The Maven Knight (The Maven Knight Trilogy Book 1)

by Matthew Romeo

  “So how does this play into our arrests?” I ask, resisting the urge to pick at the cut on my cheek.

  “Remus’ old master, a person by the name of Centum, likely set us up to attend the banquet.” Aida continues, her tone turning dark. She clearly abhors this character. “Centum knew we were there, and knew we were starting to look for Providence. I don’t know much about the Order’s master, but I do know Centum is possessive over any matter regarding anything Domain related. Obsessed even. Centum captured us and…” Her voice fades for a moment, and Remus pats her hand on his shoulder.

  “Punished— Me—” Remus finishes vaguely when Aida won’t continue.

  ​So his ailment isn’t natural after all. His conditions were unlike anything I’ve ever seen, even the sedatives look like they barely help him. I want to know more, but I know it’s not the right time.

  “So Centum is the one who had us all shipped off?” I ask instead. I think I’m finding the final pieces.

  “Yes, but I’m baffled as to why Centum’s interested in you.” Aida quickly makes a placating gesture. “Meaning no offense. But you’re just a brewer from Z’hart. Why would they have an interest in shipping you off with us?”

  I start to think about it for a long moment, my eyes staring at the rigid rock floor of the cave. I think I know the reason they targeted me. And I’m mystified as to how Centum learned about me. But I’m more concerned with how they’ve managed to manipulate events in Z’hart.

  “Perhaps because I have lots of connections in my line of work,” I say, brushing my hair behind an ear. “I hear a lot of underground info while working at the Blue Den. I heard rumors about various cults looking for Domain technology. Could this be the same thing?”

  “More— Than— Cult—” Remus retorts with a snort. “Order—”

  “You remember what Septem said on the convoy?” Aida asks quietly. “He said that his Order has been around longer than we could imagine. He’s right. Remus told me everything, and these people have ties everywhere. They are the masters and the nations are their puppets.”

  “What do we do then?” I ask, completely unsure of how to face something as grand as this. I feel so small, like an ant among humans.

  “We’ll figure that out in due time, Sarina.” Aida adopts a questioning look. “You can help by telling us why you were at that embassy.”

  “I was working as a brewer for the Blue Den. An invitation was sent to us, requesting that we provide service to the gala,” I recount vaguely, still hesitant to reveal too much about myself. “But you know that.”

  “A brewer, eh,” someone comments from behind me.

  I turn to see Vivían coming around one of the stalagmites. She’s just come around, so likely she only heard about my job. Still, I’m a bit surprised by her sudden appearance. Flopping down next to me, her expression reflects casualness but also hints at curiosity.

  “I took you as more of a bouncer,” she says wryly, giving me a grin. “That hot headedness seemed perfect for taking care of drunk pricks.”

  “I dealt with drunk pricks anyways,” I retort lightly. “How long have you been listening?”

  “Long enough,” Vivían shrugs, leaning back and placing her hands behind her crazy hair. There doesn’t seem to be anything nefarious about her. “You were all clearly set up at that banquet, you know?”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of that,” I affirm darkly. “We just need to figure out who sent the invitation to us all.”

  “Really, you all accepted these invites without knowing who sent it?” Vivían scoffs, looking to the three of us. Surprise is etched on her flawless features when we don’t deny.

  “I didn’t have any say in the matter,” I say quietly. “I did as my barkeep ordered. Plus, it seemed just like any other catering job.”

  “That’s stupid,” Vivían says in concern. She seems oddly protective. “Rule number one of survival: Never take anything for what it is. Always remain vigilant.”

  “That’s a tough way to live,” I reply. Vivían adjusts the headband just above her forehead. “I don’t live in the Outlands.”

  “Look where that’s gotten you,” she retorts. Her violet eyes show some measure of resolve. “At least in the Outlands, danger doesn’t resort to back stabbings and intrigue. Z’hart seems more dangerous than the Outlands.”

  “That may be,” Aida says as she stands up. “But it looks like the only way to find out what’s happening is to return to Z’hart.”

  She looks directly at me; her dark eyes reflect the gravity of her words. “Only there will we find answers.”

  I remain silent and reflect on what I’ve been told. Whomever this Centum character is, he has some nefarious plan revolving around us, Z’hart, and this Providence place.

  Reluctance starts to weigh on me again. I know that the only place I will find answers is in Z’hart City itself. I develop an uneasy sensation in my stomach that tells me I might need the others even after we survive the mines.

  Chapter 11: Sarina

  Well Below

  IT SEEMS LIKE AN entire day has passed after traversing down the endless mine tunnels. My legs are beginning to tire, my luggage weighs down on my back, and our meals are kept short and simple. The rations provided in the packs are nothing but hard bread, dried meat, and canned beans. Hardly a worthy meal for a fatigued stomach. Nevertheless, what we possess will suffice and there is no use dwelling on the comforts of banquet meals.

  The group proceeds at a brisk pace. We’re all determined to be rid of the mines and find fresh air. Despite this, I notice that Devin and Vyck are starting to falter in our flank. Their movements are intermittent, they huff their breaths, and their heads are persistently looking back and forth from me to the tunnel.

  “You know, looking at me isn’t going to make this go faster, right?” I call back to them, my voice echoing in the tunnel.

  Devin gives me a scathing glance over. “I’m starting to think you’re full of shit, m’lady,” he grunts. “We haven’t reached the Well, so I don’t think it’s here.”

  “What do you want to do, turn around?” Vivían juts in, making a mockery of the idea. “I think I speak for all of us in saying to all the Hells with that. We shouldn’t be too far.”

  “And another reassuring statement from the navigation team,” Vyck growls in derision. “Let’s just keep walking. Hope we don’t run out of food or get boned by some cave monsters.”

  “It’s been barely a day,” I say aghast. “We have enough food for a couple more.”

  “Shut up,” he spits immaturely.

  The trek has put everyone on edge, not just due to the exhaustion and lack of clean air but also because of the lack of substantial sustenance. Survivors we are, but we all share the same hope to eat a hearty meal sooner rather than later. As if to punctuate my point, my stomach growls with exhaustion and I begin to crave for fresh onion stew.

  We continue at our pace for nearly another kilometer when I hear the duo halt loudly within the tunnel. We all stop to look at them. The look in Devin’s eye is feral, almost insane despite his collected composure and neutral expression. Tálir turns around slightly, but keeps his luminescent bottle held towards the tunnel ahead. We all pause in disconcerted confusion.

  “I’m about to lose my shit here, Sarina,” Devin says in a desperate voice. “I need to get out of here before I start clawing my way out. The crystals aren’t as important as my sanity.”

  I place a hand on my hip. “We are heading for the exit,” I reply insightfully. “You do realize that.”

  Aida takes a step towards him in a placating manner. “It’s just a bit of claustrophobia,” she tells him with a soothing gesture. “Just breathe and relax—”

  “Breathe what?” Devin snaps. “It’s like breathing in steam down here! It’s tough to remain calm if there is no air!”

  “I think I’m starting to see spots,” Vyck says, trying to affirm Devin’s argument.

  “We’re going to die
down here!”

  As Devin starts to raise his voice, Remus goes into another spasm-type fit. He’s holding his head hysterically and rocking his body. Lowering himself, he starts breathing frantically An audible whimper emanates from him, but it doesn’t seem to be sprung from anxiety or embarrassment. It’s from pain.

  Alarmed, Aida drops her equipment satchel and kneels beside him before struggling to retrieve her wineskin. There is a brief pause and I’m able to gaze at Remus and his contorted face. Pale, stricken, and pitiful. He looks almost like a helpless child struggling in pain, and it fills me with both pity and concern.

  Over the last several hours, Remus was required to imbibe the phosphorous antidote three times to keep him stable. His condition is graver than I thought, for he needed the sedatives almost every two hours. My thoughts reel as I try to guess what exactly Centum plagued him with. Trauma? Hematomas? Whatever it is, it’s gradually getting worse.

  Remus is clawing at his temples, as if to dig the pain out. Sweat begins to glisten on his brow, and his jaw is clenched firmly. It’s an excruciating sight to behold, and one that would’ve prompted me into action if I knew how to help him. Sadly, I have no idea what to do for him.

  But even as Aida fumbles through the bag, Devin starts became even more disconcerted and enraged. “He is starting to damage my cool!” Devin nearly screams. “I need to get the fragging Hells out of here, and I’m about to start running without you people!”

  “Seriously Devin! You’re not helping this situation!” I growl back at him with fists clenched. “We have other problems than your claustrophobia. In case you haven’t noticed, Remus is kind of losing it—so I think that takes more precedent than your issues!”

  He stares at me with disbelief, and his mouth falls open. “Are you fragging serious?” Devin’s eyes are wild. “My issues are just as important as Remus’! I. Need. To. Get. OUT!”

  Devin is about to unleash his panicked fury on us when Tálir calls out, “Devin calm yourself! We’ve reached our destination!”

  We all wheel around and see Tálir a few meters down in the tunnel. His luminous bottle illustrates an opening. Almost imperceptibly, Devin darts around us and rushes down the tunnel towards the opening. Evidently Tálir ventured a bit further in the midst of our squabbles, and I’m perplexed as to why he abandoned the scene. Perhaps he realized that the exit was mere meters from us.

  Aida stabilizes Remus quickly after letting him drink the sedative. With the pandemonium calming down, the rest of us start to approach the exit. Reaching the exit, I see the tunnel open into a massive open space which is craftily lit by scores of crystals. Finally standing at the tunnel’s exit, Tálir holds his radiant bottle high and we are able to glimpse the Well.

  It’s awe inspiring to witness the enormity of the cylindrical mining shaft that sinks deeper into the earth and rises a kilometer above us. Two hundred meters in diameter, the Well’s cylindrical sides are etched with escalating pathways that gyrate around it like a whirlpool. The dark features of the dirt, rock, and ore that make up the Well are impalpably lit by hordes of emerald gems. Stacked in piles, resting in mine carts, or buried in rock, the crystals are numerous. Light is predominant. Deeper into the earth, I can see vague outlines of remaining equipment and construction scaffolds.

  Above us, the Well rises into a vaulted ceiling that narrows almost like a cone at its peak. The ceiling is lined with lanterns and other illumination devices, long since deactivated. A small cavity has been etched out on the far right side of the dome, and the last rays of daylight streak through the small opening.

  Respite tugs at my features and I can sense the rest of the group unwinding somewhat. After the last few hours, I’m jubilant to see our means of escape. Even if it leads us back to the Pyrack, it’ll at least be more capacious and less oppressive. Fresh air, sunlight, and ample space seem like an extravagance after our trek through the mines. However, we still have a bit of a hike ahead of us before we reach the exit.

  What surprises me most of all is that the equipment and structures seem to be very, very old. The wood looks worn and dry while rust cakes some of the metal machines. It becomes evident to me that perhaps the Well hasn’t been occupied in some time. Perhaps even a few Cycles.

  Devin lets out an audible moan of liberation, and his shoulders heave a tremendous weight off of them. “Tálir, you beautiful son of a bitch!” he exclaims with a wide grin. “I think I’d have gone on a murder spree if we’d have been stuck in that tunnel for much longer.”

  “What the shit?” I snap, aghast.

  “That seems a bit—excessive, don’t you think, buddy?” Vyck comments with a disconcerted look.

  “I was just being honest.”

  I’m nervous for a moment. Talk of a killing spree makes me a tad uncomfortable. I shake the feeling, however, and we soon start to scout around the rocky outcropping for the best way to reach the top.

  A series of old ladders connects the ledge we stand upon to a scaffolding a few hundred meters above us. The ladders creep up the rocky walls like vines. The large scaffolding is built almost like a seaside home, its massive stakes imbedded in the edge of the shaft. A rickety wooden bridge connects the scaffold to a nearby niche that directly leads into the spiral pathway that wind to the top. The bridge is incredibly thin, so we’ll need to go single file. It’s a moderately clear path, but I can’t help but shake a feeling of misgiving. Who knows how old this equipment is.

  What if the conditions of the bridges and scaffolds is severe, and ends up collapsing under our weight? While my dread is prevalent, I know I’ll have to face the obstacles if we’re to get out.

  “It looks like that pathway is our ticket out,” Tálir points out, cautiously. “But judging the conditions of the scaffolds and walkways, we need to be extra careful.”

  “Yeah, I’m not too keen on those old-ass ladders either,” I affirm. “Perhaps we should go one at a time?”

  “Pussies,” Vivían snorts playfully. “What’s life without a little danger?”

  “Being able to live,” Aida points out dryly.

  I point to a spiraling pathway that snakes around the diameter of the Well and culminates at a large extension near the top.

  “If we can just make it across that walkway, we won’t have to rely too much on the constructed paths,” I say. “Doesn’t look too difficult.”

  “See, you say that…” Vyck comments hesitantly as the rest of us reluctantly prepare for the climb.

  Tálir has everyone go before him. An odd strategy for someone who wishes to lead. But I soon realize that he’s prioritizing us over himself. I rock my head to the side in approval.

  Devin goes first. As he makes the first step unto the ladder, it creaks loudly as dust falls from various places. He looks back at us, shrugs aloofly, and resumes cautiously clambering up. The rest of us follow suite, only one person on the ladder at a time. While rickety and unstable, it didn’t take long for us to finish the first hurtle in this obstacle course.

  Then the process repeats over the course of the next couple ladders as we rise nearly half a kilometer. Reaching the scaffolding, we clamber up one at a time despite the fact that the structure is large enough to hold a dozen men. Stepping unto the dark, worn wood at the top, we pause as Tálir speaks up.

  “Follow closely on the bridge in the event anything starts to become more unstable.” His voice reflects worry, but he remains steadfast. “If we move light and fast, there might be less risk of it collapsing under our weight.”

  “Or more of a risk,” I comment warily. While he acknowledges my misgivings, we have no time to argue.

  Vigilantly, Devin and Vyck take the lead and briskly make their way across the unsteady causeway. Prolonged squeaks echo in the cavernous Well as they go across. After a few moments, they make it to the other side.

  Remus and Aida go forward, much more cautiously than the other pair. However, their reluctance is met with several creaks and snaps as their boots touch the age
d wood. I can see dust falling from the crevasses in the wood, and the dangerous snaps grow more frequent.

  “I’ll go last,” Tálir says with determination. “Get over there as fast as you can.”

  While I worry for him, I don’t hesitate. Vivían and I both go across the walkway, and I can feel each piece of wood vibrate with a grating noise. I can almost sense the nails being pulled from the wood as we step onto the lumber.

  We’re halfway across and I take a slow step. Snap. My foot breaks through one of the boards. Flinching violently, I nearly fling myself backwards in response—stumbling as I retreat. My momentum carries me to the far side of the catwalk and I almost step off. My breath catches in my chest. I glimpse the ominous darkness below me, and it feels like it’s trying to consume me.

  “Woah—woah!” Aida shouts from the niche at the end of the catwalk. Terrified alarm is in her voice.

  Vivían quickly grabs my arm and pulls me back. I regain my balance imperceptibly, and I let out a sigh of relief. Reorienting myself, we hastily make our way to the other side. The tenseness in my body is relieved, muscles are uncoiling.

  It’s now Tálir’s turn. After making only a few steps, something snaps underneath the walkway. There’s a prolonged creak. The structure shifts downwards slightly, and Tálir freezes and tries to keep his footing. He’s petrified. And he looks directly at me in terror.

  “RUN!” I yell.

  Tálir doesn’t hesitate.

  As the catwalk continues to break, he races across with a look of frightened determination on his face. His auburn hair blazes around his head. Parts of the walkway starts to fall away as it crumbles, the darkness below subsuming the fragments. His armored boots smack against the collapsing catwalk, and for a moment he’s steady. But a meter from us, he stumbles forward and the walkway collapses completely and swings downward—Tálir holding on for dear life.