Coming to Power

by T J Marquis

  Dahm told the others what he’d found. “The machines are embedded in the rock,” he said. “Something controlling huge, hidden doors.”

  “Camouflaged gates huh?” Naphte said, scratching his chin. “Like to see that…”

  “Could you close them?” Jon asked Dahm.

  “I think so,” he answered.

  “Not a good idea though, is it? You might lose access,” Jon said.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” the big man nodded. “Whatever spell is running the things, it might lock down when they close again.”

  “Let’s go in!” Bahabe shouted, startling the men. She was already heading into the dark when they heard the echoes of shouts and frantic running coming up out of the cave. Bahabe drew the large rifle from her back and swiftly retreated into formation with her companions. She adopted a stance Naphte had shown her, trying to take careful aim, but it was heavy, and she was clearly nervous.

  The men drew their weapons. As Jon hefted his new sword in anticipation of the fight, light enveloped his body to defend him. He felt a peculiar tingle in the palms of his hands as if the power of the light was flowing into the sword through its handle. The sword grew lighter in his grasp, and he saw the flame engraved in the center of the blade ignite with white fire.

  A conduit, he thought. Maybe that’s what I need.

  If he could use a talisman such as this to draw his power out effortlessly, perhaps he could fight longer and harder without collapsing. Would it help to control the rage though?

  Jon spared no more time for thought as his excitement mounted. It was another chance to use the power. A big part of him desired to lose himself in it, to spin up into righteous violence until nothing evil was left to accost the world. Already he was only dimly aware of the need to restrain himself.

  A squad of beastmen erupted from the shadows below, eyes huge and wild, scrambling on all fours as if trying to outrun a predator. Their leader saw the humans above and snarled, “They must be with him! Tear through! Don’t slow down!”

  “Stay back!” Jon hollered to his friends. He wouldn’t be able to take it if any one of them was hurt. But Dahm and Naphte didn’t listen.

  Jon launched himself toward the leader, a cat-like humanoid with matted but otherwise beautifully striped black and gold fur. Dahm casually drew a stout wall of stone out of the ground to hide Bahabe, and the girl used it to brace her rifle and steady her aim. Naphte and Dahm advanced cautiously, watching for the beastmen to try and flank them, but they seemed too frantic for such tactics. Whatever was in pursuit, they feared it more than the humans before them.

  The catman drew his blade, short and sinuous, and met Jon’s charge with a piercing yowl, bringing his sword down in a forward slicing cut. Jon fell back a pace and met the strike with his redblade, slicing through the inferior sword like tissue paper. But the catman’s cut followed through, the lower half of his blade striking Jon in the stomach and knocking the wind out of him. Jon fell back, gasping for air, suddenly sobered by the realization that he might have just been disemboweled if not for the light’s protection. He braced himself for the catman’s follow-up, but a bolt of blue fire bore into its leg, scorching muscle and bone, and the catman lost his balance as he screamed in pain. Jon took the opening, and slew the catman with a thrust to his exposed chest.

  His vision reddened with its final moments, and he spared a thought to make sure the bloodlight did not appear. He still wasn’t sure if it might harm his friends. The heat of the moment cooled, and Jon somewhat abashedly remembered to check his flanks, but Naphte and Dahm had already dispatched the rest of the squad, and were cleaning their blades with the ragged shirts some of the beastmen wore. Jon heard Bahabe retching behind Dahm’s summoned stone wall and went to see to her.

  He approached her with concern and lay a hand on her back. She flinched, caught her breath, and looked up at him. Jon didn’t like what he saw in her big brown eyes and wished he had taken a moment to try to convince her not to bear a weapon. It was a haunted look, the look of a girl who’d never hurt another person, nor ever wanted to, but had just taken a step into darkness.

  I’d do anything never to see that look on her face again, he thought. But he said, “It was a good shot,” and helped her to her feet. He gave her his canteen and let her rinse out her mouth.

  “I don’t hear any more coming,” Jon said to the others, “shall we continue?”

  “I’m not ready to retreat,” Naphte grinned. Then he noticed Bahabe’s pale, sweaty face. “She okay?” he asked.

  “I’ll be alright,” she rasped. “Let’s go in.” She’d left her rifle lying behind the short stone wall, and she did not move to retrieve it.

  The floor and vault of the cave’s entrance were smooth, mostly featureless. Here and there were bands of limestone and errant streaks of stain where water had wormed its way through the tons of rock. The group made their way down the long slope, the cavern became a tunnel, and daylight receded behind them.

  “Jon?” Dahm said. “A little light? You’re the expert.”

  Jon complied, letting the Light enshroud his hand. He bound it loosely, and a diffuse glow spread wide around them. He thought he could keep this up for a while without getting tired.

  “Do you think there are more?” Bahabe asked quietly.

  “I don’t,” Naphte said. “They were running away from someone. ‘Him’, that catman said. I don’t like to think who might have scared them off, but you know what they say, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’”

  An unpleasant smell greeted them at the bottom of the slope, riding a breeze up to the tunnel’s mouth. Bahabe gagged, covering her nose. Jon winced at the reek.

  “Something dead,” Dahm said.

  “A few days old,” Naphte added.

  The tunnel leveled out at last, and the source of the stench revealed itself. A skirmish had occurred here. A dozen beastmen lay still on the cold floor - canine, feline, ursine, all slain with precise cuts to the belly. Many of their eyes were still open, looks of surprise and terror carved in frozen faces. Beyond the scattered bodies was a stretch of dull silver floor that faded into a dark horizon.

  Jon and his companions looked to each other in puzzlement.

  “Did they fight each other?” Jon wondered.

  “Doesn’t look like it,” Dahm said.

  “It’s almost surgical,” Naphte observed. “Look how surprised they were. And each kill identical. I’ve never seen such skill.”

  “Nor have I,” Dahm said. “Only a spell or a spirit could be so precise.”

  “Well hopefully it’s not waiting to kill us too,” Jon said. “Everyone okay with going on?”

  They all nodded.

  Skirting the scattered bodies, Jon was the first to set foot on the silver path. It felt like stepping into a quagmire. His feet became sluggish, like they’d fallen asleep, and his balance was off for a moment. His second step was slow and heavy, and his companions gasped as he shot off in a blur.

  His stomach almost escaped his body through his mouth as he came to a halt some indeterminate distance down the tunnel. His eyes were wide, and he was afraid to move another inch.

  Several seconds later, the others joined him, and they were equally astonished.

  “What... was that?” he asked.

  “It’s like the Road!” Naphte said. “It’s enchanted. The size of your step determines the distance you travel. Takes some getting used to.”

  “I’ll say,” said Jon. “My stomach is still in my throat.”

  That first step had brought them into an endless hall of large doorways, framed in steel, some open and many shut. Jon let the light fade from his hand. Recessed strips of lighting ran the length of the ceiling, and the sections above their heads had lit up when Jon arrived. To either side of the path, walkways had been marked and fenced off, indicating these should be used for regular movement between rooms.

  Jon stepped to one side to inspect an open room. It had a large hangar-
style door that rolled up on a track mounted to the ceiling.

  “Nobody go ahead alone,” he told the others. They nodded and joined him.

  The room’s lighting activated as Jon entered, revealing rows and stacks of gunmetal crates. Many had been cracked open and plundered, but a few stray firearms had been left behind.

  “Guess this place is where they got all that unusual gear,” Jon said. If these things had been created in a time before Anekan or Enkannite memory, how long had it all been here? The power was still on, the space-warping path still worked… Jon didn’t blame the Anekans who considered these artifacts enchanted.

  “Wow,” Naphte breathed. “The Zansari would go nuts.”

  Most of the rooms in the area were for storage, all of it clean and pristine but for the places that had been disturbed by the Nulians. There was one small room, tucked between a few of the others, where a plate of black glass stood alone on a narrow desk. Jon thought he knew what it was, and reached out to touch it. The dead black glass gained a faint glow, and a string of unfamiliar characters lit up green in its upper right corner.

  “A computer,” Jon said. “Probably for inventory.” No one else knew what a computer was, so Jon explained as best he could.

  “Wouldn’t everyone forget how to write?” Naphte asked.

  “Not entirely,” Jon answered. “But yeah, it’s not completely the same as doing things by hand.” No one could read the words on the screen, so they moved on.

  The Path itself seemed to be smart, for when they all stood on it together, and Jon took a slightly larger step forward than before, the entire group was whisked away with him.

  They happened to stop in front of what was clearly a mess hall, with rows of tables and chairs hemmed in by a serving counter and open kitchen. The mess hall was flanked by barracks to each side. Here, another group of Nulians had been disemboweled, this time a mixture of beastmen, gremlins and ogres. Jon’s group did not linger.

  Each stop along the Path was much the same, either storage or barracks. The little group soon came across a long swath of garages, full of various military vehicles. It was their utilitarian nature that gave them away - not highly stylized, and unpainted, many equipped with weapons. Last in the garage section were the bays that had held the hover barges. These were the largest rooms yet - wide, long, and tall enough to maneuver the huge vehicles in and out onto the Path. Two barges had been parked along the Path, left askew, floating as always. Dead Nulians littered their surfaces. A few more barges were still parked in their bays, awaiting use.

  “Have to come back for those later,” Naphte commented.

  There must have been hundreds of possible stops, and uncountable miles between one end of the old military base and the other. There was no sign of whoever had attacked the Nulians on their way through. The Path finally ended, another gaping maw open to the light of day. The exit was higher up the mountainside at this end, looking out over plains of yellow grass.

  “We’re on the other side of the Fold,” Naphte said. He looked back into the maw as if it were a magician doing a confusing trick. “That base was hundreds of miles long…”

  “You said your people should have found it if it were exposed like this,” Jon pointed at the cavern’s opening. “So how did the Nulians get in?”

  “I’d say the gremlins tapped into the gate’s wiring,” Naphte said. “If we look around, there’s probably some hatch or vent they wormed their way into. They’re really good at that stuff. And they must have known this place was here.”

  “Who killed them?” asked Bahabe. Her eyes were wet and tense.

  Since when does she worry? Jon thought.

  “We could keep searching,” said Dahm, “but I don’t think anyone is left in there. Whatever attacked them is gone.”

  “I guess that leaves us free to head toward Centrifuge, which is… where?” Jon asked.

  Naphte scanned the lands about them, a light breeze rippling his hair. North of them, the Fold Mountains swung westward toward Anek and the distant coastlands.

  “It’s northeast of us, still quite a ways,” Naphte answered. “Still, that little walk we just took cut the distance in half.”

  “Why don’t we stay the night?” said Dahm. “Surely we could all use a good night’s sleep under shelter.”

  They agreed they’d been going hard for long enough, and Jon wanted to make sure Bahabe in particular had some time to catch up to herself. The battle at the maw must have really shaken her. Tonight would be a night of rest.

  They made their own little mess area on the flat shelf of stone at the mouth of the tunnel and settled in for the afternoon. There was time enough to cook a simple stew, and Naphte took the chef’s duties. After dinner, Jon and Naphte appropriated one of the abandoned barges to go retrieve the ziri they’d left behind earlier, and Dahm used his powers to close the western entrance.

  When all the work was done, Jon found Bahabe sitting at the edge of the platform that overlooked the lands eastward.

  “You’ve been quiet today,” he said, sitting down next to her. They dangled their feet off the ledge. At first, she did not reply, and Jon sensed thoughts running through her mind that she did not speak. He knew she’d feel what he did, so he made a conscious effort to dampen his feelings of concern for her. He wasn’t sure if it worked.

  “I hated it,” she said at last, and was silent for several minutes as Jon waited patiently.

  “I know he wanted to kill us,” she continued, “eat us, actually - especially you. But when I shot out his leg, when he realized he was going to die…” She looked intently at him, and he saw his own face reflected in her eyes. “I’ve never sensed such hopelessness.”

  “I know. When I touched the bloodlight…” Jon started to say.

  “No,” Bahabe cut him off sharply. “It’s not the same. You get to choose when, if, you confront what you did. I don’t. I just… feel it. And stop trying to hide it!” she growled. “I can feel you too! You can’t protect me from this.”

  She started to rise, and Jon reached out to grasp her wrist gently, but she pulled away, not quite looking at him.

  “We should have split up,” she said, and walked away toward the northern edge of the platform.

  It pulled at his heart, watching her walk away, but Jon tried to remember what a difference the few years between their ages could make. He scoffed silently - he still wasn’t past the angst of fresh adulthood himself, he was only more aware of it. Still, he wanted to follow her, try to heal her thinking and fix the problem, but he knew well enough to leave her be.

  The little group moved back into the maw as night fell. They traveled a few steps in from the eastern end, found an unsoiled barracks, and set up camp. The automated lighting system had dimmed as the sun fell, creating a quiet, cozy environment. One by one, the companions fell asleep, bodies glad of rest after the long journey. Travel in itself was exhausting, no matter how fast one’s vehicle could go.

  Only Jon awoke when the voice spoke.

  Jon.

  Jon sat up on his bedroll, looking from side to side, unsure the sound had been real. The voice was deep, masculine, and it was saying his name. Why didn’t anyone else seem to notice?

  He stood up and padded softly out of the barracks. There was no one in either direction.

  Take one step east, came the voice. And though Jon knew it might be foolhardy, he stepped onto the Path and obeyed.

  He came to an open storage room that had been completely cleared out by the Nulians, with only dirty footprints left behind as evidence of their passage. Toward the back of the room there waited a very large man, watching Jon impassively as he approached.

  “You called me,” said Jon. The man nodded once.

  He was imposing, larger than any human Jon had ever met, with bare arms like young trees. He wore black trousers like hakama, a tan vest, unbuttoned, that revealed his flawless physique and olive skin, and a thick red cloak that was pulled back so that it looked like a cap
e. A shock of white hair framed his bold face, aging but not old. His eyes shone silver in the dim light.

  The man crossed his arms. “You come with little fear,” he spoke lowly, but Jon sensed the power behind that calm basso. “That ought to make things easier.” He smiled.

  “Who are you?” asked Jon.

  “It would be more polite to introduce yourself first, Jon,” the huge man admonished. He strode toward Jon and offered his hand. Jon took it, and it felt hard as iron. “I am called Jeremiah.”

  “Jeremiah. And you know me,” Jon said.

  Jeremiah held up a finger. “I know of you. Perhaps after tonite, I’ll know you a little better, and you me.”

  “Is this your home, this base?”

  “Oh no, not here. My home is far to the west.”

  “What is this place, then? Why did you kill all those Nulians?” Jon asked.

  “You assume it was me,” Jeremiah said. A pause. “And rightly so,” he chuckled. He gestured at the walls of steel around them. “This place... is what it seems to be. They used to call it the “Maw”. Unusually pristine for ruins though, isn’t it?”

  Jon understood from Naphte that this place and its contents were ancient, but thinking of it all as ruins put things in a different light. What might cause an advanced society to abandon such treasures?

  “As for those Nulians, well… did they not murder an entire village? Should they have lived to kill again? Surely you would have finished the task had your body not failed you at Otu. Yes, I know of your feats. In any case, the justice of this world is my responsibility, and as you can see,” he held muscled arms out to the sides, “I am built for force.”

  “So who are you then?” Jon repeated. “And why did you call my name?”

  “I do forget...” Jeremiah squinted and cast his eyes upward. “Worlds like yours don’t have guardians like me. You’ve seen some of the dangers of this world, yes? And the presence of palpable elemental powers. Wherever the inner workings of a universe are a little more visible, a little closer to the surface, someone like me is needed to tip the scales away from destruction.”