The recruits were told to report to the airship hangar on the thirtieth floor. There was a single ship hovering inside; it was much like a wooden sailing ship, but its sturdy wooden frame was braced with metal supports. Its engines and much of the ventral fuselage were tempered Crissom steel, and steam bellowed from the engines like dropping a hot iron rod into a pool of ice water.
They were shuffled aboard by Magister Briego and told to wait in the cargo bay. Taro struggled not to throw up from the constant swaying of the ship, nor to get crushed by the shifting crates.
He peered through a tiny porthole in the curved wall. The prep crews were hard at work unlatching the mooring lines.
Ven sat with his back to a wall and cleaned his inscriber with a metal brush. “Guesses on where we’re going?”
Pipes fiddled with one of his tiny hummingbird constructs, and twisted its wing into place. “No way to know until we get there.”
The wheel on the cargo bay door spun, and it creaked open. Magister Ross entered, carrying a smooth stone sphere about the size of her fist. The recruits’ first instincts were to hurry to attention, but she ushered them to remain sitting.
“There are many types of magic in the world.” She stood in the center of the cargo bay, and the recruits scooted into a circle around her. “Magisters devote our lives to understanding it, but the truth is that we’ve barely scratched the surface. Take this, for example.” She held the stone orb out in front of her. “Can anyone guess what it is?”
The sphere had no writing on it. There were a few evenly spaced notches, running in an oblong curve around the center, as if it was actually two pieces stuck together.
The room remained silent.
“Make an effort to answer,” Ross said.
Pipes spoke first. “Some kind of sundial? The notches could be for telling time.”
“A fair answer, but no.”
Yoresh raised his hand. “Lor poru dashuri raheel?”
Ross shook her head. “No, no, not even close. In fact, this is a map.”
The sphere rose into the air and the sides separated, exposing clicking gears and crystalline inner workings. The sphere projected a moving image of the Magisterium tower, in stunning detail. The image turned and panned along one of the roots.
“This is the magic of the Old Gods. One small part of the wonders that lay hidden away within the Magisterium.”
Taro tried to touch the glowing lines floating over him, but his fingers passed right through them.
The image circled around one of the Magisterium roots and zoomed in onto a set of crumbling ruins surrounding it.
“These ruins are a part of the original structure,” Ross said. “They’re built around Waystations wherein heat from the earth is converted into energy for the tower. Years ago, a blizzard damaged the root that runs through this particular Waystation, and a team was dispatched to repair it. Only one man made it out alive. Their ship—the Titan—remains there to this day.”
Pipes turned paper-white and dropped his construct.
The projection centered on a ruined archway. “This is the landing site of the Titan. Inside the nearby Waystation is a chamber with a rather powerful defensive artifact that prevents our repair crews from entering. Your mission is to retrieve the artifact.” The sphere closed and the projection disappeared. “Those of you who wish to quit now may disembark. The rest of you, join me above deck.”
Ross left the door open, and Pipes scurried to the back wall.
“We’re not letting you back out of this,” Ven said.
Pipes was hyperventilating. “You don’t understand. My dad told me what happened down there. The things he saw...”
They had to drag Pipes above deck. The ship took off, and wind wisped across the deck like tiny razors. Ross stood on the stern near the captain’s cabin, holding a tied-off velvet sack.
She did a quick count. “Fourteen of your peers have given up.” She took fourteen stones out of the bag; seven were painted white, seven black. She shook the bag and ushered each of the recruits to retrieve one of the remaining stones.
Taro got a black stone, as did Ven, Suri, and Pipes. Sikes and Yoresh got white stones. The teams were even at twenty each.
“White Team will be dropped in the north,” Ross said. “Black Team will be dropped in the south. The team that returns to Endra Edûn with the artifact is the winner.”
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Pipes said.
“The chance to back out has passed, Mr. Crissom,” Ross said. “And be wary of your teammates, boys and girls, because either your entire team passes or none of you do.”
“What the hell?” Ven shouted. “That’s bullsh—”
“Instead of wasting your time complaining, you should be strategizing with your team,” Ross snapped. “We’ll be at the drop point in five minutes.”
Taro wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “Drop point?”
_____
The Eventide followed the root of the Magisterium for miles and left a long trail of white steam in its wake. Near the ruins was a circular patch where the snow had melted, and the fuselages of seven airships lay in the clearing beside mounds of metal scraps and pools of bubbling oil.
“What’s that?” Taro asked.
“A junkyard for old airships,” Suri said.
The recruits were given packs with meager rations, rope, and a few tools. In addition, they received a tiny metal box with exposed gears that ticked like a clock; on the side was a finger-sized groove.
Taro recognized the runes from somewhere, but couldn’t quite place them.
Suri immediately knew what they were. “Gravidic magistry,” she said.
“Correct,” Ross said. “These will allow you to fall at a slower pace. Count to three and press into the groove.” Ross tilted her glasses and checked her pocket watch. “We’ll be at the jump site in forty-five seconds.”
The teams lined up on the port and starboard sides of the ship. Taro looked over the edge at the rolling landscape, jagged rocks, and ice fields below. In the distance, the Magisterium towered above the landscape. Its roots spanned in every direction, going through canyons, mountains, and rivers.
Taro felt like he was going to pass out.
Ven took the choice away from Taro. He grabbed him by the wrist and pulled Taro over the side. The wind ripped them apart and they tumbled out of control. Taro’s prosthetic kicked Ven so hard that the gravity reducer flew from his hands.
Taro looked up at the Eventide speeding away, and down at the fast-approaching ground. Beside him, Ven was panicking.
“Grab hold!” Taro shouted. Ven reached out and took his hand.
“One,” Taro said. The boys spun, and the air currents threatened to pull their arms out of their sockets.
“Two.” Taro clenched the gravity reducer tight.
“Three.” Taro closed his eyes and pressed down. There was a tremendous rush of air and their descent slowed, but they were still falling much faster than the others.
“It can’t take two people,” Ven said.
“Then this is going to be rough, hold on!”
They smacked into snow and tumbled wildly into the side of an icy ravine. Taro’s brain rattled in his skull. The world spun, his bones ached, but he was alive.
The other recruits gently touched the ground and ran to help.
“Are you all right?” Suri asked, patting him down and checking his limbs.
Taro tightened the straps on his prosthetic. “Spectacular.”
Ven rubbed his shoulder. “Oh, I’m fine too, Suri. Thank you for asking.”
“I knew you’d be okay. I saw you land on your head.” Suri helped Taro up and brushed the snow off his back. “We need to get inside or we’re going to freeze to death.”
The end of the Magisterium root was enormous. They marched toward the ruins through two feet of snow. Taro struggled to keep up with the others, and Ven kept a slower pace so the group wouldn’t overtake him.
One particular section of the ruined walls had huge holes, and the recruits climbed inside. As they trekked through the structure, it got gradually darker. The tiles on the floor were weathered and cracked. Most of the pillars were in pieces, and the only things holding up the vaulted ceiling were aged pillars.
They walked for over an hour, deeper and deeper into the ruins. Crumbled statues littered the ground, and faces and eyes stared up at them from the soles of their feet. This didn’t seem to be natural wear; it was like someone had taken a sledgehammer to every one of them.
Taro picked a marble shard up and brushed the ice crystals away. “We’re not the first ones here.”
“Ross said as much,” Suri said.
Taro shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.”
“I found something,” Ven called, from around a bend in the hallway.
It was an enormous stone door, and it seemed to be the only part of the structure that was completely intact. There were no hinges or knob, and it was wedged so tight into the wall that you couldn’t stick a pin between them. The door was decorated with flourished script and long, glowing lines running from a circle at the top. The faded paint on it suggested it had once been vibrant shades of green and gold, but it was now faded gray.
Taro traced his fingers along the ridges. “Maybe there’s a switch or a latch.”
The recruits searched every inch of the door and the walls, under every rock and behind every cracked pillar. They tapped, knocked, and kicked, but the door didn’t budge.
Taro put his ear to the stone. “I can hear something behind it.”
Suri did the same. “I hear it, too. Like...clicking.” She ran her hand over the writing. “Can anyone read it?”
Nobody could. Suri took a piece of paper and an oily chunk of wax from a small pouch and pressed the paper against some of the words. When she did, she got a crude impression of the words and black wax smeared on the door.
“Doesn’t matter. We can’t open it,” one of the boys, Rayen, said. “We should keep going.”
The others agreed, and they continued further in. Suri stared at the imprint as they walked.
Taro walked closer to her, to get a better look. “It looks almost like Deific.”
“It’s definitely Deific, just an old dialect. Half of these symbols aren’t used anymore.” She pointed to a word. “I think this means light.”
There wasn’t another door for two hours. Pain surged through Taro’s leg; the fall had affected him more than he’d first thought, but he didn’t want to be the weak link in the group.
When the team made it to another room, he practically collapsed to the ground. There was another door here, as large as the first.
On the door was the black paper outline. It was the same one Suri had made earlier.
“We’re going in circles!” Ven pounded his fist on the stone door.
Taro was just happy to get a moment to rest. He set down his pack and fished around in the meager supplies: a canteen of water, some dried fruit and meat, a length of rope, a knife, matches, and a handheld spade.
The others did the same and counted off what they had. They were all similarly situated, though a few of the packs had unique items. Taro’s was the only one that had a spade; some others had a compass, a chisel, or metal bowls.
“Four days’ worth of food,” Ven said. “Maybe seven, if we ration well.”
Taro scooted his back against the wall, and when he did, he stuck his hand into something wet. It looked like reddish mud and smelled strongly of ammonia.
“You doing all right?” Ven asked.
Taro wiped off the warm muck on the dirt. “Fine. Just happy to rest.”
“If we’re going too fast, just tell us. We’ll—”
“I said I’m fine,” Taro snapped.
“I didn’t doubt it.”
Ven and some of the other recruits went around the room, ripping dead, frozen vines from the walls. They gathered them into a pile.
“You’ll never be able to light those,” Ven said. “The wood’s too wet.”
Suri drew a triangle around the wood with her inscriber. “I learned this little trick after getting stuck in that bog during last year’s trial.” She pressed her fingers to the ley points and the triangle glowed. Steam rose from the wood with a great hiss.
Taro picked up one of the vines; it was dry as a bone. “Nice.”
They warmed bits of food over their fresh fire, rested their legs, and inspected the stone door more closely. Ven and Pipes led small teams through the halls, looking for any bend or room they might have missed, but all paths led back to the stone door. Five hours later, they were no closer to getting past it.
“The other team’s probably already found the artifact,” Edrin said. He lay on his back, tossing a rock into the air and catching it.
Pipes was nearby, bending a wing on one of his tin birds with the earnestness of a boy trying desperately not to think too hard about where he was.
“If a door is the only thing in store for us, this’ll be the easiest trial in history,” Suri said.
Ven nodded. “This is a vacation, compared to the hell we had last year. They don’t make water hot enough to clean off the muck we had to crawl through.”
Pipes let his aluminum bird go, and it fluttered around the room for a moment, but in the middle of a stride it sputtered and dived, headfirst, into one of the puddles of red muck. He went to fish it out, but it fluttered back into the air. It fell again, this time inches from the fire. When it touched an ember, there was a tremendous crackle and bang, and burning metal fragments exploded in every direction.
“Is everyone okay?” Ven said, lifting his head.
The recruits were fine, if a bit startled.
“What’s in those things?” Taro asked.
Pipes looked horrified that his little construct was gone, but quickly gathered himself. “Nothing explosive.”
Taro inspected the red muck. He picked up a thimble-sized amount of the clay-like goo and told everyone to cover their ears. He flicked the clay into the fire and there was another explosion.
“Something leaking from the Titan?” Ven said.
“How would it get on this side of the door?” Suri countered.
Taro’s eyes brightened. “Ven, give me your pack. I have an idea.”
Ven did so, and Taro emptied everything from his own pack into Ven’s. He then used his spade to shovel the mud into his bag.
The others quickly figured out what he was planning. They consolidated their packs together and were able to get another two bags filled.
Suri gave Taro a concerned look. “This could bring the whole roof in on itself.”
“It’s better than sitting here freezing to death,” Taro said.
They laid the packs in front of the door and made a thin trail from the bags to the corner.
The others backed a good distance into the halls. Taro went to light the bags, but Ven stopped him. “No offense, Taro, but I think it’s better if I do this.”
Taro joined the others without argument and watched Ven from a distance. Ven pressed his index finger to the line, and a spark flashed from his fingertip. Taro expected it to work like a trail of gunpowder (a fizzling line, then a bang) but in fact, the entire line exploded almost at once. Flaming shards of stone shot in all directions, and Ven was hurled backward.
The explosion shook the ruins and cracked the foundation of the walls. Huge chunks of the ceiling collapsed, followed by mountains of snow.
When the rumbling stopped, Taro was on his back, buried under two other recruits. He shoved free, then pushed the rubble and snow off Ven.
“He’s not breathing!” Taro slapped Ven’s cheek and shook him, hard.
Suri stumbled over and folded her hands against his chest, pushed down several times, then breathed into Ven’s mouth. She did so two more times, and Ven coughed and groaned.
Ven’s right hand was scorched and bleeding, and when he tried to pull himself
up, he found his ribs were cracked.
“Thought you were a goner,” Taro said.
Ven’s goofy smile was underscored by his obvious pain. His chest heaved, and he could barely speak. “All...part of the plan.”
“Plan?” Taro said.
“I got Suri to kiss me,” he said. “So worth it.”
Suri scrunched her eyes. “I swear, if that bomb hadn’t kicked your ass, I would.”
Ven’s hand was in awful shape, but he insisted they help the other recruits.
The others were lucky: scrapes, sprains, and bruises. Ven got the worst of it.
The stone door had been completely destroyed. Puffs of dust and smoke filled the room, making it difficult to see what lay beyond. When it cleared, there was another rumbling, but this one was different than the first. It wasn’t an explosion; it was like the rasping snarl of a wolf intermixed with the scraping of metal against stone.
The recruits froze and listened intently.
“It’s probably just something collapsing,” Ven said, though he didn’t sound too sure of himself.
Taro wasn’t so sure either.
Chapter Twenty-two
The Roots of the Magisterium
The other side of the door was pitch-black. The recruits paused and exchanged unsure looks.
“I thought we were supposed to find a crashed airship,” Edrin said. “I don’t think we’re meant to go this way.”
“Maybe it leads back to the surface?” Taro said.
“I’m not going down there,” Edrin said.
“We need to keep moving,” Ven said.
“Who made you the leader?” Edrin said.
“I’ve trialed before.”
“Trialed and failed.”
Ven shoved him. “We all pass or none of us do, idiot. Turn back now and we’re as good as done.”
“We’ll never make it through in the dark,” Suri said.
Suri plucked out three glass spheres from her pack. She gave one to Taro, one to Ven, and kept the third. The spheres were already inscribed, and Taro’s glowed with a small bit of templary applied.
“We’ll pass them around,” Suri said.
The Reach Between Worlds Page 14