“Cleaning service. What’s down that tunnel?”
“Labs. What do you mean, cleaning service?”
Tikaya nodded. “We’ve seen them so far near the labs.”
Despite her own words, she prodded an “open” symbol. An invisible door swung outward, and her breath caught. Four stacked cubes waited inside, their deadly orifices pointed her direction.
Lancecrest cursed and jumped back. Tikaya stood frozen a long moment before her thoughts could push past her first instinct of fear. The cubes were dormant for the time being. A complicated drawing on the inside of the door caught her eye. A schematic? A label on top, a grouping of numbers and symbols, nagged her mind. There was something familiar about the arrangement. Oh, it looked like the codes on the instruction sets in the sphere.
“Can I get some paper and copy this?” she asked.
“If it’ll help. I can get you the goggles, too, if you want to take a good look.” He pointed at the top of the butte.
If she wanted to take a look? Strange, Lancecrest was treating her better instead of worse since Gali blabbed.
“Do I have a choice?” Tikaya asked. “I’m used to Turgonians threatening me or my family to ensure my help.”
Lancecrest studied her for a moment. “Starcrest’s a tricky devil on the water, but he’s no asshole who would play mind games with a prisoner. If he says you’re his woman, you are.”
“And that means something to you?” she asked, not sure whether to be hopeful or not.
“I respect him. If he’s between me and getting out of here alive, I’m still going to shoot him, but I’m not going to torment you.”
“Is that a Turgonian tenet? It’s fine to shoot a man you respect, but you don’t mess with his lady?”
A faint smile stretched his lips. “Something like that. My little brother...destroyed things for our whole family. All I’m hoping to do at this point is get out of here alive with some weapons to sell. Ideally, I’ll get those weapons and get out of here before Starcrest shows up.”
“What happens to Parkonis and the other archaeologists? I assume selling weapons isn’t what most of them signed on for.”
Lancecrest’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t what I signed on for either, but we’re all stuck in this together now. My brother didn’t make his choices alone. Everyone here is going to be wanted for crimes against the emperor. We’re all working for a split of the profits. And if you want Starcrest—and Parkonis—to walk away from this unharmed, you’d best get to work opening that weapons chamber up there. You can make sure there’s no bloodshed.”
No bloodshed. Right. Until whoever he sold the weapons to used them.
Better to let him think she would go along with him though. “Get me the goggles.”
“Lancecrest!” someone called from the other side of the butte. “The Turgonians are over the chasm!”
“Already?” Lancecrest cursed and jogged toward the speaker.
As he trotted away, Tikaya eyed the tunnel near the cube cabinet, wondering if she could slip away before someone caught up with her. But, no, it would not take Lancecrest long to notice she did not follow, and for all she knew the tunnel dead-ended. Besides, she wanted to copy that schematic, examine the door symbols, and talk to Parkonis.
She jogged after Lancecrest. He disappeared ahead of her, but she expected that by now. She kept going and between one step and the next, the camp appeared. Crates, backpacks, bedrolls, muskets and bows, and food sacks sprawled about her. The scent of stale sweat mingled with the pervasive guano stench.
Twenty people, several wearing marine uniforms, stood around the wispy-haired fellow, who hunkered over a bowl of water. A clairvoyant, she realized when she spotted images of Bocrest’s men moving on the still surface.
“How’d they get across?” someone asked.
“Built a catapult.”
A marine whistled.
“I wouldn’t have joined this team if I’d known we’d be against Admiral Starcrest,” a woman muttered.
“Isn’t he dead?”
“We’ll be dead if we tangle with him.”
“He’s just a man,” Lancecrest growled. “We’ve laid your wizard traps, and we know the terrain best. The advantage is ours.”
Tikaya edged closer to the bowl, hoping to catch sight of Rias. She wished she could communicate with him somehow, let him know everything that mattered. For the moment, the clairvoyant showed them Bocrest and Ottotark as they removed their parachutes and gathered their gear.
“Find Starcrest,” Lancecrest said. “Let’s see what they’re planning.”
The image shifted, focusing on Rias and Sicarius. Tikaya wrestled with the urge to kick the water bowl over. Even if she did want to see Rias, it was better if Lancecrest did not know what he planned. She took a step toward the bowl. Lancecrest gripped her forearm to keep her back.
“How was the ride?” Rias asked.
“Exhilarating,” Sicarius said in a monotone.
“I thought we might get a yell of excitement or at least a smile out of you, but I see the emperor has trained you well.”
“Yes.”
It was like conversing with a rock. Tikaya wondered why Rias bothered, especially when he ought to be worried about her. Not that she wanted him to fall apart, but a little agitation would have been flattering.
“Scouts will go ahead,” Bocrest said, somewhere beyond the edges of the vision. “See what we’re up against.”
Rias took a step.
“Not you, Admiral. We need you back here planning brilliance, not wandering around looking for your misappropriated camp follower.”
Rias’s jaw clenched and the tendons sprang out on his neck. There was her agitation. And then some. He looked like he might tear Bocrest’s head off.
Sicarius stopped whatever might have come next in the conversation, raising his hand and saying, “Hold.”
He tilted his head, as if listening to something, but his cool eyes stared straight through the water. The clairvoyant flinched, and the image evaporated.
“What is it?” Lancecrest asked.
“That young one has unexpected perception for a Turgonian.”
“He knows we’re watching? So, what? Get them back. I want you on their every step, so we know when they’re coming.”
The clairvoyant closed his eyes and draped his arms across his knees, palms up. Nothing happened. “I can’t. He’s blocking us somehow.”
Lancecrest’s fists clenched and unclenched. “Who is that boy?” he asked Tikaya. “He’s not in uniform, and he’s too young to be giving orders.”
She shrugged. “The marines didn’t tell me much.”
Lancecrest considered her, and she thought he might call Gali over, but the marines and relic raiders were watching him, and he turned to them instead.
“Time to get ready for company, people. Morrofat, take your squad out. Your job is to delay that team.” Lancecrest dug in a rucksack and pulled out a clunky pair of goggles that reminded Tikaya of the eye protection she had worn on the tundra. He tossed them to her. “You know what your job is. We’ve found dangerous relics that we can throw at Starcrest. If you care about him, you’d best get me those weapons before he gets within range.”
20
Tikaya stood near the spot where the bat had been disintegrated. From there, the door to the weapons chamber was visible, and the runes glowed beside it. No ropes bound her hands—Lancecrest had decided she needed them for writing—but she had a guard. Gali. The woman huffed and sighed as she paced about, fiddling with a pistol. Her telepathy worried Tikaya more than the weapon. She wanted to copy the cube schematic on the chance Rias could do something with it. And she could escape the raiders long enough to meet up with him.
“You’re not looking at them,” Gali snapped. “I imagine that’ll make the translation difficult.”
“I’m ruminating,” Tikaya said.
“On how to escape, I know.” Gali slapped the pistol across her palm. �
��Ruminate on getting through that door.”
Tikaya held the goggles before her spectacles and peered through the magnifying lenses. The symbols grew crisper, the nuances easier to make out. They were numbers. Four rows of four, each different. She only recognized a few, but she could look up the others with the sphere if she could find a private place to take it out.
She pushed the tool from her mind. Better these people did not know about it.
With the enhanced vision, she examined the rest of the weapons chamber. A cuboid contraption hung from a ceiling and was attached to a large pipe disappearing into the cavern depths far above. Some kind of fan or ventilation system to suck away fumes if there was a break or accident? Probably not fast enough to save the life of the person inside, but if the door shut and that fan activated perhaps destroying the weapons would not prove deadly for everyone down here.
“What does one do with the symbols?” Tikaya asked. “Push them?”
“I wasn’t there,” Gali said, “but I heard Atner stood down here and moved them around with telekinetics.”
Gali stretched a hand toward the butte. One of the numbers indented and glowed red. She twitched her fingers, and it slid one place to the right. The number on the right edge disappeared and reappeared on the left.
“How’d you do that?” Tikaya asked.
“A bit of sideways pressure. The runes glide around naturally, as if they’ve been greased. Atner fiddled around for days and finally got lucky. But he only got in once and the symbols changed after that.”
“But he got a rocket out. How was he able to get it down without the web destroying it in midair?”
Gali shrugged. “The web didn’t attack it.”
“So, the defense system won’t attack what it’s supposed to defend?” Tikaya wondered if there was anything else it would not attack.
The symbol winked off, though it did not return to its original slot. Three red beams lanced out of the clear door. Tikaya jumped, nearly dropping the goggles. The beams scoured the air in front of the door. After a moment, they cut off.
“I guess if you don’t punch in the correct code while you’re standing up there, you get incinerated.” She chewed on the side of her mouth. “Your telekinesis does offer a workaround the original builders probably didn’t consider. If they were here as long ago as I suspect, humans wouldn’t have had the skill yet. Relatively speaking, our command of the mental sciences is a recent development in civilization. It’s not something that started appearing until after we developed agriculture and became more agrarian rather than hunter-gatherer. More free time, creation of a leisure class, and—”
“We didn’t bring you here for a lecture,” Gali snapped. “Figure out how to get in before your cursed Turgonian lover gets here.”
Tikaya turned her attention back to the numbers. The ones she recognized were prime: three, five, seven, eleven, thirteen, seventeen, nineteen. Could the whole series just be the first sixteen primes? She had not learned numbers beyond twenty yet, so she would have to look them up. Presumably, the sixteen digits had to be arranged in a specific order to open the door. If Atner Lancecrest had pushed them randomly, he truly had gotten ‘lucky.’ Rias could no doubt give her the exact odds of guessing correctly, but what she remembered of studying permutations in school suggested a ridiculously high number of combinations.
She did not have time for guessing. If the code changed regularly, it was probably a puzzle of some sort. If one knew the goal, one had a better chance of solving it. Could it be as simple as placing them in order? No, too obvious to someone who spoke the language, and the scientists who had built this place had surely had their own people in mind as potential trespassers, not the cave-dwelling humans who had occupied the world at the time.
There had to be more to it. Tikaya dug a sheet of paper out and copied the numbers for later perusal.
A distant clanking started up. She cocked an ear, trying to identify it. The noise had a muffled quality and did not sound like it came from within the cavern. A few men ran out of the camp and into a tunnel.
“I want to take rubbings of the panels too,” Tikaya said.
“Whatever,” Gali said.
Relieved, Tikaya pretended no more than vague scientific curiosity as she copied the panels—and the schematic on the inside of the cube cabinet.
“Can you work those?” Gali asked suspiciously.
“No.” Tikaya closed the cabinet and tucked the rubbings into her pocket along with the numbers.
“Tikaya?”
She turned to find Parkonis standing a few feet away. The remaining marines and relic raiders carried bows or firearms. Parkonis had nothing more offensive than a utility knife. The last year had apparently not turned him into a fighter.
Gali backed away a few paces, giving them a semblance of privacy.
“Parkonis,” Tikaya said, not sure what else to say.
He pushed a tangle of curly hair out of his eyes. “I’m sorry I ran off.”
“Earlier today?” she asked. “Or a year ago?”
He grimaced.
“What happened out there, Par? You obviously got off your ship, but why couldn’t you come home?”
“The Turgonians sunk us, just as you heard, but Atner Lancecrest happened by and rescued those left alive. There were only four of us. He showed us the runes from this place, and I was intrigued, of course. He swore us to secrecy before telling us anything about them, then asked if we wanted to join his team, to travel to the source and work on translating a previously undiscovered language. He was leaving right away to recruit others from Nuria and the islands. There was no time to come home. It was a dream opportunity, Tikaya. I couldn’t refuse.”
“You don’t find it suspicious that he just ‘happened by’ right after the Turgonians attacked you? He was Turgonian himself. Maybe he wanted to appear a benevolent rescuer, but actually set up the whole thing. Maybe he had a deal with the captain of the ship that sank yours. All so he could get his hands on a handful of grateful archaeologists. Are you sure you had a choice about coming?”
“That’s far-fetched, Tikaya. Atner wasn’t a bad fellow.”
“Wasn’t a—he killed everyone in that fort out there. In a ghastly way. And those were his countrymen!”
Parkonis winced. “He was desperate at that point. We didn’t... I didn’t have anything to do with that. I swear. I didn’t know about the weapons when I agreed to come. We were just looking for relics, and in truth I only cared about the language.”
Yes, Tikaya could understand that temptation. She stepped toward him and softened her voice. “Even if you joined voluntarily—especially if you joined voluntarily—why didn’t you write, Par? How could you let us believe, for a whole year... We had your funeral. I stood next to your weeping sister and parents. This devastated them. And me too. I spent months trying to get over...” Her voice broke. She was still struggling to resolve this new reality with her memories.
Parkonis avoided her eyes. The distant clanking continued, like metal beating against rock.
“I should have written,” he said. “I just didn’t know how to without explaining everything. I was heading off to Turgonian territory, and I knew it’d be dangerous. I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Worry! I thought you were dead. How could worrying for your safety be worse than believing you dead?”
“I know, I realize that now. I was a fool. You were always the smart one. You weren’t going to marry me for my brains, were you?” He grinned, a disarmingly boyish grin that she knew well. And she knew when he was using it to cover something.
She folded her arms over her chest. “Did you not want me to worry or did you not want me to find out about the language?” She watched his eyes as she spoke, waiting for—yes, there was a wince. “Colonel Lancecrest said his brother wanted me on the team from the beginning. Are you the one who talked him out of recruiting me?”
Parkonis looked away. “I told him you wouldn’t work for relic
raiders, yes.”
“You wouldn’t either, at least I didn’t think so. But we do funny things for a chance at history, don’t we? I’ll wager you wanted to be the first to translate this new language, something you wouldn’t be able to lay claim to, not solely, if I came along and helped.”
He opened and closed his mouth several times, and she knew she was right.
“I didn’t think we’d be gone that long,” he finally whispered. “I thought, when we got back, we could pick up where we left off...”
“I understand.” Tikaya sighed. And she did. Hadn’t she been enticed by that language too?
“You do?” Hope widened his eyes.
“I understand, but I wouldn’t have made that choice. I would have wanted you to come along, to be a partner in the translating, even if it meant you got the credit.”
“But I wouldn’t have gotten credit. You were always first.” He shrugged helplessly. “It was always you.”
She rubbed her face and wondered if that clanking was in her skull. He was missing the point. Or she was. Maybe she couldn’t truly understand what he felt, always being second best. Either way, she was beginning to think it would have been too much between them, even if Rias had never come along. She thought of him, of all he had lost, and of the temptation Sicarius had laid at his feet. So much more than accolades. But he had rejected it because of her. At least, he had before Parkonis showed up and kidnapped her. What if Rias believed he had lost her? Would he no longer have a reason to say no to that temptation?
“Tikaya?” Parkonis asked.
She tried to focus on him, though a new urgency fueled her intent. She had to escape and find Rias before he made a choice he would regret.
“Whatever happens here...” She squeezed Parkonis’s arm. “I want you to know that I love you, and I’m beyond relieved that you’re alive, but I can’t go home with you. I can’t marry you.”
“What?” He reeled back. “Because of that Turgonian?”
“No.” She did not want to get into that now, but Parkonis grabbed her arm before she could step away.
Beginnings: Five Heroic Fantasy Adventure Novels Page 42