by Keri Arthur
Given it was unlikely my brother would be informed of the replacements, it probably meant I wouldn’t have to worry about them. But that didn’t mean I could relax. Vin’s harbinger of death remained in this garrison—I just had to find him or her before they got to me.
“Thank you, Commander.”
He nodded and glanced at the captain, who immediately said, “I want regular reports once you step into the area beyond the reach of the blue hawks. Given we know next to nothing about the region these days, please provide a location and description of anything that suggests habitation or possible threat.”
“Will do, Captain,” Donal said.
The commander nodded at the guards, who immediately opened the gate. Donal and I stepped through, our footsteps echoing as we made our way down the long dark tunnel. The upper gateway closed when we were midway down, which allowed the lower to open. The thick breeze that swept in was as cold as ice, and the rain beyond the gateway was so damn loud it sounded like a full herd of ruminants coming at us. I quickly put on the antifog goggles and then pulled the rain jacket’s hood over my head.
“You won’t be needing to use either for long,” Donal said. “The storm is severe over the mountains and Wild Lands, but it peters out beyond the Skaran plains.”
“Did you miss that bit where Tal said there’re a hundred miles between us and the end of those plains? That still gives us quite a bit of storm exposure.”
“Except we’re not walking, remember.” He glanced at me. “I’ve never transported anyone else, though. I suspect it’ll limit our range and knock my strength for several hours.”
“The wind had better drop us somewhere safe, then.”
“If there is such a thing in those lands. Come along, Princess—a bit of rain won’t hurt you.”
I snorted and followed him out of the gateway. A bit of rain might not have hurt, but this was a full-blown storm. It was so damn cold that it immediately snatched my breath away, and the rain so hard that even with the goggles, I was struggling to see anything. As for the wind... I staggered sideways for several steps before I caught my balance and was able to follow Donal.
Halfway between the gate and crevice that separated the garrison from the rocky, forested Wild Lands, he stopped and held out a gloved hand.
“You’ll need to hang on to me.”
“Why?” I asked, even as I twined my fingers through his. He tugged me closer then wrapped his arms around my waist. I raised an eyebrow and somewhat skeptically added, “Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to hold me close?”
He grinned. “I can’t deny it’s rather delightful to have you pressed so fully against me, but it is a necessity.”
“So if I was male—”
“I wouldn’t be enjoying it half as much.” His smile faded. “Just trust me. I won’t let you fall. Ever.”
Before I could ask him to explain that particular statement, the wind whipped up hard and fast, surrounding us in a screaming whirlwind that tore at our clothes and skin. Its touch remained icy and, despite my coat and the layers underneath it, I shivered. Donal’s arms tightened even as the wind retreated a fraction. In the tiny space between the whirlwind and us, opaque air began to form clouds of spun cotton that became thick enough to block our surroundings from view.
“Ready?” Donal asked quietly.
I nodded and instinctively wrapped my arms around his waist.
“Then let’s go.”
With those three words, we shot into the air and were then ripped sideways at speed. I have no idea how fast or how far we traveled, but it only seemed like a few minutes had passed when we began to slow and the clouds surrounding us dissipated, revealing the landscape far below. It was a black and broken strip of land that stretched right up to the foothills of the vast but shattered volcano. While the area immediately below us was empty and without life, there were large patches of green either side of it. There certainly wasn’t anything even vaguely resembling a tree, but it was at least an indication that life could exist in this place.
The wind delivered us onto the ground, then gently eased away. It was only then I became aware of Donal’s shuddering and the harsh rasp of his breathing.
“I think you’d better sit, highlander, before you collapse and drag me down with you.”
“A situation I wouldn't normally object to.” His words were little more than a wheeze of air. “But I would rather it happen in a more hospitable place—like a bed.”
I snorted and stepped back enough to catch his wrists and help him onto the ground. He didn’t say anything. He just dropped his head and sucked in air, his whole body shuddering with effort.
I opened his backpack, pulled out some trail rations, then unclipped his water bottle and handed both to him. He nodded his thanks and immediately opened the rations.
I switched my gaze to our surrounds. The earth really was as black as ink; it was also—at least in this area—almost unnaturally flat. The old volcano dominated the northern horizon, a jagged black monolith that bore a breach wound on its visible flank. That it was evident from this distance only emphasized how big that volcano was—and just how massive the eruption must have been.
I turned and studied the land behind us. It, too, was flat, but there was a dark line visible in the distance—trees lining the Skaran border, possibly.
I tapped the halo, made my report to the captain, and then squatted beside Donal, my shoulder lightly brushing his as I pressed my left hand against the ground. The earth was cool and its pulse extremely faint. I frowned and dug my fingers deeper into the ash-like soil. The heartbeat got no stronger. The soil in this black strip might not be dead, but it certainly wouldn’t maintain much in the way of life—not when it was little more than nutrient-poor dust.
Whether that meant I wouldn’t be able to connect with the earth's voice, I couldn’t say—but I needed to try. I also suspected I needed a stronger—or at least deeper—connection than simply shoving my fingers into the soil.
I grabbed my knife, thrust it hilt deep into the ground, and then reached mentally. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then what almost felt like static stirred through my thoughts and the earth said, her voice weak and distant, What is it you wish?
Does life exist on this strip of black land?
Life returns to the area wiped out by the eruption, but that will never be the case in the true dead zone.
True dead zone?
An ever-lengthening strip of ground that has been utterly drained of energy and warmth.
By the volcano?
No. By whatever moves beneath it.
Trepidation stirred. Or maybe it was fear. Both were certainly justified given the underlying fury in the earth’s voice. Underneath?
Yes.
What sort of life are we talking about?
We cannot say, the earth replied, because there is no response from the dead zone and only anger in the ground that immediately precedes it. The deadness is a canker that rolls slowly toward the Skaran Plains. It isn’t natural.
If neither earth nor air could venture close to the dead areas in this place, it had to mean there was a greater force at work here.
What blocks you? Another mage? Or magic?
Magic. A type we have not seen for centuries.
Which wasn’t news I really wanted to hear. How far ahead is the dead area?
The anger zone lies ten miles directly ahead of your current location. How far beyond that the dead zone is, we cannot say.
How deeply under the ground does the movement occur?
A few hundred feet, perhaps. We cannot say with certainty.
Are there any exit or entry points in the areas you can access? Or maybe even air vents?
Surely there'd have to be the latter, at least. No matter what was creating this deadness—be it a human species or not—they needed to breathe. If they were boring through the ground, then they’d also need a means of getting rid of the waste.
If they exist, you
will have to discover them yourself.
I swore softly, and felt Donal stir. “What?”
I updated him and then said, “There’s probably only a couple of hours of light left. Do you want to set up camp here for the night? Or do you think it'll be better to move through the night and rest during the day?”
“Given the urgency in the wind's tone, I think it better we get underway ASAP.” He drew in a breath and released it slowly. “Help me up, Princess.”
I frowned. “Are you sure? Half an hour won't kill us—”
“Perhaps not, but the longer we're stationary, the more likely discovery is.”
“True enough.” Even if whoever was creating this dead zone did live underground, that didn't mean they wouldn't have some sort of sentry system on the surface.
I rose and offered him my hands. He gripped them tightly and then, after a pause, gave a sharp nod. I helped him upright but didn't immediately release him, wanting to be sure he was steady before doing so. His breathing remained too fast and ragged for my liking, and his skin a little too pale, but the gleam of determination in his blue eyes suggested he wasn't about to let weariness stop him.
After he gave another nod, I released him.
“You’d better lead the way, given you’ll be far more alert for the next couple of hours than me.”
I frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”
“I’ll be fine, Princess. It’s just part of the price we pay for using such forces—and one I hope you don’t experience anytime soon.”
“Unlikely, given the earth is utterly dead up ahead and won’t be able to respond to any call for help I might make.”
“Well, doesn’t that just make this journey all the more exciting.” He waved a hand forward. “Go. I’ll be three steps behind you.”
I hesitated, my gaze raking him briefly, sensing the tiredness he wouldn't acknowledge. Then I half shrugged and spun around. The highlander knew his limits far better than I did.
With every step, black dust plumed, until we were surrounded in a heavy cloud that tasted like grit and made breathing unpleasant. I didn't have a filter mask in my kit, so I tugged the neck of my undershirt over my mouth and nose and used it to keep out some of the muck.
Dusk came and went, and night settled in, but neither the moon nor the stars were visible thanks to the heavy layer of clouds. Hours passed, but neither Donal nor I spoke—this place was so vast, so empty, that even a whisper would have echoed. And while the earth had lost its voice, it wasn’t completely silent. Tremors ran through the ground, accompanied by a rumble that sounded both frustrated and angry.
The earth here might not be able to tell me what was happening, but she certainly didn’t like it.
We entered an area littered with stones and mounds of uneven earth. Some of these mounds were tall enough to tower above Donal by a good four feet while others were little more than strips of raised earth that ran in lines or formed box shapes—the ruins, I realized, of the civilization had been here before the eruption. It made me wonder if we dug underneath the larger buildings, would we find the people who’d once lived here, their bodies frozen in whatever the position they’d been in the moment when death—and the molten ash and debris that had rained down upon this entire area—had claimed them.
Up ahead in the distance, fireflies danced, tiny sparks of red and gold that gradually faded to black as they shot higher. If there were fireflies here, then there had to be other life, no matter what the earth had said. Firefly pupae were carnivorous, and the adults couldn't exist without at least some form of plant life.
The earth’s trembling intensified, until it was strong enough to send stones rolling from piles around us. I stopped. Donal halted beside me, his gaze narrowed as he studied the bright show up ahead. “There’s something odd about those fireflies.”
“Aside from the fact they shouldn’t even exist in this barren place, you mean?” I kept my voice as low as his, but it still seemed abnormally loud in the silence.
His smile flashed. “Yes. They’re not actually moving like real fireflies.”
“I’ll bow to your greater knowledge, having never seen them in anything other than books.” I frowned. “I don’t suppose the wind can tell you anything?”
“No, because there’s some sort of barrier preventing her from sweeping the area.”
Meaning it had to be some kind of magic, because there was no physical barrier evident. “Then she lasted a lot longer than the earth.”
“Right up until the tremors became consistent, in fact. Whatever is stopping her seems to be connected to whatever is causing them.”
“Machinery would have to be responsible for the vibrations, wouldn’t it? No matter how many people might be underground, no amount of human—or nonhuman—endeavor would cause the earth to shake like this.”
“Agreed.” His voice was grim. “Unless, of course, whatever mage or magic is stopping the wind is also causing the vibrations.”
“I don’t know anything about true magic, but wouldn’t its creation and usage be as telling on a mage’s body as using the air’s power to transport us was on yours?”
“I’d have thought so, but for all we know, they have a never-ending supply of mages or some way of countering the personal physical cost.” His gaze met mine. “But I think those fireflies might give us our first clue in that regard. Shall we keep moving?”
We did. As we drew closer, the earth’s trembling stilled. The resulting silence ramped up my fear rather than eased it.
It soon became evident that the bright shower lighting up the night wasn’t fireflies. It was sparks.
They were rising from a shaft that was circular and at least five feet in width. I knelt close to the edge and carefully peered over. The air that flowed across my face and riffled through my hair was warm, the sparks little bursts of heat that hit but oddly didn’t burn. The shaft itself was vertical and very deep, with a thin strip of molten gold at its very base.
Donal frowned. “Is that a form of strip lighting or something else?”
“Who knows? This thing is definitely a chimney of some sort, though.”
“If they are boring under the ground, then they’d have to have some means of sucking out the heat the process can cause.” He scanned the immediate surrounds. “It’s hard to tell refuse from ruins in this darkness, but if they’re using machinery, they’d need a means of getting rid of the spoil.”
“Unless they’re simply transporting it back to wherever they originated from.”
“Possibly,” he said. “But it would take a lot of vehicles to remove the rubble from a large tunnel, and we’d likely hear them given we felt the tunneling vibrations earlier.”
“Unless they’ve harnessed the energy of the earth and are using a form of repulsion technology. It’s relatively quiet.”
“Which this is not.” He thrust upright. “Either way, this shaft isn’t going to provide a means of uncovering answers. We need to find an access point that’s horizontal rather than vertical.”
“If there is such a thing.” I carefully skirted the edge of the shaft and then led the way again.
“There has to be an access point somewhere—that shaft didn’t have any means of moving people or even vehicles up or down.”
Which didn’t really mean anything if we were dealing with an entire civilization capable of magic—and if we were, Cannamore was in serious trouble.
As the night and our journey rolled on, we came across another three shafts; they were evenly spaced along the center of the dead zone, and none were lit in any way, suggesting they were either no longer in use or simple ventilation shafts.
As dawn began to color the night sky, we reached what appeared to be the center of the ruined city. The remains of old buildings towered above us, casting long shadows that weren’t lifted by the growing dawn. The rubble-filled streets were laid out in a crisscross pattern I suspected might follow the earth’s energy lines and very much reminded me of
the layout in some of Cannamore’s older cities.
Did that mean this area had once held human occupation? These ruins certainly suggested it was possible, but surely if it had, there would have been some record of it in Rodestat’s archives.
Something flickered to my right—a flash of movement that wasn’t repeated. I frowned, half wondering if I’d imagined it even though the stirring dust was evidence enough to the fact I hadn’t.
More movement. Once again it was little more than brief flash and a trail of dust, but it was indication enough that we were no longer alone. The tension rolling off the man standing beside me told me he’d seen it too.
I unsnapped the retention clips on both blasters in readiness and then murmured, “What do you want to do?”
“You keep moving forward. I’ll go around and stop it.”
“Be careful.”
“Always.”
He disappeared in the shadowed canyon between two buildings. For several minutes, nothing happened. Then a sharp, inhuman scream broke the stillness, quickly followed by the blast of a rifle.
More screams, more movement.
I kept moving, grimly fighting the urge to go help—to go see if he was all right. He was the seasoned soldier in this little outfit, not me.
Then I saw it—a blur of gray that was all but hidden in the rising cloud of black dust. It was coming straight at me.
I raised the guns and fired, but it didn’t stop the creature. It didn’t even check its speed. I cursed and threw myself sideways to avoid being trampled, hitting the ground hard enough to force the air from my lungs even as I rolled into a semi-kneeling position and kept on firing. The blaster was doing absolutely nothing. I thrust one away, grabbed my knife, and then rose.
A long strip of silver appeared out of the dust cloud and arced down at my head. I instinctively—and perhaps foolishly—raised the knife. The blade hit something solid and shock reverberated up my arm—no surprise given that strip of silver was actually a two-meter-long sword that would have cleaved me in two. Instead, it slid off the knife’s short surface and dug into the soil near my left leg.