by William King
Like the Blighted Ones, the Emerald Swarm had chosen not to remain too close to the mysterious metal corpses.
What had happened here? What could have destroyed these alien entities? He felt certain that given time he would find out, but first he needed to acquire that time. That would mean seeing to the Guardian’s destruction. He had better get on with it.
One of the Emerald Swarm looked up at the balcony. Had he been spotted? No doubt the Guardian would dispatch someone to investigate. Perhaps he would even come himself. It would be best not to be here when Kormak arrived.
Balthazar rose from his place of concealment on the balcony and backed away towards the remnants of the Blighted Ones.
* * *
Balthazar and his followers moved as quietly as they could through the corridors of lost Xanadar. Even his best, Balthazar knew he was far from stealthy. The armoured suit still made him clumsy. He felt the need to be quiet though. There was something about this place that suggested he should move with the utmost caution.
He led his people into the depths of the citadel, trying to memorise the way. He knew he would need to return so he could keep the Guardian and his companions under observation. That was his best chance of finding the sarcophagus.
Some corridors within the gigantic structure were well lit. Some were dark. There was no rhyme or reason to this as far as he could tell. Some areas were littered with what looked like the debris of battle and some were not.
He wished there was some clue as to where he could find the coffins. He wished he could speak to that mercenary and interrogate him. It galled him that his enemy had an advantage in this respect. He needed to get back, watch Kormak and his companions, and see what they did. It was a certainty that they would be looking for the coffins soon. Why come all this distance otherwise?
To kill you, the voice in his head whispered. Perhaps the Guardian had pursued him here to murder him. Balthazar doubted that though. Kormak had not known he existed until he came to Terra Nova, dispatched by the King-Emperor to find the source of Vorkhul’s coffin. He would kill Balthazar if he could but that was not his primary concern.
No, the newcomers would go in search of the lost sarcophagi. They must be watched. Balthazar congratulated himself on at least finding part of the solution. It helped him deal with the frustration of not being any closer to his goal. It also helped him deal with the fear of knowing his enemy was here.
He did not mind admitting that the presence of the Guardian worried him. The man was impossible to kill. Somehow, he had avoided the storm that Nexali had summoned and crossed the desert to find the citadel without benefit of symb suit.
Another thought struck Balthazar. The Guardian and his companions had come here on a wagon, carrying supplies. If he could destroy that wagon then he could make life very difficult for his enemies. They did not have symbs. So far, he had not been able to find any sources of water here. He was fortunate in being able to rely on his symb. Kormak and his companions did not have.
Balthazar turned this plan over and over in his mind. It was a good one. Perhaps a raid could be mounted and the water barrels smashed. It was worth considering.
He continued to move through the darkened corridors. What was that sound? Was it one of his companions or had Kormak and his allies caught up with him? Balthazar gestured for the others to freeze. Nexali’s bodyguard waited for her to give the sign before they obeyed.
Balthazar listened. He retracted the cowl of his symb. He wanted to use his ears. There was a soft clattering noise moving along the corridor parallel to him. Something was moving out there in the darkness.
He had not seen any signs of rats or lizards within these buildings since he had come here.
He regretted now that his symb had not developed any poisonous spines yet. According to Nexali that would take some months. At least he still had his magic. He reviewed the destructive spells he knew. Anything attacking him in the darkness was in for a surprise. He allowed the cowl to slide back into place so that he could see once more. He began to pad forward, lengthening his stride, increasing his speed. The others moved with him.
He was not panicking. He was not afraid. And yet a small fear clawed within his chest, like a beast trying to burrow its way out. What did he really know about this place? Nothing, except that it had been built by the hated enemies of his god. The elder signs confirmed that.
He came to a crossroads and saw humanoid figures to left and right. They were not sandfolk and they were not normal humans. They were too tall and too heavy looking. Their limbs were too long. They began to converge on him from both sides. He circled his vision to behind him and saw more of the figures were there. They strode towards him.
What should we do? Nexali asked.
There were too many to fight. They needed to keep moving. Balthazar waved the sand people on.
He increased his speed and raced forward as fast as the suit would carry him. Metallic footsteps clattered on the metal of the floor. It seemed his pursuers had given up on stealth. They did not care whether anyone else noticed them.
* * *
The metal warriors surrounded Balthazar and his companions. Nexali’s Blighted One bodyguards unleashed a hail of poisoned spines on the attackers as they closed. The organic spears glanced off the metal.
Their pursuers were golems, like the ones he had seen in the courtyard. They were made of orichalcum and glass-like crystal. They bore no obvious weapons and they did not need them. The nearest punched through the carapace of a Blighted One as if it were an eggshell. A sickening crunch indicated snapped ribs. The machine man withdrew its clenched fist. Internal organs slopped out from its grip. Entrails unwound around its fingers. More of the golems closed. The Blighted Ones fought and died. Soon only Nexali was left struggling in the grip of the monsters.
Balthazar tried to summon his power but one of the golems caught him by the throat, choking off the words of his spell. He twisted, trying to escape the grip but could not.
He brought up both hands to grasp the metal man’s wrist. Amplified by the symb, his strength was greater than a normal man’s but it did not help. The hand on his throat was immovable. If the golem chose to close its fingers, his windpipe would be crushed. Given his connections to the symb, he might not asphyxiate but he did not want to take that risk. Instead he allowed himself to go limp in the creature’s grip, hoping for a chance to take it off guard.
He dangled there, heart thumping with fear. At any moment, he expected to feel the metallic fist of the metal man to descend upon his skull like a bludgeon. The creature turned, and began to carry him off. All around other golems fell into position, making it clear that he had no chance of escape. He saw that Nexali too was a prisoner. None of her bodyguards had survived the encounter.
The metal creatures carried him through the long corridors. The lights dimmed. The air felt close, dry, and dusty. This part of the citadel was enormously damaged. Metal walls twisted as if stressed by unimaginable force. The orichalcum had melted and run, forming metal blisters on the floor. Sliding doors gaped wide as if frozen in the process of opening, as if the citadel were a huge machine that had been damaged and suddenly stopped.
That thought niggled at him, warring with the fear, as he was carried deeper into the citadel. He felt a little calmer now. He did not seem to be in any immediate danger of death. The golems were taking him somewhere. That suggested some hidden purpose. Maybe there was a way he could turn things to his advantage.
As they moved deeper, he sensed the taint of blight. Luminous spores glowed on the walls, sickly green and purple. A hint of rot hung in the air. He began to feel more comfortable. He was at home with such things. He felt the touch of Shadow, as if he was entering the presence of his god. Even here, in the heart of this enemy fortress, its power was present.
How? He thought of the vast sterile zone of the null, and the wraithstone ring surrounding the citadel. These had obviously been intended to keep the Shadow out. Or had they? Co
uld they have been there to keep it in? If any place in the world should have been safe from the taint of blight, it was this citadel, and yet it was not.
They entered a huge hall. Glass cases surrounded them. They were filled with strange plants, eldritchly glowing fungi, moving vines that could have come from the surface of some alien world. Huge alembics held gigantic creatures floating in preservative solution. He saw a grey-skinned hairless four-armed giant, and an amoebic thing of pulsing protoplasm. It all reminded him of a sorcerer’s sanctum or an alchemist’s laboratory.
In places, the glass had cracked and things had escaped. Perhaps that was where the spores had come from. He passed another huge jar. It contained the perfectly preserved remains of someone wearing armour just like his.
Fear stabbed at him. Perhaps this was why they had kept him alive. His captors wanted him in a specimen jar and they wanted him whole and unmarred. He fought for self-control, tried to keep his fear locked into place.
Was this some sorcerer’s lair? Was he being brought to face the master of this place? If so, he had best be wary. Anyone who controlled such power must be an accomplished magician indeed. Yet, even so, it tolerated the presence of blighted plants. Perhaps it was a being like him but if that was the case why had Xothak sent him here if it already had an agent in place.
They passed between open doors at least an arm span thick and entered a chamber at the centre of which lay a huge circular crystal. Made of wraithstone and orichalcum and several other sorcerous materials, it looked like a massive blind eye, impaled on metal spikes that extended from floor and ceiling, and the surrounding walls. Chained lightning flickered within the spikes.
As Balthazar entered, a voice spoke in Eldrim, “Welcome, mortal. I have been watching you.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Who are you?” Balthazar asked. “What do you want with me?”
The golems forced Balthazar down and held him in place as metallic spikes extruded from the walls. Flexible, sharp tentacles looped towards him and embedded themselves in the carapace of his armour. Pain spurted at the points of contact. Balthazar screamed, feeling as if something watched with interest, like a collector bringing the killing jar down on a butterfly.
Looking around Balthazar could see that the same thing was happening to Nexali.
He forced himself to ignore the pain, to keep his mind clear and lucid. He began to draw on the power again. As if whatever held him was aware of this, agony blasted through his body, driving out coherent thought. As soon as he stopped trying to use magic, the pain stopped. He had no doubt that if he tried again it would return. His skin felt scorched and burned but when he inspected his symb’s carapace there was no mark of damage.
As Balthazar watched, small globes of orichalcum lifted from the jewelled cowling of the stone. Each contained a small core of wraithstone. The rock had a curdled shadow at the centre that made it look like nothing so much as an eye. They swirled upwards and orbited around the mage. He sensed that he was under close inspection.
“Who are you?” Balthazar replied in the same language. “Are you one of these golems?”
A babble of speech emerged from the air all around him, as if each of the floating eyes and the golems was speaking at once. The words meant nothing to him. After a moment, they emerged in the tongue of the Old Ones.
“I am all of them. They are vessels for my intelligence, tools of sorts.”
“And I am your prisoner.”
There was brief pause. The hands of the golems fell to their sides. All the eyes except one stopped moving. One of them drifted in front of Balthazar’s face, carefully keeping to head height. “I perceive that I have made you uncomfortable. Such was not my intention. I am unused to dealing with mortals of your sort.”
“What are you?”
“I am an Aurathean.”
“You are telling me that you are an Angel of Light?” Balthazar paused to consider this. He could see that the golems and the eyes were all controlled by this being. It had used all of their voices simultaneously to speak the same words. Perhaps it had done so deliberately to convince him of this. Perhaps it was not quite so unused to dealing with mortals as it claimed.
“It might be best if you thought of me as such. I am something more but I doubt your primitive understanding would encompass the concepts involved.”
“I would like to do so.”
“That will not be necessary. It is enough that you can work my will.”
“You expect me to serve you?”
“I expect you to be my ally. I can offer you everything you want. In return, you will be of service to me against my enemy.”
Balthazar thought about this. What would one of the Angels of Light want him to do? Did it not know he served the Shadow? That seemed unlikely if the being had indeed been watching him. It could not fail to notice that the Blighted Ones bore the taint. He kept his face impassive although he was not sure how effective that would be. If this was indeed an angel, it would be able to read his thoughts.
“What do you expect me to do for you?”
“I have probed your body and scanned you with my sensors. You are exactly what I took you to be. You are very interesting.”
This was not at all what Balthazar had expected an angel to say. “Interesting? In what way?”
“Your body is saturated with the psychic residue of the Dark Planes. I can trace a contact with them through which you draw power and communicate with the entities residing there. I wish to communicate with them also.”
“Why would you want to do that? I thought the Auratheans were the enemies of Eldrim and of the Shadow.”
“In the past, we followed that policy. I have come to believe it was unwise. I believe all potential alliances should be explored.”
“What?” Balthazar could not believe what he was hearing. He had been brought up to believe that the Angels of Light were fanatical enemies of all that did not live up to their moral codes. They had attempted to exterminate the Old Ones. They had blasted the followers of the Shadow from the face of the world wherever they encountered them. “Is this some kind of trick?”
“I do not lie. I do not need to. Why do you think I would?”
“You are the enemy.” The words came out before he could stop them. Balthazar realised that he needed to get himself under control.
“I am not your enemy. In the past, I have been the enemy of Eldrim and the beings with who you are in contact. That is no longer the case.”
“What has changed?”
“The situation. Political realities are fluid and must be dealt with. There was a war on this world. I can only conclude that it is over and my side lost, for I can contact no others of my kind. Our orbiting eyes are dead. Our skyborn weapons no longer respond to my attempts at communication. I am awake and separated from command, thus it falls upon me to extricate myself from this situation by whatever means possible.”
Balthazar had no idea what the angel was talking about. “You sound as if you have just woken from a long sleep or some period of unawareness of what was going on in the world.”
“I have been dormant for a period of thousands of cycles of this planet around its sun. I have woken into a world that has been changed in ways I could not foresee.”
“And yet you have an enemy,” Balthazar said. “And not among the Eldrim if what you say is true.”
“My enemy is one like myself.”
Balthazar felt his head spin. “I do not understand.”
“I told you that it is not necessary that you do.”
“I could be more use to you if I did.”
“Your argument is not without merit. I will try and phrase things in a way that you can understand. I am not a being of flesh like you. I am an entity of information, encoded in light.”
“You are bodiless, a being of spirit.”
“I am not of what you would call spirit. I am bound into various storage mechanisms that communicate with each other. These systems are em
bedded in and distributed through what you call the golems and the various systems of this building.”
“You are saying you are a mind and that your thoughts are contained within all these devices.”
“That is close enough to the truth.”
Balthazar fought to understand the concept. He was used to thinking of mind and spirit as being interrelated. The idea that one could exist without the other was alien to him. “You have no soul.”
“I have no link with the astral planes. I have no reflection there. No ka. I am a product of the processes of a thinking engine. One considerable beyond the capabilities of your world’s current primitive level of technology.”
“You do not come from here then?”
“I come from a place unimaginably far away to you. From the distant stars.”
Balthazar wondered if the Aurathean was lying to him. Scripture said the stars were set in a great globe that rotated around the world. It was a vast distance but not unimaginably so. He found himself fascinated by the being’s tale. How often in one’s life did one get a chance to question an angel? “Why are you here?”
“I am a soldier in a great war. I fought on one side. Your Eldrim fought on the other. This world is a crossroads, an important staging post in the conflict, a nexus where many of the underways meet, where multiple planes of existence overlap. The barriers between worlds are thinner here. Such places hold vast potential.”
Balthazar turned this over and over in his mind, examining the ideas presented from many different angles. It was a way of looking at reality that was quite alien but nothing in his training as a sorcerer excluded it. “How long has this war been going on?”
“Aeons.”
“And you are still fighting it?”
“In a sense. Part of me is.”
“I do not understand.”
“In the final stages of the last great battle, I can only deduce our enemies used a weapon against me that should have been beyond their capabilities to manufacture. It seems to have corrupted my systems, turning various elements against each other. It did to my mind what certain diseases do to your body. It caused mutation and system breakdown.”