by Clay Kronke
He then took the clamp, and closed it around the middle of his calf, just above the break. He handed Petra the spanner. "I need you to tighten this as much as you can," he said.
"What? Why me?" Petra asked.
"Because I don't have the leverage sitting like this," he said. "And it's gonna hurt like hell."
Petra winced. "That's why I don't want to," she said, her voice small.
"Let me," Jor said, scooting over closer to Bran's leg. "Clockwise?" he asked, taking the spanner and fitting it to the bolt on the clamp.
Bran nodded, taking a couple of quick breaths. "Do it."
With one quick motion, Jor rotated the spanner all the way around, the ratcheting mechanism making several small clicks as it tightened. Bran gasped, clenching his teeth and looking up to the top of the archway. He felt a warm pressure and looked down. Petra had moved to his other side and taken his hand in hers. There was a very concerned yet determined look on her face. Bran managed a smile. "I'm okay," he said.
"It needs one more turn," Jor said, and Bran held his breath, nodding. Petra closed her eyes as Bran winced once more, trying not to cry out.
"There," Jor said. "That's about as tight as it will get."
Bran took a few breaths. "Thank you," he said. "The other one needs to go just above the ankle. It should be easier."
Petra relaxed a bit, letting go of Bran's hand and standing up. As Jor set to work on the other brace, she walked to the edge of the archway and looked back out to the crashed ship. Hugging the ground and sitting nearly on its side, it was close enough to see clearly but too far away to get to easily, the terrain between even but rocky.
She sighed, looking down at her feet. The light dimmed briefly and she frowned, looking back up just in time to see a shadow flit out toward the crashed ship. She flinched, taking a step back as she looked up, expecting to see a dragon—
"It's a ship!" Jor called out, scrambling to his feet and stepping up beside her. "The pilot must have gotten off a distress signal before we crashed. Hey!" Petra flinched again as Jor shouted right by her ear before dashing out onto the windswept landscape, running toward the ship and flailing his arms like a madman.
"They're not going to see you," Bran was shouting from behind her. But Petra wasn't paying attention. She was frozen, her eyes fixed on the vessel that was now hovering over the crash site, circling the downed ship. All sharp angles and straight edges, it was shiny black and fierce, looking too much like the craft she had seen hovering over Rowan's farmhouse a lifetime ago to be a coincidence. She stared as it finished its circle, lifting back into the air and moving their direction, and as it passed by directly overhead, the same deep thrum and high-pitched whine she had heard huddled at the back of her house snapped her out of it.
"It's them," she breathed, hardly daring to believe it. "They're here!" she shouted as she turned on her heel and broke into a run, bounding the dozen or so feet to the other side of the archway. She paused only long enough to look up, catching sight of the ship once again and racing off after it. She heard Bran shout behind her, but after two steps his voice was lost to the wind in her ear as she left the shelter of the outer wall and entered the city proper.
She wasn't thinking, just running. The dark ship was keeping low over the city, occasionally disappearing behind the taller of the still standing structures, but its sound was distinct, and Petra was able to keep toward its general location even if she couldn't see it directly. The first few blocks posed no problem, as the roadways were wide and worn and the building remnants were sparse. But the farther east she went approaching the tower, the more she found herself having to divert her path or even double back because of obstructions in the road, rubble or fallen walls. The buildings as well became larger, closer together, and stood in less advanced stages of collapse, obscuring sound and beginning to obstruct her line of sight.
After several minutes of getting more and more frustrated as she was forced to change direction, feeling herself get more and more lost, she suddenly found herself exiting an alleyway into a large circular area that could have at one time been a courtyard. The space was surrounded by low, dramatic structures that were once buildings, but now looked more like memorial markers, little more than windswept stone squares and columns, bare and devoid of any identifying detail.
Standing sentry over all of it was a massive monolithic structure, a towering edifice that somehow still retained most of its character. Petra came to a standstill, staring agape at the imposing structure. It seemed to rise out of the stone itself, with vertical sculptural grooves running like rivulets up the tapering tower to the crenellated battlements at the very top. Slit-like windows dotted the structure at various intervals, almost disappearing as they neared the top. And at the base was an open arched entryway that protruded out from the surface, massive and dark yet somehow inviting, seeming to beckon her inside.
She shook her head, remembering what she was doing. She spun around, looking for some sign of the ship, but the air above the city was empty. She closed her eyes, straining her ears for any sound beyond the whistling wind that might point her in a direction, but there was nothing. No deep thrum or vibration, no engine whine, no sound of movement. She opened her eyes continuing to turn and scan the sky but the suspicion that she had missed them completely was beginning to gnaw at her, and she tried very hard not to lose her resolve.
It didn't work. She felt sick to her stomach, a wave of something approaching despair washed over her, and she found herself sinking to ground in the center of the courtyard. She looked up into the sky, not at all sure what to do next.
She wasn't sure how long she sat there, but her breathing evened out, returning to normal, and her initial panic was starting to subside, when a crunching sound brought her back to the present. She spun, expecting to see a wizard or a man in a ranger coat, but instead found Bran limping into the courtyard, using the pole Jor had found as a walking stick.
"What are you doing? You shouldn't be on your feet," she said as he made his way across to where she was sitting.
"You ran off blind into a dead city when we don't have working scanners or even a map," he said, grunting a bit as he sat down in front of her. "And the brace is strong, I can walk without too much difficulty."
Petra shook her head. "I lost them. One minute I had eyes on the ship, and the next, they were gone." She looked at Bran, hopeful. "Did you see where they went?"
He shook his head. "They had already set down by the time I was on my feet," he said. "And I could only hear the engines for a minute or two before they shut down."
"So they landed?" Petra asked, some amount of hope returning. "I couldn't tell if they put down or left entirely."
"It definitely sounded like a hard cutoff," Bran said. "I feel like we would have seen them if they left."
"Which means they're not far," Petra said, getting back to her feet, then holding out a hand to help Bran up. "Where's Jor?" she asked.
"He stayed behind to keep an eye on the ship," Bran said, dusting his legs off as he straightened up. "If your friends double back or someone else shows up because of the distress call, he wants to be close by."
Petra nodded. "All right, then. What now?"
Bran shook his head. "I don't have a clue, honestly. Now that we're here on whatever planet this is, we can't contact anyone, we can't even get a mark on our exact location. And if there is a ship somewhere out there," he gestured in the general direction of the rest of the city, "then they're our best bet for getting off this rock." His expression hardened. "And I don't know about you, but I'd rather not have to camp out here with Jor for however long our food supply lasts."
Petra winced. "Good point, this place isn't very hospitable. But I wouldn't know where to start. There are five streets leading off this courtyard in every direction, what if I pick the wrong one and they come this way while I'm somewhere else? And what about y
ou? This can't be helping your leg any. Maybe you should stay here and stand watch?"
"Oh no, I'm not letting you out of my sight," Bran said. "And my leg is fine. Any damage I do can be fixed once we get back to civilization. Besides," he turned to look at the tower entryway, "I think I know where your friends went."
"What? Where?" Petra said, looking the same direction.
"See the stone in front of the tower?" Bran pointed. "The dirt's been disturbed. That could be footmarks leading inside."
"You sure? They disappear a few feet out from the entrance."
"It's the wind," Bran said. "Look behind us, our own tracks will be gone soon." Petra looked, and sure enough, the marks in the dirt behind them were starting to disappear, and she couldn't even see the ones at the edge of the courtyard anymore.
"Those haven't been there very long," Bran continued. "It must be where they went."
"Then that's where we're going," Petra said, immediately starting toward the tower.
"Of course," Bran said to himself, setting off after her.
• • •
Vermithrax had put down inside the city walls in the first flat area big enough for the ship to fit in, within sight of the tower. "All right," Aris said, switching the engines over to standby. "We're running standard protocols here. Full sensor array is active, everyone keep comms up in case you get separated, and keep sharp. I have zero idea what we're going to find out there. Thermals indicate we're surrounded by dragons, but there's clearly nothing up here, so we're likely headed underground. Topography is showing a possible entry point in the tower, but the mineral content in the rock is scattering the sensors so we can't see more than a few feet underground."
"Not to mention there may be crash survivors wandering around," Gareth said. "With all the dragon activity, human-size heat signatures won't even register."
"Exactly," Aris said. "I'll stay with the ship. If there are survivors, they may have seen us fly over, and might come looking. Someone needs to be here in case they do, and it'll give me a chance to try and recalibrate the topography sensors so you're not traveling blind."
"You get to have all the fun," Gareth smirked.
Aris shrugged. "I don't have plasma armor." He turned to Mira. "And I know yours isn't full coverage, but it'll be more use than anything I've got."
Mira waved away the comment. "I'll just use Gareth as a shield if I need to."
"Thanks," Gareth said.
"Comms should work fine even if topography doesn't, so don't hesitate to shout if you need anything."
"Will do," Mira said, standing up. "And you?"
"If I can get the scanners working I'll patch them through to you," Aris said. "Then I'll probably do another flyover, see if I can confirm if there are any survivors."
"Sounds good." Gareth stood up and turned to Mira. "Shall we?"
They geared up and exited the ship, making for the courtyard in front of the tower, looking up at the ruined buildings as they went. "Who do you suppose lived here?" Gareth asked.
"They were huge, whoever they were," Mira said, pointing to the closest intact building. "These don't seem like anything more than normal dwellings, but look how tall they are, the doorways are easily twice the size they'd need to be for a humanoid species."
"I don't think there's a current sentient species in this sector that would fit those dimensions," Gareth said. "Maybe they died out?"
"It would certainly appear that way," Mira said. "At least here, though there may be cities in other regions that we haven't seen."
Gareth nodded as they continued on, finally reaching the end of the lane and stepping out into the tower courtyard. The wind was stronger out in the open, and Gareth lowered his goggles against the dust that was blowing in his face. He looked up at the tower looming over them, getting his first proper look at the structure since flying over earlier, and was struck by just how massive and imposing it was. "I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified," he said.
They started across toward the gaping entrance, which seemed to beckon them forward. Gareth's brow furrowed as he felt an odd sort of familiarity, as if he knew that was where he was supposed to go. It was at once compelling and disquieting. "This may sound weird," he said, "but I'm getting the strangest sense that I've been here before."
Mira looked up at him, frowning. "And I know," he continued, answering her unspoken question. "There's no way I could have."
"But someone else was," Mira said, pointing to the ground. There were marks in the dirt, what might have been footprints, seeming to lead toward the entrance, but were quickly being obscured by the wind. As they got closer to the tower, the marks became more distinct, and they could make out two separate sets of footprints, one medium size, the other larger with thick boot tread.
"Our survivors, I presume," Gareth said.
They reached the opening and stepped through the entryway, Gareth pausing to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior, pushing his goggles back up to his forehead.
The chamber was empty. Mira had stopped a few paces in and was staring upward. Gareth followed her gaze and had to take a step back. What looked from the outside to be a multilevel tower fortress, was instead completely open on the inside, the ceiling vaulting up countless levels to the very top of the structure, with arcing beams crisscrossing from one side to the other at varying heights throughout the space, seeming deliberately placed while also appearing quite random. A stone staircase spiraled up around the inside of the tower, weaving around the crisscrossing beams as it led to what was probably an observation platform at the top. And in the center of the space was a great round pit like a throat, leading straight down into nowhere.
"So, maybe not a fortress then," Gareth said, his voice echoing around the chamber in uneven intervals.
"It looks like a temple," Mira said, pointing to the back. "There's a raised platform behind the well, with pictograms that could be religious iconography, plus the ones around the opening of the well, which seems to be the central focus of the chamber."
"The well," Gareth said, stepping up to the edge of the pit. "Is that what we're calling it?" It was enormous, easily half the width of the chamber itself, with no railing or stonework marking the edge, simply a wide circular shaft bored down into the rock. He leaned forward a bit, peering in. It was impossible to tell how deep it was, as all light was swallowed up almost immediately.
Mira stepped up next to him, looking down into the pit as well. He watched her eyes flit back and forth and waited, knowing the sensors in her ocular implants allowed her to see far more than he could.
"It's an airshaft," she said. "It opens into what looks like a cavern system, three or four hundred feet below us."
Gareth was looking around the perimeter of the shaft, trying to relocate the footprints, when he noticed another set of marks in the dirt near where they were standing. They were much farther apart, and deeper, like claw marks, seeming to lead straight into the center of the opening. "Think I figured out what the airshaft is for," Gareth said.
Mira, who was closer now to the other side of the opening, nodded her head. "It's a passthrough," she said. "There's probably another way into the caverns, possibly on the cliff face outside the city, but this would be a much more direct entry point, especially for whatever people lived here." She looked up at Gareth. "There are stairs."
"What?" he said, walking over to where she was. He hadn't seen stairs, but then the entire shaft was bathed in shadow, so he wasn't entirely surprised. She pointed, and he squinted into the darkness for a minute before remembering that he didn't need to. He unclipped the staff from his back and extended it to its full length, activating the lamp on the end. A six-inch seam of intense white-blue light sprang to life, and he extended the end of the staff out over the mouth of the airshaft. Sure enough, carved into the stone itself was a set of steps starting from the opposite side of
the opening and spiraling down into the shaft. And there, leading right up to the top step, were the other two sets of footprints.
Gareth sighed. "Why don't people ever stay put?"
Mira shrugged. "At least we're all going the same direction—"
She was cut off as a rumble passed through the rock under their feet, followed by the crack of breaking stone and what sounded like a scream echoing up from below.
Mira didn't waste any time, pivoting midstride and bolting immediately for the stairs. Gareth fell into step behind, collapsing his staff and snapping it back in its clamp, but leaving the lamp lit. Protruding out from the stone, the steps were narrow, maybe only a couple of feet wide, but with no lip or rail between him and the open air of the shaft, Gareth found himself keeping close to the stone wall, watching his steps closely as he went. Mira, however, had no such similar reservations, bounding down two or three at a time. The stairway ended at a rough-hewn, arched opening mere feet from where the bottom of the airshaft came to an end, emptying out into the ceiling of a large cavern chamber, the light from Gareth's staff barely illuminating the bottom.
"This way, hurry," Mira said, reaching the bottom and disappearing into the opening.
Gareth rolled his eyes. He was still a flight above her, and not moving as quickly. "Not all of us can see in the dark," he said. "I'd rather not kill myself if I miss a step."
She poked her head back out. "Don't your goggles have night vision?" she asked.
"No," Gareth said, frowning. "That would be useful."
He made it to the bottom, followed Mira through the opening and found himself a low, wide chamber. The immediate area was relatively level, looking as if it had been chiseled out of the rock shelf, but about halfway across the chamber the floor dropped, and three different crevices split the far end, forming what looked like passageways to other chambers. The space itself was clear and open, and there was no sign of whoever they were following.
"Great," Gareth said, tapping his communicator. "Castle, we got three tunnels and only two of us, you have scanners working yet?"