MudMan (The Golem Chronicles Book 1)

by James Hunter

  While Levi spoke, he watched the professor, gauging his reactions. Thankfully, each sentence seemed to disarm the man a little more. By the time the Mudman wrapped up his strange tale, Wilkie had removed the blade from his neck altogether and sat slumped against the wall, his pose mirroring Levi’s own. He looked exhausted now, a bone-deep weariness, but he also looked at ease. Good.

  At last Levi fell silent, the quiet stretching between them like a chasm.

  After a handful of tense, thoughtful minutes, the professor spoke. “What a remarkable story. Truly remarkable. A golem, you say …” He trailed off, eyes unfocused, lost in some faraway thought. “Should we escape this place, perhaps you’ll allow me to examine you.” He rubbed a finger at his chin. “The secrets you could teach me, teach us all …” He shook his head.

  Levi didn’t much care for the way the man watched him—like a hungry dog eyeballing a raw steak. He shifted uncomfortably under the mage’s gaze.

  “That’s a thought for another day,” the professor said after a time. “First, I suppose, we ought to set our minds to escape. I’m not at all ashamed to say I’m glad it was you who found me. I was beginning to think this was the end for me—and death was the good option in that equation. You can’t possibly imagine what they did to my lab assistant, Simon. Poor bloke.” He sniffled and ran a hand across his cheek. “Horrendous. Unspeakable evil. Never would’ve brought him out here had I thought … well, it doesn’t matter now. Done is done.”

  Levi recalled the image of the crucified and disemboweled man he’d found in the camp outside the temple complex. Horrendous, unspeakable evil summed it up well enough. The Mudman nodded his head. “I saw the body, so I’ve got some idea.” He hesitated for a moment. “I’m sorry for your loss. Not sure if it makes any difference to you, but I put him to rest. Buried him so the scavengers couldn’t get at him. Marked the spot with a cross.”

  “Simon was a Buddhist,” Wilkie said absently, “but thank you all the same. Good to know his remains are cared for. He loved the Sprawl, hard as that might be to believe, so this is as good a place as any for him to be.”

  “Like I said, I’m sorry for your loss. I don’t want to rush things along—things like this are never easy—but we don’t have time to think to the dead. We have the living to see to. I believe whoever is responsible for Simon’s death has much bigger plans in mind.”

  “Indeed,” Wilkie replied, rubbing at his sharp-edged jaw. “Hogg’s his name.”

  Hogg. That name immediately triggered a warning bell in Levi’s head. He’d seen that name before—on the letter he’d found in the Deep Downs.

  “I don’t know much about him,” the professor continued. “Or his history. Man’s not a proper mage with the Guild, that much I can say with conviction. But he’s brilliant. Brilliant and crazy. And he can use the Vis to some extent. I can also tell you what he’s after, even if I can’t explain the why of it. The lunatic means to resurrect Dibeininax Ayosainondur Daimuyon, the Eternally Cursed One—”

  “The Eternally Cursed One.” Levi pointed to the mural on the wall. “The computer said this whole place was some sort of holding cell for that thing.”

  “Yes. Poor Siphonei.” The professor bobbed his head. “She’s been invaluable in filling in the gaps about this complex. What you and your friends have stumbled into is an unfolding drama nearly as old as creation itself. Though it’s more tragedy than drama, I suppose,” he said with a soft smile full of regret.

  “Is he here?” Levi asked. “Hogg?”

  The professor nodded his head. “He’s holed up in the emergency exit tunnel and he has some intimidating muscle with him. Trolls of one sort or another. A pack of them.” Thursrs, Levi thought, it had to be the Dread Trolls. “Once Siphonei activated the termination protocol,” Wilkie said, “the main entrance snapped shut, so the only way out is through that exit tunnel, which means through Hogg. Fortunately, that lunatic isn’t willing to venture into the temple proper, which is why I haven’t left yet.”

  “Why?” Levi asked. “What would stop him from coming in here?”

  “Well, the guardians, of course. Formidable creatures to say the least. And, from what I’ve managed to gather, our dear Siphonei doesn’t seem to have any fondness whatsoever for the man. I suspect her guardians would make short work of him and take great pleasure in the act.”

  “Why would a security system be holding a personal grudge?” Levi asked, not really expecting an answer.

  Wilkie shook his head. “Sadly any of Siphonei’s records concerning Hogg are sealed. All of them. I’ve asked her a hundred different questions in a hundred different ways, but anything touching on Hogg seems to be redacted by a system administrator—though only God knows how that’s possible.”

  “For not knowing much about this Hogg,” Levi replied, “you seem to know an awful lot about him, if you catch my meaning.”

  “I’m not sure I do catch your meaning. Are you insinuating something, creature?”

  “Not creature. Levi,” the Mudman replied, heat in the words. “Levi Adams. I’m a person, just like you—not some monster. I’d kindly appreciate it if you would remember that fact. And, to be clear, I’m not accusing you of anything, Professor. Not yet. I’d just like to know how you fit into the picture is all. Like I said, you seem to know an awful lot.”

  The professor flapped one hand in the air, brushing away the Mudman’s concern. “Well, my apologies, Levi, I didn’t mean to insult you. As to my relationship with Hogg, I can quite assure you my involvement in this whole affair is purely academic. Nothing of a sinister or dubious nature if that’s what you’re thinking.

  “I’m just an old scholar who discovered something better left buried and forgotten. A series of discoveries, actually. Hogg approached me several months ago—this was before Simon and I launched this expedition—hoping to enlist my aid. He wanted me to map out the temple and translate the glyphs in the inner sanctum. The request seemed innocent enough at the time and since he was willing to fund my expedition, I agreed.”

  “Why pay you to do it? Seems like the kind of thing he could do for himself.”

  “Well, yes and no. It’s more complicated than that. As I mentioned, I don’t think Hogg can access the facility proper without triggering the security protocols. But more germane, up until ten months ago, no one could translate the glyphs in this temple. No one.

  “The writing in this complex”—he waved a hand about like a teacher motioning to his blackboard—“predates any known language, and that is because this temple was built long before the Tower of Babel, when mankind spoke in a single, unified tongue. On these walls you will find the First Language.” He said it reverently, awe in his voice. “The original, mother tongue of humanity.”

  Levi looked up, eyes tracing over the walls and ceiling, lingering on the pictographs and strange script. “How old is this place?” he asked, feeling awed himself. “Who built it?”

  “Oh it is very, very old. It is distinctly possible this complex is the oldest building in all of existence—barring some of the structures in the fae courts. It’s hard to date precisely, but if I had to make an educated guess, I’d put its creation around seven thousand years ago. To answer the other part of your question …” He paused, wiggled his nose, and readjusted his glasses—the very picture of a befuddled university teacher who’d lost his train of thought. “I’m not entirely sure who built it.

  “You must understand there isn’t much by way of written record left from seven thousand years ago. To give you some perspective, the books of Moses—Genesis through Deuteronomy—were penned around 1445 B.C. and the earliest copies of Genesis come from the Dead Sea Scrolls, which date to around 150 B.C. This temple likely dates back to 5,000 or 6,000 B.C. I do have a theory, which is … well, also very complicated and built upon a great degree of disconnected historical accounts and speculation. I can tell you with a fair degree of certainty why it was built, though. Are you, perhaps, familiar with the biblical mythos
of Cain and Abel?”

  Levi nodded his blocky head. What God-fearing, churchgoing man didn’t know the tale? “I’m no scholar,” Levi said, “but as far as I understand it, Adam and Eve had a bunch of children, but Cain and Abel were the first. Brothers. God commanded the two sons to offer sacrifices, but He accepted Abel’s offering while rejecting Cain’s. In return, Cain killed his brother and became the first murderer in human history.”

  “Well put,” Wilkie said. “Now, certain parts of Genesis, particularly chapters one through eleven, read more as ancient near-east cosmology than some sort of”—he rolled his hands about as though trying to pluck the words out of the air—“fixed, literal historical text. With that said, there is far more reality to those accounts than I ever would’ve believed. Cain is not some allegorical representation of the wickedness of humanity—its murderous impulses and desires—he is, in fact, a real person. And he’s here. Right here. Buried in a pocket dimension beneath our feet.”

  “Wait.” Levi frowned and ran his good hand over his fat neck. “You’re saying Cain, from the Bible, is the inmate of this prison? He’s this—what’d you call him … the Eternally Cursed One?”

  The professor offered an enthusiastic grin and waggled a bony finger at Levi. “Yes, precisely. That’s precisely what I’m saying. Cain, son of Adam, brother of Abel, is the Dibeininax Ayosainondur Daimuyon. Now just bear with me for a moment. You see, after Cain killed his brother, he was not executed by God, but rather cursed. God placed a mark upon his forehead, a mark which kept Cain from dying, and then God banished him. Drove him from the land and into the outer regions, sentencing him to a lifetime of endless wandering, forever forced to live with his guilt.

  “Eventually, Cain made his way to the land of Nod, a place east of Eden. Now, I can’t prove it, but I believe Nod was an ancient term for Outworld. He literally passed into a different realm, one filled with a myriad of beasts and creatures. He fathered children there—perhaps the first halfies?” He paused again, grin widening. “Though who can rightly say?

  “At any rate, after years and years of wandering, he stumbled into dark, dark alchemy and became more than human—or less, perhaps—and eventually went … well, quite insane, as you might expect. Over time, he became a living incarnation of murder: the personification of the worst of humanity. Though I’ve studied biblical mythology for years, much of this I’ve only recently discovered through studying the writings in this temple. Now here’s where it gets a little confusing.”

  “I’m already plenty confused,” Levi replied with a frown.

  “Just bear with me. A group of people, though who precisely isn’t clear, built this temple and devised a way to imprison Cain so he could rant and rave without disturbing the world. I can’t tell you who they were—personally, I suspect it may have been a cabal of lesser godlings who feared Cain’s growing power—though in the end, it doesn’t really matter much, I suppose. This group found a relatively deserted region of Outworld, the Sprawl, and built this temple, imprisoned Cain, and left him to rot in his own personal hell.”

  Levi held up a hand, cutting off the professor’s easy, lecturing cadence. “For the sake of brevity, let’s say I believe you. That still doesn’t explain everything. Or much of anything? What about all the high-tech doodads scattered around here? What about Siphonei? She said this place was owned and operated by Atlantis Correction Systems—doesn’t sound biblical to me.”

  “Quite right. The biblical narrative is only one half of the story. The second half picks up several millennia later, with another ancient mythos, that of Atlantis.” The professor was nodding his head vigorously now, his body shaking with barely contained excitement. “You see, like Cain, the island nation of Atlantis is no myth, but a concrete reality—and the machinery left in this prison is proof. Exactly what I told all my colleagues in the Guild … not that anyone ever believed me.” The last he muttered under his breath.

  Wilkie frowned and absently brushed at his pant leg. “Atlantis,” he continued. “The jewel of the ancient world. From everything I’ve been able to find, it was a remarkable civilization. Unlike our ‘modern world’”—he air quoted—“Atlantis was a truly progressive society. Magi didn’t hide in the dark, keeping their talents locked behind closed doors, skirting along the periphery of society. They ruled openly and made Atlantis the greatest city-state in the known world. The envy to all—which is precisely why Homer spoke so ill of them.” Admiration lingered in his eye. “Sadly, their greatness lead to hubris, which, in the end, proved to be their undoing.”

  “Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall,” Levi muttered under his breath.

  “Just so,” he replied. “You see, Atlantis was built not just on magic, on Vis, but on advanced technomancy. But the technology was stolen. Pilfered from the future. Magi would sneak into Outworld—much more difficult in those days, since the Hub had yet to be created by the Old Ones—and raid the Mists of Fate, stealing technology from a myriad of possible futures. And they used that stolen technology to thrive. And they thrived right up until they destroyed themselves.

  “During an exploratory trip to Outworld, a party of magi discovered the Spine and in it a rare earth alloy essential to their workings. The ruling body, realizing the profit to be made, wanted to set up a huge mining operation, but couldn’t find a way to make it sustainable since Outworld was so inaccessible at the time. So they developed a machine, one they didn’t fully understand, to punch a permanent hole in reality and create a temporal bridge between the Sprawl and Atlantis.

  “Instead of creating a stable bridge”—he gave an apologetic shrug—“they created an unstable dimensional wormhole, which tore the entire city through the fabric of reality and dropped it right in the heart of the Sprawl. The whole island disappeared in a blink, leaving behind a massive crater, which, in turn, created an unprecedented tsunami that filled in the void: the sinking of Atlantis. The Cataclysm.”

  “Stop,” Levi said, pushing himself to his feet, then pressing fat palms against the sides of his head, trying to hold his thoughts in place. “You’re overwhelming me with all this.” Levi wasn’t dumb precisely, but neither was he quick-witted. “I’m not a scholar. This is too big for me. It’s over my head. Can’t you simplify it?”

  “I’m sorry, but believe me, I am simplifying it.”

  Levi grunted and paced, huge legs carrying him across the room in a handful of steps, then back again.

  Back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  Thoughts slugged along while his legs moved. “Okay, okay,” Levi said after a beat. “So Cain is real and trapped in this prison, cut off from the rest of the world, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Then a couple of thousand years later, Atlantis gets sucked through a rift into Outworld, correct?”

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “Okay, but that still doesn’t explain how we got to here.” He jabbed a finger at the floor. “How does Atlantis Correction Systems come into the picture?”

  “I’m getting there, but the story isn’t short. I’m trying to cram seven thousand years’ worth of history, a hundred text books worth of ancient mythology, and one of the greatest civilizations that’s ever existed into a cohesive story a layman can understand. It’s not bloody easy.” He cleared his throat and readjusted his glasses. “Now, Atlantis wasn’t destroyed. The city survived, damaged but intact. They landed in the Sprawl—though in those days it was a lush, beautiful paradise—and spread throughout the region. Some ancient texts even suggest a party made it across the Spine.

  “Those were far from peaceful years, however. After the Cataclysm, the country broke into a bloody civil war, which eventually wiped out the civilization—the whole thing imploded in a thermo-nuclear war, which turned the Sprawl into the desolate wasteland you see today. A tragedy of the greatest magnitude.” He fell silent for a moment, as though he were watching those events unfold before him. “During those tumultuou
s years, a group of civic minded Atlanteans discovered this temple and realized the potential danger it possessed.

  “If one of the warring Atlantean factions unleashed Cain as a weapon to use in the war, the damage would’ve been unthinkable. So a neutral third party, Atlantis Correction Systems, was contracted to outfit the facility in an attempt to ensure Cain was never released by either side. The security protocols they put in place were impressive, though sadly many of the defensive mechanisms are now inoperative. The effects of age I’m afraid. I can quite sympathize—these old bones of mine don’t work half so well as they used to.”

  Levi paced in silence for a time, his mind spinning and whirling, processing the torrent of new information. This place was a prison designed to keep one inmate incarcerated. If the security system flagged Ryder—and the homunculus inside her—as a threat, it could only mean the homunculus was somehow key in letting Cain, the living incarnation of murder, slip free from his bonds.

  But what did that mean about his own past? He too was a homunculus of sorts, and he too had been fashioned under similar circumstances—the strange altar, the massacred bodies, all of it—so how did he fit into the equation? A deeply disturbing thought, that. A question he had no answers for. He turned his attention back toward the professor, who looked equally lost in his own mind.

  “Professor,” Levi said.

  No answer.

  “Professor.” The Mudman snapped the fat fingers of his good hand, pop, pop, pop.

  “Hmm, what’s that now?”

  “I need you to focus for me. There’s still a lot of ground to cover and not near enough time. I need to know why this is all happening now. I mean this place has been around for seven thousand years?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense.”