughout the giant excavation. From her vantage point on the high ledge Aventine could see hundreds of workers swarming over the ruins, each one desperate to find the runestone that would make them rich. Dust, the only prize of a frustrated treasure hunter, rose into the air like silt stirred up from the ocean floor. Sunlight filtered through the haze and baked it all, man and dirt, without mercy.
She looked at Brax. He had not moved or spoken since Dranzen left the tunnel. The big Guardsman had been thinking furiously since witnessing Dranzen’s liaison with the sinister silver entity.
“Brax?” she said, beginning to feel worried by his silence.
He met her gaze, and the fear she had seen in his eyes had been replaced with calculated determination.
“Sorry,” Brax said, “that was the last thing I expected to see when we started following Dranzen. I’m sorting through what I know and trying to make sense of the facts.”
He lapsed into silence again, still searching for patterns in his memories. “And?” Aventine said. “Who, or what, was that thing?”
“I don’t know.”
That Brax was as clueless as she was had not entered her mind as a possibility. Now she understood his initial fear.
“How can you not know?” she said, trying to not let the uncertainty she felt creep into her voice.
“I told you before, I don’t have all the pieces to the puzzle. Most people are content to assume the world makes sense, that everything is known, and there are no monsters lurking in the dark. They can safely live under that assumption because there are people like us trying to understand and combat the hostile powers that would destroy us.” He placed a hand on her armored forearm. “If you choose this path, there are no guarantees or answers other than those you make and find on your own.”
After thinking it through, she nodded. She had chosen to join the Guard, and now she was learning firsthand the challenges that came with that choice. She was not about to back down because it was going to be difficult.
“What do we do now?” she said, the uncertainty banished from her voice.
“We go see if that thing left a trail,” Brax said with a grim smile.
They backtracked along the ledge until they found crude stairs cut out of the rock wall. Their armor made the descent tricky, but after an exercise in controlled falling, they were standing on the ground floor of the excavation. Careful not to draw attention to themselves, they skirted the perimeter of the ruins, heading towards the tunnel Dranzen had come from.
The tunnel had been picked clean. All that was left was rock and dust. Brax was a few steps ahead of her, and when they reached the end, he froze. Curious, she peeked around his armored bulk. Unprepared for what she saw, terror spiked through her. In the middle room, framed by the doorway, stood the silver creature Dranzen had met. It had waited for them.
Brax held out a hand, warning Aventine to stay back. His other hand was on the hilt of his great sword. Motionless, the thing gazed at them like a statue. Aventine felt an overwhelming urge to hide.
“I am Brax of the Rune Guard,” Brax said, his voice as hard as steel. “In the name of the emperor, I demand that you identify yourself.”
At first the thing did not respond. Then it laughed. “Didst thou think to escape mine notice?” it said in an archaic dialect. Its voice was grating and inhuman. Each word sounded like it struggled to escape a mouth unused to speaking. “The false emperor holdeth no sway with me.”
“False?” Brax said. “Who are you to defy the emperor’s sovereignty?”
“Little manling, beyond the borders of thine understanding dwell
many terrors that render thy delusions impotent. Speak not to me of sovereignty. We are soverign. We claim ownership of this realm. But thou know not of what I speak. For thine own sake, it is well that thou dost not. Dwell not on matters beyond thy comprehension, for if thou seeketh to remedy thine confusion, know that the cost will be thine very soul.”
When it was done speaking, the fingers on its left hand twitched and it disappeared. Aventine gasped. Where an instant before had stood armor, flesh, and bone, there was nothing.
“What in the empire?” she said.
“Teleportation,” Brax said. “I suspected as much.
“Teleportation?” she said, trying to recall where she had heard the strange word before, and what it meant.
“Special runestones. They allow you to travel instantly from one location to the next over great distances. There must be one hidden in that room somewhere.”
The implication was inescapable. With wonder in her voice, Aventine said, “Which means… that thing must have built this place.”
“Maybe,” Brax said. “Someone built the ruins and fortresses our empire has plundered for runestones. Many of our greatest citadels we did not construct. We found them. But where they came from has never been important.”
“It’s important now.”
“But why? And how is Lome connected?” Brax looked around suddenly. “We have to get out of here. The emperor must know of this.”
The climb out was exhausting. She could see the spire towering over them, its massive purple runestone winking at them in the sun. Before, the wonder of the giant stone had been fascinating. Now it was terrifying. It was no longer the remnant of a long-lost civilization. It was now the evidence of a power both alien and terrible. A very real, very present power.
Nearly an hour after starting their ascent they crawled over the edge at the top of the chasm, both of them completely spent. Spread eagle on their backs in the dust, they did not move or speak for a few long breaths.
“Come on, we can sleep when we’re dead,” Brax said, finally stirring. Exhausted, he was slow to stand. “We have to make contact with the Guard outpost in the city. They are the only ones who can send a secure message to the emperor. Lorent and the rest of the expedition are probably here by now. Let’s hope he doesn’t make things difficult.”
Aventine followed Brax around the perimeter of the city. He was avoiding the confusion of alleyways they had chased Dranzen through. Off in the distance to the right she could see what must be the Legion contingent of their expedition setting up camp. The Legion had detoured around the excavation, staying outside the circle of purple stakes that surrounded the city.
Those stakes must be the limit of the spire’s influence. She realized in an epiphany. It would be chaos for over six hundred soldiers and all their equipment to suddenly float free of the earth.
Brax led them towards a large two-story building on the outskirts of the city. It was clean, the stucco shining white in the sun. The symbol of the Guard, a silver shield bearing the white tower of House Amalt, hung on a simple wooden sign above the front door. Brax’s step faltered almost imperceptibly as they turned a corner and the front of the building came into view. Loitering outside were the warriors of Lome and Cinder. Sir Lorent and Sir Trent were nowhere in sight.
“The rest must be inside,” Brax said. “Brace yourself for the worst.”
The warriors were unexpectedly courteous as Brax and Aventine passed through their midst. She recognized one or two of them from Dranzen’s practice ring. Their politeness caught her off guard. Without even acknowledging the warriors presence, Brax walked inside the building.
Aventine took careful stock of the layout upon entering the building, prepared for anything. To her right, a wide wooden stairway led to the second floor. In front of her the first floor was open, the only walls visible were the iron bars of the armory at the back of the room. Desks, bookshelves, and lockers littered the floor, nailed in place so they could not float away. Each desk seemed to be a workstation, papers and maps secured to their surfaces with metal mesh.
Sir Lorent stood at one of these desks perusing a map. Sir Trent and Dranzen were behind him, inspecting the contents of the armory through the bars. A few veteran Lomish warriors were lounging around the room, apparently waiting for direction. There were no Guardsmen in sight.
“Sir Lorent, what is the meaning of this?” Brax spoke first, not waiting to be noticed. He strode into the center of the room as he spoke.
Sir Lorent looked up and smiled. The praetor of Lome was a strikingly handsome man, tall and lean even in his campaign armor. His smile was disarming. “Ah, here you are!” he said as he moved away from the table, arms open in welcome. “We guessed you traveled ahead of us, but couldn’t find you in the city. So we came here to wait.”
Aventine could tell by his body language that Brax was discomfited by Sir Lorent’s smile and easy demeanor.
“By the way, where were you? We looked in all the most obvious places,” Sir Lorent said. But before Brax could respond, he said, “Never mind. What’s important is that Dranzen came to me and apologized for the training incident with your protégé.” He nodded at Aventine, not saying her name. “Didn’t you, Dranzen?” Sir Lorent said, calling over his shoulder.
As if on cue, Dranzen came forward and looked Aventine in the eye. “I did. It was a misunderstanding, nothing more than an intense training session.”
Sir Lorent was an accomplished statesman and could lie with ease, but Dranzen was still young and inexperienced. His words asked for reconciliation, but his gaze burned with hatred. Aventine wanted to clobber him between his lying eyes.
“There, you see?” Sir Lorent said. “Let’s not allow the fiery passions of youth to blaze into conflict and hostility.”
Sir Lorent moved to stand in front of Brax in the center of the room. Sir Lorent was tall, but he still had to tilt his head back to look Brax in the eye. “I meant no offense to you or the Guard when I sought to arrest her.” He was still pointedly refusing to say Aventine’s name. “I was merely acting out of concern for my nephew based on the information I was given. I know now that I was too hasty, and I should have conferred with Dranzen before acting.”
Brax’s entire body was tense. He looked like he wanted to strike down Sir Lorent. Instead, he chose diplomacy. “Your apology is accepted, and I will note it in my formal report,” he said through clenched teeth.
Sir Lorent’s eyes narrowed. He had not apologized.
Instead of rising to the bait, Sir Lorent chose to ignore Brax’s twisting of his words. With a regretful look, Sir Lorent said, “I understand, but I’m afraid your report will have to wait. When we could not find you, I took the liberty of sending my own report back to the palace, borne by the Guardsman who was stationed here. I deemed it time sensitive and important, so I sent all of them, with the assurance that I would leave several of my warriors at the outpost to await their return.”
“You sent your report with Guardsmen? All of them?” Brax was incredulous. “You have no such authority! Why send them and not one of your own warriors?”
Sir Lorent’s cheerful attitude had not yet cracked in the face of Brax’s ire, but as the giant Guardsman continued to challenge and question the praetor, his posture shifted into a resting combat stance. White knuckled, his left hand was clenched in a fist around the hilt of his sword.
“You know as well as I that as the commander of this expedition I have the authority to commandeer any military force I deem necessary,” Sir Lorent said, finally letting his annoyance show. “I deemed it necessary.”
The silence that followed stretched long and uncomfortable. Aventine and the warriors around the room braced themselves for action. She and Brax were hopeleslly outnumbered.
“Very well,” Brax finally said, sounding defeated. “The emperor put you in charge of the expedition, and I will honor the trust he placed in you.”
“I knew you were a reasonable man,” Sir Lorent said w
ith a smile that did not reach his eyes.
Brax turned to look at Aventine, but there was no defeat in his eyes, only warning. “Let’s rejoin the expedition. With the Guard gone there’s nothing for us here.”
“We will join you within the hour,” Sir Lorent said to their retreating backs. “We won’t be staying here. We press on. The goal is to reach Delgrath tomorrow.”
Brax was silent as they walked out of the city.
“That was a sham,” Aventine said, knowing they needed to talk before reaching the camp.
“And a pitiful one at that,” Brax said. “The question is, why?”
“Maybe they realized the Guard would never stand for my arrest and they want to placate you.”
“I don’t think so. They didn’t seem happy with the charade. I think Dranzen was given a critical piece of information in the ruins, and now their plans have changed. The only reason I can think that they would be friendly to us now is so that we’ll lower our guard. Or to distract us from something.”
The warning horn sounded in the distance behind them. With no choice but to float in place or find an anchor, they jogged over to a nearby building and grabbed a rope tether.
“Damn,” Brax said in frustration, bumping gently against the building as he floated upward. “I needed to send a report to Narin, and Lorent knew it. Whatever that thing was that we encountered in the excavation has got to be the power behind House Lome’s ascent. We’ve known for at least a year that they’re not acting alone, but we’ve been unable to discover who’s helping them. We suspected it was the other great houses, but that silver fiend isn’t of the known world. If Lome is being supported by forces completely unknown, from outside the empire, the emperor needs to know as soon as possible.”
“I could go,” Aventine said.
“No. Commendable, but no. I have a feeling that I’m going to need you here before this is over. If they want us to lower our guard, it’s imperative that we watch each other’s backs.”