by Ky Tyrand
Her lashes were long and dark, a stark contrast to the pale eyes beneath them – silvery, like the color of her suit. Her black hair was meticulously styled, not a strand out of place as it shimmered under the intensity of the lights. With flawless skin that could have been sculpted from porcelain, and teeth that looked like they came out of a mold, this woman was beyond attractive – even for Sylor, who cared little for such matters.
She was perfect. Too perfect.
Sylor recognized her immediately as the one who had previously given him Dark Matter – material with the ability to neutralize the Witch-Princess’s energy weapons.
“You failed to kill the girl,” said the woman, in a voice that sounded too sweet to speak such sinister words. “You will be better prepared, this time. More suitably… equipped.”
Though Sylor didn’t know what that meant, he was certain there was nothing he would not do to get his hands on the girl. If these… people had done anything to make that easier for him, he owed them a great debt.
The woman stood back, and the robotic arms pulled away, taking the pain along with them. Sylor felt the clamps holding his arms and legs release.
Sensing that he was free of his bonds, the man didn’t hesitate to lift his arm. He wanted to know what they had done to his missing hand, and quickly brought it to where he could see…
Though covered in strange black plates that continued up his arm, his hand was as complete as it had once been. The plates were fitted to the shape of his body, separated into individual panels that allowed his joints to bend freely.
By some unknown magic, Sylor could feel the tips of his fingers and thumb when he rubbed them together. They were not a part of him; and yet, they were.
He could sense that the robotic glove was much more than just a hand. There was power within it – technology beyond anything he had used before – and capable of catching that little Witch once and for all.
The man brought his other hand up, somewhat surprised to find the same black plates covering it as well. There had been nothing wrong with that hand. Nevertheless, these mysterious people saw fit to shield it in the same fashion as the other.
As the woman gave him space, Sylor sat up on the platform, only to discover that it was not just his hands and arms swathed in the mysterious panels – his entire body was plastered with them; legs, torso, chest and shoulders – were all wrapped in dark plates of armor, each fitted to match the size of his body and held together by grey, sinewy, tendon-like strands.
The armored shell reminded him of what that little Witch-Princess wore, which protected her far better than it should.
Sylor got to his feet.
He was a big man – tall and powerful. He towered over the others in the room. Though he still couldn’t see the two additional figures in any definitive way, that much he could tell. Nevertheless, despite his great size, there was something about these three that made the man feel small and insignificant.
Sylor found the sphere of Dark Matter attached to a belt around his waist.
“It will not affect this armor, or the technology within it,” the woman assured him.
She had answered the very question Sylor was about to ask.
A quick examination of this hi-tech suit – particularly of the hand that had somehow been replaced – was all it took for the man to know that he was ready to continue his mission. Despite having been ripped apart by the girl’s explosive device, Sylor was alive and well, held together by this complex equipment. He didn’t care how grim his body might look like under this unusual shell. All that mattered to Sylor was that he had another opportunity – a chance to get his hands on the girl.
“First you give me the Dark Matter; then the means to track her; Now this? You must want her almost as badly as I do.”
“Do not play your foolish games with her,” the woman cautioned.
Sylor could tell that she meant it. But it was a warning he had no intention of obeying.
-Find her-
The man felt a sharp pain between his temples as the words were forced straight into his head. He assumed they came from the woman, but her mouth never moved. There was no voice attached, only a thought implanted into his mind. Sylor glanced at the other two forms, wondering why he couldn’t see them clearly.
-Find her- the words repeated.
-Kill her-
3
The boy let out a long, drawn out whistle as the realization set in, prompting Je’nna to roll her eyes and turn away.
“It makes sense,” said Ki’ara. “The Wolf Room. All the weapons and equipment. The fact that they both went missing around the same time…”
“If the Angel was even a real person,” said Je’nna.
Ki’ara’s cheek twitched as she tried to ignore her friend’s comment.
“Wow, this is huge!” said Petch, completely awestruck. “You’re the daughter of the Angel!”
Je’nna hissed out a breath. “Big deal. Was she really so special? A lot of people think she caused the Collapse, you know.”
The others looked at the pink-haired girl with raised eyebrows.
“Yes, I know,” admitted Ki’ara. “Do you believe that?”
Je’nna looked down at her feet. “No,” she confessed. “It’s just… you’ve got everything… A kingdom. A castle. A secret room full of awesome stuff – with pet wolves, no less. You’re a freaking Princess. And now you’re the daughter of the greatest hero to walk Avalon in a thousand years?” Je’nna’s eyes looked capable of burning a hole through Ki’ara. “It’s not fair.”
The Princess was taken aback. She’d never seen Je’nna act this way, and it had certainly never occurred to her that the other girl might be jealous.
To’mas and Petch awaited Ki’ara’s response without saying a word. At least one of them may have even taken a step back…
Ki’ara’s expression, though soft at first, hardened in the blink of an eye. “Are you about done?” she asked sharply. “Do you really believe I have any of those things? Because what it feels like to me is that I have a castle that’s not mine, in a kingdom that’s not mine, filled with people that want me dead, just like my mother. Just like my father.”
“At least you had a father!” Je’nna barked.
Ki’ara’s eyebrows went up, only for an instant, before they dropped into a sharp V and she stepped toward Je’nna. Arms and bodies were suddenly between the girls as To’mas and Petch bravely intervened, suddenly feeling the need to keep the pair separated.
Though the girls’ faces were burning red, the dirty looks they shot one another were ice cold. With a sideways glare, Ki’ara’s eyes remained fixed on Je’nna long after she’d turned away from the pink-haired girl, who leaned against the wall with crossed arms and a dark scowl.
Ki’ara forced a deep breath and returned her focus to the task at hand. “So, I’m to look for a key?” she asked To’mas.
“Not exactly,” said the man. “The key is a sword.”
“A sword?” said Ki’ara. I’ve already seen it!
“Not just any sword,” To’mas went on. “The Sword of Avalon.”
“Wuh?” Je’nna pushed herself off the wall to rejoin the group. “The Sword of Avalon? Isn’t that…?”
“Yes,” nodded To’mas. “The sword of Ar’tur himself.”
“Excalibur,” whispered Petch, with an awestruck gasp.
Ki’ara could picture the magnificent sword in her hands. A perfect blade sliding out of a ratty old scabbard. “Let me get this straight,” said Ki’ara. “The sword is the key?”
“Correct.”
“And did you know that it’s down there?” she asked, pointing into the dark tunnel that To’mas had emerged from.
The man shrugged, “I guessed.”
“And you’ve been down here searching for it,” observed Ki’ara. “Did you know what I was going to ask of you?”
“Let’s just say that I know where you need to be.”
“Is that so?” Ki�
�ara watched the man, appraisingly. “So, when you were doing all that ‘There was a time when I could travel to other Worlds, but that was years ago’, stuff…”
“That was for show,” said To’mas, earnestly.
Ki’ara’s expression remained stoic. “You can take me to Mark’s Healer.” She said it in such a way that it was no longer a question.
To’mas smiled and gave her a nod. “If you can find the sword, I will bring you to the Healer.”
After a moment of silently watching the man, Ki’ara nodded. “Good enough,” she said, walking past him into the dark tunnel.
The corridor was narrow, with old tiered stone walls and a low arched ceiling. The floor was only flat for a short distance, before it ended at the top of a curving stairwell. Ki’ara stopped before the steps and waited, turning to see who was still with her.
To’mas and Petch were both through the doorway, but Je’nna remained on the other side.
“You coming?” said Ki’ara, in a tone sharp enough to suggest that she didn’t care either way.
Je’nna’s arms were still crossed as she watched them from the other room, as if contemplating whether to follow. She even went so far as to look over her shoulder at the door leading back to the castle. But eventually the pink-haired girl stepped into the tunnel and proceeded to walk right by the others without a word.
When they were all inside, To’mas pulled a lever and the heavy stone door rumbled shut behind them.
4
The stairwell seemed to go on forever, following a mild but consistent curve that spiraled downward, farther and farther beneath Stronghold.
Every so often a passageway would branch off from the side of the stairs, at which time Ki’ara would pause and place a finger on the small triangle. A moment later she would look up, and the group would continue back on their way – keeping to the stairs despite the growing number of options.
“It’s a maze of infinite possibilities,” muttered To’mas, as he followed behind the Princess.
“You’ve been searching since you escaped the prison?” asked Ki’ara.
“More or less,” said the man. “Every corridor branches off at least a dozen different ways; and each of those, a dozen more.”
“Did you find anything interesting?”
“Oh yes, I found all kinds of interesting things,” said To’mas. “Just not what I was looking for.”
“So how did you know that the sword was down here?”
“I had a Vision of you leaving these passages through the very portal from which we entered,” said the man. “And you had the Sword of Avalon with you.”
“That’s how you found the hidden door.”
“Yes.”
“Do you get Visions often?”
“Sometimes,” said To’mas. “There have been days when I’ve had several, and years when I’ve had none. It seems to depend how urgent matters are at the time.” Under his breath, he added, “I’ve been having more than usual, of late.”
“How is it that you get these Visions?” Ki’ara wondered aloud. How is it that I get them?
To’mas shrugged. “A little gift from my mother, I suspect.”
That piqued Ki’ara’s interest. “Do you come from a long line of Seers, or something?”
“A long line? No. But my mother was well known for her ability.”
Ki’ara stopped her descent and turned back to him. The light from the tips of her Niksuru cast a pale blue light throughout the stairwell. “Do you think my mother had Visions as well?”
To’mas gave her a smile and a nod. “There’s a very good chance.” His response gave Ki’ara the impression that To’mas knew more than he let on. She glanced up at Petch and Je'nna, both trudging down the stairs behind To’mas. Je’nna’s eyes were still shooting daggers, before the panels of her helmet suddenly flipped up over her head, obscuring the girl’s scowl as her mask sealed shut. Perhaps now isn’t the best time to discuss my mother.
Ki’ara continued onward. “How far down did you follow these stairs?”
“All the way to the bottom,” sighed the man.
“And how far is that?”
“I’m not sure,” admitted To’mas. His movements were slowing. “Everything looks the same in here. And I lost count of the stairs. Both then and now. Took a long time, though. And my knees and thighs hated every moment of it.” He let out a deep breath, pausing in place long enough to shake out his legs. “They still do.”
“What’s at the bottom?” asked Ki’ara.
“Tunnels. A labyrinth of them, leading every which way. A person could spend months down here and not get any farther ahead. Nearly impossible not to get lost. There are just too many choices.”
Ki’ara could tell they were all feeling the effects of the never-ending steps.
It became a challenge to not let her Grav-Regulator take her weight. Tempting to the point that she had to fight to resist, knowing that it wouldn’t be fair to the others. Especially Petch, who didn’t have an easy time with stairs to begin with. Ki’ara still struggled to imagine how the boy had carried Je’nna down three flights in the castle. Though she wasn't big, Je’nna was like a knot of solid muscle – nowhere near as light as she looked. For a boy with no bottom legs, just picking her up must have been difficult enough, let alone lugging her across the castle.
A sudden change in the stair run nearly tripped Ki’ara up, snapping her to attention. “Watch your step,” she called over her shoulder.
“This is it,” said To’mas, observing how the stairs began to level out.
While Ki’ara had been expecting the stairwell to just end, perhaps even marked with a door, the transition was much more gradual. It began with uneven steps – wider, but with less of a rise. Eventually the walls and ceiling showed signs of change as well, manmade stone giving way to natural rock; first up top, and then the walls. Soon even the floor was part of an original cavern.
They were no longer in Stronghold.
5
Once again, the technology they had given him was far beyond anything Sylor ever used before. It was far beyond anything he knew to exist.
Perhaps that was why they called them Gods.
Though his body still felt the pain of certain movements, the repairs they had done to him were more than enough. He wasn’t sure if the armored suit wrapping his body could even be removed, or if it was now a part of him; fused with his burned skin, and perhaps holding him together. Whatever it was offered a second chance, and he would gladly take it.
Capping his suit was a helmet fitted so well that he never wanted to take it off. That was partly due to the fact that pain from the burns on his face had immediately eased the moment he closed the front panels. And the materials were nothing like the crap-tin junk he’d worn to battle. This face shield had the Gods’ own technology built right in. Sylor no longer needed to track the girl using a handheld device, made awkward by the fact that he’d lost one hand. Now the energy detector had been imparted into his mask, leaving his hands free to get hold of the girl.
Both hands.
Sylor still couldn’t believe they had given him back his left hand. He had no idea what it could possibly be made from that allowed such feeling and function, nor did he care.
All that really mattered to him was that this new equipment would give him a better chance of catching that little Witch.
She’d proven to be slippery, and Sylor had no intention of letting her escape ever again.
As he followed the beacon deeper into the dungeon, the tech within the lenses of his helmet automatically adjusted to the low, and then non-existent, levels of light. Though awash with a tint of green, he could see everything as clearly as he would if the lights were on.
But something else was happening with the lenses – another sensor of some kind, scanning ahead. Small white boxes appeared before his eyes, drawing his attention to the floor in front of him.
Inside each box flashed a red footprint on the otherwise dust
y floor. A distinct pattern emerged, as clear as a line marked with paint.
Somewhere beneath his hi-tech mask, a grin spread across Sylor’s face. His steps widened as he swiftly moved through the narrow corridor, straight to a small chamber in a part of Stronghold that shouldn’t have seen activity in hundreds of years.
A dead end.
Or was it?
The tracks led in, but they didn’t come back out.
What would she be doing down here? And where did she go?
Sylor followed the footprints to the back of the room, where they mixed together and overlapped. The display in his mask drew his eyes upward. Though the walls were made up of dozens – perhaps hundreds – of stone blocks, only three of them were lit up with fresh handprints.
6
Curious as the tunnel was, it brought back horrible memories of the previous night. The approach was exactly like the passageway leading to Sirona’s lair.
Hopefully without the magical traps, thought Ki’ara. And the Witch at the other end.
But the tunnel itself was oddly similar, twisting and turning; winding this way and that, in a line that was about as straight as a tangled ball of yarn.
The size of the passage was only as consistent as nature had made it, opening wide in places, while shrinking tight in others. And, as the breadth of the path widened and narrowed, so too did the height – raising and lowering, both ceiling and floor – forming large cavities and the tightest of cracks. Some required the group to turn sideways to fit; while for others they needed to duck, or even crawl. The most awkward of them entailed a combination of contorted maneuvers, and often included climbing between stones or dropping off ledges.
The trek was physically exhausting, taking its toll on everyone. And with passages branching off every which way – including up and down – it often seemed like they were taking the most difficult route possible. Nevertheless, Ki’ara stuck to the path that her mother had followed, confident the Angel knew what she was doing, and where she was going.