by Chad Queen
“That coin is burning hot! Here, give me your jacket so I can pick it up,” said the first voice.
“Oh, hells no, get away. Use your own jacket,” the second voice said.
“Leave it. Hells, is that…a caster? Looks legit,” said a third voice.
“Jackpot. Come on, let’s go. We have to catch that railbus we heard before it charges,” said the first voice.
Cade heard them run off. He figured there were at least three of them, going by the voices. He couldn’t see their faces from his vantage point, but he didn’t need to; they were bandits. Every time a town was hit, some were bound to show up. They made their living by looting from those taken. Robbing people that weren’t coming back was a lucrative business, so these incidents tended to attract thieves from all walks of life. Competition was stiff amongst them, which meant they carried a considerable amount of firepower to defend their claim if other bandit groups happened upon them. It was a venture that favored the quick, the bold, and the unstable.
As the voices grew fainter, Cade slipped around the corner of a building and saw some effects scattered upon the ground, still steaming with heat. No body, but that was expected. A caster shot completely evaporated its target. Cade noticed a large coin. He took a handkerchief from the pocket of his duster and picked up the coin, still hot. It bore the insignia of the Wraithbreakers, an elite Bearer fighting unit. A challenge coin. Every unit in the military had their own. Another soldier turned Acolyte. Why were they brainwashing soldiers?
Cade retreated the way he had come, taking care not to make a sound. As he neared the railbus, he heard another voice call out. “Please help us! We just want a ride back to the city!” said a short man with a flat nose and sunken eyes. No points for originality, Cade thought. The good news was that common criminals only knew common tactics.
Cade stepped out into the open, encoding lead. “Hey!” he hollered to the man. A split second later, Cade heard gunshots from two separate locations. One hit him in his right arm, the other on his left shoulder. He turned to the right and saw a man hunkered down behind the railing on the second floor of an old storehouse. Cade felt he couldn’t get a clean shot, so he took cover behind the building he had stepped away from. He released his encoding and pulled out his caster, the one he called Justice, from its holster. He sighed, not wanting to use a caster shell.
While casters could fire bullets made of metal and gunpowder, what made them special was that they could fire shells that had been imprinted. These special shells were what allowed the caster otherworldly abilities. The imprinting process, pieced together using translations from the Book of the Traveler, allowed castforgers to imprint Songs of those who had departed to the Ascent upon the shells. These shells needed no gunpowder, yet could fly distances far greater than any normal bullet.
He ran his index finger along the bullets in the bandoleer. Tenth from the top. Tolita Par. Mother of two, died at the age of sixty-five defending her children from a Skex attack in her village. Cade memorized the story behind every shell he carried, per the precepts of Coda. Everyone had a story. Those that chose to remain behind to imprint caster bullets shells were no different. It was important to Cade that he try to match the shell with his target; it was his way to honor those who had passed.
His caster, anticipating intent, began to throw blue sparks as the barrel spun up, whistling softly.
Cade stepped out and fired his caster at the man hiding behind the railing. A loud crack sounded, and a thin tracer raced behind the bullet as it fired and then curved to hit the man while he was in cover. The man evaporated, a burst of smoke taking his place. One down.
By then the man at the railbus had given up the charade and put his hands up in the air. Not surprising, since the man was in plain view with no cover. “Please, don’t shoot!” Cade spun the chamber to a gunpowder bullet; no need to waste priceless ammunition on an easy target. He fired and found his mark. The man fell. One to go.
He turned to his left and scanned the area, encoding tungsten as a precaution. He figured the last man was probably on the balcony of the old hotel, since that would give him the best vantage point, along with no shortage of places to hide. Cade was weighing his options when he heard another loud crack coming from the hotel itself.
He felt a moment of panic, since his encoding meant very little to a caster bullet. Once the moment had passed, he realized he was not the target. That must mean…Cade took the risk of exhausting one of his phantoms and encoded to the wood of the hotel balcony to boost himself up. Sure enough, just near the doorway, lay the gun of the bandit, white-hot, but the stolen caster was nowhere to be found. He looked up to see the tail of a red robe disappear from the doorway. An Acolyte. Cade raised his caster as he gave chase. When he turned the corner, the Acolyte was gone.
Cade continued to explore the small hotel but could find no trace of the mysterious gunman. Cade returned to the room and noticed a small silver shell casing on the ground. Its markings were unfamiliar, but Cade noticed a translucent inlaid square, similar to those found in chipcoins. It was a caster shell but unlike any Cade had ever seen.
He snapped back to the task at hand. The shooter was likely nearby, and it was best to leave quickly. Cade did not want to test his protective encoding against a caster bullet, let alone a new type. He made his way to the railbus, careful not to expose himself too much.
When he returned, he saw Ashlyn staring at him, wide-eyed, as if horrified. When he met her eyes, she turned away and moved to the back of the railbus, eyes locked to the floor. Cade sighed and sat down. “Let’s get out of here,” he said to Malix.
“Oh sure, ol’ Malix will get moving,” the old man said. “Let’s just pretend that there wasn’t just a shootout…with casters. Nope. All fine here. Next stop: Rynth.”
Cade sat on the railbus, turning the unusual casing over in his hands, unable to shake the feeling that things were about to get a whole lot worse.
11
Rynth
For the safety of the people of Chalice: All invocations of a phantom, including encoding of any kind, is forbidden within the cities of Chalice. This war has brought to light a grave error in our judgment as a young nation. Man should hold no sway over the dead. The Book of the Traveler is to be outlawed without royal authorization, and any copies publicly available must be put to the torch.
—From King Liam Winshire’s Royal Decree following the disbandment of the Bearer Corps
The trip to Rynth had left Ashlyn’s mind reeling. What she had watched Cade do in Barnage had shaken her so much she didn’t even remember their arrival. Cade seemed to know where he was going. He had known who Jace Exile was, but she didn’t know any more than that.
The man’s house was not far from the Rynth station, a sprawling Ancient-built structure that served as a hub for thousands of people coming and going at all hours. After they managed to free themselves from the crush of people hurrying to their trains, Ashlyn followed behind Cade until they arrived at a cozy house of brick and wood. The house was dark, so Cade took the liberty of opening the back door with an encoded push. If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have protested.
Cade led her up the stairs to a small room in the loft of the house. “Sleep,” he said. “Jace will likely return soon.”
Still speechless, she obliged, hoping rest would give her some clarity.
It felt as if she had just closed her eyes when she awoke to hushed voices downstairs.
“You’re still carrying them? It’s been over a year, Cade.”
“Yeah.”
“You have to let them go. They wouldn’t have wanted this. It’s not worth your sanity.”
“We’re close this time, Jace. It won’t be much longer now. I owe it to them.”
The man sighed. “You look like you just emerged from the ninth door of the Forgotten Hells, Cade. Are you sure you can make it?”
“I’ll be fine. Do you happen to have any…connections here?”
“D
o I look like the type of person that would have connections? I heard they stopped manufacturing it after the war. After that supply runs out…well, I don’t need to tell you what could happen.”
“It’ll be fine. I’ll be back soon. Can you please watch over her?”
“Of course, of course. Just hurry back, we’ve got a lot to catch up on.”
She heard a door close and let sleep take her once more.
She awoke just as the sun began to fill the loft with a warm glow. The sunlight had never been quite the same since the arrival of the Wraiths. She couldn’t quite explain it, but it now felt less vibrant to her, like it was being filtered. Ashlyn glanced around the small room. It was cluttered with all manner of books and scraps of paper, but it had a comfortable feel, like the cabins she visited back when her mother was still alive. On the walls were maps. All kinds of maps: maps of Chalice, maps of circuitous roads winding into each other, and maps diagramming…trade routes, perhaps?
Her attention moved to the large window. It offered a breathtaking view of the city, if only a small portion. Rynth, City of the Ancients, was gigantic, second only to Toltaire. Seeing the city now, she wished she had disobeyed her father’s orders to remain in Toltaire whenever he traveled to Rynth. The skyline was breathtaking; she could see a fantastic golden spire, referred to as the Nexus, towering over the city, its peak stretching into the clouds.
Looking down, she could see streams of people bustling about upon every street. It was the city of opportunity; there was adventure to be had and untold riches yet to be discovered. The opportunity brought with it characters from every part of the world. The true purpose of the city remained a mystery to researchers who tried to decipher the artifacts the Ancients had left behind.
Her gaze traveled skyward, and she was again awed by the size of the Nexus, the great obelisk that rose so high, she could barely see its peak. No clouds drifted near it, or the rest of the city skyline for that matter. It was perfect, except for the occasional bolt of electricity arcing from the Thread, which stood hundreds of miles away. The weather was no coincidence; the Ancients had designed it that way. The temperate climate made the city suitable for all, including those too poor to survive anywhere else. Many of Chalice’s destitute population called the endless spiraling corridors and alleys of Rynth home.
The bulk of the city appeared to be wrought from a brushed silver metal with no visible seams or joints, as though it were cast from an impossibly large mold. Ashlyn could see lights inset in buildings, casting a bright but inviting glow onto the streets. She remembered reading about how much of Rynth had power even before the Wraiths reactivated the Thread, just like the Stardome in Solak. Scientists and archaeologists were still no closer to understanding what inexhaustible power source Rynth was using to control the climate and keep the lights glowing bright all these years. She imagined the Nexus, the fabled undiscovered core of Rynth, must hold the answers.
Mixed in with the city’s structures, she could see the man-made houses built on top of the metal streets, a patchwork quilt of old and new. The stark contrast between the two architectures underscored how far behind their own technology was.
Despite the breathtaking view, the memory of Barnage pulled her back to reality. She lamented that Chalice had needed the help of Bearers to secure the Accord with the Wraiths. From what she had witnessed, Bearers had little regard for the lives of others. The man near the railbus, surrendering. Cade had killed him…with no hesitation. She had thought he was different, but she was wrong. She looked at the window latch and placed her hand on it. If she escaped, she would be no closer to finding Rolan’s killer. But staying meant trusting a monster.
She sighed, taking her hand off the latch, and turned to face the room. On the desk sat a candelabra, inset with a small lit candle, casting light on some curious items. Upon closer inspection, she realized they were chipcoins, though they were not of any denomination with which she was familiar. She was about to pick one up when up when she heard a loud yell from downstairs.
Ashlyn burst out of her room to see what was the matter. In hindsight, she thought herself foolish—what advantage could she lend if they were under attack? But her instincts were always to help when she could.
The great room of the house was overwhelming. Books lined every shelf and ledge, spilling from bookcases as if they were multiplying on their own. Large burlap sacks, like the ones she’d seen within the castle’s pantries, filled the spaces in between. She was surprised to even see some machines, Ancient artifacts, in crates near the room’s long table.
“You’re awake! My doing, I’m afraid. I hope you’ll accept my apologies. I’ve had quite a breakthrough and couldn’t contain my excitement.”
A slender, bookish man with short, messy blond hair and an ornate pair of reading spectacles stood before her. She didn’t see Cade anywhere. Where had he gone?
“Look at these two maps! They align perfectly. How did I not see it before? Now, if I also take this one,” he said, grabbing another map off the table, “…and overlay it with these…” He rubbed his chin, contemplating. “Wait, no. That’s not right.”
As if breaking from a trance, he stood upright and looked at Ashlyn. “Where are my manners? It is an honor to meet you, Princess Winshire. I apologize that the accommodations are a bit…austere, but I was not expecting royal company today. A shame, as I would have prepared more suitable for such a distinguished guest as yourself.”
Ashlyn’s alarm subsided. “I’m sorry, you’ve caught me at a bit of a disadvantage, Mr…?”
The man grinned broadly, eyes shining like a lit prism. “I am Jace…Jace Exile. Cade is an old and good friend of mine. I assure you that you are quite safe here; it would appear Cade went to great lengths to make sure you were not followed. He had to leave for a bit, but he will return shortly. Please, have a seat, and I’ll fetch you a cup of tea.”
Ashlyn sat down in the solid wood chair Jace offered. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Exile. Your name, ‘Exile,’ I’ve never heard a family name like that before.”
“I will admit it is rather unique, but that is because it is my Promised name.”
Ashlyn’s brow furrowed. “Promise? You were promised that name?”
The man chuckled. “In a sense, that’s true. My family is originally from Gallance, as is Cade’s, if you’re curious. That’s how we met each other, once upon a time. Now, you see there is a standing tradition in the city that when you turn fifteen years old, you must make a Promise to yourself. It’s a rite of passage of sorts, only more personal. You don’t have to share your Promise with anyone else if you don’t want to, but you do get to change your name to something that you feel represents your Promise. It’s a reminder that you always keep with you.” He smiled. “In Gallance, they like to say that your first name is your given name, and your last name is your taken name.”
“And the Promise…is a secret?”
Jace made a dismissive gesture with his hands. “Oh, goodness, no. I’m an open book. My Promise is simple. I had lived in Gallance for my whole life when I became of age, and I never quite fit in there. It was an old city, and its economy, like most outer towns in Chalice, was based on mining within the mountains that surrounded it. As you might deduce on your own, scholarship was not a highly valued trait, nor was it easy to find any knowledge outside of basic geology. I came to the realization I had to exile myself from my own homeland to follow my dream of becoming an archaeologist. And here I am in the Ancient city of Rynth, an archaeologist’s dream city if ever there was one.”
Ashlyn couldn’t help but be envious of the man’s story. She had always longed to escape the routine of the palace but felt duty-bound to remain and make sure she was available to assist in royal matters, even if they did seem pointless and superficial.
“Are there still things to find in Rynth? I thought most artifacts had been discovered by now.”
“Yes! There is much, much more to find. We are literally just
scratching the surface. The entire city extends underground. Once we find out how to gain access to more of its depths, imagine the treasures we will find! And we are still far from discovering the secrets of the artifacts we have already found. The Ancients have left us so many unanswered questions. If we can answer even a few of them, imagine what we could do!”
Ashlyn remembered the maps in the bedroom. She felt stupid for not considering it before. “You’re trying to find the entrance to the Nexus!”
He grinned and nodded. “It is the key to everything. The underground passages we have discovered host a labyrinth of buildings with no entrance. The outer rings we can easily navigate, but once we start going deeper, we end up right back where we started. They had to have left us a way inside.”
Ashlyn was fascinated. Despite being the princess, she had never learned much about Rynth. Most archaeologists in Rynth were cautious and private about their work, so much of it remained unpublished. Rynth was crawling with corporate spies. If any headway was gained, chances were good a corporation would muscle its way in and seize control. Chalice was no country for true scholars. She did know that the Nexus had no discernible entrance, and access to it had eluded everyone who sought its secrets.
“I’ve always wondered, can’t you just drill inside?”
Jace shook his head. “We tried that. Like most things the Ancients built, we can’t seem to penetrate the metal. We located a first-generation drill from one of the quarries the Ancients used to mine, but we can’t seem to get it running. It uses a fuel source we are not familiar with, but there is a team of scientists working out how to retrofit it with a different power source.” Jace rose and paced around the room, lost in the discussion. “I will find a way inside one day. And within it, the ultimate treasure,” he said, looking up and nodding.
Ashlyn found the man’s enthusiasm infectious. She leaned in closer. “The ultimate treasure?”
