"When you could become an element at will, Narivatari," Keevan echoed, feeling a nervous tingle settle in his stomach. That was the prime reason the Harbor Guild agreed to let Keevan live all those years ago. If the entire Tri-Being race couldn't rediscover the lost art of fully becoming an element, perhaps a Sight Seeker could. A promise his lack of elemental power made very difficult to keep giving the Harbor Guild with each passing year.
"Yes," Kors echoed, staring up at the ceiling. "Records were kept on metal plates then. Tri-Beings turned into water or fire to raise themselves up to whatever heights were required to get what they needed. In our less-enlightened time, we use ladders."
"Why are we here then?" Calistra asked. "This can't be what this whole mission was about. Half the Harbor Guild and all the high ranking Suadans can access this place."
"It's not about Zerik's inability to get it himself, or whatever influential friend he's working for," Keevan grumbled, glaring at Kors. "It's about having the job taken care of by an exile and a rebellious girl, so Zerik and his friend can keep their hands clean."
Kors chuckled. "Just a day in the bowels of Issamere and you're already catching on. For generations the Etrendi have struggled and plotted against each other for the upper hand. If we were united, we could conquer this continent. But instead, we bicker and plot among ourselves."
"And your solution is to bicker and plot against your fellow Etrendi?" Keevan countered. In the distance, the earth rumbled a final time. Soldiers barked orders and distant feet echoed from the tunnel. They'd found the other storage room and the broken grate.
Kors rolled his eyes. "Enough talk. Use your eyes sight seeker. We're looking for records from ten years ago, a shipping manifest from a naval battle with an outlander vessel."
"Me?" Keevan asked, shrugging helplessly. "What am I supposed to do?"
"You're the one with the elemental sight," Kors insisted, jabbing his finger at the countless shelves above them. "Start 'reading' the elements. Tell me what you see."
Blues and reds burst into life above Keevan's head as he switched his vision to the elemental plane. The whole eastern wall glowed a faint red from the rising sun. Moisture swirled in the air, propelled by the Repository's new occupants and the shifting temperatures from Kors and Calistra's elemental fields. What stood out most however, was a single shelf five yards up and to Keevan's left. A weak repulsor orb glowed faintly, pushing away moisture.
"You said the ancient records were written on stone?" Keevan asked.
"Metal, yes," Calistra confirmed. "Tri-Beings could turn into water, ice, fire or even lightning. You'd need something a lot tougher than paper to write on."
"Kors, how many records did you say were transferred to this room?"
"Our contact said thousands," Kors said. "Why?"
"Apparently there's only one worth shielding from moisture. Only one worth preserving," Keevan pointed upwards, along a nearby ladder.
"Bring it all down here," Kors ordered. "Every shelf."
"It's your mission," Keevan said. "Why don't you go get it?"
"Because I'm too big for those rusty ladders and Calistra can't climb in her condition," Kors growled, the air around him spiking with sudden heat. "Get. Up. There."
Keevan glanced at Calistra. She kept staring up at the Repository walls around them, granting him a hopeful smile. A nervous shudder settled in Keevan's gut. There were risks to feeding a person's hope. Particularly if you were making things up as you went along. If nothing else, Calistra had proven quite capable at hate. Not someone you wanted to disappoint.
"Fine," Keevan relented, scaling the ladder. The going was slow and tentative. The oil soaking his right hand and sleeve limited his grip. Some of the rusted rungs even bent under his weight, forcing him to awkwardly skip them. The rusty equipment must have laid there for centuries, untouched by anyone but time itself. Whoever switched out the records had done so quite carefully. They even had the foresight to sprinkle dust over the disturbed drawer. Only Keevan's power could have seen the water repulsor orb.
As he tested each foot hold for stability, he noticed his changing height allowed him to better see which records were recently disturbed. He could also more clearly read their description, etched on the front of each drawer. An icy realization clung to him with the same level of ferocity with which he grappled with the ladder. Every disturbed record he could see from his perch, had to do with Sight Seekers. Someone was studying up on his kind, a lot.
A minute later, he hung just within reach of the stone drawer. The ladder groaned in complaint as he leaned over, pushing aside some very understandable concerns with his current height above the stone floor. For some reason, his mind kept feeding on the image of him falling through the grate in the room's center, to be incinerated at the Watcher's will.
"Steady," Keevan whispered, both to himself and the ladder beneath his feet. He wrapped his fingers around the drawer's cold handle and pulled. The drawer slid out with surprising ease, though the hinges beneath groaned from the shifting weight. Glancing inside, he noted it was at least ten feet long, supporting an intense load on thousand-year-old bolts. He recognized the fresh metal work on the inside though, these were recently reinforced. Did that mean the rest of the drawers were more fragile?
Inside it, dozens of thin metal plates lay against each other. Two in particular, held a single paper document between them. At the front of the drawer, a water repulsor glowed to his vision, the device responsible for preserving the paper.
"Well?" Kors called.
"There are a couple dozen pages here," Keevan lied, his mind working with a sudden, feverish intensity. "They're pinned between the metal ones. Can you give me some details on what you're looking for? Surely they didn't just tell you to torch everything."
"It's a naval battle. The only ship the Harbor Guild ever lost to an Outlander vessel," Kors called up. "Hurry, the soldiers will start checking every room on this floor next, including this one."
Keevan slipped the paper into view, but kept it inside the drawer, making sure to rummage around a bit with his free hand. While he stalled a frustrated Kors with frantic arm gestures, his eyes soaked in the document greedily. He needed to know every detail. It was indeed a record of casualties from a Harbor Guild voyage gone wrong. It was the only time he'd ever heard of Outlanders winning, though in this case, it was more of a draw. Both ships were destroyed. Keevan skipped along till he found the paragraph with the most information.
'Rain Cutter's Final Voyage (The Third of Madenhiem, 1039)
Full battle with Outlander vessel on the edge of the Undying Storm. Outlander vessel managed to board the Rain Cutter and attempted to take it. Captain Hamor used his Danica weapon to sink both ships and escape. Both ships were destroyed, with only two survivors found a week later on a nearby island. All cargo lost. Hamor was relieved of his naval command soon after returning to port.
Casualties: Whole crew, comprised of 3 sub-captains, 5 deck hands, 1 navigator.
Funerals: 5 were done at sea. 4 were preserved for burial in Issamere.
Survivors: Captain and one crewman.'
Keevan trembled in frustration. This was what Bahjal's life hung in the balance over? Sure, a lost ship would be a black eye on the Harbor Guild's perfect record against the Outlanders, but it was hardly cause for blackmail. Certainly not in such a roundabout way as to require 'outside' help. Gritting his teeth, he rolled up the paper around the water repelling orb, so he could pocket the artifact without Kors noticing.
"Finally," Kors growled, pacing along at the base of the ladder like a feral animal, anxious to feed. As Keevan descended, he careful pulled the paper from his pocket, leaving the repulsor orb. This type only pushed away water, so its usefulness was limited. His stomach gurgled uncomfortably, its contents shifting as the orb's field affected his own body.
"Let me see it," Kors demanded, snatching the paper away before Keevan could set foot on the floor. Kors held the page open with the same fervor
Keevan had, staring at its contents for a full minute, brow furrowed in confused concentration. "What in Hiertalia is this? This is the right battle, but... Why would this be worth the trouble?"
Keevan walked around Kors, to the center of the room, beckoning Calistra with a wave of his hand. She pursed her lips nervously, glanced at Kors' turned back and nodded, joining him. Keevan shrugged off his cloak, setting the oil-stained sleeve above the grate. "When I say run, light it," He whispered to Calistra, handing her the repulsor orb. She stared at the stone in surprise and then nodded in determination.
Then he quietly walked to the drawers set over the ventilation shaft's melted grate. They slid open with ease, hoping on bated breath. A shudder of relief touched his heart. These hinges weren't reinforced, there were no secret documents worth preserving in these. But as he pulled them forwards a full ten feet, they creaked uneasily. Hundreds of pounds of metal hanging against two thick hinges in the back of the shelf.
"What are you doing?" Kors said, whirling on them. The record smoked in his hand, yellow flames consuming it hungrily.
"Run!" Keevan cried. Calistra snapped her fingers and bolted towards the melted grate. The sparks fell onto the oil-soaked sleeve of Keevan's coat, catching flame immediately.
A moment of confusion, even humor crossed Kors' face, watching Keevan and Calistra scamper under the drawers and towards the tunnel he could easily pursue them through. He chuckled openly, shaking his head in disgust. Then a burning stitch of Keevan's cloak fell through the grate.
"No!" Kors shouted, realization dawning as he charged after them. To Keevan's elemental vision, every drop of moisture in the room leapt from their resting place and rushed at them with all the force an Etrendi could muster. Gallons of water, frozen into icy hooks, slammed into Calistra's repulsor field, hurling her into Keevan as they both rolled into the tunnel.
The earth heaved with another blast from the Watcher. Kors fell to the earth and the shelves between him and Keevan, already tilting against the great weight of hundreds of metal pages, shrieked in surrender and fell to the ground with a thud, their cargo spilling across the floor. The enraged Etrendi bellowed in frustration, trying to claw his way after them, but the earth trembled again and Kors fell into the metal pile.
"Crawl," Keevan ordered, pushing Calistra ahead of him. "I don't care where. Just hurry. Give me the orb, in case he gets through. I'll need to block his water."
"He'd just as soon burn you to death," Calistra grunted, crawling along the tunnel with all the haste she could manage, three limbs notwithstanding.
"Not if his boss has more plans for me. Which at this point is a guaranteed certainty."
"Fine. Here," Calistra passed him the orb. Its smooth, cool exterior gave Keevan a small sense of security. At least, with one of those in hand, he could delay someone like Kors. That's more than his sight seeker powers could ever manage.
Behind them, the heavy stone door slammed open with an ominous thud. Soldiers shouted in alarm, weapons hissing from their sheaths. Kors roared in anger. Metal shrieked on metal, the earth rocked from another blast of the Watcher. Everything fell quiet.
Terror settled in Keevan's mind, a silent, persistent need to keep moving. The soldiers would have kept talking once they won, questioning the prisoner or at least calling for support. That left only one other option. They crawled on, too scared to speak. Their tunnel turned twice before gradually sloping upwards. They passed two other grates, too small to escape through.
The bolts, bugs and dust clung to him again. This time, without the added insulation of his cloak. The cold nibbled away at his hands, ears and nose, drawing shivers and numbing his senses. He noticed blood on his hands as they crawled passed another small grate. There were some advantages to a lack of feeling. He sucked blood from his thumb. If they survived this, he'd have to find a Rhet healer to help him prevent infection. He learned long ago that Suadan healers could do nothing to help someone like him, except drown him.
At the next grate, they froze. Its light flickered with moving shadows. A dozen confused voices argued together, too faint to pick out more than their general tone. Metal rasped against metal and heavy boots plodded against the ground. Keevan felt his fear escalate, until his heart pounded so loud he wondered why the Harbor Guild's men hadn't heard it.
"What do we do?" Calistra whispered.
"All I can do is wait them out," Keevan replied, biting back a fierce cough. He felt as though the tunnel itself was trying to choke the life from him with dust alone. "I’m an Outlander, remember? I'd wind up floating face down in the wharf. You would get sent off to a nice cushy dungeon until your father collected you."
"You could just wait here. I could tell the Council where you are, once I'm clear of the Harbor Guild," Calistra insisted. "You'd only have to wait about half a day."
"With Kors the Gods-only-know-where," Keevan added, shuddering. "What if he gets back into the tunnels? You're the best chance I have against him."
"We wouldn't stand a chance in a real fight," Calistra muttered, cradling her swollen, blacked hand. "We got away, barely, by surprising him and luck that those drawers couldn't hold their weight."
"Not quite luck," Keevan added with a grin. "My dad's a blacksmith, remember? No way could those bolts still support that load after a full millennia without being reinforced. I got a close look inside the first one, trust me."
Calistra rolled her eyes. "Great. If we ever have to out-blacksmith him, we're all set."
"Look, I'm just saying-"
"What's that?" Calistra asked, pointing over his shoulder. Her face suddenly turned a few shades whiter.
"What?" Keevan replied, turning. "Oh no."
A wall of water filled the shaft, slowly encroaching on their position. It silently swallowed up everything it passed, leaving only a dark, shimmering shadow in its wake. Ahead of them, a similar field of liquid drifted closer. Energy strands tied both of them to a powerful source in the room Keevan couldn't see unless he got closer to the grate, but he couldn't ignore the fact the room suddenly lay dead quiet. Poking his head into view could mean discovery, if they weren't found out already.
"We'll be alright, right?" Keevan asked, crawling alongside Calistra. He caught a glimpse of her drawn, tired face and marveled at the sharp contrast he found there with the calculating, beautiful Etrendi he met in the Steam Gardens a day earlier. He nodded at the orb in her hands, its field would extend far enough to offer air to breath, barely.
"It's an exterminator's trick," Calistra said in defeat. "My father uses it against the barbarian armies at times. Get them crowded in with water and run a lightning bolt through it. They're likely still hunting Kors. If they think we're him..."
A sudden image of electrocution, followed by drowning in the tunnel's narrow confines, set Keevan's mind into panic mode. "Can you melt your way through the grate one last time?"
"What if it's Kors? A Danica enhanced weapon could do this. Maybe he got one of the guards."
"Then I'll try to buy you time to escape. He can't kill me, remember?"
Calistra sighed, crawling towards the grate. "Alright. I wish for your sake that didn't leave him with so many options, when it comes to maiming and torture." Keevan shuddered, pushing those thoughts from his mind. They wouldn't do him any good here. Keevan crawled up to the grate, finding himself nose to feet with polished, embroidered leather shoes.
"Well, Keevs, that was quite a moment for you. I'm tempted to fetch you a medal, right here and now," Bahjal leaned down in front of the grate, face bruised but her eyes alight with mischief and humor.
"Bahj?!" Keevan replied. "But how? I thought you were injured? Captured even?"
"Meh, it wasn't my blood I was covered in," Bahjal replied, running her fingers along the grating. "The unconsciousness and the concussion were real though. Took an hour to recover from those. Wait a second."
Water ran along the edges of each bolt, spinning and swirling into place before freezing and pushing and grinding
. The sound sent chills down his spine, like someone chewing on glass. The entire grate slid out into the room, still connected to its bolts. She'd used water and ice to erode the stone itself from the iron. "Bahj," Keevan echoed softly in sudden realization, "You're an Etrendi."
Gauntleted hands pulled Keevan and Calistra free of the tunnel. For a few moments, the light from the windows felt far too bright and Keevan's eyes couldn't discern more than random flashes of element. Finally, he set his elemental vision aside, letting his normal vision adjust. A half dozen Harbor Guild soldiers stood around them, hands on their hilts, eyes never settling on one thing for more than a second.
"I assume you have news of the intruder, Sight Seeker?" Bahjal asked, with an air of superiority only mastered by the Etrendi. Her entire demeanor was different now, right down to her perfect posture. Only then did he notice her attire, a Suadan weaving of fine linens designed to emphasize both her curves and her control of water, should she feel the need to draw liquid into the loose, looping fibers.
"Uhhh. Yeah," Keevan answered stupidly, still trying to put all the pieces together. Calistra regarded Bahjal with equal incredulity. After all, only two days ago they'd stood in opposite circumstances, with Calistra as the mighty Etrendi and Bahjal as the dirty, grease-covered little girl.
He recalled Madol's words that she was 'more than she appeared'. Somehow, the Persuader recognized her for Etrendi. Perhaps that was the real reason he dismissed her so abruptly, to help her keep her rank hidden from both the curious soldiers and Keevan himself.
"Well?" one of the soldiers cut in. He stood a head taller than Keevan spoke in a deep, throaty growl. "Which way did he go? We've word the exile, Kors, has penetrated our district's walls. The Malik and every councilman in the city are on high alert. Now, will you stop drooling over the girl and give me some reliable information?!"
"The Repository," Keevan managed to squeak. "He was there last I saw him, something about destroying Harbor Guild records or some such."
Unseen Secrets Page 16
