The addition of another material may help; a catalyst, that when connected to the stored energy, may cause the energy to transfer naturally... Riffolk was sure he'd seen something similar, in his travels. He'd seen a lot of impossible things, things even he couldn't explain. The difficulty was leaving Ermoor again.
Another proximity alarm went off; this time for the storage room that served as the secret lab's hidden entrance. Unlike the courtyard, this alarm pulled him right out of his creative trance. He left his equipment, grabbed a scatter gun and his new prototype dart gun, and headed for the entrance.
Pera
What the hell was that? She thought as they entered the lab. Mara had touched her like a lover, caressed her hip as though she was about to kiss her. Ermoor just became more and more strange. Pera had barely even been friendly to her, but Mara obviously took it as a deep and meaningful connection. The girl was a mess. She was just glad the door opened when it had; she had no interest in girls in that way, let alone a naive little rich girl from a corrupt, horrible place like Ermoor.
The lab was nice and dark, and even better, completely empty. She strode into the corridors, ready for anything. The lab was the complete opposite of Tyra; it was clean, warm, and everything was straight lines and perfect angles. Tyra was a mess of rough stone, odd curves and cold, feral darkness. But the feel of walking through a maze of corridors was familiar enough that it brought the two worlds crashing in on each other like a terrible dream merging with real life.
Tyra was huge, with hundreds, if not thousands of corridors reaching every little corner of the city. Pera, unlike most other Tyrans, had spent a lot of her childhood exploring the lesser used corridors. Darkness, mixed with the fact that every corridor in Tyra looked essentially the same, forced every Tyran to develop an uncanny sense of direction. But where most Tyrans ended up relying on the bump-and-line markers on the walls to navigate, Pera could map any building or room with her eyes closed; with one cursory sweep of her hands on the walls. Although the lab was dark, compared to Tyra it may as well have been illuminated by the Ermoori sun, and with sight on her side, mapping the corridors was easy.
The layout of the building made sense to her. It wasn't quite as efficient as Tyra, but it was logical and tidy. The fact that the lab was totally empty was odd; not the lack of people, as it was late at night according to Mara, but the total lack of equipment and furniture. One room they'd passed, close to the door they entered through, contained a pile of boxes, but other than that the entire place was deserted. Combining that with the fact that Riffolk wasn't at the mansion and spent most of his time at his lab told Pera almost all she needed to know. A quick walk up and down each corridor confirmed the rest.
Every space was accounted for in the lab; any free space used for storage, rooms, or utilities. Every corridor led somewhere specific, or joined another corridor. The rooms were laid out more or less in orderly fashion, evenly along every corridor. Every space account for... except one. Behind a small storage room at the end of a corridor, there was enough space to fit a large cupboard or even another small room. The back wall of the storage room was made from slightly separated large panels.
When she was younger, she'd stumbled upon several different surprising rooms and features of Tyra. But they all paled in comparison to this; she'd found something that the greatest scientific mind in Ermoor was trying to keep hidden.
Mara
Dark corridors snaked through the lab, all cold smooth surfaces. Mara moved slowly, letting Pera take the lead. She listened for sounds further ahead and only heard her and Pera's footsteps. No one else was in the lab. Locked doors lined the corridors. They reached an open door, and Mara glanced inside. It looked as though it was the main lab room; it was massive, full of metal benches and lined with basins and cabinets. But it was utterly bare, no equipment at all. Nothing except for a few boxes sitting on one of the benches.
They moved on. Each corridor looked exactly the same, and it wasn't long before Mara felt lost. Pera seemed comfortable with their whereabouts, however, and walked slowly but surely through the lab. Mara followed Pera through endless corridors for what felt like hours. Almost every door was locked, and behind those that weren't were more empty rooms.
Pera spent a lot of time looking around at the walls at random, stopping and staring at nothing Mara could identify. They doubled back a lot, and for all Mara knew, they could have kept going up and down the same corridor dozens of times. Pera mumbled under her breath a lot as they walked. Mara couldn't understand a word of it.
Finally, Pera led them to a corridor that ended in yet another storeroom. She stared at it, mumbled some more, then moved close. Mara couldn't see what she was doing, but she heard a clicking sound and then the storeroom door opened. The room beyond was small but mostly empty. A few storage boxes sat on shelves along the walls either side of the room. Opposite the door, a blank wall stared back at them.
Pera strolled to the blank wall without hesitation. She leaned in close, her head turned to the side as though the wall was whispering to her. She ran her hands over its surface, frowning. Moments passed in silence, Mara growing impatient as Pera aimlessly inspected the wall.
"What are you doing?" Mara said. Pera gave no response, but shook her head slightly, her frown deepening. Just as Mara was about to ask again, Pera's eyes grew wide and she grinned, glancing back at Mara.
"I knew it!" She said, then turned back to the wall. Her hand pushed against a small section, one of many square plates set against the wall at random. It bent inwards under her palm, made a clicking sound, then swung out. Underneath it was a number pad. Mara stared as Pera leaned in close to inspect the pad.
"How... how could you possibly know that was there?"
She grunted and continued staring closely at the number pad. Running her fingers over the buttons slowly, she whispered to herself. A quiet click sounded from the wall. Mara couldn't believe it; Pera was figuring it out, unlocking whatever the number pad was hiding! But Pera turned, face pale and eyes wide. She shook her head, but before either of them could run, the wall slid away silently.
Riffolk Hayne stood in the now open space, pointing a gun directly at Pera's face.
"Mara?" Riffolk's face twisted, rage mingled with bafflement. He looked nothing like her husband in that moment; he barely even looked human.
"What are you doing here?"
Before she could answer, he pulled a very different looking gun from his belt with his free hand, and shot Pera in the chest. She recoiled and fell to the floor, and Mara's vision drained of colour. Nothing made sense any more. She wanted to ask Riffolk what was happening, why he'd shot Pera, why he looked so angry, but he raised the odd weapon to aim at her. The bang of its discharge sounded hollow and distant, but she felt a thud in her chest and a cold swept over her body. When it reached her head, she was dragged into darkness as though a thick, cold blanket had been pulled over her face.
Elana
Travelling through Ermoor was much easier than she thought it would be. Their tall buildings were almost as plentiful as the trees in Shanaken, and far easier to walk and run on. The only problem was that after several weeks, her magic seemed to be dwindling. She felt weaker. Slower. The food she was able to steal was drab and flavourless, as dead as the landscape from which it came. There were no fruit-bearing trees or bushes, no naturally growing food of any kind that she could find. The people were pale, rigid, and formal. They seemed to be obsessed with wealth and clothing, and worshipped a God which they had named simply "God". Worshipping their God was done indoors, in ornate buildings where they gathered in an eerie, mournful silence.
Has their God died? She thought to herself. It makes sense... I definitely don't feel the presence of Gods or magic here. An entire country ritualistically mourning a dead God several times per week... Elana shuddered. These people were disturbingly morbid. Why not just worship a different God? Amalus could give them so much knowledge... But even as she thought it she knew i
t would never happen. The Ermoori had been fighting to destroy Amalus and Shanaken for thousands of years. They would never worship her God.
She discovered more every day about their way of life. More importantly, she had located the head of their military, and the source of their technological power; the two most important people in Ermoor. Her priorities now were to take as much information as possible from them and return to the Duulshen to report, as well as sabotage their work as much as possible to slow Ermoor down.
Lord Commander Arthor Symond, leader of the Ermoori military, was insane. Elana realised this within minutes of seeing him for the first time. He was older, his hair slightly greying, his no doubt formerly impressive figure slightly sagging. Despite his age, he held an unmistakable air of unquestioned authority; a very dangerous amount of power for a madman to wield. He managed somehow to retain the illusion of sanity in the presence of his inferiors, which only made him that much more dangerous. But the first time Elana snuck into his office, he had been alone. He was muttering to himself, his tone swapping from rage to sulky humility and back again with terrifying suddenness. The whole time he spoke, he had been staring at a blank wall.
"Are you there?"
"Hmph. Why do you never respond then?"
"Yes of course, I apologise profusely, it's not my place to... Yes, of course!"
"They will! I will make sure of it, even if I have to gut them personally!"
"Oh please, please have mercy, I only meant that I... Oh my lord."
He stopped talking then, mumbling incoherently instead until his voice trailed off into silence. Elana perched in the shadows on a high bookshelf in a corner of the room. It was one of the only places a person could hide, and even Elana had to twist uncomfortably to fit. Every other room and building in Ermoor was ostentatiously decorated, but this man was simplistic and utilitarian. His office contained only that which he needed. The bookshelf was massive, but simple and sturdy, and filled with thick tomes that seemed to each be relevant to Ermoor's military and history in some way. No rich carpets, no hideously expensive artwork, no ornate furniture.
He mumbled again, then sat in a chair against the wall. The chair behind his desk, which was large and comfortable-looking but otherwise as plain as the rest of the office, sat ignored by its owner. He hunched forward and put his head in his hands, breathing slowly and deeply.
"Why me?" he said.
She stayed in his office until he left, then rifled through everything she could find. Mostly routine reports on soldier training and weapon production, as well as summaries of previous 'explorations' to Shanaken. She saw a recent file and stopped. 5,000 men sent on exploration to Shanaken, 7th month of 1772. She knew that by whatever measurement the Ermoori used, 1772 was the current year.
They're invading right now, she thought, and I'm rifling through some office across the sea. Trembling with the injustice of knowing her people were fighting without her, she put the file back where it came from. She let out a ragged sigh, closing her eyes and trying to focus. They can handle it, she thought, there are many Kaizeluun in Shanaken right now, and tens of thousands of Daishen. They need me here more than they need me on the battlefield.
It felt weak, even to herself, but it still helped. She'd fought the Ermoori many times, and the Shenza always won. They would win without her too. As much as she wished she was back home fighting, she had a mission to complete. Failing the Duulshen was not an option.
After Lord Commander Arthor Symond, Elana watched Overseer Riffolk Hayne. Much younger, with black hair and deep, intelligent eyes, Hayne was in his prime; though still nowhere near as physically intimidating as Symond. Elana suspected the Overseer was also insane, but in a cold, calculating, and much more terrifying way. He was always composed, always quiet, and always ten steps ahead. Being around him made Elana feel as though she was being watched, as though he knew she was there and was simply playing with her. She'd never felt so unsettled in her life. Shadows wrapped her in darkness, and she had never been so glad for the comforting invisibility of Shadow Magic. Hayne's laboratory was almost as stark as Symonds' office, although there were far more places to hide.
Hayne's assistants scurried around the lab constantly, scattering around Hayne as he walked through them thoughtlessly. He treated them the same way he treated the upper class nobility of Ermoor, and while that would normally indicate a humble sense of equality, in Hayne's case it simply meant he spared no thought for anyone but himself.
His eyes scanned over his terrified assistants in the same dispassionate way he studied his scientific equipment. Elana was certain that if a fire were to break out in the room, Hayne would attempt to save the most expensive or most useful equipment well before the assistant's safety even occurred to him.
Just off the main laboratory, a small office branched off from the corridor. Elana swept into it from an air duct in the ceiling. She was becoming accustomed to the odd Ermoori architecture, and had found useful ways of navigating the insides of buildings without being spotted. Boxes of neatly bound notebooks filled most of the office, and a small desk with a reading lamp took up one corner. Lining the walls were metal sets of drawers with locks set in each. It was cramped and stuffy, and filled with secrets.
Elana dropped silently to the floor, leaving the metal panel leading into the air duct open; escape was always on her mind in these closed-off Ermoori buildings. She scanned through the notebooks as quickly as she could. The Ermoori language was relatively simple to learn, and although she was far from fluent, Elana could read most basic words. She could understand and speak Ermoori at a conversational level too, and although it was an ugly language, she'd found it fascinating to learn.
The Duulshen possessed knowledge of the history, language and political landscape of each of the countries of Pandeia, and quite often ordered infiltration missions to obtain more up to date information. Most of the time, the information they held was simply kept for historical purposes. But it could also be used to win wars, and in Ermoor's case, the information the Duulshen held was the key to the Shenza repeatedly defeating the invasion attempts of the oppressive country.
Most of the notebooks contained complex scientific language that Elana didn't understand; her knowledge of the Ermoori language only stretched so far. Some were simpler, detailing the goings on of the laboratory in a diary-like fashion. The words were neat, concise, and somehow cold. It was clearly Hayne's handwriting.
She read the diary notebooks much more closely, trying to remember as much as she could. Luckily, the entries were dated, and she was able to find a notebook written within the last year. Most of the entries just described laboratory conditions, progress made on some unexplained project, and kept a record of dates and times of any significant events. One entry glared at her from the page, stopping her breath as suddenly as if her throat had been cut:
SUCCESS! Taranos lives. Energy output exceeds expectations. Progress now ahead of schedule. Mass production to begin within a fortnight. Estimated full delivery of working units is 2 years. Meeting with LC in 3 days to discuss logistics of invasion.
It was dated two days ago. Elana stared at the entry, committing the words to memory. So there was yet another invasion planned. Taranos lives. What does that mean? Some kind of new, undoubtedly horrible weapon was being built in large numbers. The good news was that Elana had plenty of time to try to stop it, and a meeting she could eavesdrop on the next day. ‘LC’ obviously stood for Lord Commander. It was a meeting she definitely needed to see.
Riffolk
Riffolk had seen things that shouldn't exist. He'd seen magic, and Gods, and technology that made his own inventions look like ancient relics. He was very difficult to surprise. But when the hidden entrance to his lab slid open and he came face to face with his young, naive wife, he was honestly baffled.
"Mara? What are you doing here?"
She looked just as shocked as he was, though he noted a healthy amount of fear in her expression as well. Good, h
e thought, she's right to fear me. It was immediately apparent that Mara wouldn't answer his question; she was frozen with fear. The other woman, the Tyran, looked to be a fighter. Before the situation could escalate, he shot them both with the dart gun and dragged them into the lab once they were unconscious.
His metal binding traps, though almost useless against the Shenza assassin, were incredibly effective on normal humans. The two girls were held in place, totally unable to move. He went back to his battery and worked until he heard them stir. He turned to see Mara staring uneasily at the creature.
"I'm surprised, Mara. And disappointed. What exactly were you hoping to achieve by coming here?"
The other one spoke for her. He greatly enjoyed the subservience of his wife, but when it came to talking, she seemed unable to when nervous, and was perpetually nervous around him. He preferred her remaining silent most of the time, so it usually didn't bother him, but when he asked her a question he expected an answer. The Tyran, however, was all fire and rebellion. She would be interesting to break.
"I'm here to stop you," she said, "and so is she."
He ignored other the girl, keeping his eyes on Mara. Provoking both of them at the same time; Mara hated his stare, and the Tyran was desperate for an emotional reaction. He kept his voice soft, low, and familiar, as though the married couple were alone sharing a private conversation.
"Is this true, Mara?"
She nodded, terrified. He expected her to deny it, beg and plead, but the slight nod of her head was resolute. Even through her terror, she'd found enough strength to defy him. Fury enveloped him, and for a moment, even though he remained totally still, his vision disappeared and all he saw was a wash of red. When the rage subsided enough that he could see again, the two girls were staring at him in horrified anticipation. He managed a smile, just to push them further into unease. He decided to show them some of his real work; the project that was shut down by Symond and the Twelve Crowns.
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