The Descent into the Maelstrom (The Phantom of the Earth Book 4)

by Zen, Raeden

  “They aren’t what they seem,” Verena said. “They’re led by one of our own. By the supreme scientist Jeremiah Selendia—”

  “Former Supreme Scientist Selendia is long dead by now, my lady.” Tethys furrowed his brow. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Your captain was here, not long ago, asking about Jeremiah.” Tethys breathed loudly. “He’s dead, yet you lie to save your captain—”

  “She doesn’t,” Nero said. “I saw him with my own eyes. I rescued him from a secret prison.”

  “Don’t insult my intelligence. If a supreme scientist of his stature lived, imprisoned,” Tethys fiddled with his chains, “Chancellor Masimovian would be violating every oath he swore to uphold.”

  Nero lifted another cube. Tethys turned as if to exit, but Verena grabbed ahold of him.

  “Wait!” she said.

  Nero closed his eyes and connected to the ZPF, summoning his memories of the raid.

  The cube glowed, then darkened, blurred, and focused upon a supply shaft in Permutation Crypt.

  Nero opened his eyes.

  Tethys eased back onto his cube. He watched the BP team, Nero with them, fight off Janzers in the Crypt. He watched Murray die, cut in half by a diamond blade.

  “I’ve seen enough.” Tethys stood and tugged on his cape, rubbed his chains.

  After the battle, Jeremiah Selendia lay in Nero’s arms the way Zorian had handed him over, wounded, abused, split open, as thin and weak as the elderly.

  “I said enough!”

  “I will relieve you,” Nero said, “but that doesn’t make the chancellor’s actions any less real, any less traitorous, in your own words.”

  Nero blinked. The cube went dark.

  “I’ve done everything in my power to improve the lives of humanity for centuries,” Tethys said, “but to cross into this realm with you would mean my death and the death of my citadel. The destruction of my citadel, my people’s lives, sacrificed—”

  “We understand,” Nero said, “and that is why you mustn’t speak or think of this conversation when you leave this chamber.” He handed Tethys the recaller. “Use this from now on.”

  Tethys took the alloyed coin-shaped object in his hand. He shook his head. “What do you want of me?”

  “Universal access to Area 55 and your ministry pass code to Marstone’s Database,” Verena said.

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you …”

  Verena folded her arms. “Minister, don’t allow one injustice to serve another.”

  “Neither Chancellor Masimovian nor Minister Sineine were comfortable keeping the Lorum within Boreas, even in Area 55—”

  “Where is it?” Nero said.

  Tethys looked down.

  “Minister,” Verena said, putting her hand upon his arm, “we have to know where it is.”

  “You’ll never get it,” he said, easing away from her touch. “The more I think about it,” he rubbed the gemstones on his chains, “the more I realize it wasn’t contamination the chancellor, Genevieve, or Antosha feared … if you’d told me earlier in the trimester, maybe …” Tethys exhaled. “It all makes sense now … Antosha must’ve known …”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “At the behest of Supreme Scientist Antosha Zereoue, the board and ministry approved the transfer of the Lorum to quarantine in the City of Eternal Darkness.”

  ZPF Impulse Wave: Oriana Barão

  Halcyon Village

  Dunamis, Underground West

  2,500 meters deep

  I didn’t jump off that bridge. Duccio dropped me.

  He tells it differently.

  How could you believe him over me?

  We agreed we’d go into the archive together.

  Is that what this is about?

  I don’t know what to think about that day anymore … Lady California’s coming. I’ll see you in class.

  Nathan disconnected from Oriana. She huffed, then activated her Granville panel. Alpinia City engulfed her room, the waterfalls, the terracotta Granville sun—the bioluminescence in the night, the foggy Seaborne Bridge, and the sprawling tree on the other end.

  Lately she didn’t know who annoyed her more, Nathan Storm, the Summersets, Lady Isabelle, or Pasha. Nathan’s incredulity was enough to make her scream. She remembered what Duccio had done, how he’d tripped up her steps, grabbed her arm, then let go. She couldn’t quite recall what he said to her first, just his sneer as he said it, but all the other details had come back to her, bit by bit, and she assumed that would too. To hear Nathan tell it, she planned it, even down to fibbing about how fast she could run across that bridge so that Pasha would pair her with Duccio.

  Another memory returned—Nathan calling out Duccio’s name, then hers, in that order, just before she fell.

  Then there was Pasha. Her twin brother woke up before her these days, warming up and studying as he never had prior to the Warning. He dared blame her for the Warning, suggesting if she’d not made him go outside House Summerset, the incident with the Janzers never would’ve happened. She didn’t ask him to send the gulls after the Janzers! Oriana’s stomach turned just thinking about it. If it were up to her, they might’ve hid for a while and escaped.

  She heard a tapping at her door and turned.

  “You ready?” Pasha said.

  Oriana sighed. “I am,” she said. She tired of arguing with him about the Warning.

  They ate breakfast, then went to the simulator room. Two Harpoon harnesses hung inside, and Lady Parthenia attached them to the twins …

  … Oriana’s vision filled with white light, and when it cleared she stood next to Pasha in the familiar candidate stadium. Clouds loomed above and spread below, visible through the stadium’s planks. On the lowermost level, Lady Isabelle walked in a circle, her hands clasped behind her back. She wore a colorful silk scarf and white bodysuit without her cape. Her jaw looked taut, her face contorted into a scowl. Oriana wondered what angered the instructor. She hoped it wasn’t the Warning.

  More candidates materialized inside the stadium, Gaia and Duccio Serretta among them. Oriana bit her lip, hoping that Gaia might speak to her today. She never answered Oriana’s calls through Marstone. After class the day before yesterday, Oriana had rushed to her, but Gaia had left the Harpoon VR just as Oriana tried to cut in front of her.

  When all the thirteen-million-plus candidates entered the stadium, Isabelle split herself in two, four, eight, sixteen, and so on until five-hundred-thousand-plus copies of her were arranged in rows. The world disintegrated, and when it reformed, Oriana found herself in a circle with nineteen other Harpoon candidates. Gaia was one of them! Oriana felt her senses heighten, as if adrenalin flowed through her. She calmed herself, taking steady breaths the way Lady Parthenia taught her.

  Lady Isabelle sat in the center of the circle, her legs folded as if in meditation. Oriana looked down. A diamond sword lay before her. Martial arts. She thought about her nightmare, when Gaia stabbed her with her sai in the pond. Dread twisted in Oriana’s gut like a knife. She held her stomach.

  She spied the other candidates. Except for Gaia, she didn’t know any of them. She did know that certain developers, like the Summersets, specialized in styles of martial arts. The candidates from Houses Coniac, Frum, and Praibon posed little threat to her victory during this lesson, Oriana thought, while those from Houses Turon, Lissette, and Adao might make her work for victory. She didn’t recognize the other houses. She had no idea what Gaia would do. During the last martial arts lesson, when they were friends, they’d sparred to a draw.

  “You are all here because you have great skills and interest in the martial arts,” Lady Isabelle began. She stood. “These skills will remain with you for the rest of your immortal lives, and should you receive a bid at the Harpoon Auction, aid in your service to the commonwealth.” She looked from one candidate to the next, turning. “We do not tolerate crime in the Great Commonwealth.”

  Isabelle glared at Oriana. “As you know,�
� she added, “that doesn’t mean crime is nonexistent in our great country.”

  Oriana remembered her conversation with Noria. Your father killed your mother’s lover. A part of Oriana wished Noria wouldn’t have told her what had happened to her parents, while another part wished Noria had been her mother. More than anything else, she wished her father would’ve killed Verne before he killed her mother.

  Isabelle spun from Oriana and raised her voice. “Crime exists because of a lack of dedication and knowledge, dedication to the chancellor’s precepts, knowledge of the ZPF. For it is from the chancellor and the cosmos we must derive our strength and loyalty and service to the commonwealth.” Isabelle tossed her hair. “Do you all understand this?” The candidates nodded. Isabelle looked up, then closed her eyes.

  The world transformed around them.

  The candidates hung in midair at the center of a maelstrom made of cumulous and wispy clouds. Farther away, more clouds bubbled, like water in a cauldron. The dark sides of a moon and planet loomed above. Beside the planet and far away, a white sun burned with power. Clouds, celestial bodies, atmosphere, and sunlight created from Isabelle’s mind.

  “Who among you can break my hold in the ZPF?” Isabelle wanted to know.

  “I can do it,” Oriana declared. All the candidates, except Gaia, turned toward her. Oriana’s heart thrummed. “I can do it.”

  Isabelle inclined her head, then peered into Oriana’s eyes. “Any trimester now.”

  Oriana ignored the instructor. She closed her eyes and calmed her mind, sensing the rhythm of Isabelle’s connection to the ZPF. She spread her innermost energy in great waves. The clouds rotated swiftly and descended below the candidates. Oriana’s mouth dried. The sunlight dimmed. The candidates whispered. Oriana tightened her fists. Tranquility and ease, she thought, tranquility and ease. She loosened her fists. Sweat streamed down her face. The world turned dark. Some candidates screamed.

  When light returned, the candidates looked around in wonderment.

  They stood along the outside of a pond surrounded by yellow light and trees. It smelled like rain and moss. Oriana opened her eyes slowly. She’d created the scenery from the Candidate Beach. She looked at Gaia and mouthed, Please, forgive me.

  Gaia folded her arms and twisted her lips the way she would when Duccio bothered her.

  “Nice work, Miss Oriana.” Lady Isabelle nodded to her.

  This was the first time Oriana could ever recall the instructor complimenting her. She held her head high.

  Isabelle altered the world again. The candidates now stood before a mansion. Oriana peered up. The place seemed as if it reached for the gods. Dark wooden panels on the outside looked like they were being eaten by termites. Pairs of windows on either side of the mansion were shattered. Curtains flew out of some of them. The stench of burning leaves lingered.

  Isabelle made her way around a fountain and up a winding staircase that led to the front entrance. She placed her hands upon a balustrade. Behind her, twenty doorways glowed with lavender phosphorescent light. Lightning struck the siding and revealed the broken statues that adorned the ledges near the windows.

  Oriana shivered when thunder shook the ground beneath her. She rubbed her arms, and could not, for her life, figure out what Isabelle planned with this lesson. She stared at Gaia, who looked on emotionlessly.

  Isabelle lifted her palms in the air to her left and right. “Take your weapons. Pick a door, enter the house, obtain the flags, emerge victorious, and I’ll add one thousand points to your simulation scores.”

  Some candidates whispered, while others gasped. Isabelle often offered points during the lessons, but never more than one hundred.

  Oriana pondered whether she underestimated this group. She thought about her training with the Summersets. There’s a rhythm to everything, including your opponents. Know the rhythm of their movements, their thoughts, their very souls, as they’re revealed in the ZPF. Balance your own rhythm to counteract theirs, and no one will stop you.

  Oriana studied her opponents. Nervousness and excitement seemed to influence their rhythm. Or were these emotions influencing Oriana? She couldn’t tell.

  The candidates lifted their weapons, sickles, short swords, nunchaku, bōs, daggers, chains attached to spiked orbs, and sai. Oriana lifted her sword and sheathed it across her back. She moved with the candidates toward the mansion. Gaia strutted far from her. They all made their way up the stairs, to the doors.

  Oriana observed Gaia. She looked as if she had lost weight, and her arms were toned, her shoulders narrower, her breasts smaller, and her butt slimmer. She was a fast fighter before. Oriana hoped she could at least spar to a draw with her today should they face off inside.

  “Enter!” Isabelle said. Lightning speared the balustrade beside her.

  The doors opened.

  Oriana rushed forward. The door slammed behind her. She turned around for a heartbeat, then twisted. A chandelier hung overhead, filled with candles. It looked as big as the moon, spreading its light over a dilapidated wooden floor, shattered glass, bronze sconces shaped like harps, marble pillars, and two wide staircases on either side that descended to a singular staircase at the center, close to Oriana. The place stank like chemicals and wet paint. Oriana scrunched her nose.

  She darted up the left staircase to where the first golden flag hung from a teardrop-shaped statue. She solved the mathematical query, and a new doorway emerged ahead of her. She nudged it open, then pushed through. Horses, impaled by silver rods, bled, squirmed, and thrashed their tails. They moved up and down, down and up, rotating around a carousel.

  A macabre singsong gave Oriana a start, and gooseflesh spread over her skin.

  “Our trial fearing, freezing, roams. The island filled with fertile loam.”

  A woman’s voice.

  Oriana glimpsed her on the other side of the carousel, the graceful movements of her arms, her dress rising and falling with her frizzed, tangled hair.

  “Reassortment waning, weary. Weeping island now not dreary.”

  Oriana had learned about the “Song of the Jubilee” during a history lesson in House Summerset. She wondered why this woman would sing it here, now. Who was she? Was this a riddle? Oriana could neither locate a golden flag in the room nor sense one in the ZPF.

  The carousel screeched to a halt. Oriana stepped back. The woman held an empty pole and curled around it. Her face looked bone white, her lips bloodred.

  “Our engineers fly upstarting. Planting, fishing, celebrating.”

  She hopped off the carousel, making her way toward Oriana.

  “Reconstructing all the surface, where we’ll cherish all resources.”

  The woman stopped in front of Oriana.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Oriana troubled to breathe.

  “Mother?” She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. She reached for Mother’s hair and felt its softness between her forefinger and thumb. “Is this real?”

  Mother hugged her. “I’m as real as the floor on which you stand.”

  When they separated, the color had returned to Mother’s face. Her angled cheekbones, her long eyelashes, her untangled hair, her thin lips lifted in a smile, features oh so like Oriana’s.

  “I’ve dreamed of you,” Oriana said, “just like this.”

  “I know you have.” Her mother embraced her again. “I’ll always be with you.” Oriana squeezed her tight, hoping she might be able to bring her back to House Summerset. “You’ll always be my sweet little girl.”

  Mother looked into Oriana’s eyes, her hands upon Oriana’s cheeks. She caressed Oriana’s skin with her thumbs. “I want you to succeed, sweet Oriana. I want you to receive the first bid at the auction.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Oriana said.

  “You’ll do more than that, my sweet. You’ll remain loyal to the commonwealth.”

  Oriana held Mother’s hands. “I don’t understand.”

  “You have great potential.�
� Mother shook her head. “You won’t realize it unless you dedicate yourself to the commonwealth.”

  “I’m a proud Beimenian, Mother. I will serve the chancellor. I will become an aera—”

  “No matter what, you must serve the commonwealth.”

  “I’ll always serve Beimeni, Mother, no matter what.”

  “That’s my girl.” Mother hugged Oriana again, then disappeared.

  Oriana opened her mouth wide as if to scream. Her breath caught.

  “Mother?”

  She turned.

  “Mother.”

  She exhaled.

  “Mother!”

  Of course, she wasn’t real, Oriana thought. Her mother was dead and her father had been sent to Farino Prison for his crime, Noria assured her. Oriana felt as if her energy drained through the crusty floor. She lifted her head when a golden flag formed and glowed in midair above her. She snatched it out of the air and put it in her satchel.

  A new archway formed on the far side of the room. Oriana darted through it and down a long, lit corridor. She entered a ballroom. She slid. A sickle flew over her. It boomeranged across the dance floor, back to the hand of its wielder—the House Adao candidate.

  He looked like a gerbil with his teeth set on his lower lip, his big ears, and his wispy-haired mustache. He held a sickle in each hand, and his movements seemed consistent with one of the older styles, though Oriana couldn’t place it. He told her she was his next flag. Flicking his wrists, he sent the sickles spinning wide around the ballroom. Using telekinesis, he guided the sickles toward her neck and knees.

  Oriana sensed the candidate’s consciousness in the ZPF. She jumped and twisted parallel to the ground. The sickles passed above and below her, and with her sword she knocked them from their orbit, sending one into the ground, the other into the high ceiling. She discerned the Adao candidate’s rhythm in the ZPF and disrupted his connection.