Through a Mirror, Darkly

by R F Hurteau

  Felix knew they had reached a ladder when he heard the older man begin to climb, moving deftly from rung to rung with no more difficulty than if he’d been walking in a straight line through an empty and well-lit room.

  “For an old guy,” Felix grunted from behind him, “you’re in pretty decent shape.”

  “Spend a few hundred years in the shadows,” the Weaver suggested lightly, “and you’ll learn to scurry with the rats.”

  “Eh, no thanks.”

  The Weaver stopped to listen when he reached the top before lifting away a heavy metal covering.

  “Where are we?”

  Felix had to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun as he took a grateful breath of fresh air. The stale stuff down in the tunnels was dreadful.

  They appeared to be in a small alleyway somewhere, and after they had climbed out the Weaver turned and replaced the cover over the hole they’d just come through. Felix realized they’d been traveling through some sort of sewer system. The thought repulsed him, but he shoved the feelings back into the recesses of his mind.

  He was trying to save lives, here. He couldn’t let himself feel too put out over trudging through sewer pipes.

  “Just stay behind me,” came the Weaver’s reply, “and if I give you an order, don’t question it. Quickly, now.”

  The building beside them was large and austere, running the entire length of the alley. The Weaver stepped up to a nondescript entrance, listening again, and input a code into the keypad.

  The locking mechanism clicked and the door slid open. The Weaver motioned for Felix to follow him inside.

  They progressed slowly once they were within the mysterious facility, the Weaver stopping to peer around each intersecting corridor and listen at every door as Felix’s trepidation grew.

  They narrowly avoided detection when a group of chattering workers rounded a corner up ahead. They dipped inside an open door, and Felix flattened himself against the wall, breathing hard and waiting for them to pass.

  The Weaver led Felix down one flight of stairs and up another, taking so many turns that Felix was certain they were lost.

  At last he stopped in front of a small, unassuming doorway, listening once more before signaling to Felix that it was safe to enter. They stepped inside, and Felix realized that it wasn’t a room at all, but rather a supply closet.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “You stay here,” the Weaver told him, just as quiet. “We can go no farther without the assistance of someone already inside. I will find my friend and bring him to you.”

  “I’m going with you,” Felix argued. “What if you’re spotted? You could use my help.”

  But the older man just shook his head with a wry smile. “I’m very good at this game. I’ve been playing at it a long time. Just wait. Do not worry. I will return.”

  He left before Felix could ask him how long it might take. He stood in the closet, looking around, unsure of what to do with himself. Should he hide? What if someone came in here needing supplies? He poked around the shelves, looking for anything he could use as a weapon, just in case.

  His search yielded nothing of value, and very soon he had resigned himself to sitting on the floor, waiting—whether for the Weaver’s return, or for his capture, that was the real question.

  Consoling himself with the heaviest object he could find, a gallon jug full of an unknown liquid, he counted the passing seconds. When the door clicked his heart leapt into his throat and he scrambled to his feet to confront whoever appeared, jug held high.

  But the door slid to one side, revealing the Weaver alongside a much younger looking Elf who wore a look of worry on his face.

  The Weaver’s eyes went straight to Felix’s raised hand, which he decided to ignore all together. “This is Ollie. He’s going to bring us the rest of the way.”

  The Weaver hadn’t been lying. They were quite close to their goal. They came to a door with a keypad and some sort of scanner that the young Elf placed his hand against before the door would allow them access. He ushered Felix inside with an insistent gesture before he closed it behind them again.

  This was not what Felix had been expecting.

  Instead of entering a prison or a holding area they had entered a very long room, lined with something Felix was quite familiar with—pods.

  Their footsteps rang out on the metal walkway which hung from thick suspension wires, fenced in by a waist-high glass railing. The pods stretched out a long way, lining the left side of the room, and stood in rows six deep.

  “What is this place?” Felix asked, awestruck.

  “Follow me,” their guide admonished without answering the actual question, “The Ambassador is being held in one of the labs for potential future experimentation. We mustn’t dawdle.”

  This took Felix a moment to register. “Experimentation?”

  Ollie grimaced, seeming almost apologetic. “We don’t get a lot of Humans in Thera. They’re keeping him as a specimen. For what, I dare not guess.”

  Felix shuddered.

  He followed until a flash of motion from one of the pods caught his eye. As if pulled by an invisible force, he felt himself being drawn toward it.

  Felix had assumed, as they hurried through the rooms, that the pods were inactive. Thinking back, this seemed like a silly thought. Why had he assumed that?

  His companions moved forward, but Felix stepped up to the nearest pod, peering in through the small viewing window.

  Unseeing eyes stared out, framed by a smooth, chiseled face. Felix studied the pointed ears. The Elf looked young, but there was something odd about him. It struck Felix that he had no hair, and his features appeared somewhat hollow, as if he had been malnourished.

  Felix backed away, looking at the other pods. Beside him, Ollie had taken hold of his arm, trying to get him moving once more.

  “We can’t linger here,” Ollie was insisting in a low, worried voice. “Someone will see us.”

  “Are there Elves in all of these?” Felix asked, ignoring the persistent tugging.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Why?”

  Ollie looked uncomfortable now. “Please, come away. We don’t have much time.”

  Felix complied, coming alongside the Weaver. “What is this place? Some kind of treatment center?”

  The Weaver glanced at him out of the corner of his eye but continued moving. “No. They aren’t injured. They’re clones.”

  Felix’s eyes widened. “Clones? But why?”

  The Weaver grimaced as though he found the subject unpleasant. “CEDAR. It’s an acronym. Cloning Experimentation, Development, and Research. They’ve been working on it for a very long time.”

  “I don’t understand,” Felix persisted, needing more information. “What would the Elder Council need clones for?”

  But his companion just shook his head. “It is a long story. One we don’t have time for just now.”

  Felix grabbed his arm a bit more forcefully than he’d intended to, turning the Weaver so that they faced each other.

  “Make time.”

  The Weaver sighed. “Very well. You are aware, I assume, that Therans, despite their long lives, are only capable of having one child, if any.”

  “Yeah, that’s common knowledge. So what?”

  “It hasn’t always been that way. Certain...incidents...in our past drastically reduced the Theran fertility rates. As a result, any event that impacts the population takes a devastating toll.

  “For centuries now, Therans have been trying to perfect clones, in order to increase our numbers. They even continued their work in Sanctuary, hoping to create a ready-made army on Earth’s side of the Evenmire. My interference was successful in forestalling the Sanctuary project to a degree, but here on Thera they have begun to realize the fruits of their labor. I had hoped that my compatriots would likewise forestall this travesty here, however...” He shrugged, defeated.

  “So they’re trying to boost the population
using clones?” Felix shivered at the unpleasant thought.

  The Weaver looked conflicted. “It’s true that without them, we face extinction. Granted, our longevity will draw it out, but it will come for us in the end, nonetheless. But they are hoping to do much more than just repopulate. The clones are meant to supplement the military. The First Order has been around for a very long time, Felix, as have those who have sought to circumvent it. The Elder Council felt no loyalty to these children of science. With an army of clones, the Council would once again have been able to assert their dominion over all of Thera. And, they’d hoped, all of Earth. Their desire had always been to eliminate any and all threats to their well-being and survival. Ironic, that they should have met their end at the hands of one of their own kind instead of the enemy they perceived Humanity to be.”

  Felix glanced at the pods as they began moving again. “A single room full of clones doesn’t seem like it will be much use in total world domination.”

  The Weaver snorted. He motioned to the railing, and Felix moved over to peer down.

  Vertigo overtook him, and he grasped the rail with both hands to keep from toppling. He was looking down into a structure so deep that he could not make out the bottom. And it was lined with Pods, one upon another in endless columns, down into the depths.

  “All of them?”

  The Weaver sighed. “I fear for our future, Felix. There are so many variables, so much we do not know. What are we, that it comes to this? If only we had learned from the past. Embraced the truth, no matter how painful, and moved on.”

  “Come on.” Felix wanted to distance himself from this horrible place. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The sight remained seared in his mind as he followed Ollie, no longer paying any attention to where they were going. The Elves were building an army—literally.

  But although that fact explained a great deal, it also led to many more questions. Felix’s only consolation was that they had not succeeded in Sanctuary. It would be damn near impossible for them to march an army through the Gate. At least not without the assistance of Culei or one of the other nation-states. Antarctica was a natural barrier against invasion by foot soldiers. Of course, they could overtake Sanctuary, that was true...but they wouldn’t be able to get any farther than that.

  For now.

  Felix almost ran into Ollie as the young Elf stopped short, motioning for them to stay put.

  The idea unsettled Felix. They were at the end of a long corridor with nowhere to hide. But he didn’t argue. He waited impatiently beside the Weaver, neither of them speaking.

  A few minutes later Ollie reappeared, the bedraggled form of Bohai beside him, hands tied behind his back.

  The Ambassador looked confused and shaken, but none the worse for wear. But when Bohai saw Felix he began shaking his head, backing away.

  “N-n-no,” he stammered. “I’m not going with you!”

  Unsteady, Bohai lost his footing and tumbled backward into Ollie, who’d been attempting to cut the Ambassador’s bonds.

  “Ah!”

  Ollie’s upper body teetered over the railing that was all that divided him from the depths below. The Weaver moved around the Ambassador, pushing him upright with one arm and grasping Ollie’s flailing hand with the other.

  Bohai seemed utterly unaware of what had transpired behind him, his eyes fixed on Felix.

  “Your mother—she—she did it. I had nothing to do with it. It was her!”

  Felix stepped forward and grasped the Ambassador by the shoulders before he could cause any further damage.

  “You need to listen, because I am only going to say this once, okay? I know what happened, and I believe you. I’m going to get you out of here, but you have to trust me. You need to follow us and keep your mouth shut if you ever want to get back to Culei.”

  Bohai swallowed hard, looking around at the three of them as if trying to decide if he had any other choice.

  Then he nodded, his expression resigned and his reply meek. “All right.”

  Felix looked to the others and found Ollie with his hand to his mouth, sucking on the base of his thumb. “What happened?”

  “Cut myself with the knife,” Ollie muttered, casting an angry glance at Bohai.

  “Let me see it,” the Weaver said, reaching out.

  “You’re bleeding, too,” noted Felix with dismay.

  “I grabbed the only bit of him I could reach,” the Weaver said flatly. “That he happened to still be clutching the blade was my own poor luck.”

  He let go of Ollie’s hand and wiped his own on his cloak. “It’s not too deep. You’ll be fine. Let’s get moving.”

  “I’ll get you out of the labs,” Ollie told them, “but I can’t go any further. I can’t take the risk of being seen with you if you’re caught.”

  The Weaver offered him a solemn nod. “Of course. Don’t worry, my friend. We’ll see ourselves out.”

  Ollie took the lead back through the pod room, where Felix quelled the morbid desire to peer back down into the endless expanse below.

  Their guide bid them farewell when they came to the closet where Felix had hidden and made his way back to whatever duties he was supposed to be attending to.

  The Weaver spared no thought for Bohai’s inferior Human endurance, moving through the wending halls and echoing stairwells toward the exit. Bohai jogged to keep up, letting out a squeal of fright when the Weaver turned and grabbed him, shoving him inside the closest open doorway. Felix followed and put a finger to his mouth, indicating to Bohai the need to be silent.

  Two guards passed by, talking as they went, discussing their plans for something they referred to as the Dual Sun Festival. Felix neither knew nor cared what that was, but the Weaver shook his head in apparent disgust once the guards were out of earshot.

  “What is it?” Felix asked.

  “Incompetence, that’s what. In my day, we’d have been caught a half a dozen times by now. Their most important facilities, poorly guarded by a handful of imbeciles.”

  “Well, let’s just be thankful we’re not back in your day, then,” Felix suggested.

  They encountered no more guards along their path and emerged into the alley soon after, Bohai gasping to catch his breath.

  “No time for that,” said the Weaver brusquely, grasping the grate with both hands and pulling it open to reveal the ladder. “Down you go,” he told Bohai, who was staring into the hole with a look of concerned reservation on his face.

  “I’ll go first,” said Felix, offering Bohai an encouraging smile. “Just follow me.”

  The Ambassador hesitated a moment, then nodded.

  Back beneath the ground, Felix could relax a little. So far, so good.

  The Weaver led the way through the winding system of tunnels, Bohai whimpering from the exertion.

  “How much farther?”

  Felix was concerned that the Ambassador might collapse, and that he would be the one stuck carrying him.

  “Not too much longer,” replied the Weaver. “We aren’t going back the way we came. I was worried about Gavin’s Floater being spotted going back and forth between the grove entrance so much, so I told him to meet us somewhere else.”

  “Inside the city?”

  “No. The main city gates aren’t the only way in and out of the city. There are other, less trafficked exits. We’ll come out near one of those and meet him outside.”

  They stopped once, briefly, to allow Bohai to catch his breath.

  Felix listened to him whimpering in the darkness, drinking in the air in short, gulping inhalations that made Felix pity him.

  He had to admire the Ambassador. The Weaver had set a grueling pace, and yet Bohai had made no protest beyond his involuntary grunts and moans.

  “You’re doing great, Bohai,” Felix encouraged the Ambassador. “We’re almost there.”

  Bohai didn’t answer, instead offering a groan in reply.

  Soon after, they came to the exit. There was no ladd
er here, and the Weaver whispered when he spoke.

  “This is one of the older tunnels, and the rungs have all rusted away. You’ll have to give me a boost. Then I’ll pull the Ambassador up, and you last.”

  The Weaver climbed onto Felix’s shoulders, his shoes pressing hard as he pushed away the tunnel’s cover. Felix wobbled as the old Elf went up on tiptoes to peer out.

  “It’s all clear,” the Weaver called down to them, pulling himself up and out, then turning to reach down. “Your turn, Ambassador.”

  Bohai’s face was bathed in light from the opening, and it revealed a look of determination.

  “Right,” he said. “Here I go.” Felix formed a step with both hands, and Bohai put one arm around his shoulder to steady himself, stepping into the cupped hands and reaching up with his other arm.

  Felix stood, lifting the thin man high. Bohai caught the Weaver’s outstretched arm and held on tight as he was pulled up and into the street.

  “Now you,” Felix heard, and he flexed, getting ready to jump.

  Just then, another voice floated down from the surface.

  “You there! What are you doing?”

  In an instant, the Weaver’s arm disappeared from the circle of light.

  “No!” Felix called out. “Pull me up! I can help!”

  He knelt low and sprung upward, stretching as high as he could, but his fingers grasped only air, just shy of the rim. He heard the sound of running footsteps.

  “Behind me!” the Weaver growled to Bohai. There was the sound of a sword sliding free of its sheath.

  Then was a grunt of pain and the sound of a struggle.

  Felix’s eyes swept the dim interior of the sewer, looking for anything that might help him reach the surface, but the circle of light revealed nothing but stark, damp walls. A few jagged remnants of the old ladder stuck out at odd angles, but when Felix tried to grasp one, it crumbled beneath his grip.

  Did the Weaver even have a weapon to defend himself with? The scuffle above continued, and Felix leapt for the opening once again with no more success than the last attempt.

  A shout, and then...nothing.

  Felix’s heart was in his throat as he backed away into the shadows, afraid to call out again. He looked around, for a fleeting moment wondering if there was another exit nearby.