The group trudged into the rising heat of day. Now the Master led them, guided by his colorful map. As the mountains drew nearer, he began mumbling to himself with greater frequency.
Xander hoped that the journey's end was near. His eagerness to find artifacts from before the Cataclysm remained, but he also carried the brooding fear that every passing hour carried him further from reunion with his clan.
The path began to slope—at first gradually in waves of round hills; then steeply over broken rocky terrain. A scent like pitch wafted on the dry breeze.
“Look at that.” Nahel pointed to something poking out of the sand. He stooped and picked up a piece of glossy black gravel. “This doesn't belong here,” he said, crumbling the greasy aggregate between his fingers. “I think it’s man-made.”
“I have not seen such stone before,” said Xander.
Arcanadeus studied his map and started up a narrow path leading steeply upward. “This way.”
Xander and the rest followed.
The climb into the mountains was slow and difficult. If not for Nahel, Xander was sure they’d have gotten hopelessly lost, with or without the map.
An hour before noon, the travelers rounded a boulder-choked bend. A tunnel yawned in their path. The mouth of the passage towered over Xander’s head. Unmistakably artificial, the great arch was fronted with a rim of corroded metal that buckled near a fissure in the red rock wall. Gravel littered the ground. The air felt heavy, and no wind stirred to break the silence.
Xander peered into the impenetrable gloom ahead. Nahel was the first to venture forward. He unsheathed his swords, and the tunnel magnified the whisper of steel on leather to a hissing echo. To Xander’s surprise, Damus came next.
Arcanadeus fell in next with a final exhortation. “Come, Master Sykes. We draw near to the end of our road.”
The darkness does not scare you, Xander told himself. Only what your mind conjures there. The Nesshin who walks in his people’s way fears nothing. The land is his brother, and God names him worthy.
Xander summoned his motion shield. He’d last used it against the Isnashi, but it somehow came easier. He stepped toward the abyss, hiding a thin smile beneath his wrappings.
A half circle of light intruded just inside the tunnel entrance. Xander joined his friends there. Pitch darkness loomed ahead. A radiant globe appeared over Nahel’s shoulder, disturbing the perpetual night with its soft glow.
Damus stooped to examine the ground. His voice echoed between vast unseen walls. “Nahel, bring the light closer.”
The malakh obliged, sending his orb to illuminate the tunnel floor.
Xander stared in amazement. He’d been trudging over crumbled rock, but mere feet ahead, the light showed the gravel giving way to a smooth level surface.
“I think this is the same stuff we saw before,” said Nahel.
“What do these mean?” Damus asked, pointing to the reflective lines inscribed in yellow and white on the coal-black surface.
Arcanadeus stepped forward to examine the bright parallel lines, dashes, and arrows. “This tunnel was part of a secret road made by the Guild. Even most Masters were ignorant of the place where we now stand. Tread lightly.”
The expedition continued down the forgotten road, their steps echoing eerily. Xander peered back over his shoulder and felt a chill go down his spine as he realized that the circle of light marking the tunnel’s entrance had vanished. The exit lay somewhere ahead in the unknown blackness.
Isolation from the outside world soon dulled Xander’s sense of time. He realized that his heart was racing. He tried calming himself with deep, slow breaths and noticed an unusual musty odor. “Do you smell that?” He whispered. “What is it?”
“No idea,” said Nahel. “I noticed it about ten minutes ago. The air's getting damp, too.”
“How can you tell time in here?” Xander asked.
Nahel smiled. “I count my steps.”
“Listen!” Damus hissed, gesturing for the party to halt. “What you smell can’t be as disturbing as what I hear!”
Xander listened. At first he heard only the receding echoes of his friends’ footsteps, but soon he detected another, almost ambient, sound. The strange susurrus seemed to emanate from everywhere at once, like the rattling breath of the tunnel itself.
“I can’t place it,” Damus said. “What do you make of this, Nahel?”
“Not much. I’ve heard it off and on for a while now. Thought it was an underground stream at first.”
“It is like rocks tumbling in swift water,” said Xander, “but it’s flowing over the walls.”
“Nahel!” Arcanadeus said. “Shine your light on the wall.”
Nahel’s tiny lamp floated to one side, leaving the travelers in darkness. Xander held his breath until the light reached the wall. The others’ cries muffled his.
A writhing swarm of freakishly large insects covered the wall. As if acting with one mind, the vermiform mass recoiled at the touch of the light. Fist-sized compound eyes glittered, and serrated mandibles gnashed in anger.
Nahel’s light traversed the tunnel’s arc. The walls and ceiling writhed with dog-sized insects. A rattling hiss reverberated through the underground.
Fleeing the light, the vermin closed in. One of them slashed Damus’ arm with its scythe-like forelimb. He answered by running his rapier through the beast’s mottled head. Xander felt a rush of primal satisfaction at the insect’s death, but his glee faded as the swarm flowed toward them from all sides.
And then day came where it never had before.
“Run!” Arcanadeus cried from within the blazing yellow light. “I can’t sustain the Working for long!”
Xander plunged into a nightmare of vague rioting shapes and blinding light. Time seemed to slow in proportion to his desperation. He imagined running through the scabrous throat of a diseased giant that shuddered as if coughing. He didn’t care whether or not it was gravel crunching beneath his feet.
The all-encompassing darkness returned, accompanied by a measureless sense of despair, for the clicking and chirping of the tunnel’s denizens came ever louder from behind.
As Xander’s flash-burned eyes grew used to the dark, a faint white point appeared. “This way!” he shouted. Pushing his aching lungs and legs to the edge of endurance, he fled toward the light and hoped that his friends followed.
9
Xander and his friends sat gasping for breath on the sandy ledge. He would have kept running, but exhaustion eclipsed his primal dread of many-eyed creeping things. He looked back at the tunnel’s black mouth. Nothing stirred. An uneasy quiet settled over the hillside.
Squinting in the harsh light, Xander surveyed the lands beyond the lost road. The hill sloped down into a desert valley ringed by jagged mountains the color of singed oak—a giant basin where still, stifling hot air pooled.
Nearby, Nahel sat tending Damus’ lacerated arm. The Light Gen saw he was being watched and glowered back. “I’ll be sure to note your sphere’s charming wildlife in my report.”
“The desert never held such horrors,” Xander said. “Did the Guild set them as guards?”
Arcanadeus raised his cowled head. “The Cataclysm was more than the end of an age. It has wrought a new creation on the burned foundations of the old. Mithgar endured much death, but there is also new life—or the return of life so ancient that the tale of its age is written only in stone.”
Damus rubbed the bloody sleeve of his once fine shirt with a handkerchief. “If the Cataclysm spawned that sort of life elsewhere, I pity Her Majesty’s emissaries to other spheres.”
Indignation lent Xander strength and reminded him of their mission’s urgency. “Life from elsewhere may be here hunting us. They are your kin, so pity mine and keep moving.”
Surprisingly, Damus rose and fell in behind Xander without complaint. Nahel did likewise. Arcanadeus took the lead, following the broken pavement that emerged at intervals from the sand. Xander was secretly glad to be relieved of his post.
Though visibly no different from the desert he knew, the valley instilled an oppressive sense of isolation.
“This is weird,” Nahel said as if reading Xander’s mind. “Nothing’s moving but us.”
The path descended into a ravine between high rock walls. Directly ahead the scattered remnants of a chain-link fence spanned the road. Topped with spiraling rows of bladed wire, the barricade would have posed a daunting obstacle had it not hung in shreds from twisted metal posts. Most of the ruined fence lay half-buried on the gully floor.
Xander noticed something glinting in the dust to his left. He cautiously brushed away the excess sand with his foot, revealing a metal sign rendered in bold red characters from a half-dozen alphabets. Much of the wording had worn away, but what remained spoke of “restricted areas” and authorized “use of deadly force”. Whatever else the sign said, Xander chose to safeguard his courage rather than decipher its warnings.
The sun passed its zenith before the travelers reached a sheer cliff of red stone. A dark portal yawned in the rock face. Xander felt cool moisture-laden wind. He raised his eyes to the sky overhead, unable to rid himself of the notion that he was being watched.
At last Arcanadeus said, “Come. Great risks yield great gains.” He entered the cavern, and the rest followed close behind him. Their echoing footsteps made them sound like a multitude.
Once they passed beyond the sun’s reach, Nahel struck his ephemeral light. Instead of revealing a subterranean path, the orb cast its glow upon a massive mound of broken stone.
“The entrance has collapsed!” Damus said.
Arcanadeus pointed to a circular hatch set in the stone floor. “Not to worry.”
Covered in soot and corrosion, the convex lid appeared quite heavy and looked as though its seal hadn't been broken since before the cave-in.
Before the Cataclysm, Xander marveled.
Nahel shrugged. “Well, if it’s the only way in…” He approached the sealed manhole, gripped the wheel jutting from its center, and turned. Rippling muscles strained under his red-gold fur. With a loud clank and a rush of air, the hatch sprang open.
A steel ladder vanished into the gloom below. The foreboding that Xander felt as he peered down the shaft rivaled his fear of the infested tunnel. The cool moist air blowing from the depths reminded him of spoiled pickles.
Nahel went first.
Damus sighed. “This had better be worth it.” He followed Nahel through the hatch.
“Not so confident underground as you are in the open desert?” Xander heard from over his shoulder. He turned and saw Arcanadeus standing behind him, bearing a smile that he supposed was meant to be encouraging but instead looked gloating. “Fear not,” the Master said, “we shall pass this trial together.” Then he too plunged into the dark beneath the mountain.
Xander hesitated a moment longer before stepping onto the ladder’s hard-edged rungs.
“Good of our guide to join us,” Damus said when Xander finally set foot on smooth stone.
Ignoring Damus, Xander took a moment to get his bearings. Sporadic lighting panels shed their harsh glow over smooth grey walls and floors painted with cryptic markings. The damp expanse felt artificial. Even the briny odor seemed unnatural.
“You’ve got the map,” Nahel reminded Arcanadeus. “Which way from here?”
The Master pointed to a tunnel branching off to the left. “I recommend that passage. It slopes gradually downward, but it intersects with a service tunnel off the main stair. The stairwell was heavily reinforced and may have withstood the worst. It should lead to any surviving laboratories.”
“Pardon me for a scatterbrain,” Damus said, “but this expedition has been a walking tour of hell. What compensation does this dank hole have to offer?”
Arcanadeus glanced around as if his eyes could pierce stone. “Is that not obvious my dear Gen? Secrets that once cost trespassers their lives have lain forgotten for a generation. Now they are ours for the taking.”
“Unless they’re better left down here,” said Nahel.
Damus tugged at his coat’s torn sleeve. “Or burned with fire.”
The expedition stalked along the dim narrow passage in single file. Arcanadeus led while Nahel brought up the rear, his drawn swords granting Xander a measure of comfort. Still, he tried not to imagine what horrors might be stalking that defiled labyrinth.
After what seemed like a short time, Arcanadeus called a halt. “It’s no use following this path any farther.”
Xander peered ahead, hoping to find a way that the Steersman had missed. His hopes fell when he saw a pipe-laden wall with a hatch like the one at the tunnel’s entrance. This door was already open, but slabs of jagged stone filled its bent and battered frame.
“We must return the way we came and turn left at the main passage,” Arcanadeus said. “Another path lies through the door at the far end.”
Nahel took the lead as they processed from the side passage into the main corridor. He gave his head a typically canine shake.
Xander laid a hand on the malakh’s shoulder. “Is something wrong?”
“The weird smells and echoes are messing with my senses,” said Nahel. “I’ll be fine once we’re out of this tunnel.” A short time later, he signaled a halt before a rust and lime-encrusted door. Xander noticed a lever jutting from the corroded hatch.
“Please tell me you can open it,” said Damus.
Nahel strained at the lever. “I hope so, ‘cause it looks like the only way forward.”
The door creaked stubbornly open. Moist air rushed out, filling the passage with the stench of a stagnant bog. Nahel persevered, pushing the hatch the rest of the way open.
The rust-eaten door opened on a large cylindrical chamber. Xander saw that the floor was lost under a pool of brackish water. Circular grates ringed the ceiling high overhead, and dark stains marred the walls. Though reluctant to go any farther, he found himself sloshing in lock-step with Nahel and Damus as they pressed on into the mire.
Something is wrong, Xander thought. We’re forgetting something.
Standing knee-deep in the muck, Nahel scanned the room with a puzzled expression. “What? Are we supposed to climb up?”
Damus heaved a sigh. “There’s nothing for it now but to turn back. What a waste.”
Xander realized what was wrong only after it was too late to act on his knowledge.
The squeal of rusted metal thundered throughout the chamber, and the strong door slammed shut as if pulled by unseen hands. The murky pool swirled with grey foam as the floor gave way, turning the room into a whirlpool. Xander fought against the tide, but the roaring water swept him toward the center.
The falling water level revealed several pipes disgorging filthy runoff into the draining pool. Just before he went under, Xander thought he saw a pale mass emerge from one of the pipes and disappear into the frothing vortex.
The filthy current smothered breath, sight and sound, leaving only chaotic blackness. The flow climaxed in a powerful jet. Xander saw light once more. And he was falling.
His stout body hit the water with a massive splash that deposited him on a bed of submerged detritus. Xander’s arms flailed wildly as he struggled to the surface for air.
Wracked by heaving coughs that dredged bitter muck from his lungs, Xander fought to regain his senses. Awareness dawned of sheer encircling walls caked with green and black slime. Erratic light poured down through vents hidden far above. The reek and clamor of a dozen drainage pipes echoed in the dim heights. Their filthy cataracts mingled in a turbid pool broken by heaps of dead brush, small animal carcasses, and God knew what else.
Xander caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye and rounded to see Damus and Nahel struggling onto rubbish piles at the pool’s edge. A prayer of thanks welled up in his heart.
A hideous shape erupted from the center of the pool. Xander stared at the gangling apparition in morbid wonder. It would've stood tall as a man but for its bent posture. Bare except fo
r ragged strands of cloth interwoven with weeds and bone, the thing’s skin was almost translucent.
We are the same, Xander sensed with the surety of faith, just before he screamed.
The creature answered with a cry of its own—a silent hunting call thundering from its twisted soul. Xander’s vision blurred, and the room seemed to peel away at the edges of his sight. A terrible alien will pushed him to the brink of consciousness.
The creature’s withered lips parted, revealing a pair of sharp bony plates instead of teeth. It circled Xander, its beak gnashing the air that its rancid scent further polluted. It was searching for something; not with its milky eyes, but with some preternatural sense.
Xander saw a streak of movement and thought he heard a ripe melon splitting. The creature reeled backward, hissing in pain. Another impact whipped it around with a dark spray of blood; revealing two feathered shafts in its back.
His mind clearing, Xander traced the missiles’ path and saw Nahel standing atop a pile of refuse against the wall’s farthest curve. The malakh gripped his longbow in one hand while the other reached into the quiver at his side to draw another arrow.
The wounded creature loosed a gurgling shriek, but its silent cry was worse. Xander’s joints buckled under the assault. He fell as the monster sprang onto the wall above Nahel. The last sight Xander saw before the filthy pool swallowed him was the monster scuttling into the upper shadows like a startled spider.
10
Nahel strained to see where the creature had fled, but even his eyes couldn’t pierce the darkness that shrouded the chamber’s heights. He lowered his eyes but kept his bow ready.
Scanning the room for his missing swords turned up nothing. Nahel was relieved to see Damus doubled over with coughing atop a rotting heap on the right.
But someone was missing.
“Xander!” Nahel cried. The only sound was the constant rush of water from the drainage pipes. Worry gnawed at Nahel’s mind as he cast about for his human friend. Xander was far tougher in body and spirit than his size and youth implied. But he couldn’t breathe underwater.
Souldancer (Soul Cycle Book 2) Page 7
