by B. J. Keeton
“Five?” Saryn asked, astonished. “Whole cities? There were that many Charons?”
“I’m assuming,” Ceril continued. “Of those cities, Meshin, the one above us, was the largest. It served as the capital, and I think the central spire we were heading toward was the seat of the governing body.”
“This is all fine and dandy, but what does this have to do with anything?”
“Well, it has to do with us getting home,” Ceril said.
“How's that?” asked Chuckie.
“If this was one of the first Instances that ever worked—assuming we're correct in being taught that the technomages started on Erlon—there has to be a connection back there somewhere.” Ceril turned his attention to Saryn. “Right? I mean, I assume that if the connection was made between two Instances that they always occupy the same space?”
She nodded. “Yeah…yeah, there should be. If this Instance originated in Erlonian space, then no matter how much it expanded afterward, there should still be parts of the terrain that overlap. It might only be a sliver if there has been a lot of shift, but they could still be connected.”
“So we find that place and go home?” Chuckie asked.
“I hope it's that simple,” Saryn said.
“Me, too,” Ceril said. “There are maps here, too. Archive, can you download the maps to the tablet, please?”
“It is done, Charon.”
“Also, will this tablet work outside of the Archive? I need to take it with me when we leave.”
“Yes, Charon. I will set the nanites to be unresponsive to recall commands and break their bond with the network. That will program them to remain permanently as the tablet.”
“Thank you, Archive,” Ceril said as he turned to his friends. “Okay, these maps? They are from before the war, before these winged Jaronya, and before the ruins. That means we'll have to do a little work on our own. But I think we should be able to find the locations the old Charons used to Instance hop.”
“Aren't those marked on the maps?” Saryn asked.
Ceril shook his head. “Not that I can tell. They might be, but I can't read it if they are.”
“Did you ask him?” Chuckie said, tilting his head at the hologram.
“I…” Ceril paused. “No. I didn’t.”
Chuckie smiled. “Archive? That’s your name, right?”
“Yes, Charon.”
“Are there any Instance portals marked on those maps?”
“You do not currently have access to that information, Charon. I am sorry. If you believe that is a mistake, would you like to proceed with verification?”
“Damn right, I would. What do I have to do?”
“Remain still while the verification process is completed,” the hologram said. It leaned close to Chuckie's face and flashed the same colors into his eyes as it had Ceril's. Seconds passed, and the hologram said, “I am sorry, Charon. You do not have authorization to access the Archive. You will be given five minutes to vacate the premises before you are terminated.”
“Whoa, hold on there, Archive,” Chuckie said, hopping to his feet and grabbing his gun.
“Will you verify me, please?” Saryn said, calm.
“Yes, Charon.” The hologram leaned close to her and flashed lights in her eyes. “I am sorry, Charon,” it said. “You do not have authorization to access the Archive. You will be given five minutes to vacate the premises before you are terminated.”
“Ternia?” Saryn asked. “What's going on?”
“I'm not sure,” Ceril said. “Archive, they have my permission to be here.”
“I am aware of that, Charon. They do not, however, have authorization.”
“I thought I had full authorization.”
“To access the Archive,” the hologram said.
“Can I not grant access to others?”
“No, Charon.”
“Who can?”
“As stipulated by order PX1-767, only the ruling council of the Charonic Archive may grant authorization.”
“Wait,” Ceril said. “I thought you said no one was responsible for granting me access.”
“That is correct. Your authorization did not come from an individual.”
“But it came from a council?”
“Technically, Charon.”
Ceril licked his lips as he leaned his head backward, stretching the muscles. “Can you tell me the names of those Charons who made up the council at the time the order was given?”
The Archive furrowed his brow. The holographic man peered at Ceril with his head cocked to the side. “No, Charon, I cannot. However, I should be able to. The information is not restricted from you.”
“Why can’t you then?”
“I cannot seem to locate the information. It appears as though the information was deleted from the database.”
That caught Ceril’s attention. “Why would someone do that? Who could do that?”
“I do not know why someone would delete information from the Archive, Charon. It has never happened before, to my knowledge. As for your inquiry regarding who would delete the information, only the council would have that ability.”
“And you can’t tell who was on the council at that time because it was deleted,” Ceril said.
“Yes, Charon.”
Then it hit him. Ceril asked the hologram, “When was that information deleted, Archive? Is there a timestamp for the event?”
The hologram stared blankly ahead, then said, “Yes, Charon. The information was removed from the database approximately five hundred years ago; however, I can tell you the information itself predates that by millennia.”
Something about that bothered Ceril, but he couldn’t figure out what.
“Boss?” Chuckie asked. “Could you hurry it up a bit?”
Chuckie was right. He didn’t have enough time to dwell on it, no matter where it would lead and what he could learn. As much as he would like to stay and discuss, well, everything with the Archive, Saryn and Chuckie were kind of in mortal danger. He shouldn’t have even taken as long as he did.
Ceril grabbed the tablet containing the maps. He secured it in his pack and said, “Archive, can you please direct us to the nearest exit?”
“Yes, Charon,” the hologram said. “Warning: three minutes until termination of unauthorized access.” Immediately following the warning, shallow stairs appeared. They spiraled toward the ceiling. Ceril and the others started up almost immediately. As they approached the ceiling, the tiles dissolved and purple light gleamed into the chamber. Ceril brought up the rear, and he said, “Go on out. I'll be right behind you. I need to do one thing first.”
Saryn said, “But Ceril—”
“But nothing. I can be here; you guys can’t. For whatever reason, I’m going to be safe in here.”
“He’s right, Saryn,” Chuckie said. “We’re the outsiders down there. We’ll sort it out later. Come on, before we’re all in trouble.”
Saryn scowled. “I don’t like this.” She crawled through the opening.
“Unauthorized access has been contained. Termination protocols disengaged,” the hologram said from the dais.
Ceril walked back down the ramp and stood in front of the hologram. “Hello, Charon,” it said.
Ceril stood. “You were going to kill my friends?”
“They were unauthorized to be in the Archive. I am sorry.”
“But you were going to kill them.”
“They are unharmed, Charon.”
“But they might not have been. Why kill them instead of force them to leave?”
“The data in the Archive is important and must be protected. Unauthorized access is prohibited.”
Ceril gritted his teeth and nodded. There was no use in arguing with a machine. “Archive,” he said, “can I gain access to you again if I need to? You said there was no network.”
“You are correct. However, because you have authorization, you may utilize any of the designated entrances or terminals within th
e city of Meshin.”
“Can you mark those on my maps?”
“It has been done. The locations have been highlighted on your maps.” The hologram outstretched its arm, palm up, and projected a sample map into the air.
“That’ll work,” Ceril said.
“Is there anything else, Charon?”
“One more thing,” Ceril said. “Is there a way to travel between cities on Jaronya?”
“The most efficient form of travel is by air, Charon. However, I do not believe any of the air transit systems still function.”
“I don't suppose the Archives between each city could connect?”
“The archives are not networked. I am sorry.”
“I don’t mean like that. I mean, could you make this facility physically connect to the other archives? Like how you moved the hallways so my friends could find me?”
“That request has never been made,” the hologram said. “I will perform the necessary calculations.”
Ceril waited. He was almost becoming irritated when the Archive finally responded.
“No, Charon. This Archive does not possess the capability to connect to any other. I am sorry.”
“Thanks, anyway.” Ceril climbed the stairs toward his friends. He didn't particularly like the Archive, but he felt the need to say goodbye to it. It was the damnedest thing. He resisted, though; he didn't want to get too cozy with anything that was willing to kill Saryn and Chuckie, whether it was artificial or not.
As he stepped into the purple sun, Ceril’s eyes closed automatically. The light, despite its ultraviolet shift, was incredibly bright and intense after the subdued golds and silvers of the Archive. Saryn and Chuckie stood at the base of a tower; they were looking upward.
It took Ceril a moment to realize what was different about this tower: it wasn’t in ruins.
Various shades of purple wrapped the exterior of the building; green symbols and words decorated the violet bands.
“Well, that's convenient,” Ceril said to let his team know he was back. “We made it to the high priest’s temple, after all.”
“Looks like it,” Saryn said.
Chuckie said, “Better late than never, right, boss?”
“I'm not sure about that,” Saryn said, pointing.
Out of the tower came three Jaronya. Their wings were fully Conjured and spread, but they were not flying. It was the first time Ceril could remember them just walking around, and the sight terrified him.
Each of the Jaronya was covered in thick plates of purple armor, and each plate connected to the others with swatches of cloth. The three Jaronya were each armed with a staff that had green energy spiraling up and down its length. Occasionally, a bolt would arc from the top of one staff and bounce to another.
Ceril pushed between Saryn and Chuckie, taking point. He was going to talk with the guards and apologize for being late. Before he could, green arcs of energy shot from the three staves simultaneously into Ceril's legs and stomach. He collapsed.
Chuckie braced his feet and held his hands in front of him. He wasn’t going to let that happen to him. His fear and anger drove him to Conjure red fire from his palms. He directed the walls of flame at the left-most Jaronya, and the Conjured fire encompassed the angel.
The Jaronya took another step, and Chuckie gritted his teeth. Veins popped up on his forehead as he pushed at his Conjured flames.
The Jaronya fell, its wings dissolving along with the rest of its body as it died. Chuckie whipped his fire toward the second angel, but more arcs of energy came from the staves. This time they zapped both Chuckie and Saryn at the same time.
Chuckie’s fire dissipated, and he whimpered as he collapsed, too drained from the force of his Conjuring to resist the attack. Saryn fell, too, interrupting whatever she had been Conjuring before it could even take form.
The Jaronya kept walking toward them.
Chapter Thirty
“Where can I get one of those?”
The large purple man just stood there, his hand wrapped around the hilt of a golden sword. He stared at Swinton.
“Really, I mean it. I want one.”
The angel just stared ahead without acknowledging that Swinton was speaking.
“Not yours, you know, but one like it. You think that would be possible? I mean, that’s why I became a soldier in the first place; to get a Flameblade. I started out as a scholar—a nerd, you know—but I saw one of those and knew that I had to have one.”
Still no reaction.
Swinton hardly noticed. “You and your buddies all have them, right? Which means that they’re not as rare or as hard to get as Roman and Bryt made out.”
“I take it you’re feeling better,” Easter Harlo said.
Swinton turned away from the stoic guard. “I am. Thanks by the way, Harlo. I owe you one. Really. I’m not sure how you did it, but it doesn’t feel like one of these guys ever stabbed me.” He rotated his left arm in a circle and threw a couple of punches at the air in front of him. “See? I owe you one, doc. For real.”
“You can pay me back right now, actually.”
“Yeah? What do you need?”
“For you to give it a rest, Swinton. Please.”
“What do you mean? What’d I do?”
“Talking to the guard like that. You’re going to get us killed,” Harlo said. “And I’m thinking that I don’t really like the sound of that.”
“What would you prefer me to do?”
“Sit quietly and wait for a while. That sounds pretty good.”
“That sounds awful. I can’t sit still, anyway. I can’t just sit here and do nothing while these…things plan to kill us.”
“We don’t know they plan to kill us. They saved you when you fell off the building, remember?”
“Yeah, but how do we know that wasn’t just, you know, buying time. We don’t know what their plans are. They might want to kill us. They did kidnap us, remember?” Swinton said.
“You’re right,” Harlo sighed. “Whatever, Swinton. Do whatever you want, but do it quietly. And without bothering the guard. Please.”
Swinton scowled at her and sat with his back against the wall. It had been hours since he had been thrown into their cell, and they still had no idea what was going on or why they had been taken.
Their cell was round and fairly small. It had no windows, and only a single latticed door in or out—if you didn’t count the disintegrating wall that Swinton had been thrown through earlier. A guard dressed in purple robes stood outside the door, his eyes staring straight ahead into the cell. He had not moved or spoken since Harlo had finished operating on Swinton’s arm.
There was no furniture in the cell, not even a bed or somewhere for them to relieve themselves. Swinton assumed that meant it was a short-term residence, but whether that was good or bad for them, he didn’t know. The walls were purple and shiny, and the floor and ceiling were made out of lacquered tiles that had green symbols embossed in their centers.
“You didn’t see Ceril or anyone when you were out there, did you?” Harlo asked.
“Nope,” Swinton said. “All I saw was this tower and the ruins around it. The big angel guys were everywhere, but not Ceril, Chuckie, or Saryn.”
“I hope they’re okay. I mean, we heard shots after they were taken. I hope that they didn’t get themselves killed.”
“I doubt they did,” Swinton said. “I took some potshots at one of those guys, and I’m still here.”
“Barely. You got stabbed in the shoulder, and you had your neck cut.”
“We have to assume they’re alive, either way. Saryn and Ceril are smart cookies, you know? And Chuckie…well, he’s Chuckie.”
“So where does that leave us?” Harlo asked. She was sulking now, Swinton noticed. Her mood had drastically changed since she had finished fixing his arm. She had been so focused, so intent on making him better—saving his life, really—that everything else had kind of faded away. Now, though, she had time to think. She was b
ored now that she didn’t have a goal to work toward. And he could tell that it was getting to her.
“Well, it leaves us here. Which doesn’t mean that much,” he said. “We have to find a way out of here.”
“How?” she asked. “You messed with the wall forever, and it’s still solid. Even if it wasn’t, we’d just fall to our deaths if we went outside. And the door isn’t likely to come open with him,” she jerked her thumb toward the guard without looking, “standing there the whole time.”
“Umm, Harlo.”
She grunted acknowledgement.
“He’s gone.”
She looked up. Swinton was right. She rushed to the door and slid her fingers through the lattice. Swinton followed suit. It was warm to the touch, and Harlo pressed her face into it, trying to see as far as she could down the hallway, which wasn’t very far, considering the corridor was curved just like the cell walls.
“Where’d he go?” Swinton asked.
“Beats me, but this is our chance to get out of here.”
“And you plan on doing that how?”
“Watch,” Harlo said. The holes in the door were just big enough for Harlo’s hand to fit through. She pushed her arm out as far as she could, and held her hand out, palm up and open. Her nanite sleeve began to rush toward her hand, and within seconds, Harlo was holding a throbbing sphere of black liquid.
She closed her eyes, and a yellow dot appeared on the ball of nanites. It rotated around on its base like an eyeball out of its socket.
“There’s a panel beside the door,” Harlo said. “It looks like it’s made out of the same kind of tiles that are on the floor in here, just smaller. I think it’s a keypad.”
“How do you know how to do that?” Swinton asked, amazed.
“I’ve used this Conjuring for surgery before,” she said. “Well, I was taught how to do it, and then Dr. Howser used her own to actually perform the procedure.”
“It’s awfully big to be inside someone,” Swinton said.
“This is an enlarged version, Swinton.” As she spoke, the dot on the nanite scope turned red. A tendril extended from the sphere from beneath the red dot and snaked its way through the air to the left side of the door. “The panel hasn’t been used in a while. There’s no residual heat left on the buttons.” The dot turned blue, and Harlo smiled. “There are, however, traces of oil or something left on some of them. I know which buttons open the door, at least.”