by Mick Fraser
“That makes no sense,” said Six-Tails. “The Iniir were not religious.”
“Once they were, it seems. They worshipped these...” she pointed to a carving of several tall, vaguely humanoid figures. “They called them... Foreshadowers. They helped the Iniir build this device. I think that is what it means. They were... Celestial. Damn the Founders and their secrecy.”
Illith touched the mural further down, leaning in close. “This looks like the Monolith,” she said. Shimmer walked towards her.
“What’s the Monolith?” asked Angela.
Shimmer didn’t turn around. “The Founders’ former palace. It was destroyed when Dios was obliterated, when the last Founders were killed.”
“How old is this?” Drenno inquired.
Shimmer glanced back at the mural. “Close to two-thousand years, but it was obviously built after the Hexen were defeated.”
“And it responded to Angela?”
“It still is responding. You cannot feel that?”
As soon as she said it, Angela realised she could feel the room vibrating. Sporadic trembles rippled through the stone in waves. It wasn’t a constant thing, it was as though something moved within the walls themselves, like gears moving in stages. Suddenly there was a crash from somewhere below, and a sound like a drawbridge slamming shut. The mural began to shake, raining dust and sprinkles of rock, then it split, a jagged line snaking from floor to ceiling. Shimmer, heartbroken at the loss of such a find, shouted “No!” over and over again, pressing her palms against the shaking wall as though she could hold it together by sheer will alone. Six-Tails grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back just as the split blazed with light and the stone wall opened like a sliding door.
The commlink hissed in Angela’s ear. “What the hell did you do?” Gaelan demanded. “Seismic activity just spiked.”
“We found something,” Drenno replied. “We in trouble?”
“I’m reading an increase in temperature directly below you, and – shit, do’vah, something is moving.”
“The volcano?”
“No. Something is actually moving. I have a life-sign. It’s big. Really, really big. I’m running an analysis but I suggest you pick up your feet.”
The chamber beyond the broken mural was smaller, the walls dark and shining like chrome. A single pinprick of light was just enough to illuminate the only object in the room: a piece of metal, three or four feet long, that looked like three corded steel tubes braided together. One end had a socket of some kind, while the other end had three. Tiny lights ran up and down its length. As Angela drew closer she realised it didn’t look like metal at all; it looked like something organic but petrified, like dark coral.
The ground shook below them. “Do we just take it?” Drenno asked Shimmer.
The Ri'in shook her head. “I have no idea. It opened for Angela. If any of us take it, it should be her.”
Unable to offer an argument to the contrary, Angela sighed. Her flesh was still humming, but she didn’t feel that she was going to arc. This was different. She regarded the thing before her. The Radiant Heart, the mural had called it. But the heart of what? What was she supposed to be a part of? What the hell was her purpose?
The ground shook again. “Whatever it is it’s coming your way!” Gaelan told them. “Please move, now!”
The urgency in her voice gave Angela a start and she snatched the Heart from its plinth. It weighed no more than a piece of dry, hollow wood. The lights went out the moment she picked it up, and she allowed Six-Tails to take it from her, wrapping it carefully in a thick cloth bundle he took from his backpack.
“Right, we should—” As he stood, the floor heaved, pitching him sideways. Drenno and Illith fell back as a gaping hole erupted in the ground like a yawning mouth. Cracks snaked from the edges of the hole, tearing it wider, and from within it came a roar that sounded half-lion, half-hawk, full of anguish and desperate need. The growing chasm now separated Angela from the others, and she realised it was too far to jump.
“You know what you have to do,” Illith called. “You’ve been training for such situations. You can do it.”
She took a deep breath, fixed her eyes on the far side and allowed herself to relax. It was like flexing a muscle, one that connected every cell in her body. She tensed like a coiling spring and arced across the hole – but as she did so a section of the ceiling fell in, obliterating the ground she was aiming for.
Angela missed Illith’s out-stretched hand and plunged into the darkness, fingers scrabbling painfully at the edges of the abyss as her back and arms scraped against the sides of the hole. Drenno called out to her but his voice became a distant echo. A light followed her down, but all was swallowed by darkness as she smashed into the floor of the chamber below.
CHAPTER 25
~THE RESONANCE APERTURE~
SHE OPENED HER eyes and found herself within a circle of light, as though she was the star in a one-woman show. The luminescence was contained to the circle rigidly, as though the darkness around it was a solid mass, a wall put up to keep her in place. Something throbbed through her, something external yet somehow a part of her, a gentle rhythm, like a tick missing its tock.
Looking up she saw that the source of the light was impossibly high; had she fallen that far she’d surely be dead. Something was wrong. The last thing she remembered was trying to arc to the door in the Heart’s chamber. Her arms had scraped and scratched against the chasm wall, but her hypersuit protected her. She reached round to the back of her neck: the Amp was still there, but its smooth dome was red hot to her touch.
Angela pushed herself up to her knees, preparing to stand. She didn’t feel as though she’d fallen at all. She felt curiously well-rested. She was about to rise to her feet when a woman’s voice echoed through the darkness. Angela swung around, trying to identify the speaker.
“You’re quite remarkable, you know? I don’t think you realise just what you are.”
The voice was sultry but educated. Its owner came from money, from privilege. There was a hint of something exotic, too, something seductive.
“I would be surprised,” the voice continued, “if that rabble who kidnapped you even know what you’re capable of. What you’re meant for.”
Angela had to squint, but she could see movement beyond the veil of light, the delicate swish of fabric. Quiet, clicking footsteps drew closer, and slowly a woman came into view, walking with a pronounced grace. A white dress, almost like a bridal gown save the high collar and plunging neckline, swished around her as she came. Her skin was golden-brown, her immaculate auburn hair cut into a perfect bob that framed a slim face more beautiful than any woman Angela had ever seen. Her eyes, as she stepped into the light, were sparkling green. Angela knew who she was immediately; how it was possible was another question.
“Tess Evayne...” she breathed.
The regal woman smiled, giving a slight, perfunctory bow of the head. “In spirit, though not in flesh. And you are Angela Strange. As stunning as the whispers said you were.”
In no mood for flattery, Angela rose to her feet. “Your soldiers killed Rathe Massai. He was my friend.”
Evayne looked genuinely pained. “Not an act I sanctioned, I assure you. There was a time when Rathe was very dear to me. General Varo was punished concurrently. If I wished the last of the Embers dead, they would be dead.”
Angela remembered what Rathe had told her about the rebellion. How Evayne had crushed it mercilessly and assigned the survivors a disparaging new name. “Firebrands,” she snapped. “Not Embers.”
Evayne laughed, the sound almost melodic. “So much fight in you, and you’ve no idea where to concentrate it.”
“Oh, I know exactly where.”
“Drenno really does have you under his spell, doesn’t he?”
“He didn’t even know what we’d find here. You expect me to believe he has some grand, evil plan?”
The other woman continued to circle Angela. “Not evi
l. Misguided. You’re right: he had no idea what was waiting here. And yet he was willing to risk the lives of his crew, his daughter and you, if there was any chance he might find a way to kill me. Does that sound rational to you, Angela? Has he told you it was a one-time event? The opening of the Pathway to your system?”
“Yes,” Angela replied defiantly. “He was honest about that.”
“Honest? Truly? Consider this: if he was so concerned with your safety, why did he take you at all? He could have killed the Exethan I sent to safeguard you, and let you be. But he didn’t, did he? He kidnapped you, took you away from your home and family, and why? Because the word I used to describe you in the broadwave he intercepted was misconstrued as ‘weapon’. He thought you to be a blade, a cudgel, a glaive with which to end my life and claim revenge for the souls taken in a rebellion he started. Did I kill his wife? Indirectly, yes. And Rathe, too. And hundreds of others at the battle of Warden’s Gaze. Traitors all. Was I to let them challenge my rule? Depose me? All because of a ridiculous conspiracy theory? Would you have?”
Angela’s mind raced. “But, Rathe and Illith had proof.”
“Did they? Then why was Rathe the only Senator to follow Illith? He showed it to the entire Accordance, this so-called proof. No one else followed. Those who did were soldiers, rabble-rousers, criminals, the disavowed. Those who needed another war, another conflict, a chance to overturn my rule. When the Founders were killed, it was I who avenged them, I who picked up the pieces left by their deaths. I alone.”
She looked sincere. Her voice was steady, her eyes full of regret and remorse, not anger. Not vengeance. Why had Drenno taken Angela? What was the proof Illith had found? Could Evayne be telling the truth? She shook her head; this wasn’t real, was it? This was some kind of dream, concussion maybe. She needed more answers, more data.
“How are you here?” she demanded. “You said ‘in spirit’.”
“You have an Amp. I have a device that can communicate with it, at the desired level of resonance. This Reliquary provides the ideal conditions for what the Founders called a ‘Resonance Aperture’. Don’t look shocked. I was on the highest tier of the Founder’s Council before their murder. I have many examples of active Founder tech in my possession. This is one of them. You’re still unconscious; I am speaking with you from my city-ship on the other side of the Reach. I do so to offer you a choice.”
Angela said nothing, her mind a fog of information. Evayne continued: “Wait for me here, you and the device you have found. I have the coordinates for the next part – I will beat you there anyway. I will use the device to open a Warren and return you to Earth, and then I will destroy this ancient, infernal machine completely. I don’t know what it does, but I feel strongly that the people of the Reach would be better off never knowing.”
Could it be true? Could she take Angela home? She would give anything now to be sitting at her kitchen table having a cup of tea with her granddad. Could Evayne truly offer that? A return to normal?
“All I have to do is stay here?”
Evayne smiled warmly. “That’s all. Sit there and dream of home. I will track your resonance, and when I find you I will ensure your safe passage back to Earth. I swear it. All you hope for is there, in that circle of light.”
Flooded with relief, Angela felt suddenly unsteady. She opened her mouth to agree when she heard Rathe’s voice as though he were right beside her.
“Hope in the light, Angela,” he had said. “Destiny in the darkness.”
The only thing that made no sense in Evayne’s whole monologue was Rathe. She could believe that Drenno had followed the wrong side in a misguided rebellion, she could buy that he was bent on vengeance for his wife, even that his plans for Angela were wholly selfish. But she couldn’t buy Rathe. He had died to ensure her survival, had shown her true caring and compassion. And she had trusted him, not because he had known the right thing to say or because he offered false promises – but because he had been a good man with a good heart and she had known, really known that, from minute one. Drenno had reason to lie if you really wanted to find it, but he truly had no idea what the hell he was planning to do. Evayne did. She had every reason to lie. Every reason to want Angela gone. Either sent home, or dead. The result would be the same – the only deciding factor would be which option was easiest, cheapest and quickest. It didn’t take a genius to work out which was which.
Evayne continued to walk in a slow circle around the light, staying outside of it. Her face was impassive, though her eyes were still warm and welcoming. Angela stepped towards the edge of the light and saw Evayne’s expression flicker, almost imperceptibly. Whatever this “resonance” was, it was reliant on this spot of light. She almost smiled at the irony. “Hope in the light, right?” she said aloud.
Evayne nodded, smiling. “That’s right, Angela. Stay in the light until we get there, and all you hope for is yours.”
“Right. And what lies in the darkness, Evayne?”
The Sceptress narrowed her eyes. “You’re making a mistake,” she warned, sensing Angela’s intent and raising a hand. “A terrible mistake.”
“Destiny. Destiny in the darkness. You’re right: I don’t know why I’m here or where to focus my fight, but I’m learning. Sorry, Evayne, but I’ve always been a rebel at heart.”
She stepped outside the light and stumbled instantly, collapsing to the ground. The light vanished along with Tess Evayne, and Angela groaned at the sudden pain in her arms and back. She was alone in the dusty cave once again, and the ground beneath her was rumbling.
Winston appeared above her, shining a bright light in her eyes. She swore, batting at him. “Get off!”
“About time you woke up. I was beginning to think you were dying and we’d be stuck here.”
Groggy, she sat up, rubbing her arms. “Where is everyone?”
“Approximately seventy-five arms above us, heading back to the ship. There is a chamber behind us, looks like we can climb from there but I need you to open it. And quickly. All our poking around seems to have woken something up. Several somethings, in point of fact.”
The ground shook again and Angela brushed a sprinkling of fresh dust off her shoulders. She could feel whatever it was moving below her; the pebbles at her feet rattled against one another. Time to move.
She rose, bushing down her hypersuit. She checked her scuffed wrist-reader and used her databand’s flashlight to inspect the stone wall. It was etched with an illustration, this one not a mural but a low-detail portrait of a single figure wrapped with... something, almost like a gymnast’s ribbon. She located a plinth like the one above and pressed her hand against it. The carving blazed with light; cogs began to turn.
“You were talking in your sleep,” said Winston suddenly. “You said ‘Evayne’.”
“I wasn’t asleep. Evayne was speaking to me. She said something about resonance. You know what she meant?”
“Yes. But now is not the time.”
With a stony groan the wall split, opening up to reveal a chamber like the one above. At its centre was a single pedestal, upon which lay a curious device that looked like a wrist brace. The main body looked as though it was designed to hug the entire forearm, cast from a pale material that shone like metal but appeared almost organic. It was decorated with several narrow furrows that glowed faintly with orange and blue light. There were two sets of straps attached, one for the wrist and one for the elbow; a third strip at the wide end (where the hand would be) was fitted with a dark jewel designed to sit in the wearer’s palm.
The ground heaved. “We have to go, Angela. Now!”
Acting on impulse, Angela darted forward and slid her right hand into the device. The straps snapped shut around her arm snugly, as though made for her. She thumbed the palm jewel instinctively and the device whirred, a coil of fiery orange light spiralling from the centre of the jewel, like a whip made of pure energy. Tentatively she swished it; where it touched the ground it left a glowing scorch mark. She
spotted a second device on the pedestal, this one a single strap holding a pale jewel. She tapped the dark jewel and the coil of light reversed, wrapping itself around the device she wore. She quickly strapped the other piece to her left hand, and when she pressed the second jewel the whip’s fiery colour blinked to a summer blue. Pressing the dark jewel she uncoiled it, and this time when it touched the floor it left no marks. The pale jewel in her left palm regulated the colour: one state volatile, the other inert – both somehow solid.
Winston hovered excitedly beside her, his rings spinning this way and that. “It’s a cold-light leash,” he explained. “A weapon and utility tool, used by the Iniir. They called them Braids. I thought they were all gone.”
There came a sudden crunching from below, the way a mole might sound to an ant, its great claws tearing at the soil and roots as it burrows below the surface. On the other side of the plinth was another palm-reader, and she hurried over to activate it. The wall before her opened up, revealing a steep winding staircase that climbed up between walls of smooth, polished stone. Swiftly she ascended, taking the steps two or three a time. The walls trembled as though thunder crashed within them, and the Amp lent her the increased stamina she needed to reach the top. The staircase led to another chamber, this one open-plan and empty, with an archway carved into the far wall. She ran through it, stumbling as she recognised the milky green light from earlier and found herself on a rough-edged natural gallery above the pool of bubbling toxic liquid. She was at ceiling level, facing the dangling stalactites. There was no easy way down. She was pretty sure she couldn’t arc that far. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she snarled. “Can you carry me?”
Winston had no head to shake, but he shook his whole body side to side in surrogacy. “I wouldn’t make it three arms. Time to test that Braid Gauntlet, Earthborn.”
“You’re kidding right? You want me to swing across there like fucking Spider-Man?”
