by D. P. Prior
He still felt hollow; and he was acutely aware of why Aristodeus had lost belief in him; he’d lost belief in himself. But something had changed. What it was, was hard to say. He felt unburdened, somehow. Maybe it didn’t matter what Blightey had put in the Liber. Maybe it didn’t matter if he grasped all the mysteries of the Templum. Whatever had changed had started in the prison cell. There had been something fatalistic about the old man’s endurance. No, it was more than that: he’d been resigned, yet trusting, and the pendant was the key to that trust, Shader was certain.
A tingle ran through his hip, and his fingers strayed to the hilt of the gladius. When it didn’t burn, he grasped it tightly and felt it purr.
As Nameless pushed through the hanging corpses, he asked, “Why do you suppose these ones have hands and feet?”
Shader had no idea. He shook his head at the memory of the chest filled with feet. How come he’d found no sign of the missing hands?
“Makes you wonder why Gandaw chopped them off in the first place,” Nameless said. “It’s not like they were going to run away. And as for the hands, maybe he was worried they’d come back to life and throttle him for what he’d done to them.”
“Perhaps they need us to be their hands and feet,” Shader said, clenching his jaw. “Maybe we need to do to Gandaw what they can’t.”
“I’m with you there, laddie.” Nameless hunched over the door panel, trying to get a good look through the eye-slit of his helm.
“Let me,” Shader said.
It was similar to the panel Shadrak had shown him how to use to control the disk. At first glance, the glowing symbols were a confused jumble, but Shader willed himself to focus. How hard could it be to get the door to open? As if in response, a green shape drew his eye—a circle atop a triangle. A keyhole?
When he pressed it, the image expanded, and the door slid back.
“I would have had it in another second or two,” Nameless said.
The room beyond pulsed with a soft amber glow. Some kind of elliptical track ran round the center of the ceiling. Dozens of women were hung spread-eagled from it by metallic cords around their wrists, and others that inserted into a similar track on the floor. Their eyes were completely white, their mouths gaping. They each had the pallor of death, and yet their bellies were grossly distended, as if they were heavily pregnant.
The track carried them forward a few feet and clunked to a halt. Snaking tubes rose from the floor and inserted into their abdomens, delivering a brownish fluid before retracting. The track moved them on another few feet, and the same thing happened again.
“Let’s not linger here,” Nameless said, indicating a door on the far side.
This one slid open as they approached. Shader gave the dwarf a quizzical look, but Nameless simply shrugged and walked through.
Shader followed him into a hall that was at least twice as large as the inside of Luminary Trajen’s Basilica; maybe even bigger, because he couldn’t even see the far side. All around the walls at ground level there were frosted oval windows. Each was as tall as a man, and behind them, shadowy forms were moving.
“Not sure I like the look of this, laddie,” Nameless said. “Ready to put up with some stumpy-leg grumbling?”
Shader couldn’t take his eyes from the windows. “What was that?”
“Back the way we came?”
“Agreed.”
The instant Shader turned round, the door slid shut. He raced to the panel beside it, but the display was blank. He pressed the dark glass, gave it a slap, but nothing happened.
“Uh, laddie…” Nameless said.
Shader whirled back to face the hall. The frosting was melting away from the windows, and in some cases the glass—or whatever it was—was starting to bulge where hands pressed against it.
Nameless seemed to take it all in his stride. “Can’t go back, so that only leaves us one choice,” he said as he casually slung his axe over his shoulder and headed out across the center of the hall.
Shader’s hand crept to the hilt of the gladius. It thrummed lightly, and he took that as further confirmation of its acceptance. He wished he found it reassuring; wished it confirmed that his contrition had been enough; but the Sword was the Archon’s, and that didn’t necessarily mean that Nous agreed. Didn’t tell him anything about whether or not there was a Nous, either, or some hidden god that Blightey had obscured with the name.
An arm burst through a window, pale fingers twitching at the air. There was no shattering of glass, just the tearing of some kind of clear membrane. The head was next out, stretching the membrane until it split. The face was human, though bloodless, and white eyes roved sightlessly back and forth. Where there should have been hair, wires were bundled up around the cranium, and a single red light was nestled in among them. The second arm punched through, this one an articulated silver tube that ended in a metal hand. Enough of the membrane had fallen away to reveal a shallow alcove behind it.
Shader picked up his pace till he came alongside Nameless. The dwarf may as well have been out for a gentle stroll.
“That sword of yours behaving, laddie?”
Shader half-drew the gladius.
The great helm bobbed. “Good,” Nameless said. “Limber up. Way that door shut behind us, I doubt there’s going to be a big, gaping exit.”
Shader drew the gladius fully, as all about the room more limbs and faces pressed and ripped their way free of confinement. He made a few practice strokes and rolled his shoulders.
“You ready?” he asked.
Nameless tapped the head of his axe. “Can’t wait, laddie. Can’t wait.”
Shader glanced back at the door they’d entered by. They must have been fifty paces from it, and yet there was still no sign of the opposite wall, and creatures were starting to step from their alcoves as far into the distance as he could see. Those either side were a good twenty feet off, lumbering, shuffling, lurching toward them. Their legs were braced with metal struts, and they wore what looked like steel sandals that whirred and clicked as they walked.
Nameless sauntered on ahead, whistling a jaunty tune. Shader followed more cautiously, flicking looks over his shoulder, where the creatures were closing in, cutting off any thought of retreat, even if there had been a way through the door.
“Reminds me of the circle fights back home,” Nameless said, as more creatures moved to block any further progress forward. “Fancy a wager?”
It reminded Shader of the undead raging through Pardes, and the mawgs swarming the Aura Placida. He could still see vividly what they’d done to Maldark, the flood of red within his boat gushing into the sea. He’d had energy then, both times, but even so, he’d soon reached his limit. There were only so many times you could swing a sword before your arm turned to lead.
Still they came, lumbering from the far reaches of the room, too many to count, and swelling the ranks making up the circle until it was at least ten deep. The noose narrowed as the creatures in the front drew closer, almost close enough to touch. The smell of bad meat was thick in the air and brought bile to Shader’s mouth.
“All right, that’s far enough,” Nameless said.
With deft footwork, he pivoted and swung his axe in a murderous arc. The blades sparked across metal and threw up shreds of gray flesh that didn’t bleed. The creatures merely stumbled then continued to press forward.
“Shog,” Nameless said. “That doesn’t bode well.”
Shader hacked at an arm, and the gladius sliced through dead flesh and metal with no resistance. The limb fell twitching and grasping to the floor. A slash across the neck sent the head flying, and the body crumpled, the metal braces on its legs still whirring and clicking.
Nameless brought his axe down with all his weight behind it, ripping through a shoulder and sending a metal arm skimming across the floor. He rammed the butt of the haft into the creature’s nose, reversed his grip, and powered the blade right through its jaw. Shader saw it fall, but already Nameless was swinging f
or the next one.
A blur of movement caught Shader’s eye. He threw his sword up in time to block a silver hand that was reaching for his throat. He cut left and right in quick succession, felling half a dozen of the things before they could advance a pace. Nameless, though, was struggling. He was bellowing some bawdy song and chopping with all his prodigious strength, but the effort was taking its toll. Already, his blows were weakening.
Driving forward with each kill, Shader started to cut a path through the circle.
Nameless backed in behind him, bashing away furiously and panting with every breath. A metal arm clubbed against the great helm and sent him reeling into Shader. Nameless roared and sent a thunderous hack into the creature’s midriff, shearing through steel and flesh. He followed up with a sweep to the neck, and then kicked the headless body away from him.
The press was stifling, and the stench of rot threatened to overpower Shader. He struck to his right, but a fleshy fist caught him on the left temple. He stumbled, reversed his sword, and stabbed back into pliant flesh. Spinning, he ripped the blade up through the creature’s torso and split it in two all the way to the head.
Nameless went down beneath a barrage of blows, his axe clattering to the floor. He grabbed two of the creatures round the ankles and surged upright, flipping them into the throng. Retrieving his axe, he staggered backward, flailing about wildly, but with no real conviction.
A fist came at Shader’s face, but he swayed aside and rammed the gladius through a gaping mouth.
The ranks were thinning in front, and he redoubled his efforts. If he could just break through, get his back to the wall—
He felt Nameless fall into him from behind. Shader rolled past him, slashing wildly at the bulging wall of creatures. The dwarf seemed dazed, barely managing to bat away grasping limbs with the flat of his axe. Shader hesitated, drew back, and then barged into him with all his might, sending Nameless headlong out of the circle.
Rather than doing as Shader had hoped, Nameless turned round and hacked a creature’s legs out from under it.
“Run,” Shader yelled. “To the wall.”
“You run,” Nameless said, swaying on his feet. “I’ll hold them.”
“For all of two seconds,” Shader wanted to call back, but something hit him in the base of the skull. He spun and delivered a scything cut to a neck.
With a flurry of chops and slashes, he backed into the channel left by Nameless, but already it was closing over. Cold hands fastened on his arms, held him firm. Shader ripped one off, sliced through another. More limbs came at him from either side, and the bulk of the circle surged to engulf him. His knees buckled, and he started to go down, but a strong hand grabbed him by the collar of his coat and pulled him clear.
“Got you!” Nameless cried, shoving Shader behind him and batting an arm away as he fell back.
Together, they fought a determined but ailing rearguard all the way to the wall. A narrow channel had opened up along that side of the hall, and they edged along it, battling for every step.
A glimmer of movement drew Shader’s eyes to the ceiling. Fifty or so yards ahead, a disk was coming down, a lone homunculus standing on it and watching them intently.
Come to gloat? Shader thought, but as the disk touched down, the homunculus jumped off and tapped at a vambrace on his wrist. The mass of creatures fell back from the disk, until it was surrounded by an island of open space, and the horde pressing Shader and Nameless from the front parted, creating a corridor that led to it.
Shader saw the opportunity first and practically flung Nameless ahead of him into he opening.
“Go!”
This time, the dwarf obeyed.
Shader leapt into the fray, the gladius a whirlwind before him. The instant he’d done enough to create a breathing space, he turned and set off after Nameless. Already, the channel was closing up, and he had to duck and dodge grasping fingers and clubbing blows.
The homunculus stepped away from the disk and weaved his way into the mass of bodies until he was lost from sight.
Nameless was slowing, but he was seconds from the disk, when a huge creature stepped from an alcove and raised a metal arm with a barbed spear tip in place of a hand. With a sound like the crack of a whip, the spear flew at him, trailing a length of chain. Nameless twisted at the last possible instant, but the tip tore through his side in a spray of blood and the clatter of broken links from his armor. The creature yanked on the chain and reeled him in like a fish. Nameless stumbled onto his knees and slid toward it, one hand clasping the base of the spear jutting from his side. Just as the creature reached out to grab him, he swung his axe with the other hand, hitting it in the guts with unbelievable force. It bent double, and bones punctured its skin in half a dozen places. The chain slackened, and with a sickening roar, Nameless tried to pull the spear tip out. The barb must have caught, and his roar turned into a scream as he slumped to the floor.
Shader got there ahead of the lumbering crowd and decapitated the creature. He knelt beside Nameless and took in the damage. Beneath the break in his chainmail, there was a fist-sized hole through the side of his torso. Thankfully, there were no exposed entrails, and it didn’t look like any major organs had been hit. With a quick look back at the advancing horde, he said, “Grit your teeth.”
Nameless grunted, and Shader pushed the spike out through his back. When the barb emerged, he swept down with the gladius and sheared it away. Sheathing the sword, he placed one hand on Nameless’ shoulder, and with the other pulled the chain out through the front. Nameless bucked and shuddered, and when the chain came clear and snaked to the floor with a clatter, he bellowed, “Shog, shog, shog!” The bellows turned to coughs, and then he managed to croak, “That hurt.”
“I can heal you,” Shader said, starting to draw the gladius again, but Nameless put a hand over his.
“No, laddie. No magic. Not from that thing. I saw how it sliced through those shoggers like they weren’t even solid. Has the feel of the black axe about it.”
Shader hooked an arm under Nameless’ shoulder and helped him to stand. “But you’ll bleed to death.”
“Come on, laddie,” Nameless said, scooping up his axe and limping toward the disk. “Help me get my boot off, and I’ll plug the wound with a sock. Should be a needle and thread in my pack.”
Shader supported him on one side, casting wary looks at the creatures, who were lumbering in from all sides and closing up the gap the homunculus had made. “You don’t have a pack.” The dwarf must have been delirious from loss of blood.
“I don’t? Used to, back in the day. Wonder where it is. Oh, well, guess that’s me shogged, then. Unless I use two socks.”
“The same socks you’ve been wearing since I met you? How long were you cooped up in that cell? And it’s not just about stopping the bleeding. What about the risk of infection?”
“Laddie, I’m a dwarf. We don’t do infection.”
The instant they made the disk, the horde grew frantic. Those in the front ranks parted to admit three more of the huge creatures. They each raised metal arms and launched spears trailing chains. Shader threw Nameless to the platform and dropped on top of him. There was a succession of dull thuds as the spears struck some invisible barrier, and the chains clunked heavily to the ground.
The homunculus appeared off to the right. He gave a single nod and tapped at his vambrace. With a whir and a shudder, the disk lifted into the air. As it passed through a hole in the ceiling, it gathered pace, shooting up through level after level. Shader’s ears popped, and Nameless moaned as he was rocked from side to side. He had one hand vainly trying to staunch the flow of blood, the other draped over the haft of his axe. After what seemed an age, the disk entered a metal shaft, shook violently, and came to a halt.
THE UNWEAVING
The disk had come to rest in some kind of silver-walled cubicle, where it fit seamlessly into the floor. One of the walls had a hairline crack down its center, and there was a panel adj
acent to it. Shader could hear someone running about outside. There was a clang of metal, a searing hiss, and beneath it all, a sound like the roar of flames.
He placed a hand on the wall. It radiated heat, and through the crack he could see a flickering orange glow. Stepping away, he bent to examine the panel’s black mirror. The same keyhole symbol he’d used before loomed larger than the others around it and winked repeatedly. Above it, the Aeternam word ‘Signum’ stood out. It was followed by a colon and a series of geometric shapes, all of them flashing green. ‘Signum’ meant ‘sign’ or ‘signal’, but in Aeterna it was also used as a challenge, a kind of ‘Who goes there?’ The response was typically a password. But if the same held true here, and if green meant ‘good to go’, like Shadrak had said, then someone had already entered it.
“Boot, laddie,” Nameless rasped. He was lying on his back in a pool of blood, holding a leg out. The hand clamped over the front of his wound looked flayed, it was so red.
Shader took hold of the boot, but before he could pull, he heard a man say something from beyond the cubicle, not loud enough for him to make out the words, but the timbre of the voice was somehow familiar.
“That ol’ baldilocks?” Nameless said.
Aristodeus? Yes, he was right. But what was the philosopher doing here? How did he—?
Another man spoke, the sound clipped and toneless. Shader had heard the voice before, atop the Homestead.
“Think we’ve arrived,” he said. “That’s Sektis Gan—”
There was a cry and a clash, then a boom rocked the cubicle. Shader ducked instinctively. Nameless tried to roll onto his side, let out a gasp, and lay back. His chest fluttered as it rose and fell, and rattling breaths came from within the great helm.
“Think I’ll take the magic, after all,” he said. “If you don’t mind, laddie.”
Moving aside Nameless’ blood-soaked hand, Shader touched the gladius to his wound. Golden light flowed down the blade, and Nameless cried out as his back arched. Searing heat cauterized the flesh, and muscle knitted together. Nameless hummed something—a few notes of a song, perhaps—and then sagged back against the floor when Shader withdrew the sword. His breathing was steadier now, and besides the broken links of his chainmail, and the red smears and spatters, there was no sign of the injury. Shader only hoped it wasn’t too late. The floor was slick with blood, the air heavy with its cloying stench.