Cris nodded, taking deep breaths. This was heavy stuff. “So nobody really knows who he is.”
Chen looked downtrodden. “Most of us have faith in what the Bible teaches us.”
“If that is what pleases you then so be it,” Paramo said. “But personally I would prefer to know the truth. This is why I consider Cristian’s appearance here very interesting. His knowledge could prove invaluable. It could change things.”
Cris blinked. “I just want to remember who I am. I want to have my life back.”
Paramo nodded, getting to his feet. “Then you are headed for the right place, my friend. The City of Lahmia is home to many technological wonders. I’m sure they will help you remember everything.”
5
They travelled north through the desert for two days, through the Hebes Chasma and the barren, volcanic landscape of the Obsidian Pass beyond, until finally, at the very edge of the so-called ‘Shadowlands’, lush plant life began to emerge – as they passed into what Lorelei Chen referred to as the ‘Govian’ Forest.
They walked side-by-side, surrounded by dense vegetation: Tall, broad-leaved evergreen trees were the dominant plants, forming a leafy canopy over the forest floor. Huge conifers, podocarps and ginkgos were also prevalent, alongside orchids, bromeliads, mosses, and lichens. The air was humid, thick with rancid moisture, and permeated with a stench of sulphur and rot that Cris hadn’t quite experienced before. Insect life seemed abundant, with all kinds of tiny creatures scurrying underfoot. What bothered Cris, though, was the lack of any larger animals – and most of all, the lack of any birdsong. Everything seemed muted, quiet on a level that wasn’t natural; the only sound came from the chirping of nearby crickets and the impact of their feet on the earth.
Cris was very grateful for his Rãvier suit; not only were his bare feet finally protected, but he was beginning to notice the benefits afforded by the suit’s symbiotic nature: for one thing, his stamina was improved – he was able to travel much further for much longer without growing tired, and his strength also seemed increased. But perhaps most importantly, the suit seemed to be having a healing effect on him. The persistent migraine that had bugged him across the desert had since faded away, and he was beginning to feel rejuvenated, with more energy than he’d had in many years.
Since parting company with Paramo, Lorelei Chen had seemed uncharacteristically subdued, and had been quiet for much of the journey thus far. After the confident gait she had displayed at their first meeting, she was now relatively introverted, her feelings hurt deep within. It was upsetting to see her like this, Cris thought. The revelation about her grandfather being a ‘heretic’ alongside Paramo himself, and his death as such, had apparently come as a serious shock to her – after all, she’d been raised to believe that Doci Chen had died in service to Damarus in a distant war, a hero of the Silver City.
Lora was deeply religious, Cris could tell, and she was fiercely loyal to Damarus and everything he represented, having been raised from birth to believe wholeheartedly in his teachings. Perhaps in that respect she was also a little naïve, but Cris really had no idea what was going on in her mind right now. He didn’t know much about her other than what he’d seen over the past few days. Whatever the case, Paramo’s assertions of Damarus’ not-so-divine nature had been a bitter pill to swallow.
Ultimately, the whole situation was nothing more than a curiosity to Cris at this point. As an outsider, he was unable to cast judgement either way. Not that he had been a religious man in his past life. Quite the contrary, in fact. He hated the Church, and preferred a more agnostic approach to life. He could remember that much, at least.
After several miles, they emerged from the dense canopy of the forest at the edge of a vast lake, surrounded by lush marshlands, gently rolling hills and diverse woodlands as far as the eye could see. The view was breathtaking, and for a moment Cris felt like they had reached some kind of natural paradise.
“We’re here,” Chen said, sounding genuinely relieved. She stopped by the water’s edge, looking out at the calm, clear expanse, and took a deep breath.
Cris stopped beside her, and frowned. “This is the City of Lahmia? There’s nothing here…”
Chen smiled, and looked at him. “We’ll have to swim, of course. The city is located under the water, at the very bed of the lake. But don’t worry, your Rãvier will breathe for you.”
Cris was taken aback. This he was not expecting. “An underwater city?”
“Yes,” she said, then whispered something gently in her own dialect. A black, triangular mouthpiece emerged from the neck of her suit, evidently some kind of rebreather, which silently positioned itself over her mouth and nose. “You must ask your suit to breathe for you,” she told him, “and it will.”
Cris hesitated, feeling lost, unsure of what he was supposed to do. “I don’t know the words,” he said.
“Use your own words,” she told him. “The Rãvier has adapted to your physiology. It will understand.”
Cris nodded. The science was well beyond his understanding, but he would give it a try. What the hell, he thought. “Breathe for me,” he muttered. Immediately the suit responded, and a mouthpiece emerged and moved over his face. He felt it pinch onto his skin, creating a waterproof, airtight barrier, and he found he was able to breathe quite normally beneath. In fact, the oxygen being filtered through the suit was cleaner and easier to breathe than the sulphur-ridden atmospheric air. It was a most extraordinary sensation.
“Good,” Chen said, then turned back to the water. “Shall we proceed?”
Downward into the murkiness they swam, Cris following Lorelei Chen’s slender form, who seemed far more at home in the water than on land. She swam smoothly and gracefully, long limbs extended, her athletic body undulating with practiced ease. They swam for a long time, angling steadily deeper, the light from the surface fading slowly away behind them. What light there was came from sources beneath the surface, not all of them visible. The minutes slipped away, and for a moment Cris began to have second thoughts about what they were doing.
Then suddenly there was a new light, this one a steady glow that came from up ahead. Slowly, the City of Lahmia came into view.
My God, Cris thought to himself.
Beyond the limits of visibility, majestic towers hundreds of feet high stretched upward from the curving, glistening surface. It was huge, populated by clusters of domes, spires, and bubbles that connected to one another like balloons and were anchored to several huge rock pillars. One by one, the structures grew more distinct, and it became possible to make out the exquisite architecture that had gone into the construction of this technological marvel. Technological, yet organic, existing harmoniously with the undersea environment, surrounded by swathes of undulating seaweeds and thousands of schools of fish. The mighty city dwarfed the two human figures as they descended toward it, approaching an opening that soon yawned open like a vast mouth.
They picked up speed, swept along by a powerful current, into the mouth-like opening. Cris stared around in awe as smooth, pearlescent walls blurred past him. It was a curving three-dimensional maze of tunnels, like a vast circulatory system, where controlled currents of water became freeways in three-dimensional space. Tunnels divided, narrowed, and reentered main-routes hundreds of feet across, as the pair raced through in a dizzying blur. Then, after what seemed like an age, they were deposited into a small chamber, some kind of entryway. A shimmering wall of light appeared like a vertical curtain bisecting the chamber, and the water divided, like the Red Sea, into two rippling walls. The walls of water moved apart, controlled by some unseen energy, then evaporated in a flash, leaving Cris and Chen standing in a short, shimmering hallway, exhausted and drenched.
Cris felt completely disoriented. Everything had happened so fast – his mind was struggling to catch up. He took deep breaths, reaching out one hand to hold Chen’s shoulder to steady himself. “What…” he said. “What happened?”
Chen pulled the re
breather away from her face, looking concerned, scanning their surroundings. The hallway was bare, save for some kind of motionless robotic arm suspended from one of the walls. Everything was white, constructed from a translucent material resembling ivory, but tougher than steel. She unknotted her hair and shook it loose, spraying a fine mist of water. “We’re lucky to be alive,” she told him. “Those tunnels are intended for the transportation of cargo, amongst other things. They were certainly not designed for human travellers.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“No. Something is wrong here.”
Cris’ hand was still resting on her shoulder. Doubled-over as he was, he regained his breath and stood up straight. For a moment their eyes locked, and for the first time since meeting her, Cris felt a connection to Lorelei Chen; a loyalty, a trust that he couldn’t explain, only feel. He felt like they shared a special bond in that moment, that she felt the same way. He was attracted to her, yet it was more than a physical attraction. How, and why, he wasn’t sure.
She blinked, not moving. Her dark hair hung over her face in damp strands, moving slightly in an artificial breeze that flowed quietly through the hallway. Then she took his hand from her shoulder and took a step back.
“Until we find out what is going on here, we should stay alert,” she said finally.
Cris took a deep breath and swallowed dryly, and it suddenly dawned on him that they were probably not safe here, now, in this city. Whatever had caused them to be pulled into those cargo tunnels was surely not an accident – more like malicious intent.
“I thought the people here were benevolent,” he said.
“They are,” Chen reassured him. “Let’s just be careful, okay? I haven’t been here for many years.”
Cris nodded. There was no turning back now, either way.
The city appeared to be deserted.
They walked for some time, through long, snaking corridors of the same ivory-like construction, passing empty chambers and storage facilities. The architecture was unlike anything Cris had seen before… organic, curved, and decorated with a series of repeating, concentric circles that apparently made up the emblem of the city. There were no windows. The layout reminded Cris somewhat of the human nervous system, and for a moment he felt like they were walking through a bizarre, artificial reconstruction of arteries, veins and nerve cells.
“Where is everybody?” Cris asked, speaking in a whisper.
“I don’t know,” Chen said without stopping. “This is most unsettling. Lahmia is home to hundreds of thousands of people. Surely, we should have encountered somebody by now.”
“Maybe they all left,” Cris suggested. “Like some kind of evacuation?”
Chen shook her head doubtfully. “No. That’s not possible. All the technology here is in an active state. Everything is working normally. If the people left, the city would have sensed this and shut itself down automatically, by default. Besides, somebody must have operated that external door. Those things aren’t designed to open by themselves, you know.”
“So where are they?” Cris asked, fretting. Damp sweat beaded on his forehead. “Some kind of town meeting?”
Chen looked at him with an air of impatience, but mirrored his anxiety. “I said I don’t know, Cris. We’re headed for the city’s administration level. We should find the Makaton there. Maybe he can provide some answers.”
Cris nodded, and swallowed dryly. Makaton? This was totally crazy, yet he had no choice but to go along with it. He was lost and confused in an unfamiliar world, and Lorelei Chen was all he had, his only beacon of hope in a whirling sea of encroaching darkness.
After a while, they reached a larger chamber dominated by a huge bronze statue, depicting a muscular human figure with outstretched arms. It was suspended from the furthest wall by enormous brackets, and easily weighed several tons. Suspended from four wires across the statue’s grand arms was a long banner, oversized and gaudy in red-and-orange colours:
nA Gorgs, nA Ke’ens, onny Måhn!
Cris frowned. “What does it say?”
Chen took a deep breath and interpreted the words. “No Gods, No Kings, only Men.” She breathed out slowly. “This is a blasphemy. It reflects the views of those who, like Paramo, deny the Divine right of Lord Damarus as our sovereign leader.”
“Popular guy,” Cris remarked with a touch of irony in his voice.
Chen huffed. “I assure you, this view is only held by a small minority of people. Though why the authorities of Lahmia have allowed this banner to be displayed so prominently is a mystery. This kind of thing is outlawed across the Twelve Factions…”
“Maybe it has something to do with the fact nobody is around…”
“Possibly.”
They continued down a long flight of steps, and when they reached the bottom they emerged into a vast, palace-like hall, its ceiling higher than the tallest of cathedrals. The floor was tiled in grey-flecked marble and dominated by several wide staircases that led to second, third, fourth, and fifth-floor balconies. Arched marble pillars lined the ornate hall, supporting the immense, heavy upper floors. Fluted wall sconces cast funnels of light across the walls of ivory. In short, it was magnificent. Staring ahead, Chen suddenly stopped and recoiled in horror. Cris spotted it a second later, unsure of exactly what he was looking at.
A dozen or so yards ahead, a broad-shouldered man was standing, half-hidden in the shadow of a staircase, his back turned to them. He turned around slowly, the careful shuffling of someone drunk or injured, and lurched in their direction. His clothes – some kind of tan jumpsuit – were tattered and stained, the back of his head patchy with sparse, scraggly hair.
Gotta be sick - dying, maybe, Cris thought.
Whatever was wrong with him, Cris didn’t like it; his instincts were screaming at him to flee. The man completed his turn and started toward them, shambling forward into the light. His face was deathly pale, except for the blood smeared around his lips. Flaps of dying skin hung from his sunken cheeks, and the dark wells of his eye sockets glittered with hunger as he reached out with skeletal hands.
“Harp’en…” the man whispered. It sounded more like a dry croak than anything else. “Harp’en mA. Sturrap deez.”
Cris blinked, feeling a wave of revulsion, uncertainty and helplessness pass over him. He turned to look at Lorelei Chen, saw that she was as dumbfounded as he was. “Lora?” he said.
Before she had a chance to respond, there was a blur of motion – as something swooped down from the second floor balcony. Something fast, and big.
“DAn’t,” the man croaked, reaching up his arms defiantly, then screamed as something he couldn’t see grabbed his wrist and twisted. The bone broke with a snap, then the flesh of his neck pushed upward under his chin, as though a ghost had wrapped invisible hands around his neck. Gagging, he flailed and kicked as he was lifted into the air then dragged away, disappearing out of sight. A second later, the hall was quiet again.
“Gorg ‘ban mercutan!” Chen whispered, terrified.
“What the hell was that?” Cris said, blinking away tears. It had all happened so fast…
She shook her head. “I wish I knew, Cris. I wish I knew.”
Cris sighed heavily, and swallowed in the depths of his throat. Things had just gone from bad to worse. He wondered if they would make it out of this city alive.
6
After the bizarre incident in the polished marble hall, Cris felt more anxious than ever before. The threat of a violent death at the hands of some invisible, monstrous foe was right up there on his list of phobias, he was sure, and he couldn’t remember a time previously when his life had been in such immediate danger. Right now was probably the most scared he’d ever felt in his life. What the hell had happened in this place? His face was flushed, and his heart was pounding in his chest; even his sphincter muscles were relaxing – bringing him uncomfortably close to shitting himself.
“Are you okay, Cris?” Chen whispered. Despite their situatio
n, she seemed amazingly level-headed. They were making their way through another twisting corridor that had branched off from the marble hall, through some kind of peculiar indoor sculpture garden. Cris had lost all sense of direction in the maze-like layout of the city, but Chen seemed to know exactly where they were going.
Cris shrugged. “Not really.”
“We are not far from the Makaton’s chamber now,” she said. “With any luck, we’ll be safe there until we can figure out what happened here…” She stopped then, and turned to regard him. She had a look of serious remorse on her face. Blinking, she reached out and lightly took his left hand in her own. “I’m sorry,” she said, betraying an element of vulnerability he hadn’t yet seen in her. “For bringing us here. I thought we’d be okay when we reached Lahmia. But evidently…”
“Forget it,” Cris said, taking a deep breath. He shook his head. “You weren’t to know this place had gone to Hell. Nobody knew.”
“Still…” She averted her gaze. “If I had only set aside my personal quandary and taken you back to Einek, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
Cris frowned. He couldn’t really blame this woman for what was going on around them, even though a small part of him felt angry and wanted to shout at her for bringing him here. Deep down he knew that argumentative behaviour would get him nowhere. “It’s okay,” he said. He couldn’t help then but probe further into what secret she was keeping from him. “Why is it that you couldn’t face taking me there? To Einek?”
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