FROM THE DEPTHS: GOLD

by Adam Heine

  Other Shue congregated in groups around the vast chamber. A few were working—fishers carrying bags of salamanders, water collectors putting the spring waters into jars made of shapestone—but most did nothing. It was like they wanted to be together but didn’t know what to do once they were. It hurt to watch, or maybe it reminded her too much of her own pain.

  Four hours watching those creepy fire wights gather in the same meaningless way didn’t help any.

  She had to do something. She didn’t want to be like them—not the wights, nor what the Shue had become. “Let’s play Tungdan,” she said suddenly.

  Nai laughed. “What? Why?”

  Luthiya didn’t answer. She called across the chamber to two others. A dozen faces stared as her voice echoed around the hall. One of the water collectors was so surprised she knocked over a jar, spilling water out through the archway.

  As two girls approached them, Nai whispered, “What’s with you? Tungdan? We don’t even have a ball.”

  Luthiya cursed, looking around the chamber for anything that would serve. “Got it!” She ran to the relic pile and grabbed a soft black sphere that Jio had found a couple of months ago.

  “What’s going on?” asked one of the girls who’d answered her call.

  Luthiya tossed the sphere in the air, testing it. “We’re playing Tungdan.”

  The tallest girl, Zaanh, laughed loudly, but said, “All right. Fine. Let’s get some circles.”

  The girls each made a circle in the dirt, turning on one leg while drawing a line with their other foot. Once they were in their circles, Luthiya tossed the “ball” to Zaanh, starting the game. Zaanh popped the ball into the air with her knee, then passed it to Nai with the outside of her foot.

  “It feels weird,” Nai said, using her forehead to send it to the light–skinned Jieb.

  Jieb brought up her knee to catch it, but the ball rolled off and into her circle.

  “That’s one already, Jieb.” Zaanh said with a smile. “You’re out of practice.”

  We all are, Luthiya thought.

  Jieb bent down to pick up the ball. She squeezed it experimentally in her hand. “Is this okay? I mean, what if it’s an egg or something?”

  Luthiya pursed her lips. The Ninth World was full of oddities like this ball, strange but useless relics. But numenera eggs were low on her list of concerns. “It’s fine. Just play.”

  Jieb shrugged. She served it to Luthiya who immediately kicked it to Nai.

  It didn’t matter if it was an egg or a weapon or a rock. The point was to play, to forget, even for a moment. Luthiya had spent too much time searching and fishing and studying creatures that seemed to be studying her—all in the vain hope they could fight a people who outnumbered them twenty to one, who still had glaives and nanos to fight for them, who’d had months to strengthen their borders against the return of a few hundred survivors, most of them in their teens.

  Jieb popped the ball with her elbow, lobbing it at Luthiya’s head. With a shout, Luthiya spun and slammed the ball down into Zaanh’s circle with a cloud of dust. She threw her fists up in triumph, but as soon as the ball hit the ground, it disappeared in a flash of light.

  Another flash appeared just above Nai. The ball dropped on her head and rolled off. “What the…?”

  Luthiya stifled a laugh with her hand. When Zaanh and Jieb started giggling, she couldn’t hold it in. She laughed so hard she doubled over.

  “That was…weird.” Nai picked the ball off the ground with two fingers and a thumb and tossed it to Zaanh.

  This was what she wanted. Escape. Joy, however false or fleeting.

  Eventually, they figured out the ball would disappear when it hit something hard, randomly reappearing somewhere close by. Who knew why?

  Others gathered around to watch. None asked to play. They seemed more curious than anything, as if they’d forgotten they’d used to play this game as kids. As if they’d forgotten they were kids, most of them. And who cared if they played or not? Luthiya felt better than she had in months. It lightened her heart to see Zaanh, Jieb, and Nai laughing, too. Could they make a home here? In that moment, she couldn’t have cared less.

  Nai spun in the air, sending a particularly vicious strike at Luthiya’s head. She ducked just in time. The ball went flying off toward the archway fifteen meters away. It flashed when it struck the ground, then reappeared in the air a few steps over and plopped to the ground.

  “Burn a Tabby, Nai! I didn’t know you could do that.” Luthiya smiled.

  Nai ducked her head, embarrassed. “Sorry, I’ll get it.” She ran off toward the arch.

  “We should play for something,” Luthiya said, turning back to the others.

  Zaanh smirked. “I’ve got a lookout shift with Khapah tomorrow.”

  Luthiya felt the heat rush to her cheeks.

  “How about the winner—”

  A shriek shattered the general silence of the chamber. Luthiya turned to the archway where Nai had fallen on her back.

  Five fire wights hovered outside.

  The Marrow Chamber went mad. Nobody had ever been this close to them. Water collectors dropped their jars. A middle–aged woman screamed. People shouted. Some fled down into the tunnels, while others dug through the pile of oddities hoping for anything remotely useful.

  Jio and two older boys ran up the staircase to where Khapah kept the weapons.

  Zaanh ran after them. “Someone find Khapah!”

  Luthiya hurried to Nai, terrified of what the wights might do, but even more terrified to leave her friend alone. “Come on!” she said, grabbing Nai by the arm, forcing her to her feet.

  The wights watched her from the archway. Not Nai or the others. Her. Her heart pounded as she half–dragged Nai to the oddities pile. It was as far as they could get from the archway. Most of the Shue who hadn’t fled huddled there.

  She breathed heavily. The wights were beyond the force wall, but that only kept out hot gasses.

  They didn’t move, just floated there, five tongues of human–shaped flames. Their entire bodies shimmered except for the three black holes in their heads. For one terrifying minute they simply watched the Shue. It was too far to tell, but Luthiya couldn’t shake the feeling they were watching her.

  Why were they here?

  One of them moved forward. Luthiya and the others jumped back. The wight reached out, and jagged lines of blue energy radiated along the force wall from where the creature touched it. The wight backed away, examining the frame of the archway. Then it leaned forward, seeming to push against the wall. The lines increased in intensity and length, like a glass window breaking slowly under pressure. Nai clutched Luthiya’s arm. Luthiya grabbed her wrist in return.

  The wight pushed for what seemed an eternity. Eventually it backed off and the lines of energy disappeared. It hadn’t broken through. The force wall shimmered faintly, as though to reassure them it was still there. Luthiya released the breath she’d been holding.

  The wight turned to look at its kin. Then suddenly all five of them attacked the archway. The force wall flashed and sparked as the creatures threw themselves against it. The Shue shouted, crowding against the back of the hall. Waves of intense heat blasted them from the archway. Nai shrieked. Others gripped what oddities they’d found tightly, as though those useless relics would protect them.

  Luthiya tried to calm her friend. Tried to calm herself.

  What did the wights want? The Shue? Her?

  Khapah came running from the tunnels below, along with Jieb, Tsio, and two others. They stood between the wights and the cowering Shue, armed with spears and clubs. From his cloak, Khapah pulled out the synthsteel rod Luthiya had brought him the other day. “Stay back!” he shouted.

  He aimed the rod at the wights and twisted the blunt end. Gold lines lit the sides, but she could tell from his face he had no idea what to do next. Ama had told them how to activate it, but they’d never seen it used.

  “Khapah, don’t!” He might blow up the
whole tower. The wights wanted something in here. She had to figure out what, even if it was her.

  Luthiya ran to Khapah’s side, putting her hand on his until he lowered the weapon. “They can’t get in.”

  Khapah looked at her with wide eyes, then to the wights hammering against the invisible wall. Finally, he swallowed and nodded. “Why are they here?”

  Luthiya raised her eyebrows, surprised Khapah was asking her. She started to shake her head when something clicked. She looked back at the wall as it flared, fractured, and reformed again. “Ama put up that wall.”

  Khapah followed her gaze, furrowing his brow.

  “They’ve been here forever. They had access to all of this before we got here.”

  “So we’ve cut them off from something?”

  Luthiya grimaced, unsure. If something in here was so important to them—some oddity, perhaps—would they have left it? Wouldn’t they have been with it when the Shue had arrived?

  No, that’s not right. Ama said she’d been drawn here by the wights’ need. If the Shue hadn’t created that need, she would never have felt drawn in the first place. So what the wights wanted now was something the Shue had changed, something they had with them.

  Like her.

  “No.” Luthiya crouched, tangling her hands in her long hair. The wights had stopped attacking the force wall for the moment. They were watching her again. “Gods about, no.”

  Khapah looked back and forth between Luthiya and the wights. “What, makoeh? Do you know what they want?”

  She couldn’t bring herself to answer. The wights watched her constantly, as though they wanted something from her. It was the only explanation she could think of for their attack.

  I have no choice. If it will save my people…

  One of the wights looked away from her for a second. It was such a welcome feeling, Luthiya couldn’t help but notice. She turned her head to see what it was looking at. “The spring.”

  “What?” Khapah said.

  Luthiya stood and walked to the spring. She took one of the water collectors’ buckets and filled it halfway, wincing as some of the boiling water splashed her arms. She took the bucket to the archway, feeling the eyes of her people on her. Nobody tried to stop her, though.

  This was crazy. Why would fire wights want water? What would she do if they didn’t? It didn’t matter. One way or the other, she’d find out what they wanted now.

  She walked up to the force wall, feeling the weight of the wights watching her. Surprisingly, the air felt cold. She reached one arm forward with the heavy bucket, cringing at the familiar slither of the force wall over her hand. She dropped the bucket outside, splashing water onto the rocks, then snapped her arm back in. She rubbed her hand. It was cold, even freezing outside. But the air beyond the force wall should’ve been significantly hotter than the chamber.

  Luthiya trembled. Khapah put a hand on her shoulder and she leaned into him without thinking. The wights were no longer watching her. They stared at the bucket of water, unmoving. Then all five plunged their hands into the water and—there was no other way to describe it—they drank. The water disappeared at a surprising rate. Light pulsed up their arms into their bodies. As it did the wights became more solid, more beautiful. Like humanoid stars.

  “Ama was right,” Khapah said next to her. “We can help them.”

  Luthiya clung to him more tightly.

  Chapter 4

  Cold was how the fire wights expressed gratitude. Luthiya felt it whenever they drank outside the archway (though she suspected it was even colder outside, that the force walls didn’t just block temperature but somehow managed it). Khapah and the others had dug a small trench from the spring, allowing a stream of water to pour over the lip of the archway to the fire wights outside. There were always two or three out there drinking, chilling the air in thanks.

  No, it couldn’t be something as simplistic as “cold equals appreciation.” If the creatures were as intelligent as Ama said, their language would have to be far more intricate.

  Khapah tried to talk to them every day. He was there now. Some new artifact of Ama’s lay at his feet, a small pyramid of stone that was perpetually wet for some reason. “Can you understand me?” Khapah said, almost comical in his enunciation.

  The temperature near the archway must have changed, because Khapah shivered. A green cloud of smoke appeared at the apex of the stone pyramid. Khapah cursed at it in frustration. “Please,” he said to the wights outside, “I don’t understand you. If you can understand me, make the air warm so I will know.”

  Luthiya was too far from Khapah to feel the air, but the pyramid’s smoke shifted. It took the form of yellow trees, then some six–legged animal Luthiya had never seen before.

  It was the same as the other artifacts they’d tried; it converted the temperature changes to images or sounds, but nothing comprehensible. As for the wights, they weren’t even looking at Khapah. They might have been chatting among themselves.

  “What are you?” Khapah asked. The smoke above the pyramid became a black pillar that wavered as though it were a mirage. Khapah growled and kicked the artifact across the chamber. “Useless!”

  Luthiya couldn’t stifle her laugh. Khapah turned on her, but his face softened quickly. He walked over to her and sat down, shoulders slumped. “Am I so funny?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re trying so hard. I shouldn’t laugh.”

  “No. It is funny. I’m pinning everyone’s hopes—even our parents’ and ancestors’—on creatures we know nothing about. I might as well try talking to the monster whose bones we live in.” He clutched a tuft of his hair. “We give them water, but why should they understand that we want something in return?”

  “You could take the water away.”

  Khapah rubbed his cheek. “Perhaps. But I don’t want to manipulate them, or risk their anger if they don’t understand.”

  Luthiya exhaled. She felt the same way. She’d only suggested it because…well, because it might help.

  “Would you try?”

  Luthiya opened her eyes wide, her mouth suddenly dry. “Me? Why?”

  “You watch each other.” Khapah turned his gaze back on the wights.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They stare at you all the time. They’re doing it now.”

  “I know, but…” Luthiya looked at the archway. Of course, the wights were facing her. But did she really watch them as much as they did her? “You think they’d respond to me?”

  Khapah shrugged. “Just an idea.”

  Luthiya wrapped her arms around her knees. She didn’t want to talk to the wights. She was already closer to them than she’d ever wanted to be.

  But if it would help my people…

  Khapah stood to leave.

  She grabbed his wrist. “I’m not going outside the force wall.”

  Khapah laughed. “I would never ask you to, makoeh. Even I’m afraid to be out there with them.”

  She smiled. It was one thing to watch them from a hidden ledge far away. If she had to be closer, she wanted something to protect her. Knowing Khapah held the same fear made her feel better.

  Dusting herself off, she walked slowly toward the archway. The fire wights were bright from drinking water; she had to squint as she approached. They watched her. Even those who had been drinking stopped to stare.

  She hugged her chest at the sudden chill in the air. She was used to temperature quirks within the force walls, but it was strange to see a river of lava not five meters away, yet feel the bite of midwinter.

  She stopped a few steps from the archway. The wights hovered above her, each one taller than any of the Shue. Her teeth chattered. She’d never been this close to them before. Her heart beat a drum roll in her chest. She raised a shaky hand.

  The wights looked at each other. Then to her surprise, they all raised their hands as well. She laughed and looked back at Khapah, who waved her on, encouraging.

  “Um,” she began
. “Can you hear me?”

  The wights stared at her, unmoving. The temperature remained unchanged, so they weren’t replying—at least not in any way she could discern.

  She moved her arm. The wights matched her movements. The air rippled in strange waves of hot and cold, and Luthiya got the distinct impression they were laughing.

  “We need your help,” she said.

  The wights continued to imitate her movements but otherwise made no indication that they’d heard her. One of the creatures put its hands back in the water and drank some more, though it kept watching her. They always did.

  “Here,” Khapah said.

  Luthiya jumped. She hadn’t heard him approach. Oddly, the other wights jumped with her. Khapah offered her the synthsteel rod. She held it up in the air and pointed at it with her other hand.

  The wights raised their arms in the same way.

  “Do you know where we can find these?” she asked.

  The wights held their arms in the air, all except the one who’d gone back to the water. Nothing else happened. Even the rippling temperatures had stopped. A second wight, seemingly bored with the miming game, returned to the water.

  Luthiya dropped her arms and sighed. “I don’t think it’s going to work.”

  “You’re right.” Khapah took the synthsteel rod back from her. The rest of the wights lowered their arms too, as though they could tell the game was over. “Will you do something else for me, then?”

  Luthiya’s chest tightened. A part of her hoped Khapah would give up soon. Since the wights had shown up at the archway, people were afraid to go outside the force walls. They’d only fish for salamanders in large groups, with at least three keeping watch for the wights. Nobody would take lookout duty anymore or explore the ruins beyond the force walls. They couldn’t survive here like that.

  Breathe, Thiya. Maybe Khapah wanted her help in getting people ready to leave. “What is it?”

  “Talk to Ama for me. We don’t need more devices. We need her. She said she wants us to work with the fire wights, yes?”