Ember's Echo (The Nimbus Collection Book 2)

by D. C. Clemens

  Strangely, my body and mind reacted as though I was seeing an art exhibit I didn’t quite understand, or began to watch a horror film from the halfway point. However, all sensation rushed back into me when I caught sight of a single white orb. I wanted to gag, but I swallowed it; I wanted to shut my eyes, but they wouldn’t close. Glued atop a piece of a moist remnant of brain matter was a perfectly untouched eyeball, placed exactly where the left eye would have been if the rest of the head was still whole. Its pupil was staring at the ceiling, which I felt somewhat relieved about, for if it had been staring at me, I would have surely turned to stone. Oddly, the eye looked as if it still held life within it, glowing stronger than the lights we illuminated upon it, making me think that it had little idea what the current state of its possessor was. I felt this prevailing urge to shoot it, to rid myself of the eye for all time and end a misery I don’t believe it yet felt. Who would have thought one man could hold so much blood in him? The red sap of life wasn’t just splayed on the floor, but it splattered up the walls to the ceiling and spread for several yards in either direction. A layer of it slipped beneath my boots. It was as though a fire hydrant had been gushing out the elixir of the deceased from somewhere under the floor.

  I agreed with the battle-hardened lieutenant when I heard him mumble, “Holy shit.”

  “Get your asses out of there,” said the captain with a composed decisiveness.

  He had excluded the doctor from listening to his declaration, giving her a few more seconds of hopeful ignorance.

  “Did you find Frank?” Dr. Oleson eagerly asked of the lieutenant.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he replied solemnly. “He’s dead.” I braced myself to hear a mournful cry, but she held her outward bearing. “Briannika,” the lieutenant continued, shedding the somber tone, “hold your position just a bit longer.”

  As we were still trying to wrap our heads on what we were seeing, I saw the steps of a ladder positioned just beyond the midway point of this tunnel some fifteen yards away, possibly indicating our means of escape.

  Just to my link, Brent said, “Cover up the body as best you can. I’m going to make sure that ladder actually reaches the surface and confirm the other end is clear.”

  Even if Dr. Oleson was not here with us, or we were absolutely certain she had no possibility of seeing her husband’s scattered remains, I knew Brent still would have directed me to bury the body as properly as time allotted. After all, the Sacred demanded the dead be respected.

  As Brent went to secure our escape, his footsteps careful not to disturb as much of the pools of blood as possible, the scout began to watch me warp the soil and sand that seeped through the many fissures lining the tunnel, fascinated by an action no machine could ever understand or realize. Raising my left hand to be parallel with the ground and moving it over the chosen pieces, I telekinetically manipulated the dirt to grab hold of the four dismembered limbs and guided them back to their original conductor. Thus assembled, I interred the body with as much of the soil I had in my range, hardening it to form an impenetrable coating that hid it from every particle of exposed air, especially that oblivious eye. When I was just about done with my grave obligation, a distant quiver forced my attention down the end of the passage opposite the ladder.

  Deep down the distance of the tunnel, where darkness and its shadow lingered, there emerged two gleaming, yellow eyes. They were nothing more than a pair of horizontal slits suspended in an oppressive night, staring reticently at me, as if trying to decipher how to best slurp up my soul. Offsetting this seething thirst for the ethereal was an unblinking lifelessness that I thought could only be portrayed by a sneering statue made from the coldest of stone. The rest of its form, in spite of my night vision and the light emitted by the scout, was shrouded in near total darkness. Only by swapping to my thermal sights was any sort of detail revealed. It was almost like a phantom, for its emaciated frame radiated only a little more heat than the cold walls around it, but there lingered just enough to perceive the entity’s general outline. Its gaunt form stood on two reedy legs, giving the effect that the creature was one of the skeletal remains come to life. Comparing it to the height of the ceiling, my HUD could surmise that it was about five and a half feet tall, which made me more than a foot taller than the impish creature, but I understood being larger was not necessarily an advantage within these cramped tunnels.

  At the same moment I was lifting my gun and sketchily informing the rest of my party of what I was seeing, the unsettling laughter-like noise started plaguing the stale air again. It was even more provoking and zealous than the last time, likely because I knew the lone creature who was creating it had me as the object of its amusement. At first, the demonic giggling only germinated from the creature standing before me, who remained static. Half a moment’s wait later, however, and out boomed the entire unseen, but very close sounding, chorus. Yet, that’s not what caused me to feel a convulsing shiver or hear my heart pounding two extra beats. It was feeling the fast approach of innumerable footfalls, and I did not need my finely-tuned skill to feel them. The radar HUD lighted up with ripples of flashing red dots coming from every direction. One of the pairs of charging footsteps came from the imp in front of me taking some surprisingly long and swift strides. Although, before those prowling, lurid eyes could cut the distance to me by any threatening amount, a three shot burst from my rifle made most of its head evaporate in a puff of red mist.

  Remarkably, the eradication of its head did not mean its immediate demise, as the rest of its resolute body paid no mind to the missing summit and continued charging forth with no loss to its speed. I fired again, this time aiming for its right leg. This volley succeeded in ending the decapitated imp’s crusade. It fell prone to the ground when the slugs severed the lower leg from the rest of its unfathomable body. Its arms were still reaching out to me, still wanting me, and I knew then that it did not feel any pain, or perhaps anything at all. More squinting, florescent eyes emerged over the body in the darkness beyond, shining like yellow laser beams.

  Finally, something familiar reached me. Brent’s voice rushed into my ears from his position beneath the trap door, shouting in his brashest tone for everyone to get above ground. His weapon then became as alive as mine. Briannika and her charge shortly came sprinting around the corner, and once I felt them wedge past me, I began backpedaling, continuing to fire all the while. During this interval, I had created a pile of the malign creatures, but they took no heed of their malformed brethren in their lust for me, either rebounding off the walls or scrambling over the bodily pieces. There was no end to them, as though they were somehow duplicating themselves from just around the corner. I couldn’t help but notice that many of the limbs I had felled were still squirming and stretching themselves toward me, each pleading for my body to come closer. The only thing I could conclude in my engaged mind was that each appendage carried a miniature brain, since they did not appear to be machines. The scout hadn’t left my side and its light illuminated the stirring semi-carcasses’ slushy, ruby-colored blood and grayish, leather-like skin.

  The doctor and Briannika were climbing out by the time I reached our means of escape. As I felt the sweat dripping down my brow and, not caring whether there was a cave in or not, I fired a grenade from the launcher-attachment fixed beneath my rifle’s barrel, timed to detonate in ten seconds. The compact explosive landed near the pile of enemy bodies that continued to accumulate, almost barricading the entire tunnel. Right after I pulled the trigger, but right before the heat dispersed from the gun, I focused on my exodus. Using the aspect of the body, I warped the vida in my leg muscles and used the invigoration to leap up most of the shaft in a single bound, and, with my left hand, grabbed the edge of the trap door’s entry to lift myself the rest of the way.

  It was no more than a glimpse, but I could see that the building this access led to did not differ much from the one we had originally entered. Only a few details separated the two. Under the dust and grime wa
s a rotten wooden floor, and the spacious room was devoid of any sense of being lived in, with the exception of a lengthy and half-crumbled marble counter next to the trapdoor. In the center of the room was a spiraling staircase that looked to be made from the same kind of white marble the counter consisted of, though dust and sand cloaked its timelessness. There were some tall windows that stretched out for much of a wall, but the only view they gave was of the amassed sand outside. Briannika and the doctor were waiting several steps away.

  Brent mirrored my action and grabbed a hold of the rim, but that was as far as the reflection would last. Before he could begin to lift himself to ground level, and as I leaned in to see if I could offer cover fire or a hand, an inconceivable sight met my eyes. Streams of marigold sand and soil were emerging from the depths and, as if they were the living tentacles of Ember itself, they wrapped themselves around the lieutenant’s lower body, including his rifle-holding arm, and started to jealously pull him back down. Brent would not be so easily claimed. He had vida-charged muscles and two warrior allies who would unthinkingly take several slugs for him. Briannika, when she became aware of the incredible spectacle, fell on her knees to grasp the lieutenant’s arm with both artificial hands. I, meanwhile, began to pose my own challenge toward the warped sand. I placed my rifle on the magnetic holster on my left hip and used my freed arms to use the same ability against it. I initially gained a brief amount of control over the rival soil, loosening Ember’s hold layer by layer, forcing it to regress back to the point where the lieutenant could forgo his rifle and use both hands to grab the floor’s edge. But as Briannika clutched his other hand, a second upwelling of hissing sand enveloped Brent, spreading over him even more so than they had the first time. I heard the grenade detonate, but the muffled explosion did not seem to kill or weaken those warping the terrain.

  Briannika’s prosthetic hands had a powerful grip, but I saw that grip failing against the overwhelming force of the concentrated pulling power that hundreds of pounds of warped sand and dirt was employing. We were both losing our fights. I couldn’t counter our enemy’s warping strength, thinking I was either going up against a master or the entire horde below. I hated to admit my inadequacy, but I was outmatched, and so I dove to the ground and joined my effort with Briannika’s. It was hopeless. Like a torrent of rock and stone bursting through a dam, a third surge came, swathing across his helmet and arms, charging toward us. Neither Briannika nor I wanted to release him, but we were left with no other choice. We let go, seeing his hands become completely consumed. If we had waited another second, there was no doubt Ember would have enfolded itself around us as well. As it was, a blast of sand and dust sprouted fiercely from the opening, forcing us to recede back to our feet.

  With the cloud settling to reveal an empty hole, Brent’s words hollered over the thought-comm, demanding, “Just go!”

  We didn’t want to, but the inexplicable beasts and their growling laughter began to fill the bottom of the pit. With our scout and its light lost underground, I switched on all available lights from my weapon and suit, only taking a quick mental command to do so, seeing little reason to allow the darkness that still fenced us to continue to dominate. Briannika and the doctor moved for the stairs behind me, whereas I delayed a while longer to cover their retreat. The creatures jumped to the surface almost as easily as I had done, but I all too eagerly bestowed a barrage of bullets on their nimble frames before they could set themselves to charge at me. Still, I could feel there was a virtual flood of the creatures beneath us, and, if they could indeed warp, or were allied with beings who could, there was a chance we could be overrun if too many reached the surface. A glance at the windows gave me a possible solution.

  While keeping one steady hand on my rifle and a busy finger on its trigger, I stretched out my other hand beside me, making my fingers dance to begin warping as much as I could of the sand outside. After awakening each grain from its long slumber and enchanting them to be under my unbending obedience, a rapid pull of my hand unleashed an entire avalanche of sand into the room, shattering all the glass that was not already broken. Once I shot down the latest whack-a-mole to pop up, I placed my rifle back on the magnetic holster. With both hands free, I seized complete control over the torrent of sand, and, mustering as much power and strength my vida could produce on short notice, I molded it all into a gushing waterfall and plunged the vitriolic jet stream down the pit. Expecting my strenuous effort to be resisted by whoever held the same power I did, I became determined to keep up the attack until either the sand outside was expended, or every inch of the tunnel system was filled up. No opposition ever came, and the tumultuous rumble of the adversaries below soon began to retreat.

  The flashing red pings in my radar dwindled away. My hands fell to my sides. The only sound that remained in the room came from my heavy breathing, revealing the steep toll everything had required. With the access filled to the point the trapdoor couldn’t be seen, I turned around and made my way up the stairs to join the others.

  Chapter Seven

  We climbed up five flights of stairs, and though I pushed my legs to move as fast as they could, it never seemed enough to break the belief that I was moving through a lake of molasses. No one said anything all the while. I was sure everyone was contemplating how it was possible that this ostensibly empty planet could cause this much tribulation. There were many questions to ponder, the least of which was wondering how seemingly mad creatures could warp, or were in some way collaborating with entities who possessed the Sacred gift. On finally reaching the dune-filled road, we saw that our shuttle was hovering a couple of feet off the ground.

  Its door opened to reveal an impatient Captain Kiran, who, over the shuttle’s roaring engines and the gusts of wind that never seemed to abate, said, “Get in! We can still pick up the lieutenant’s life signature!”

  Our spirits were uplifted at the loud message, and I entered the shuttle with lighter legs, intent on rescuing our comrade. While I was of course thrilled to know Brent was alive, it only added to the confusion. Why had the creatures not yet killed him? Did his armor or weapons confound them? Or were these creatures not the slayers of Dr. Krauss? The shuttle lifted and we started to bear down on the lieutenant’s signal, which had not moved far, but was picking up pace. I imagined he was either still enclosed within the earthen element and being hauled away using this telekinetic method, or was being carried over a wave of elfin arms.

  “How the fuck can those things warp?” Emory asked generally.

  “It doesn’t matter,” answered Vasilissa. “They can and there are a good number of them. Should we request reinforcements, captain?”

  The captain’s response was to hail the Vixen. He called on them to send a transport filled with a support team and to take the doctor back to their ship. Seconds after the request was granted, however, the channel to the Vixen was disconnected. Almost at the same second, the Wanderer’s frequency also vanished.

  Three seconds after the signals were severed, Hardy stated, “The Vixen has been destroyed, captain. It was not able to evade an inbound object of substantial mass accelerating toward its position. The Wanderer also faced a similar object on an imminent collision course, forcing Helt to make an emergency jump using the spare jump-engine, however, the ship suffered an undetermined amount of damage before the jump was completed.”

  With the exception of Kiran, who always seemed to be on an unshakable world nothing could permeate, everyone collected some hint of anxiety from one another.

  “Are you able to determine who attacked the ships?” the captain coolly inquired of Hardy.

  “Our scanners were not able to distinguish a definite outline of the projectiles, though their thousand foot long frames strongly denotes vessels of some type rather than belonging to any known offensive projectiles. Their profiles do not match any of my records.”

  Deliberating aloud, Vasilissa said, “Something that massive couldn’t be detected until it was right on top of them?
No ship is able to cloak itself that well within such a close range.”

  “Is this the work of the advok after all?” I asked, adding to the atmosphere of confusion.

  “But why sacrifice their ships to take out our own?” wondered Briannika.

  “Sacred, what do we do now?” whispered the doctor, as she sat in the corner looking apprehensively at the captain.

  “The lieutenant’s signal is still active,” the captain declared, reminding everyone of our immediate goal. “We find him and wait to see if the Wanderer is able to jump back.”

  “And if it can’t jump back?”

  His fiery eyes didn’t look at anyone when he said, “Then we’ll wait at your cruiser and try to get a distress signal going.”

  The shuttle drifted steadily atop Brent’s life signature throughout our exchanges, with Hardy attempting to communicate with the lieutenant, but always in vain. We kept this fixed pace for a few minutes before I felt the transport come to a complete stop, stopping with Brent’s signature. We hovered over the center of a five-acre clearing in the putrefying downtown section of the city. Sand packed much of this area as well, making it difficult to discern whether this was a kind of dormant city square or encumbered park. The captain beckoned for three scouts to be released from within the shuttle, where a few spares were always toted, with the purpose of scanning the expanse for a way to return to the depths. Dutifully following their instructions, the supportive apparatuses began to use their radar to map the region, each ending up at a different corner of the sandy plaza. It was shortly clear that each bend of the submerged plaza possessed a large admittance to the buried realm, but, as expected, heaps of sand choked their openings. That would, of course, present little problem for arcanists proficient in the aspect of stone.