by E. M. Hardy
The Builder satellites then beamed that request down to all known Builder facilities through the planet of Copsis. Most were damaged beyond repair, dead just like the Leizhu Swamp Pyramid when Martin first encountered it. Others though, like the Qleb Sierra Pyramid and the Bashri Desert Ruins, were still functional. The Custodians managing those facilities received the signal and proceeded to act on its contents.
There’s this funny thing about time, though: it has a tendency to corrupt sensitive equipment.
The belligerent Custodian 2819 originally requested the aid of other custodians to exterminate the invader that occupied the pyramid that used to house Custodian 4299. This ‘request’ was made using high-priority command keys that 2819 possessed, granting it authority one step below that of 4299—the highest-level custodian and the original keeper of the Throne of Osiris.
At that point in time, the fifth satellite was not working as well as it should have. The welding on some chips had gone loose, a couple of wires were dislodged, while a handful of memory crystals had simply absorbed too much radiation from a small but particularly powerful solar flare some two hundred years ago. This was why the fifth satellite mistakenly interpreted “request” as “command,” while other parts of the message were cut short.
The end result: a high-level command to all surviving custodians. And what was that order? What were the truncated contents of a command that would override all other functions, all other logic paths, and would redefine the core functions of said custodians?
Exterminate.
Chapter 27
“My son! It is good to see you back!”
Prince Suhaib fought against the grimace that wanted to worm its way out of his face. Instead, he plastered a wry grin and bowed low as a sign of respect.
“Father! It is good to be back! You would not believe—”
“Yes, yes, and who are these lovely women you have brought back from the mythical land of… what was it called again? Ren?”
Emir Rifaah Ma’an had already walked past Suhaib, a curious glint in his eyes and a set of fingers stroking his chin. Of course he would notice Yao Xiu and Cui Dai—the exotic beauties from a far-away land. The two women were accompanied by a contingent of Renese soldiers and martial artists, while their caravan drew crowds that wanted to drink in an eyeful of the strangely overdressed foreigners with their pale skins and wagons bearing all sorts of previously-unseen goods.
Suhaib took some satisfaction with his prize. He wanted to boast of his achievements, both to his father and the cartels. He would get the recognition he craved, the power and positions that would follow, while the cartels would know that their stranglehold over Ma’an was at an end. The emirate had new allies, and they were no longer backed into a corner.
“We greet you, honored Emir Rifaah Ma’an, oh wise and eminent ruler of the Emirate of Ma’an. We thank you for your granting us an audience, and we bow to you for granting us the boon of your hospitality.” Yao Xiu placed her arms atop each other and bowed so low that her head was nearly parallel to her waist. She was soon followed by Cui Dai, as well as the two martial artists that escorted them into the Emir’s court. Suhaib suddenly felt conscious, as his own bow seemed crude and unrefined when compared to what Yao Xiu and her people were pulling off. He shushed Uhi, who giggled silently as she watched the proceedings from the Invisible World and felt Suhaib’s mounting feelings of inadequacy.
“Hah! You speak Bashri surprisingly well, despite this being the first time you’ve set foot in our lands! Ah-ah, Suhaib, you have done well teaching them our language… very well, indeed!”
The young prince nodded, gracefully accepting the praise. He watched the two parties proceed with the pleasantries: Yao Xiu exchanging gifts and greetings, Emir Rifaah flatting and leering at the girls. Yes, he was going to get an earful from mothers Latifa and Leyla later on. Suhaib’s birth mother may be meek in the courtroom, but oh could she nag the Emir’s ears off when she thought nobody was listening.
While all this was going on, Prince Suhaib noticed his siblings gathered in the court room. Each of them milled about, talking to various members of the delegation to try and further their ambitions. There was Crown Prince Mufeed Ma’an, chatting it up with Yao Xiu and asking her about the difficulties of their journey. He sported a jovial smile that Suhaib knew he put up whenever he was dissatisfied with something—no doubt Suhaib’s victory in this matter. There was Second Princess Najeema, dressed in her fine abaya cloak that hugged her figure while standing behind her husband, Torcan. Both were merchant masters and were trying to butt in on Mufeed’s interrogation. Those two were keen on getting their paws on Renese goods—not that Mufeed would let them steal his thunder, butting heads with them to stay in control of the conversation. Third Princess Gurhan stood stoic as ever, her gauntleted arms crossed while tapping the heavy sandals of her military garb. She would rather be off coordinating her scouts and keeping a sharp eye on the coalition forces massing on the borders of the Emirate. However, she was interested in learning more about the Chi that the martial artists had demonstrated as a gesture of goodwill to the Emir. Suhaib could easily imagine how useful that would be for her and her scouts; he himself had learned the basics of tapping into Chi to strengthen his own body. He was very much a beginner though, with even Yao Xiu capable of cycling chi much more efficiently than he currently could.
Fourth Prince Mustaba chatted it up with one of the martial artists, studying their weapon designs and noting with interest the gun staves that allowed their more skilled practitioners to fly high in the skies. Mustaba was a middling armsmaster at best, with others who were far better at handling the shamshir and katar than he was. However, his loyalty and dedication had won him many friends in both the armsmasters and the regular troops. He was a hard-nosed elder brother, but he was one of the few siblings that Suhaib genuinely liked—warts and all. And then there was Fifth Princess Azeema, who was busy sampling the gastronomic gifts that the Ren had brought along. She oversaw agriculture within the Emirate, particularly the anise fields that supplied the arak, raki, and absinthe distilleries within the Emirate. He could see that she was already enamored with the various rice wines and liquors the delegation had brought, though it would take more than a few cups of mijiu and baijiu to get more than a set of rosy cheeks from her.
Everyone, however, was doing their best to ignore the clay man staring listlessly out the balcony—clearly out of its element and wanting nothing more than to escape the small talk.
“That is strange,” Suhaib said out loud as he approached Martin’s walker. “I swear that the man behind the puppets was more congenial than this sorry pile of dirt brooding in the corner.”
The walker just shrugged, grunted, and continued looking out the window without even turning around to acknowledge Suhaib. The young prince sighed, sipped on his drink, and joined Martin as he stared up at the moon.
“I’m seriously starting to get worried about you, Martin. Is this about what happened in Ren? If it’s any comfort, I at least know what it’s like to get shafted by people you thought you could trust.”
Martin ignored Suhaib, instead fixing a gaze on the cup of chilled raki that he had on hand.
“Ah, screw it. Pass that along.”
“What? Pass what along?”
“Your drink. Gimme.”
“Um… I don’t think you can—”
“You want to make me feel better, right? Gimme some of that.”
“Uh… okay.”
Suhaib reluctantly passed some of his raki to the walker, which took the small cup in its hands. It seemed to hesitate, pondering how exactly to drink, then just shrugged and splashed the contents of the cup on its face. At least Martin was careful to do so out on a balcony, only getting a few drops on the tiles while letting the rest drip away into the dirt outside the palace.
“Tch. I thought alcohol was supposed to help solve problems.”
“Not with your body it won�
�t. Although if your problems are flesh and blood, you could get them drunk enough so they don’t become problems anymore. Or maybe you could just simply dunk your problems in the stuff and set them on fire.”
That finally got a chortle from Martin.
“Yeah. Yeah, that second option might work.”
Suhaib sighed and shook his head. “You’ve been down ever since we crossed the Bashri. You’re normally the unflappable one here. Seriously, friend… what’s going on?” The young prince kept telling himself that his appeal to friendship was a mere manipulation to get Martin to open up, that it was some cunning show of camaraderie to get his ally back from this bout of melancholy. Uhi, however, silently reminded him that he wasn’t being entirely honest with himself; Suhaib mentally told her to shut up and stop making him feel guiltier than he needed to.
Martin seemed to consider his words for a moment, the walker staring at Suhaib with its nonexistent eyes. “Ah, screw it,” he said while wiping away the remnants of raki from the walker’s face. “Brooding was never my thing, anyhow.”
The walker straightened out and turned around to face the court. Suhaib turned as well, and caught some of the onlookers slowly swiveling their heads away, pretending that they weren’t staring at the young prince talking to the faceless mockery of a man.
“Can you call Uhi?”
“Huh?”
“Your jinni friend, partner, mate, bonded or whatever the correct term is. I’d like to ask her a few questions about my other… um... less savory abilities.”
Suhaib nodded, and Uhi shimmered into existence as she came out of the Invisible World. “Finally. I was getting tired of watching you mope around. Are you acting this down and depressed with all your walkers?”
Martin stared at Uhi, moved to say something, then he checked himself. “I want to say ‘not really,’ but I’d be lying. I’m playing tag with a couple of akinji right now, chasing a few riders that brought hammers to try and knock down some obelisks. Other than that though, I’m just sort of, kind of… uh… milling around with my other walkers. Nothing for me to do, really.”
Uhi rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Okay. Pity party is over. What did you want to talk to me about?”
Martin’s walker tapped its chin, thinking for a second before speaking, pointed a finger in the air, hesitated, then shook its head. “I… you know what, never mind.”
“I swear by the One on High that I will break off your arm and smack you in the head with it if you don’t stop playing hard to get,” Uhi growled. “That is a promise, not a threat. Now out with it already!”
Martin pivoted the head of the walker to look at its arms, then back at Uhi. She nodded seriously, her brows knitted and her eyes glowing a shade redder, before twirling her hands in a gesture telling him to move on.
“Okay. Uhi. Do you, uh, think my soul is tainted… or something?”
Suhaib merely blinked in surprise, his head cocked and his shoulders stiff. “Where did that come from?”
Uhi, however, merely narrowed her eyes and grimaced. She scanned her surroundings, saw that no one was within earshot, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re the one consuming souls and inviting shayateen to inhabit the empty husks. Why don’t you tell me if your soul is tainted?”
Martin’s walker had no face, but Suhaib could almost see the shame matching the voice that came out from it. “That was poorly phrased. Let me fix that: can you actually see if my soul is tainted? Is there a giveaway that shows you if I’ve been, uh, eating souls or the like? A sign of some sort?”
The jinni floated for a few seconds, her ethereal legs crossing together as she scrutinized the walker. “This is about what happened in the haunted ruins, isn’t it?”
Martin’s walker stiffened for just a bit, and Suhaib knew that Uhi had struck the answer on its head. “Oh… oh! Right! You sent a force of walkers on toward the ruins, didn’t you?”
“That’s only half the problem,” said Uhi, who did not take her eyes off Martin’s walker. “The other half is about what happened in Ren. That’s why you’re refusing to tell us about what happened in those ruins, isn’t it?”
Suhaib winced. Yes, he still remembered those events quite clearly. While doing so, he unconsciously rubbed the part of his neck that would have taken the executioner’s stroke. Martin, on the other hand, pretended to put on a tough front while Uhi interrogated him. He eventually relented, sagging his shoulders in defeat.
“Was I really that obvious?”
Uhi let out a dry chuckle before summoning two marbles of light and darkness that she rolled between her fingers. “As night and day.”
“Right… right. Ugh, this sucks,” Martin complained as he leaned his arms on the rails of the balcony. “First, the reason why I’ve been keeping my mouth shut. Uhi’s got the gist of it: I told Shen Feng a lot, believing I would win over his loyalty that way. Or at the very least show them that I’m not trying to undermine them and that I’m genuinely trying to help them deal with the invaders coming to this world. In the end, Shen Feng used all that I told him to stab me in the back. He knew that my walkers were in the Bashri, and he took advantage of that fact to hit me when I was at my weakest.” Martin also failed to mention that Shen Feng had prepared his troops to deal with the undead that would appear when the shayateen occupied the soulless bodies of the fallen. They were ready to cut apart their corpses, ensuring the shayateen could not rise up. He left that part out for Uhi’s sake. Or rather for his own sake, as he didn’t want to start another word-war with Uhi.
“I know on a logical level that it wasn’t his fault. The guy received false orders from the very top, and he was duty-bound to obey those orders. Besides, I offed way more of his people while all they managed to do was whack down a few of these two-legged potheads.” The walker clunked itself on the chest with a fist while Martin sighed. “But still… it kinda stings, you know? And I’m worried that I’ve been blabbing my mouth a little too much.”
A few moments of silence passed before Uhi realized that Martin had stopped talking and was waiting for a reply. “True. I wouldn’t know what’s going on in the minds of the people around this court,” she said, turning a sideways glance at the people around them. Most were busy interacting with the Renese delegation, but some were obviously eyeing Martin’s walker and had rushed to turn their attention away when they saw the slight turn of Uhi’s neck. “But you can trust Suhaib. My bonded partner has his own ambitions, like any princeling should, but he’s not one for betrayal.”
Prince Suhaib was not sure whether Uhi was complementing him or not. He decided it was a backhanded compliment, left it at that, and kept quiet.
“The funny thing is that Shen Feng was as loyal as he could be,” uttered Martin. “The problem is when other stronger loyalties come into play. I have a strong feeling that Feng still obeyed his orders even though he had his suspicions they were fake, but they came from the top so he had no choice but to obey. His loyalty to his Empress superseded whatever gestures of trust and friendship I showed him, and that bothers me more than I want to admit.”
That gave Uhi pause, and she nodded in agreement “True, you have a point there. However, I think your honesty has done you more good than you give it credit for. I mean, you managed to convince me and a couple of the other jinn to trust you after you admitted to giving shayateen vehicles to possess here in the Visible World.”
Martin looked like he wanted to argue back, but he went silent as he sighed and nodded. “You’ve got a point there.” Martin cocked the head of his walker at Uhi’s mention of the shayateen. “What are shayateen anyway?”
Prince Suhaib knew that Martin was trying to change the topic now. Still, he was gracious enough to let the man, the puppeteer, get a break. So he played along—groaning and smacking his face with a palm. “Sands, you mean to tell me you’ve been giving the raging dead vessels to occupy, and you don’t even know that? After all this time?”
&
nbsp; Martin had the grace to look a little sheepish, despite the walker having no face at all. “Um… yes? I mean, I have some suspicions about their nature, but I don’t really understand them that well.”
Uhi looked on with disbelief, shaking her head as she unsummoned the marbles of dark and light she had been absent-mindedly playing with. “I can only blame myself. I’ve been teaching you about shayateen all this time, the dangers of summoning them and then letting them loose upon this world. I neglected to clarify what they are in the first place.” She straightened up her shimmering dress and looked right at Martin’s walker. “Like Suhaib said, they are the souls of the raging dead, people who have died with great anger and malice in their hearts. These are the souls of those who do not move on to the gardens of Jannah, where they would have found peace separated from all worldly concerns. No, these raging souls instead find their way into the Invisible World, where they can observe the Visible World with an obsession that borders on insanity. Their anger and malice boils their minds away until they lose all reason, set on inflicting their vendetta upon all that live. This is why they normally possess cursed items and profaned corpses. The daggers of assassins, the scimitars of executioners, the brutally raped, the excessively tortured—these are but a handful of avenues for shayateen to manifest into the Visible World. Where we jinn come into being with sound mind and the willingness to work with the living, the shayateen come screaming into this world with nothing but rage and hatred.”