Soultaker

by Duperre, Robert J. ;

  “Do you even know where we’re going?”

  “Yes.” He leafed through the book in his hands. “We have to find a monument, ‘a dome of gold that rises gray above the ocean bluff.’ That’s how the book describes the holy place.”

  “That’s a bit contradictory. You know where to find it?”

  Cooper shrugged. “After the ruins. That’s all it says.”

  “So we’re probably going in the right direction.”

  “Probably.” He coughed into his fist, “Hopefully.”

  Abe didn’t like his pasty complexion or the way his eyes had grown bloodshot. “You feeling all right?”

  “Not really.” He coughed again.

  Some of those carrying the Spear of God stumbled, forcing more weight onto the knights’ shoulders. Abe noticed that most of these men looked just as bad off as Cooper. A few of them began hacking. Abe called a halt, the Spear of God was placed down.

  “Brah, what the hell’s goin’ on?” Meesh panted.

  “I don’t know,” Abe said.

  “Half of Cooper’s men are getting sick,” said Shade.

  “I know,” Abe answered. “You feel anything?”

  Shade leaned against the heavy device, tilted his head to the side. “Nope.”

  “Me neither,” Meesh said.

  “Huh.”

  “I don’t like this,” Shade said. “What if it’s a curse?”

  Abe gazed out at the ruined expanse before them. “We hope it isn’t.”

  “Hallelujah,” Meesh said, loudly. They lifted the Spear of God once more.

  The sick and struggling Outriders stepped over the remnants of a prehistoric fence which lay in shambles on the cracked earth, all twisted steel and coiling wire that stretched as far as Abe could see in either direction. He stepped down on the toppled fence and it evaporated in a cloud of dust. How did the Elders even know of this place? he wondered. It looked like no one had been here since the end of the Ancients. Everything was rotted, but undisturbed.

  The land slanted downward after the fence, and Cooper held up a hand. The procession came to a stumbling halt. Abe, his brothers, and the men still strong enough to carry the Spear of God placed it on the ground, forming a line along the hill and staring.

  “Wow,” Meesh said.

  For Abe, that said everything. They had truly reached the edge of the world.

  What appeared to be a small city awaited them. Though in disrepair, many of the structures still stood; the most important edifice of all was the enormous round tower that rose from the center, gray like Cooper’s book had predicted, and topped with a golden dome. It looked like a giant stone mushroom, or perhaps an empty water tower like the one outside New Salem.

  The place was built on the edge of a sheer cliff, and beyond, the Gulf of Torrin stretched out for miles upon miles until it was swallowed by the blackness of distant storm clouds that churned and flashed lightning. Beyond is a darkness that billows and swirls.

  “We’re here,” Cooper said wearily, drool snaking down his chin. “We made it.”

  “We haven’t made it yet,” Abe told the man. “Be cautious. The footing could be treacherous.”

  Asaph sidled up to Abe, grabbing his wrist. “That might not be the only thing.”

  Asaph seemed to be among those who were not greatly affected by whatever it was that made the other Outriders sick. His eyes were alert, his posture solid. He still limped, but then again, Abe had yet to see the man walk without doing so.

  “Why?” Abe asked.

  “Well, there’s something Cooper doesn’t know. You three should take the lead, weapons out.”

  “For what reason?”

  “The reactor has two guardians.”

  “Reactor?”

  “That thing. Down there.”

  Abe narrowed his eyes. “How would you know this and Cooper doesn’t?”

  “His books weren’t as good as mine, I guess,” the man replied.

  “Humph.”

  The knights did as Asaph suggested, descending the hill ahead of the rest, leaving others to carry the Spear. The circular monument grew bigger and bigger each step of the way. Abe wished he had Greenie with him now. It always helped, when entering a strange situation, to sit higher than everyone—or everything—else around you.

  He caught movement from the corner of his eye and paused, lifting his blitzer and squinting against the glare coming off the golden dome, but couldn’t see anything. “False alarm,” he muttered, and they started moving once more.

  The closer they got to the tall gray structure, the stranger things became. A barely perceptible vibration worked its way into Abe’s gut, buzzed in his ears, made his groin tingle. He could tell from the looks on his brothers’ faces that they felt it too. When they were within a hundred feet of the small city, grass sprouted from the cracks in the earth. Abe lifted his eyes skyward and saw birds circling directly over the holy relic. These weren’t the huge-winged vultures that called the Wasteland home; no, these birds were white, and their squawks more aggressive, less ominous. Seagulls. He whistled in awe.

  The knights led the Outriders into the small city. Rusted piping rose above them on either side, supported by thick steel beams that held hints of their prior luster. The buildings the beams were bolted to were built of gray brick, and though parts of the walls had collapsed, they didn’t look like they’d be falling over anytime soon. There were signs in English—Straightspeak, he reminded himself—all over the place proclaiming WARNING! and DANGER! and something called HIGH VOLTAGE!

  “Whoa,” Meesh said. “This place has gotta be, what, a thousand years old?”

  “Who knows? Maybe older.”

  “How’s it still standing?” asked Shade.

  Abe glanced behind him at Asaph, who was engaged in a spirited conversation with Cooper. The brigand prophet seemed livelier somehow. His cough had ceased, as had those of the hundred or so marching behind him.

  He looked back at his brother. “I think we’ll find out soon.”

  They rounded the corner, and there it was—Cooper’s holy relic, sixty feet tall and looming over them like some sleeping gray giant. Or maybe a golem, Abe thought, though he didn’t know why that nonsensical word came to mind.

  Abe stilled and squinted at the monument, at the buildings surrounding it, and heard an odd sound, like scraping, or a whetstone run along the length of a blade. What came next was a whir reminiscent of the sound the Warhorses made when they woke up. Guardians. Shade pressed his thundermaker to his shoulder; Meesh withdrew his second burner.

  “Everyone stop!” Abe shouted over his shoulder. The scraping sound came from somewhere beyond the building to their right, and with cautious steps he walked toward it. The grinding and scraping intensified; light flashed from the corner of the building. Abe dropped to one knee, shouldered the blitzer, and waited.

  There came a heavy clunk, and two men bigger than any men he’d ever laid eyes on before—at least eight feet tall and wide as houses—emerged from around the side of the structure. Abe hesitated a moment from shock. The guardians were dressed in silver plate armor and wore silver masks; blue light beamed from the eye slits. Their legs rose and fell deliberately. Clunk, pause, clunk, pause.

  Behind him, Cooper and his Outriders shouted in surprise.

  “Um, Abe,” Meesh said. “What the hell’re those?”

  “Guardians,” he answered. “Knights of a different kind.”

  The two clunked closer, twenty yards away and closing.

  “Can we kill ’em?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Abe pulled the trigger, and his blitzer roared to life. The stock barged against his shoulder time and again as round after round traced toward the two huge silver knights. Shade’s thundermaker boomed, and Meesh’s burners rattled off countless shots. Rounds pinged off the approaching silver knights’ armor, forging dents all over their arms and legs, their chestplates, masks, and helmets, some even bringing sparks, but
nothing slowed them down. The silver knights each raised their hands, reaching out for the brothers. The whirring and grinding continued, as did the constant clunk, pause, clunk.

  Abe’s clip ran empty. “Back up!” he exclaimed.

  He backtracked while changing out the clip. Shade ran out of ammo as well, and he broke out into a run, swiftly shoving rounds into the feed as he circled behind his brother. Meesh snapped in new cylinders and darted to the side, keeping both barrels alight with fire and smoke.

  Abe re-shouldered the blitzer and fired, but still couldn’t slow the silver knights down. He looked quickly behind him, saw that Cooper, Asaph, and Bertram hastily urged the others toward the rear of the building on the right. Some of those who held ranged weapons argued to join the fray, but Asaph shoved them back. I hope more of these guys aren’t waiting for them, Abe thought.

  Shade ran right up to the lumbering thing on the left, raised his thundermaker, and let loose a round. The silver knight staggered for a moment, then his mask crumpled, and the light coming from his eye slit dimmed. Shade tucked into a roll as the second silver knight lunged; the metal-covered hand passed just above Shade’s head. Abe provided covering fire as Shade came to his feet behind the standing silver knight and shot the second one in the back of the head. The guardian rocked a bit, but didn’t stop moving. The light of the first one’s eyes reignited, keeping after Abe while the second one pivoted to take on Shade.

  Clunk, pause, clunk, pause. He kept coming.

  Abe threw his blitzer to the ground, grabbed his Eldersword, and ran headlong at the first silver knight. The huge man’s fingers snapped closed with such force that they might’ve been able to crush solid rock. Abe slid to his knees beneath its grasping hand, extended the blade, and looped it over his head. The sword cut through the silver knight’s armor with ease. The arm clanked on the stony ground—twitched, hissed, and fizzed.

  “What the…”

  Abe rolled to the side as the silver knight’s remaining arm reached for him. He scrambled into a crouch and stared, bewildered, at the wires that sparked from the smoldering metal where its arm had been severed. They’re machines, Abe thought in amazement. Machines that looked and moved like humans. Not like humans. Like machines pretending to be human.

  He laughed aloud, a very Meesh thing to do, and all his fear fled him. He ran to the left, and then back to the right when the awkward hunk of steel, wiring, and gears tried to follow his first movement. Abe leapt into the air and cut his sword in a sideways arc. The blade shredded through the thick steel just beneath the mask like it was paper, and the head ripped free. Abe landed with Eldersword outstretched and watched the thing’s massive body slowly grind to a halt. It didn’t fall over; it became like a statue, more sparks exploding from its neck.

  Abe turned as the other machine-knight clanked to the ground. Meesh stood over the fallen thing, cackling, while Shade bent down and ran his fingers along the exposed wires, only to withdraw his hand quickly, yelp, and shake his fingers like a dead snake. Abe peered all around him in search of more walking machines, but everything seemed quiet.

  “Coast is clear now,” he shouted.

  Asaph was the first to emerge, the older man staring at the glowing blade Abe still held in his hand. “You know,” he said, “with a weapon like that, why would you use any other?”

  Abe could have told him about the inner stress the connection between man and blade caused, could have revealed something about the Rush and the lack of control he sometimes felt, but he didn’t. “We have our reasons,” was all he said.

  Asaph shrugged. “Still, seems obvious.”

  The men and women of Cooper’s army stepped forward, all seeming awed by the strange, unmoving mechanical men. Abe wondered whether they should feel awed at all. The guardians were simply more impossible creations that existed in an impossible time. A part of him thought people, himself included, should be used to it by now.

  Ronan Cooper approached the giant gray relic at the center of the city. Abe didn’t know what Cooper was looking for, and the frustration in the man’s eyes was obvious as he circled the base of the monument. The brigand prophet shouted curses and stalked toward the knights, hands clenched into fists.

  “What’s wrong?” Abe asked.

  “There’s no door,” Cooper shot back in frustration. “The text said the Shards are kept below the monument. How the hell do we get down there?”

  Meesh grinned and pointed up at the golden dome. “Maybe ya gotta climb. Good luck.”

  Cooper glared at him.

  A thought entered Abe’s mind, and he looked toward Asaph, who was leaning against the statuesque silver knight, watching it all. Abe snapped his fingers, and the bald man’s head whirled around.

  “You said there were two guardians?” Abe asked.

  “Yes,” Asaph replied. Abe noted the look of confusion on Cooper’s face.

  Abe faced Cooper. “If a place has guardians, that means they’re guarding something.”

  “Yes. And…?”

  “Those guardians didn’t come from your monument, did they?”

  Light shone in Cooper’s eyes, and he hastily made his way around the building to the right. Abe and his brothers followed behind slowly, just in case. When they rounded the corner, they saw Cooper standing in front of yet another impossibility.

  A door that rose from the middle of the cracked street.

  As the knights got closer, Abe could see that the door didn’t stand on its own, but was attached to a large concrete box rimmed with steel. Abe put his hand on the door frame; both the metal and concrete were cold, even though they were in direct sunlight. A slight shock coursed through him, and he pulled his hand away.

  “Huh,” he said.

  “There’s no handle,” Cooper said. “No knob. How do we open it?”

  Meesh gently nudged the man aside and knelt down. “It’s got hinges. Opens outward.”

  “Yes, but how?”

  Shade probed a finger through a horizontal slit halfway up the door. “A key, maybe?”

  “Ronan, your god didn’t happen to give you a key, did he?”

  Cooper blew air out his nose and gave the door a hearty smack. A hollow sound reverberated back.

  Abe glanced at a grinning Asaph, and considered the Eldersword, still firm in his grip. “Move aside,” he said. The way parted for him. Abe lifted his sword.

  “This is our key,” he said, and plunged the blade through the slot. The Eldersword’s intense vibration melted the steel. He twisted the hilt, and the sword forged a circular hole in the door. Something broke loose and clanked on the other side. When Abe yanked his weapon free, dribbling bits of molten steel, the door jolted open slightly.

  “You did it,” Cooper said. “Praise God.”

  “Praise someone,” Meesh muttered under his breath.

  Ronan Cooper, the brigand prophet of Lemsberg, wrapped his fingers around the thick steel door and pulled it open, and a sour, burning scent rose from the blackness beyond. Cooper fell to his knees, uttering the words of an ancient prayer. Abe and his brothers stepped toward the gap.

  A metal staircase descended into blackness. That weird, burning stench was nearly overwhelming. Abe lifted his shirt over his face and wrinkled his nose.

  “Uh, Abe, Shade,” Meesh said.

  Abe turned to see his brother staring at the inside of the opened door. “What?”

  “You’re not gonna believe this,” Meesh said, smiling in bewilderment. “Looks like Ronan might not’ve been the Cooper we were looking for.”

  “What do you mean?” Abe asked as he joined his brother’s side. Meesh pointed at the two signs attached to the door, devoid of dust or grime. The first depicted a symbol, a black circle with three stunted yellow triangles in the middle.

  The second was a series of words: Cooper Nuclear Station, NPPD.

  17

  “I HAVE A FUNNY TASTE IN MY MOUTH.”

  —SHADRACH THE 20TH

  4 MINUTES AF
TER CREATION

  What the hell is this place?” Shade asked, unable to take his eyes off the sign on the door. “What’s a Nuclear Station?”

  “It’s a place of worship,” Cooper said, grinning. “My coming was preordained. My name was literally written in stone.”

  “I guess you could say that,” said Asaph.

  Meesh cut in: “Looks like the entrance to the Crone’s bunker.”

  “That it does,” Abe replied.

  “I don’t care what it looks like,” said the brigand prophet, holding up his book and shaking it triumphantly. “The prophets who’ve come before have guided us true. It is in their light that we shall find salvation!”

  Meesh chortled. “Whatever you say.”

  Cooper ordered his people to set a perimeter around the bunker entrance, and Shade watched man and woman alike run off to search the surrounding buildings, gather debris to build fires, and erect lean-tos fifty yards from the gray, coffin-like edifice. Each of their faces was awash with delight. This was prophesying proven true to them, the realization of all Ronan Cooper’s promises, and they reveled in it. Those who only a half-hour before had appeared sickly to the point of death now carried themselves with confidence built from absolute devotion. Shade envied them in a way, but worried about them more than anything. They might’ve found their leader’s holy place, but what if he couldn’t make the Spear of God work? What if he couldn’t send this Morningstar back to hell?

  Then they’ll die screaming, knowing their faith was misplaced.

  The brigand prophet left Bertram in charge of those on the surface and led eight of his most loyal subjects down into the black. Six Outriders wrapped oil-soaked fabric around the ends of steel pipes to create torches, while the remaining two were given hand-held light sources that needed no flame. Shade squinted at the artificial light coming from the two blunted cylinders.

  Restlessly, and quivering with excitement, Cooper and his Outriders descended the stairs. Asaph went down next, and waved for the knights to follow. Abe stood watching them, fingers drumming his Eldersword’s hilt. He looked frustrated, which Shade chalked up to his hushed argument with Cooper moments before.