Skin already burning in the protective armor, her skin would melt if exposed. Venting was the last thing on her mind, though it would have been nice to be able to do. Soaking wet from head to toe in her own sweat, he was probably making that comment because he was in the same state, wanting to vent as badly as her.
Not that she could tell. Helmet swiveling towards her, she could see nothing of his face, a large filter surrounding the bottom half, black reflective visor over the top half.
A helmet that looked exactly the same stared at her from the reflection in his visor. Glowing balls of fire and liquid rock swirled and expanded and she turned sharply, barely missing a fireball as it flew past her head.
Facing forward again, just in time to see Zenon’s armor-encased form dodge the same fireball, her breathing became heavy.
“Breathe easy,” Zenon said. “We only have enough oxygen to get to the Last Hope.”
Last Hope— Some miner had a sense of humor.
Not for the first time since Keia dropped them off, Alazne wanted to just open a portal into the mining facility. None of this mattered if the lava world killed them. Problem was, she didn’t know if they’d land in an unoccupied room or a room full of Hunters ready to kill them on sight. None of this mattered if the Hunters killed them either, or took them hostage.
Feeling something against her side, she let out a small yelp as she jumped.
You’re supposed to be on the Hummingbird, but please tell me that’s you, Ariad. She desperately hoped it was the familiar. If something had gotten into her suit—
It’s me. Ariad’s telltale squeak rose through the neck hole of the suit.
She let out the breath she’d been holding in a loud sigh of relief. A spider making its way to her hair was enough to throw caution to the wind and rip out of a heat-shielding armor suit onto a skin-melting landscape. She’d take her chances with the lava.
“Are you okay?” The squelch of the comm scratched in her ear as Zenon spoke.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ve picked up a hitchhiker.”
“The robot doesn’t listen.” How did he not come to the immediate conclusion of it being a spider?
No, it doesn’t, she chided her familiar.
The ground suddenly lurched beneath her feet and Zenon grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. Stumbling into him, she was steadied with gloved hands on his suited chest. Knowing those muscles were under there, she quickly removed her hands when she felt she wasn’t going to fall.
Watching in horror, the black surface of the ground crumbled as glowing red bubbled up from beneath. The entire landscape seemed to be moving. When she looked to the horizon, the horizon itself appeared to be moving past them.
Was the volcano floating?
“We’re floating,” Zenon said as if he’d read her mind. “All land here floats on the Lava Sea. Watch your step. Sometimes it tilts.”
Bedrock Volcano— Another miner resident with a sense of humor. Someone would have to have a sense of humor to live on this stars-forsaken world.
Zenon’s steps were cautious and slow and she followed his lead, stepping only where he stepped. Glowing, roiling, thick liquid swirled around small mounds of black rock, stepping stones to a blanket-like floating platform of the same kind of black rock ahead of them.
Arcs of orange smoking substance spewed high into the air beyond that, droplets igniting fires on every surface that wasn’t liquid.
Soft fur pressing against her face, Alazne twisted to escape it before blowing a puff of air.
Ariad, you’ve got to find a place and sit still. Her familiar crawled through the neck hole of the suit, Ariad’s back against her cheek as the squirrel stood on back legs, front legs leaning on the speaker of the comm unit at her ear, tail curling behind her head.
“This is crazy,” Ariad said into the comm. “What are we doing, Zenon?”
“You are supposed to be on the Hummingbird,” Zenon’s voice crackled.
Alazne could almost see the white glint of the Last Hope mining facility past the arcs of raining, fire-starting lava. Thoughts of Jessa being imprisoned on this roiling, erupting volcanic world kept one foot moving after the other.
“In case you didn’t notice, little robot, there wasn’t anywhere to hide on that ship.” How was Zenon talking? Even with the suit, Alazne’s lungs burned like the dancing fire they passed. Stopping, she bent down, hands on her knees as she sucked in oxygen.
Weight against her shoulder had her looking up, Zenon’s visored helmet bent towards her as he lifted his hand away. “Almost there,” his voice said.
Almost there? They weren’t even halfway. The sound of wheezing echoed in her helmet and her heart seized. Her familiar would be dead before they crossed that expanse.
It’s not me, Ariad said.
Listening to the sound a second longer, noting the lilt in Zenon’s step, she realized it was coming from Zenon.
“As soon as that ramp went down,” he wheezed, “anyone in the hangar was going to see us.”
“You didn’t think about that before?” Ariad’s tone was inquisitive.
Stop talking to him, Alazne said. Let him save his breath.
He needs to talk, the familiar replied. It’ll get him through.
How did the squirrel know what would ‘get him through?’
“I did,” Zenon continued. “But then Lern gave us these suits and that risk no longer made sense.”
“This risk doesn’t make sense.” Ariad’s tone was chiding this time.
“It’s better not to spend our time in captivity.”
“You sound as if there’s limited time to spend,” Alazne spoke up.
Zenon turned around, giant filter and visor of his helmet towards them, Alazne’s armored reflection staring back at her again.
“I have a plan,” he said and Alazne could practically hear him grinning. What was he up to?
Suddenly, the ground shook with such force, the horizon completely upturned.
White sparks clouding her vision, Alazne found herself on her back, the voice of her familiar getting louder as the pinpricks of light behind her eyes faded. “Can you hear me?”
Can you hear me? The familiar switched to her mind.
Propping herself to her elbows as she tried getting her feet beneath her, a great noise rose over the landscape, echoing through the dark sky, pounding her chest. What the—
The force of a wild boar knocked her over. A boar with half a dozen tusks; her whole body felt skewered. Deafening noise pounded her head, reverberating through her chest. Scorching heat made the armor suit seem useless.
Wind shear! Ariad screamed in her mind. Little paws patted her cheeks. Get up, Alazne.
The sensation of the squirrel’s fingers lifting her eyelid was enough to ignite her muscles to jerk upright through the buffeting wind. Only falling once after attempting to get her feet under her again, she finally stood upright on shaky legs.
Lightning zipped through her veins when she didn’t see Zenon. Head swinging side to side, he was no longer next to her or in front of her. He wasn’t behind her either. Oh, no—
Movement across a boiling yellow, orange, and red cauldron of death had her tilting her head further back, increasing her field of vision through the helmet.
Zenon waved frantically from a floating rock platform. There was a crackling in her ear that had been there since the shaking ground knocked her down the first time. She realized it was Zenon, trying to talk to her.
The sound of the wind so loud she couldn’t hear him over the comm, she waved back. Apparently satisfied he’d gotten through to her in some way, his arms dropped to his sides.
Bright glowing lava flowed between them, unforgiving in its movements. Now what? How was she supposed to get over there?
Eyes tracing the outline of mostly solid rock, a path to the Last Hope presented itself from where she stood. She didn’t need to get to him. He needed to get to her.
Raising her arms, she gave her be
st ‘don’t know what to do now’ gesture. Walking along the edge of the sheet of rock, he appeared to be studying the problem, the comm crackle at her ear indicating he was still trying to talk to her.
I can’t hear what he’s saying, Ariad said.
I can’t either, she replied. The wind is too loud.
Heart jumping as he stumbled, it stopped altogether when the ground beneath his feet crumbled, the red boiling lava swallowing him whole.
The barrier to her familiar’s mind dropped and she was met with soul-crushing grief as Ariad screamed.
Chapter 13
Falling to her knees, Alazne stared at the floating rock, lava churning around it, uncaring that it just claimed the life of her true love. Stomach-churning regret hit her hard in the chest.
Listening intently for the telltale crackle of her comm, her eyes stung as cool tears trailed down her cheeks. All she could hear was the deafening wind.
How were they going to survive now? Saving Jessa and the captive witches— She couldn’t do it alone.
Why couldn’t the lava have taken her instead? Why didn’t she just let him go to Earth? Why didn’t she just open a portal to the mining facility, risk of death or capture be damned?
Unable to pull her wand, she raised her arm as if it were in her hand anyway.
“Mother of Interdimensional Time, let me pass.”
Nothing happened. Unable to open a portal, she was too tired, grief too sharp.
Molten boulders the size of the Hummingbird shot into the air, so high she thought they might go to orbit. They came crashing back down with such force, the floating ground tilted like a teeter tottering child’s game in every direction.
Get up. The thought was her own. Ariad continued to squeal with such sorrow that the familiar was in no state to have any coherent thought. Keep moving.
Stumbling to her feet, her legs moved of their own accord, but for every step forward, she was rocked back countless steps, arms waving to the sides as she did her best to keep balance, to stay on her feet.
—Kill Lern for giving him these suits. That was the only coherent thought she got from Ariad’s mind before she was cut off, barrier going back up as it was before. Not that she was trying or cared to read her familiar’s mind; it just slipped out.
Heart pounding, lungs burning, skin prickling, ears ringing, soul aching, she simply kept walking on legs that felt like melting rubber.
The Last Hope—
Survival instincts above all else, it only mattered she make it to the mining facility.
Searing, burning, pain—
There was nothing else as Zenon was buried in molten rock, rising over his head as he was drawn down.
Sinking ever downwards in bright, glowing, scathing substance, his feet suddenly met open air.
Falling, he hit shiny metal hard as his body met the bottom, lava raining down after him.
Body no longer encased in skin-blistering heat, his mind unlocked, thought flooding back. The bottom of what?
Zenon opened his eyes in time to see a hatch in the ceiling fold closed with an echo, the stream of lava coming to a trickling stop.
Propping up on his elbow with a wince, a long, silvery round metal tunnel stretched to either side of him. The circumference was large enough to hold a vehicular drill. This was a mining tube road.
The only way to get to the mining roads was through the mining facility, but they needed to vent toxic gas every now and then, computers detecting air pockets to vent the gas when it was safe to open. He was just sucked through one of the vents.
Hardening clumps of lava rock fell from his armor as he got to his feet. He stared at the vent hatch.
“Alazne,” he called through the comm.
Nothing. No static, no sound at all. Tapping the side of his helmet, he realized his communications system was completely down.
Unidentifiable mass catching his eye, he lowered his arm as he looked over his suit, entire armored surface a melted, warped, wreck.
Well, he was still breathing, so it was either still functional or this mining tube had breathable air. Unwilling to test the theory, he kept his helmet in place. Although—
Gripping both sides of the helmet, he gave it a cursory twist and tug. Yup, it was fused to his suit. Good thing there was a failsafe in place where the suit would crack like an egg if someone needed to get out quickly.
Noticing a large yellow arrow, he read the stenciled wording beneath: ‘You are not lost. Stay calm. Follow yellow arrows.’
Getting lost and then panicking must have been a common problem in a mining colony on a world that could melt one’s skin off.
Eyes following along the rounded wall, he saw the next arrow and then the next.
Dreaming of falling back in pillowy snow on the Dena Mountains of Karr, he headed in the direction the arrows indicated.
Her very soul weary, Alazne pressed her hand against a metal anchor pylon of the mining facility. Vomit rising to her mouth, she swallowed it back, retching through a gagging cough.
Eyes pinpointing where each pylon was, that vent Lern spoke of had to be here somewhere. She had no idea the course of action after that. Right now, she didn’t even care.
There it is. None of the normal pep to Ariad’s voice, the familiar sounded as worn as Alazne felt.
Looking more like a giant conduit than a vent, she approached a hatch door. Gripping the valve wheel with both hands, she twisted until the door popped open, gusty wisps of vapor escaping.
Tripping over the bulkhead as the door opened inwards, she fell to the floor on the other side, not even trying to stop herself. Turning to her back, she lifted booted feet to ease the door back into its seal, apparently triggering an automatic closing mechanism as the wheel turned on its own, sealing the door.
Her helmet thudded against the floor as she let her head drop.
“Tough day?” A familiar voice sounded from somewhere in the room.
Alazne’s heart seized. If the helmet hadn’t suddenly become so heavy, her head would have whipped towards the voice, but Ariad’s delighted squeal was confirmation enough.
“Hatch,” the voice said.
“What?”
“Say the word, ‘Hatch.’ It’s a voice command in the suit.”
“Hatch.” She complied.
Movement throughout the suit reminded her of tiny squirrel feet, as if there were a dozen Ariad’s crawling around. Said familiar was in her helmet, front paws and eyes glued to the inside of the visor.
The sound of cracking filled her ears and then armor began to fall away as if she were a chick breaking free of its egg.
Adrenaline fueling her muscles, she jumped to her feet, pulling her head free of the helmet, Ariad hitting the ground running.
Eyes blinking back tears, she could see him clear as day, sans armor, his smile soft, blue eyes softer. Alive—
Zenon’s skin was blistered in numerous places where he’d removed the sleeves of his black undershirt, but he was otherwise uninjured.
Stars, was that charred, burned, melted mess on the floor his armor? Small rolling bots zipped around it, vacuuming bits of dull, hardened lava rock that littered the shiny floor.
Her helmet hit the surface with a resounding clatter as she ran into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck, kissing him soundly on the lips. Deepening the kiss, his arms tightened around her.
Ariad hugged his bottom leg, twittering happy words that Alazne couldn’t make out.
“You’re here,” she said between kisses. “You’re alive. I can’t believe it.”
“I can’t either,” he chuckled, burying his nose in her hair as he kissed her ear.
Noise beyond a closed door on the opposite side of the room had them parting in a rush. Still holding each other at the elbows, they paused as footsteps strode past.
Letting out a breath, she smiled as Zenon walked to a locker opposite from the door. Opening it, he turned, hand pointed at two Mining Corps jackets hanging from a rod.
<
br /> Keia did what she had said she would. This was happening. They were pulling it off.
“Let’s go save some witches.”
Zenon was impressed by the detail of Keia’s map. He was seriously considering telling her she ought to be an architect or an engineer, when they caught up with the young witch. The possibilities were endless for someone with a mind of such memory and precision.
Easy to follow, they strode right up to the door that was labeled ‘Joan’ on the map. This was the witch that could manipulate water.
Noting the keypad to the right, the letters and numbers scribbled next to the door on the map now made sense; a code.
Not knowing what to expect when the door slid open, Zenon’s breath caught. He handed Alazne the map.
A half-starved diminutive woman with blonde hair lay on her back, chained to a bed by her wrists and ankles. The room smelled of urine and a body in need of a bath.
Bile rising in his throat, Zenon was ashamed that a planet in his region was allowing the Hunters to do their ghastly business.
Lines and wiring of some kind of monitoring equipment were attached to the woman’s head, neck, and chest, humming and beeping in the otherwise quiet room. Pulling the lines free, he kicked the equipment over with a loud crash.
Alazne stood at the door, nervously looking out into the hallway. “Shh, they’ll hear us.”
“Let them,” he growled as he knelt by the woman’s side.
The blonde witch was obviously disoriented, and he wondered if part of the lines were administering some sort of drug. How long would it take to wear off?
“Joan,” he said softly.
Her head flopped towards him, eyes cloudy and unfocused. Were they going to have to carry all these witches out of here?
“Light,” she said, eyes suddenly focusing on his face. “A great light shines around you.”
He exchanged a glance with Alazne, Ariad standing on hind legs from her shoulder.
“We’re here to end this nightmare,” Zenon said. “Can you stand?”
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