“Why would the Kimn use an anti-Shade device?”
“The Escrach is the heart of the enclave. I imagine the Medyr would like nothing better than to employ a Nemazi assassin to take out key members of the Kimn Sisterhood in their own stronghold.”
“Why don’t they configure the net to keep Shades out?” Quinn nodded, answering his own question. “Because they want to trap the perpetrators.”
“The net is porous to transference from outside and therefore undetectable. Nemazi assassins are doubtless aware of its existence and would not make the attempt. I, however, am engineering division. I am not privy to such information.”
Quinn let out a long breath. “Well, what’s done is done. The question is, what do we do now?”
“If we leave, you said the Kimn will execute a fifth of these creatures,” Conor pointed out.
“That’s going to happen no matter what we do,” Quinn said. “The Kimn also intend to execute us both for capital crimes—you for introducing the biotoxin, and me for loosing the dolin and then leading the horde against them.” Conor opened his mouth to reply, but Quinn held up a restraining hand. “I know, I know, but they made it clear they weren’t going to listen to our side. All we can do at this stage is try to save ourselves.”
Vil-gar wormed between Conor and Zothan like a small child clamouring for attention. His ears pricked up, and he raised a twig-like finger. “I have been applying my advanced mind to the problem. Having constructed gedarat functions of the various statistical outcomes, and subjected them to cortian analysis, I can say with over ninety-nine percent certainty that there is no strategy that will save you. Your situation is hopeless. Of course, as a projection, I cannot be harmed in any meaningful way.”
Quinn wondered briefly whether it was possible to throttle a projection. “Can’t you enclose all of us in one of your larger four-space bubbles?”
Vil-gar cocked his head. “I am a remote interface, nothing more. I can observe and interact, but my power source is far too weak to generate the phenomenon you describe.”
Quinn nodded. “All right, then, here’s what we do. Zothan, you and Conor enter a four-space bubble. You may not be able to leave this building, but it’ll get you out of harm’s way for now.”
“What about you, Dad?” Conor asked.
“A normal bubble can’t hold more than two people.”
“We can’t just let you face the horde on your own.”
Quinn forced a weak smile. “I’ll have Vil-gar with me.”
As he saw Conor’s thunderstruck expression, Quinn instantly regretted making light of the crisis. Before he could correct his mistake, Conor lunged forward and grabbed him by the arm. The boy’s fingers closed around Quinn’s calloused skin.
Conor stiffened, and then forced up the sleeve of Quinn’s Nemazi mesh garment, revealing the blackened lesions underneath. They now covered half his arm. Conor’s eyes widened. “Dad?”
“It’s nothing—just some skin complaint I seem to have picked up.” He forced another smile. “It doesn’t even hurt.”
Conor glanced at Zothan’s adamantine skin and then back at Quinn’s arm. “Don’t lie to me! This is because you entered the Transformation time front on Nemazi, isn’t it? You’re turning into a Shade.”
“That is by no means certain,” Zothan interposed. “Your father was only exposed for a short time, and we have no way of determining the long-term effect on human physiology.”
Conor rounded on the Nemazi, eyes blazing. “You knew! You knew he was sick all along. That’s why you didn’t want him to use his Shade abilities, because they make him worse. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I asked him to keep it quiet,” Quinn said. “I wanted to tell you myself, but… well, the time just never seemed right.”
“Are you dying?”
Quinn flinched, as if physically struck by the question. “I have no reason to think that.”
“Yes, you are. That’s why you’re doing this. That’s why you’re prepared to sacrifice yourself.”
“No. No, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m just trying to—”
“Quinn.” Vil-gar pointed to the horde. A phalanx of Anghard cut a swathe through the milling creatures, heading straight for the corner of the hall. There were hundreds—too many for a handful of Lampetia to stand against.
Quinn turned to the others. “We’re out of time. You and Zothan take refuge in four-space—quickly.”
“No,” Conor said.
“What?”
“No, I won’t let you sacrifice yourself.”
“Conor—”
“I won’t leave you! Besides, I have an idea. If it works, it’ll save all of us, even the creatures who are due to be sacrificed.”
“What is it?” Quinn demanded.
“I can’t tell you. But whatever happens, you must promise not to interfere.”
Quinn shook his head. “I don’t think—”
“Promise me, Dad!”
The rhythmic tramp of the approaching phalanx drowned out the squeals, chirps, and grunts of surrounding creatures. The floor began to vibrate.
“Tell me what you’re planning first,” Quinn insisted.
The shadows on Conor’s face made him look ten years older. “You won’t like it.”
“Then you’re not doing it.”
“Sorry, Dad. I have no choice. And neither do you.” He turned and dived past the trunk-like legs of the Lampetia and into the crowd, heading straight for the bristling pikes of the Anghard.
~
Quinn craned his head past Druwyn, but Conor had vanished into the shifting mass. “What’s happening?”
“I cannot tell,” Zothan said.
“Can’t you transfer over there and help him out?”
“He does not wish it.”
“He’s just a kid.”
“You are wrong, Quinn. He is korath-konhar—a full-grown. He must do as his will directs. Interfere, and he will only hate you for it.”
“You’re not a father.”
“No, but I recall my Day of Admission, when I faced down a pack of hajaki single-handed. I was small for my age and considered weak, but if my father had come to my aid then, I would never have forgiven him.”
Shouts rang out, followed by the crack of weapons. Quinn started forward, but Zothan’s claw grabbed a handful of his mesh garment.
“Let me go,” Quinn demanded.
“No, Quinn. He asked you not to interfere.”
Quinn stiffened. He could try to squirm free, but the Nemazi was stronger and quicker. Besides, diving into the horde without knowing what Conor was up to might do more harm than good. “Look, I’m going to find out what’s going on. That’s all, I promise.”
Zothan held on a moment longer and then released him.
Quinn nodded thanks, though he was far from certain he would be able to keep his promise. Trotting forward, he waved up at Druwyn. “Hey, there!” The tall creature stared down at him, expressionless. “Can you lift me up so I can get a better view?” The Lampetia stooped and opened his immense hand, but Quinn twisted away. “Careful, don’t touch my skin.”
The Lampetia paused before grasping him by the waist and depositing the human on his shoulder. Quinn gripped the creature’s shoulder piece and scanned the horde.
The Anghard phalanx, with its wedge of pikes, was clearly visible. They appeared to have halted their advance. Cethlan and Mogrey frothed around them like surf rolling against a headland. He scoured them, but could see no sign of Conor. Sweat stung his brow, though the great hall was chilly. Where was the boy? What was he doing?
He caught a glimpse of sandy hair and leaned forward. The tide of creatures ebbed to reveal his son standing before the phalanx. He seemed to be engaged in discussion with them.
“He cannot succeed.” Vil-gar stared up at Quinn like a silver-robed sage. “It doesn’t matter what he says or does. I have computed every variable. All of you will expire shortly.”
Quinn clenched h
is fists. “You don’t know my son.”
Vil-gar’s laugh was like rattling bamboo. “He cannot defeat mathematics. Your fate is sealed. I will seek sanctuary from others more worthy of my talents.”
Zothan bent down and whispered in Vil-gar’s ear. Vil-gar scuttled back to the corner like a whipped dog.
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “What did you say to him?”
“I told him I knew where his physical body lay and offered to execute a Nemazi contract if he did not stop talking.”
“Wouldn’t you have to be of the assassins’ division to do that?”
“I told him I would do it for free.”
Quinn smiled. “I owe you one.”
“Can you tell what is happening?”
Quinn peered over the heads of the horde. Neither Conor nor the Anghard had moved. “I’m not sure,” Quinn replied. “I think they’re negotiating, but I’m too far away to hear.”
“Perhaps Vil-gar could help?”
“Vil-gar? How?”
“He is a remote interface,” Zothan said. “Relaying speech should be a simple task. And, as he has reminded us, he cannot be harmed.”
Quinn cursed under his breath. It was the obvious answer, but his mind was so fogged by this business with Conor that he wasn’t thinking straight. “Do you think he’ll do it?”
Zothan extended a talon and stroked it. “I believe I can persuade him.”
As Quinn watched the Nemazi turn away, his heart beat slower and steadier. Conor had stopped the Anghard in their tracks, and he appeared unharmed. Vil-gar claimed there was no hope of escape, but humans had a knack of beating the odds.
Suddenly, the Anghard ranks erupted in pandemonium. Pikes whirled and missiles flew. Straining for a glimpse of Conor, Quinn leaned farther forwards and nearly slipped off Druwyn’s shoulder.
“Can you get us closer?” Quinn cried.
Druwyn shook his great head. “There are too many.”
“Please. My son’s over there.”
“If you are expired, you will not be able to help him. If I am expired, I will not be able to protect you.”
“I don’t care about that!” Quinn balked at the realisation of what he had said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
The creature’s brow knotted. “Perhaps there is something I can do.”
Throwing his head back, Druwyn let forth a shrill cry. Quinn felt the air shudder as if he were standing next to a speaker at an old-fashioned rock concert. He clamped his hands over his ears, but the sound leaked through, wrenching his eardrums.
Other Lampetia took up the cry until the great hall rang like a bell. Movement among the horde slowed, as if the sound had breached time. Something whizzed past Quinn’s head. He ducked and then spotted Vil-gar’s projector sphere flying over the horde. It came to a stop and hovered over the area where the fighting had broken out. Light spilled from the device and resolved into a rectangular, glimmering patch that hung in midair.
The display showed the Anghard, their neat phalanx now a ragged line. Pikes lay abandoned on the ground as the creatures fell back in disarray and surrounded one of the wheeled carriages.
The Lampetias’ cry faded, and Quinn uncovered his ringing ears. At least now, he and the others had an effective defence. If the phalanx re-formed, he had only to call on the Lampetia to sing and drive them back once more.
The Anghard shouted and shook their pikes, venting their anger and frustration, perhaps. But why were they facing the carriage?
More Anghard mounted the carriage and heaved erect a three-metre-high, X-shaped cross. The others cheered, and Quinn’s heart went to his mouth.
Spread-eagled upon it, limp and bloodied, was Conor.
~
“Conor!” Quinn yelled with every last scrap of air in his lungs, but the boy gave no sign of having heard him.
Dwarfed next to Druwyn’s immense foot, Zothan stared stock-still at the screen.
Quinn called down from his vantage point. “We have to help him.”
“The Lampetia is correct. There are too many,” Zothan replied.
Splayed on the crossbeam, Conor stirred. He’s still alive.
Desperation twisted Quinn’s gut. He turned but could not see Vil-gar. The wizened creature must be skulking inside his projector. Cowards, all of them!
“Put me down!” Quinn demanded.
“What do you intend to do?” Druwyn asked.
“That’s not your concern.”
“You are going to use your death touch.”
He knows about that. Quinn recalled the Anghard who had perished when they attempted to lay hold on him. Perhaps word had spread among the lower levels. Quinn’s voice carried a dangerous edge. “I’ll get to my son, even if I have to kill every last one of them to do it.”
“He is your son. They are my brothers of the darkness.”
“I don’t care who they are!”
Druwyn unfastened a fingerless gauntlet, tossed it away, and held the back of his hand in front of Quinn’s face. “Then expire me first, so my eyes may not look upon them as they fall.”
The Lampetia was a member of the horde that had forced him to go along with them. He means nothing to you. Quinn’s hand trembled.
“Human!”
Tears stung Quinn’s eyes. Savagely, he wiped them away.
A trio of Anghard gazed up at him. The horde massed at their rear. The lead Anghard addressed Druwyn. “Greetings, night brother.”
Quinn felt his hackles rise. The former Anghard spokesman had been contemptuous of Lampetia. This one appeared to treat them as equals. He’s up to something.
“Greetings,” the Lampetia returned.
“Tell me, Lampetia. Do you honour the covenant of the lower races, that we stand together to reclaim our rightful place in the sun?”
“I honour it.”
“And yet you shield this sun-stealer from us.”
“We agreed that the human would represent us in our negotiations with the Kimn.”
“Then let him tell us what agreement he has reached.”
Quinn glared down at the Anghard. “Not until you release my son.”
“He assaulted us,” the Anghard said.
“You’re lying!”
“I speak the truth. He taunted our lines, trying to goad us into a fight. When we ignored him and stood firm, he grabbed a pike and attacked. The Ascari merely defended themselves.”
“They beat him half to death!” Quinn cried.
“He deserves to be expired. However, I place his fate in your hands. Tell us what you agreed with the Kimn.”
Quinn swallowed. The truth was devastating, but if he lied, the consequences might be worse still. “They will set you free and allow you to return to the lower levels in peace. However, one in five of you must die.”
Murmuring rippled through the horde.
“I had no choice,” Quinn wailed. “They were prepared to slaughter you all. This way, at least the majority will survive.”
The Anghard’s tone hardened. “No, we will not. They have condemned us to the lower levels where our numbers will diminish until each of our races becomes extinct. You have taken away our last chance for life. For that, we will exact a price.”
The lead Anghard raised his pike aloft. On the screen, Anghard on either side of Conor thrust their pikes into his sides.
Conor screamed.
The wall at the far end of the great hall exploded in a shower of masonry. The horde parted like a bow wave, and a huge shape entered. A single orange beam pierced the thinning dust clouds.
The dolin!
~
As the dolin turned its head, pandemonium erupted in the great hall. Crude missiles rained down. Some bounced off the construct, others landed among the horde, adding to the panic and confusion.
Whoosh! A single shell launched from one of the carriages followed a ragged trajectory before colliding with the dolin’s torso. Smoke and flames engulfed the giant, but it emerged undamaged.
/> What was it doing here? Having abandoned it some ten levels below, Quinn had been convinced he would never see it again. Yet, somehow, it had climbed to the upper level and located them. Maybe it’s angry at having been left behind? No, that was absurd. A construct couldn’t feel anger… could it?
The dolin clumped across the floor, scattering creatures like worthless toys. Quinn’s heart went to his mouth as he realised it was headed straight for the carriage bearing Conor.
A movement flashed in the corner of his eye. A shadowy figure deflected a pike driven at Quinn’s chest. Zothan’s movements were a blur. When he slowed, three Anghard lay motionless at his feet. A swarm of Mogrey and Cethlan backed away.
“The dolin has breached the perimeter,” Zothan said. “We must leave now.”
Quinn shook his head. “No way. Not without Conor.” A stray thought reminded him he had no way of knowing whether the boy was still alive. Savagely, he thrust it aside.
The dolin halted before the carriage. The boiling mass of creatures scrabbled over one another in their desperation to get away. On Vil-gar’s screen, a massive stone hand lifted the crossbeam bearing Conor. The boy’s head lolled lifelessly, wrenching Quinn’s gut.
The giant cradled the crossbeam in the crook of its arm, turned, and headed back towards the breach.
Quinn fought to shut out the surrounding ruckus and process what he was seeing. The dolin did not appear vengeful. It was acting more like a rescuer. What was it Conor had said? Whatever happens, don’t interfere. The Anghard said Conor had provoked a fight with them. Quinn had assumed the creature was lying, but what if he had been telling the truth? The Dolin was programmed to protect him and Conor at all costs. Had the boy deliberately put his own life in jeopardy in hopes that the dolin would come to their rescue?
Quinn shook his head. Surely Conor wouldn’t take such a foolish risk. Besides, Quinn’s theory didn’t explain how the dolin had managed to locate them, unless… unless it was linked to the boy in some way. He recalled the implant that the Agantzane had inserted in Conor’s brain. Had the device somehow reactivated? Had his and Conor’s plight given Ximun the opportunity to exert his influence?
The Arc of the Universe Page 7