Singularity

by Eldon Farrell

  70

  Nathan stood shivering before the open balcony doors. It wasn’t cold in the room, but his shock lent him a profound chill. Some things cannot be unseen. Every time his eyes closed, he saw the soldier torn apart by the monster over his shoulder.

  A short man, who could only be Jason Crowley, stood on the balcony with his back to them. The hills burned outside. Thick, black smoke choked the air, lit underneath by flickering hues of orange and red. Nathan heard the crackle of trees burning. The scent of burnt leaves tickled his nose. He stifled a cough.

  Brutalis dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and forced him to his knees. The granite floor was unforgiving to his sore joints but, with the large hand still gripping his shoulder, Nathan gave no complaint.

  Without turning from the flames, Crowley asked, “What have you brought me, Brutalis?”

  The brute took a knee alongside Nathan and still towered over him. He bowed his head as he spoke, “Their leader, my master.”

  Crowley turned his head an inch, affording Nathan a glimpse of his profile but nothing of his face. “A good attempt, but no, he is not their leader.”

  Nathan felt the pressure on his shoulder increase. He winced in pain but couldn’t free himself from his grasp.

  Crowley returned his attention to the flames. “Leave us. Go protect Ripper.”

  Brutalis said, “But, master—”

  “Do not make me tell you again,” Crowley interrupted. “He will not attack me.” His head turned slightly again. “Not in his condition.”

  Brutalis bowed his head further. He released his vice grip on Nathan’s shoulder and lumbered from the room. Nathan tried to rub some feeling back into his shoulder and waited for Crowley to speak. Still without looking at him, Crowley announced, “Welcome to my keep, once-detective Nathan Miller.”

  Nathan eyed him and remained silent. The crackle of the wildfire filled the room. Crowley showed his profile again. “Tell me, do you feel at home in a castle? Were you not once a king on your streets as well?”

  Nathan rose to his feet. He glared at Crowley’s back. “If you knew anything about me, you would’ve known better than to take a shot at me.”

  “I know almost everything about you.” Crowley crossed his wrists behind his back and rocked on the balls of his feet. “Where’s King?”

  Nathan answered, “Your freaks killed her.”

  Crowley half-turned his head. He wagged a finger and tsked at Nathan. “I have eyes everywhere, Nathan. And my freaks are not fond of handguns. You would’ve been more believable had you bludgeoned her to death.” He turned all the way around to face him. “What’s the matter? Didn’t have the stomach for it?”

  Nathan gasped when he looked at Crowley’s face. Crowley lifted his brow and asked, “Is that surprise I see? Do you recognize me as well?”

  Nathan coughed and blood splattered the granite floor. Recovered, he stared at Crowley. “The picture taken before the Krubera expedition—you look exactly the same. Twenty-six years and you haven’t aged a day.”

  “Kind of you to notice,” Crowley said.

  Nathan blinked his confusion away. “Holt told us he never discovered your augmentation.” He gazed at Crowley’s youthful appearance. “He lied to us.”

  Crowley smiled. “About a great many things, I’m afraid.” He walked into the room and slid the balcony doors closed. The scent of scorched earth hung in the coffers overhead. “Why did you come here, once-king? So far from your kingdom …”

  Nathan answered, “To stop you.”

  “Don’t do that,” Crowley admonished him. “I’m no more the villain here, than you are the hero.” He walked over to where long, narrow tapestries hung from the ceiling. Each one was black with a yellow embroidered crest. “You came here to seek vengeance, and, judging by how you look, vengeance found you.”

  Crowley reached behind a tapestry and pushed against a stone block. Gears ground behind the wall, and a secret door yawned open. Crowley held the tapestry back and said, “This way please.”

  Nathan stared into the dark passageway. He scoffed. “Is this the part where you give me your super villain rationale for the things you’ve done?”

  Crowley’s mouth tightened. “I told you, I’m not the villain here.”

  “And I’m not listening.”

  “Yes, you are,” Crowley said, “You’ve been lied to, Nathan. You’re not on the side of angels. Follow me, and I’ll show you the truth.”

  Hesitant at first, Nathan hobbled over to the passageway. He gave Crowley a pointed look and then followed him into the castle’s murky depths. They descended a stone staircase that spiraled around a central pillar. Muted light from an oculus set high above led the way down to where bioluminescent paint glowed an ethereal blue.

  Nathan asked, “If you’re not a villain, how do you explain sending Blur to kill me?”

  Their footsteps echoed off the close stone walls. Looking back up, Crowley said, “In point of fact, I didn’t.”

  Nathan’s tone showed his derision. “You didn’t send him after Reyes either, I suppose?”

  Crowley momentarily stopped his descent. “On the contrary, Reyes was a necessary sacrifice. Everything else that happened in that church, however, was entirely on Blur. He proved not to be the best recruit.”

  “Recruit?” Nathan said, “Did he volunteer? I know Bradley and Rebecca didn’t. Did any of them?”

  Crowley stared up at him, their eyes met in the sparse light and Nathan recognized the arrogance within them. “Sacrifices must be made.” He continued down into the pit.

  At the bottom, Crowley pressed another stone close to the ground and a door opened out into a circular room. Nathan trailed him out of the passageway and felt an uneasy feeling come over him. The low ceiling seemed to press down upon them. “What is this place?” Nathan asked.

  Crowley pointed to the ceiling. “The Baetylus Stone rests on the other side of that ceiling. This is where augmentation occurs.” Nathan felt a cold sweat trickle down the nape of his neck. Crowley continued, “The artifact Holt desires is right there. Did he tell you why he wants it? Or why he sent you to help retrieve it?”

  Nathan said nothing. Crowley grinned. “I thought not. You don’t know Holt the way I do. But we both know you, Detective Miller. Let me share a secret with you. Willie Vargas is not the head of the snake. He does not direct your Cabal. Vargas answers to one above him. He answers to Tiberius Holt.”

  Nathan kept his face calm. He breathed out slowly and limped around Crowley. “Why would I believe you?”

  Crowley spread his hands apart. “Don’t. It doesn’t matter to me. Consider your situation though, in light of this revelation. The Cabal cast you out. What better way to end the problem you represent then send you to the middle of nowhere?” Crowley laughed. “And to think, you probably demanded to come, didn’t you?”

  Nathan felt his cheeks flush with rage. He ground his teeth together, his lip curling with spite. Crowley said, “Don’t feel bad. You were ill equipped to deal with an intellect as advanced as Holt’s. Tiberius Holt may be the most dangerous man on the planet and, for that reason alone, he cannot get his hands on the Baetylus Stone. Have you heard of Horde Protocol?”

  Nathan nodded. “According to him, a security protocol protecting his company’s files.”

  Crowley moved across the room. He shook his head. “I wish it were only that. Horde Protocol is the reason I stole the stone from him. He plans to use it to raise an army bent to his will.”

  Nathan chuckled. “Says the guy with a raised army bent to his will.”

  Crowley lifted a finger and said, “If Holt ever gains the stone, you’ll be glad I raised this army. Sacrifices have been made because a war is coming.” He banged a fist against a camouflaged door. Nathan heard a lock disengage and watched the door swing open. Crowley looked at him. “It’s time for you to choose which side of the war you’re on, Nathan. Choose wisely.”

&nb
sp; 71

  Archer felt tingling in his fingers and toes as he followed Moss through the castle. His head pounded, worse than his worst hangover. Pausing a moment, he closed his eyes and relived Siren being bound and gagged.

  He no longer desired her, but the memory of that hunger haunted him. Never had he needed anyone the way he needed her. The intense longing left an indelible mark not soon forgotten.

  “You okay?”

  Archer opened his eyes and stared at Moss. He shook free of the unwanted memory and hurried to catch up. “I’ll be fine.” They descended another stairwell. “Do you know where we’re going?”

  Moss’ mechanical voice echoed off the close stone walls. “Records show this castle housed an oubliette. If the artifact is anywhere, it’ll be there.” Upon reaching the bottom, Moss crouched next to the door and said, “Expect resistance. You good to fight?”

  Archer answered, “Was better before you tased me.”

  “You were trying to kill us,” Moss said, “I told you to fight it off.”

  “You ever experienced her whammy?”

  Moss pointed to his mask. “Is why I wear the re-breather. These creatures are no joke.”

  “Yeah, no shit.” Archer glanced up the stairwell. “Should we wait for Drachen?”

  Moss shook his head. “He may not recover in time. We breach without him.” Moss stood and kicked the door open. “Let’s go.”

  Archer stepped into the dungeon corridor and heard water dripping somewhere ahead. Damp air clung to his skin and chilled his bones. His fingers brushed the fletching of an arrow and drew it from his quiver. Moss looked back at him and gestured with two fingers towards the end of the corridor. A light shone bright in the gloom and drew them like moths to a flame.

  They stepped into a large octagonal room and blinked to adjust to the change in light. “Your friends have arrived, Nathan.” A smooth voice off to the right declared. “Ripper. Brutalis. Make it quick.”

  Nathan stood beside Crowley and watched as his henchmen attacked.

  Brutalis loosed a deafening roar in the confined space and charged headlong at Archer. Nathan saw the much smaller man duck and roll away from the brute force attack. Archer came up firing and sent an arrow screaming at Brutalis. It struck him in the throat but didn’t penetrate his skin and deflected away harmlessly. Brutalis growled and used his massive fists as a club. His blow hit the stone floor with enough force to crack it and shake the room.

  Nathan took a step back and saw Crowley smile at him. “Your friends do not have long, I’m afraid. Join me, Nathan. Together we can attack our real enemy.”

  Nathan stared at him a moment, then turned away. Gunfire drew his attention to the left side of the octagon where Moss shot at Ripper. His bullets missed their target and ricocheted off the walls. Ripper tossed throwing stars in retaliation as he rolled behind cover. The blades struck Moss in the arm and hand, forcing him to drop his weapon.

  Ripper rolled over top of the raised stone he used as cover and pressed his advantage. He unsheathed a sword from the scabbard on his back and took a deadly swing at Moss. The clang of the blade against kavendium armor resounded in the space.

  Brutalis roared again. The giant swung a backhand fist and clipped Archer with the follow through. Archer went flying across the room where he crashed into the wall. Nathan stepped forward. His eyes implored the man to get up. He turned his attention back to Moss.

  Ripper deftly dodged every close quarter strike Moss made and followed up with devastating counters of his own. His blade sliced through the hose for Moss’s re-breather and missed his throat by inches. Moss tumbled to the ground and removed his mask before he suffocated. Ripper pressed the sword to his throat.

  “There is no hope they’ll win,” Crowley said, “I know you can see that. Make the right choice.”

  Nathan’s breathing increased. He stared at Crowley’s smug expression but recognized the truth supporting his arrogance. Thunderous footfalls regained his attention as Brutalis closed the gap between him and his target. Archer lifted his head and reached down by his leg. He snared a bola and threw it at Brutalis. The cord wrapped around his ankles and sent the lumbering giant crashing to the floor.

  Archer was up in a flash. He raced forward and scooped up his fallen bow. Notching two arrows, he flipped through the air to land on Brutalis’ back and shoulders. Taking aim, he fired the arrows at the back of his neck. Twin lines of blood appeared where they sliced Brutalis open, but again his skin kept the arrows from finishing him.

  Brutalis flung Archer off him. He freed his ankles of the bola and stumbled to his feet. Brutalis took menacing steps forward and fell. Nathan moved forward, not believing what eyes told him. Brutalis was down. But how?

  Archer looked over at them. Crowley said, “Poison tip arrows. Well played.”

  Archer pulled another arrow from his quiver. He showed it to them, then spun around and sent it flying toward the ceiling. It connected with an explosive force and part of the ceiling collapsed on top of Brutalis.

  Nathan turned from the explosion and watched Moss knock Ripper over top of him, taking advantage of his momentary lapse of concentration. Ripper’s balance kept him on his feet, though, and ready to make another strike. An assault rifle sounded through the chaos. Its shot sending the sword from Ripper’s grasp. Nathan looked across the room and saw Drachen holding Ripper in his crosshairs.

  Nathan made his choice. He whipped his left hand out and gripped Crowley by the throat. Shock spread across the man’s face. Nathan squeezed enough to make him splutter, then dropped him to the stone floor.

  Nathan watched Moss subdue Ripper, taking his feet out from under him, then slapping binders on his wrists. Crowley leered at him. “You’ve made a grave mistake. Soon, you will regret your choice.”

  Nathan bent over him and grabbed his jaw between his forefinger and thumb. “I don’t think so.” He shoved his head against the ground. “I’m nobody’s puppet.”

  “Your timing is impeccable.” His mask off and his voice no longer mechanical, Moss winked at Drachen.

  Drachen fitted another magazine into his assault rifle and nodded on his way to the center of the room. The pile of rubble burying Brutalis shifted and drew all their attention. Nathan cinched the ties around Crowley’s wrists tighter and hobbled away from him. “We shouldn’t linger.”

  “He’s right.” Archer kept an arrow trained on the pile of rubble. “We don’t want to be here when goliath there gets up.”

  “Agreed,” Moss ordered Drachen, “Grab the prize, and let’s move out.” He turned his attention to Crowley as Drachen ran across the room. “Jason Crowley, I presume? My boss would like a few words.” Moss hauled him to his feet amidst his grumbling complaints.

  Crowley frowned. “When this country falls, remember this day as the day you all had a chance to prevent it.” Moss shoved him forward.

  Rocks rolled down the pile as the debris lifted, then fell back into place. Nathan hobbled closer to Archer and waited for Drachen. When he reappeared, he carried a gleaming cylinder in one hand and showed them a wide grin.

  “Time to fly,” Moss said, “Exfil in ten.”

  As Drachen passed them, Archer asked, “Is that what will cure Rebecca?”

  Drachen turned his head. Nathan saw a glimmer in his eye and knew what was coming. “Actually,” Drachen said, “I lied. My boss isn’t working on a cure, and I doubt such a thing is even possible.”

  Archer tensed beside Nathan. His face hardened, and his aim slid away from the rubble.

  “Don’t do it.” Moss hollered from the doorway—his weapon aimed at Archer’s head. “You’re not that fast.”

  Drachen’s smile broadened. He drew his gold-plated pistol and pointed it between Archer’s eyes. “Drop the bow, Robin Hood.”

  Nathan watched Archer tremble. He recognized rage when he saw it and knew better than most the trouble it could lead to. “It’s not worth it.”

  A
rcher’s bow clattered to the floor. Drachen beamed. “Good advice, Miller.” He glared at Archer a moment longer before glancing at Nathan. “One more thing.” Drachen whipped the butt of his pistol against Nathan’s cheek. Pain blossomed over his face as his knees gave out, and Nathan tumbled to the ground.

  Drachen held Archer at bay and stood over Nathan. “That’s for all my guys you killed by staying quiet. And, in case you haven’t guessed, this is the end of the road.”

  Blood gushed from his wound, and Nathan let it pour. Defiant, he stared up at Drachen and swore, “You fucking piece of shit.”

  “Sticks and stones, Miller.” Drachen backed away and then rushed over to Moss who kept watch on them.

  The pile of rubble moved behind them. A low growl escaped the rocks. Archer took a step forward. “Next time I see you, Drachen, I will kill you.”

  Drachen gave them both a withering look. “Good luck with that. Give my best to the waking giant.” Nathan watched him go. He followed Moss from the room and locked the door after him.

  Archer hollered in frustration, but Nathan remained focused. He got to his feet and said, “It’s not over yet. This way.” Archer looked at him confused. “Through the oubliette—there’s another way out.”

  Nathan led Archer into the oubliette. His eyes tracked overhead to where the Baetylus Stone once sat. With it gone, he didn’t have the same uneasy feeling as before.

  “What is this place?” Archer asked, “How do you know about it?”

  Nathan placed his palms against the roughhewn stone work and felt for a switch he knew had to be there. “It’s a medieval torture chamber they used to hold the artifact. Crowley brought me down through here.” He continued to search. “There should be a loose stone around here. Help me find it.”

  Archer joined the frantic search as Nathan’s right hand stumbled across a loose stone. He pushed it in and was rewarded with the grinding of gears. A doorway opened on the far side of the circular room, and Nathan nodded to Archer. “This way.”