by Adams, P R
“Yes. Very powerful.”
“Could he do something like this?”
“Yes. Easily.”
How far out would they have to be for Hirvok to blow this wizard’s head off? What they needed was a weapon of their own to match his power. A nuclear missile. An orbital laser. Stealth aircraft mounted with shredders and incendiary bombs.
All they had were some guns and knives. And determination.
Tarlayn exhaled loudly and squeezed her eyes shut. “The destruction is tragic, but what we seek is still here. Inside.”
A quick glance over the shoulder confirmed what Riyun suspected: The team didn’t believe that. “I think it’s time we moved on. We never really would’ve believed a prophecy anyway.”
“You said your mind was open and that you were listening.”
“Yeah, up to a point. Prophecy?”
“You spoke before of structure.”
“Struc—” Story structure. So she had been rattled by Naru’s ideas. The look on Tarlayn’s face hinted that something had bothered her. And who in their right mind wouldn’t be bothered? She was hearing people talk about her existence as a construct, an imaginary endeavor. A game. And yet… “We’re talking about a silly—”
“Is it so silly, or is it destiny? You frame the idea in your own words, but it’s the same: fate.”
Circular reasoning. He’d seen that before, the sort of thing the misguided embraced to find peace in life. If the world didn’t match what you wanted it to be, you found something that explained it all away. If someone blasted the foundations of your belief, you embraced the nonsense that acted as a bulwark against reasoning. That’s what she was doing.
Riyun waved the others forward. “All right. Let’s take a look. We could always use this as a camp for the night.”
Beyond the point that must have been some sort of portal into the main temple, they found more charred rubble. The stones were huge, and there were indications here and there of machined quality. What had it looked like before the fire? What level of craftsmanship must have been behind such work for it to look as it did now? A part of Riyun wrestled with the notion that these were just…software. Could software truly manage such design? Looking around what remained, he couldn’t shake the feeling of antiquity and true artisan care. It all seemed so human.
Tarlayn stopped in front of a depression in the ground. Dark shadows wrapped around the base of a large, curved stone segment. “Here. The steps to the catacombs below. This was part of the overhead arch support.”
The stone didn’t budge when Riyun shoved it with his boot. “There’s no moving that. Must be a ton, maybe two.”
She closed her eyes. “Sometimes life requires that you believe.”
Sea green energy flared at the tip of her staff, then spread across the surface of the embedded emerald stone. In seconds, the energy stretched out to the curved stone segment.
Then, with a horrible groan and scrape, the remnant of the arch rose slightly above the ground and drifted away from the shadows. Where the stone had been, stairs remained. They were of the same dark gray but showed no sign of damage from the fire. Unlike the stones above that had weathered the attack without significant damage, the stairs seemed smooth and almost simple.
The curved segment thumped against the stone floor. Tarlayn’s staff returned to a normal brown wood, and barely a glint remained in the emerald. She motioned to the steps. “The dead have no need for grandeur.”
So she had seen his reaction. Or maybe she realized how simple the way down seemed.
Quil squatted at the top of the stairs and pulled his gloves off. His fingers slid across the first step and came to rest over some sort of stamp in the stone. “This predates the temple.”
Tarlayn arched an eyebrow. “By a century or two.”
“Amazing. The mark is consistent with the Fyad era.”
“You know the history of our place? Or is that also part of the story?” She glared at Riyun, then whispered. The emerald glowed again, but this time the energy acted as a light. “Follow me if you wish to see the truth.”
Naru and Quil bracketed Riyun on either side. The hacker seemed transfixed by the magical glow leading them deeper into the subterranean structure. “This whole thing about them being just some sort of story?” Even at a whisper, her voice echoed. “I don’t think that’s the case.”
Quil nodded. “I concur. It now seems a misguided assessment.”
Riyun tried to focus on the steps and what might be waiting for them down below. “Is that so?”
“These are not simple characters crafted for a game.” The pseudo pinched his bottom lip. “The history, the interplay, the subtext…”
“Now you’ve mastered subtext?” It was a rare thing, Quil backtracking on an idea he’d proposed. It set Riyun on edge. “You said all of this was just a game.”
“And it was. But the design, the concept behind it—to have someone create people and beings…”
Naru ran fingers over the wall. “I knew Beraga was crazy rich and ambitious, but this… He created an entire world. Or more.”
Quil stopped. “Perhaps we are missing the obvious.”
“Like what?”
“The world has been engineered and guided, but what we are seeing is the result not of Beraga’s genius but chaos.”
“Chaos?” The hacker’s lips made an ‘o.’
Riyun looked at the two of them. “What?”
Naru bounced up and down. “This world really has—”
The pseudo smiled. “Its own history. Yes. Who knows how much control Beraga exerted.”
“Or if the control ever worked.”
“Hold it!” Riyun waved for them to continue down the stairs. “You’ve lost me. What’s the significance of chaos or…whatever?”
In the glow of Tarlayn’s staff, Quil’s silvery eyes looked like emeralds. “When you told Beraga that Aliat Dachul had returned to Kamiyan, the reaction was one of surprise and annoyance.”
“Sure. He didn’t want anyone catching on to the murder.”
“What if Beraga was sincere? What if Mr. Dachul returned through some means that went undetected?”
“He was murdered.”
“Perhaps Major Kozmut didn’t let Beraga know. It would be an embarrassing security breach, after all.”
Riyun slowed as the green glow came to a stop. “I’m still not—”
“We have assumed that this world is completely modeled from foundation to sky. We assumed that an AI or groups of AIs controlled every variable to manage every possible outcome.”
Naru giggled. “What if Beraga screwed up, huh? What if there were too many variables? Right?”
The pseudo seemed to actually catch the young woman’s enthusiasm. “If so, then the world has taken a course of its own. The developments are beyond external control.”
Something about the idea set Riyun’s nerves on edge. “Go on.”
“The reason everything you see seems authentic and has depth, Lieutenant, is because it is and it does. This is a real world. Crafted artificially and designed for a certain outcome, but it is not the world Beraga expected.”
The stairs ended just below them, but Tarlayn didn’t wait. Her light revealed a large circular chamber with the same sort of crude stonework as the steps. Niches had been cut into the stone, and within each space rested an urn of bronze. Arched entryways in the other three walls revealed hallways leading off into darkness.
Riyun waved the rest of the group down. Tawod quickly settled at Naru’s side. “This must be carved right out of the stone.” The explosives expert patted the wall. “I could probably drop this place in on itself with—”
Naru shot an angry look at him. “These people respected their dead. They had primitive belief systems, but they were built around love and a belief in community.”
“Hey, I’m not talking about history. I’m just saying some well-placed—”
“Well, we are talking about history, so…”
She groaned and turned away.
Was it history? The two of them made it sound more like some sort of…? What? That these people had taken the influence Beraga had given them from real history as he understood it and had somehow synthesized their own meaning and culture from it? It seemed an uncomfortable theory, at least on the surface. If these people had their own history, wouldn’t Tarlayn be right to take offense at the idea that she was nothing more than a creation for entertainment?
When Lonar reached the bottom step, he dropped to his butt with a wheeze. “Gonna need a breather.”
They all probably needed a break. Riyun was wrestling with some of the things that had been said. “Five minutes, everyone.”
Tarlayn was looking down the hallway opposite the stairs; Riyun curled a finger at Naru and Quil, leading them into the hall to the left. When they were far enough away from the others, the lieutenant softly cleared his throat. “All right, all this talk about these people being their own…whatever. Put it aside. Let’s go back to this discussion about story and design and whatever.”
The pseudo cocked his head. “The two are not mutually exclusive.”
“That’s nice. Let’s stay focused. As a game design, what’s the play here?”
Naru chewed on her lip. “In these ruins? Well, I guess you would have some sort of information here that we have to get.”
Quil squinted at the stones. “No matter what, there is a problem with the catacombs surviving.”
“Structurally?” The hacker seemed unconvinced.
“Practically. The dragons seemed intent on destroying everything.”
“Oh, like that wizard tower?”
“Would catacombs be saturated with magic?”
“It’s a fantasy setting, Quil. Why wouldn’t they be?”
“But there is no historical analog to—”
Riyun held up a hand. “All right. Focus. Remember? Naru, what sort of information would we get here?”
“Well.” She glanced back toward Tarlayn, who was now watching them from the entryway. “Some sort of quest.”
“Quest?”
“More like a mini-quest. We already have a quest, sort of.”
Quil furtively glanced at the young woman. “Is the quest to kill the dragons, or is it to kill the wizard?”
“Dragons are a mini-quest. Meriscoya is the big boss.”
“So the dragons are—”
“A boss fight, but not the final fight.”
Once again, Riyun raised a hand. “Can you two possibly speak in a language I know?”
The hacker rolled her eyes. “These are basic story design concepts. You go on a quest: to rescue the love of your life from a monster, or to bring someone back from the dead, or to defeat some great evil. Along the way, you find yourself up against other challenges that draw you off. Those are side quests.”
“Then this temple helps us in one of these quests?”
“That would be the basic design.” She chewed her lip again. “I can’t figure if it would be something that helps us with the main quest or sends us off on a side quest.”
Riyun sighed. “I’m having a hard time with the idea that this was designed as a game. You said chaos would—”
Quil’s eyes widened. “Chaos is a general term. We—”
“Fine, whatever. You said this wasn’t under Beraga’s control. So how could this still be a game?”
“Why would it not be?”
“Oh, I don’t know—there’s the problem of selling someone on the idea of coming to a place where they could die within seconds? Really die. Who’s going to spend money on that?”
“Perhaps they don’t sell the game as a means of dying.”
“All right. It’s not like someone is going to sue them for false advertisement if they die.”
Naru shook her head. “I don’t think you understand how competitive and desperate some people are.”
“Oh?” Riyun smirked. “I know you’re new to the mercenary world…”
The hacker looked away. “I mean—”
“I get it. I guess I’m just irritated that we have to believe in this Wholesale Fantasy and everything is going to work out for us. I prefer to control my own destiny.”
A light seemed to go on in Quil’s eyes. “Ah! You resent the predetermination.”
“Who in the Hollow Hills wouldn’t be pissed to discover their decisions don’t matter?”
Naru shrugged. “That’s why so many people give up.”
Riyun stopped himself from saying something he would regret. He didn’t have the stomach for people who used weak excuses like that to justify apathy. It was lazy, a sad excuse to avoid responsibility. “Your choices matter. Outside of here, what you do in life is up to you.”
“Whatever. That means because you don’t like that your choices are predetermined here that you’re not going to see what’s down in the catacombs?”
“We’ve got an objective. If I have to do what I’m expected to do to complete that objective…”
He spun on his heel and headed out to where Javika stood a few feet down the opposite hall, scraping to a stop behind her.
She flicked her flashlight off. “Catacombs.”
“Apparently, we had to come here. These stories seem to have an obsession with going underground.”
“Like many of the old legends.”
“I guess. Naru and Quil were saying something about rescuing people from the dead.”
The Biwali warrior brushed dust from her gloves. “You have no legends about trips beneath the Hollow Hills to reclaim a loved one’s soul?”
“My people didn’t have legends, really. We barely had time to live.”
“There is a grace that comes from the artistry of heroic tales. To have something to aspire to greater than yourself is romantic.”
“I never saw you as a romantic.”
The wiry assassin’s brow wrinkled. “Perhaps you do not understand me.”
He winced. Of course she had a romantic aspect. Her father had been an artist. She’d been a dancer of some sort, something her people valued nearly as much as their deadly assassin warriors. And he stuffed his big, smelly foot in his mouth. “Sorry. That was insensitive—”
“You have no reason to apologize. I should be used to it by now.” She brushed past him.
It seemed to grow cold in the hallway. Just me and the dead.
Riyun exhaled and returned to the circular chamber. “All right, let’s go. We’ve got a quest to wrap up.”
26
Washed in the green glimmering of Tarlayn’s staff, the catacomb walls quickly had Riyun feeling nauseated. There were signs of damage: cracks and areas where the floor had settled or where sections of the roof had given way. In some spots, crypts and reliquaries had been buried by collapsing walls. An almost sulfuric stench clung to things as they descended deeper, and Riyun couldn’t shake the feeling that the smell was coming from the occasional ancient skeleton they encountered. In the eldritch light, skulls took on a hungry look. He could imagine the bony remnants scraping through the halls, walking in time with the heavy clump of booted steps, waiting in the shadows to pounce.
Did the stories of the Hollow Hills talk about the dead rising again? Hadn’t he heard something before about heroes having to overcome long-dead champions?
Riyun shivered, as much from dread as the unmistakable and odd chill that settled the deeper down they went.
As much as keeping his team close went against good practice, he did just that. There was only so much light from the staff, and he didn’t like the idea of wasting battery power if they didn’t need to. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the idea that something was waiting to tear away stragglers.
His dark thoughts were interrupted by a loud crack as Tarlayn brought her staff down against the floor. It took him a second to realize why: The way ahead was blocked.
He pushed past Quil, who had become the de facto scout. The pseudo seemed frozen in place
at the sight of the wall of rubble. After tugging a few smaller chunks of stone aside, it became apparent there would be no digging through the debris.
He dropped a chunk of stone and turned back to Tarlayn. “This is the only way?”
The wizard studied the obstruction as if she might be thinking of using her staff again. But this wasn’t a huge archway to be moved as a whole; this was tons and tons of smaller segments and who knew how much rock from above now filled the hall. “It is the only way I’ve ever used.”
They had been underground for a while. It seemed like a good time to take another break. He waved everyone in. “One hour break. Rotate guards—Quil, you and me first. One flashlight per shift. Conserve your batteries until we get back in the sun.”
Hirvok snorted. “Flashlights? You scared of the dead?”
“We don’t know what else might be down here.”
“Woo-oo! Skeletons!”
“Hirvok, you and Tawod have second watch.”
Javika drifted to the rear of the group. Her attention was focused on the way they’d come. Riyun made a point of shuffling back toward her casually, as if he was just doing his job as a guard, not in the least bit concerned about trying to make amends for offending her. She seemed to have settled down already, nodding back down the hallway when he came to a stop.
“There will be another way.” It was typical Javika—pure confidence.
“I doubt it’s worth it. How many branches did we see? How many were collapsed like this?”
“It is for that reason alone that we know there must be another way.”
“I wish I could share your confidence. We can’t afford to be stuck down here, not with the risk of the ceiling collapsing like this.”
She straightened. “The structure has settled.”
“From fire? Does that make any sense at all?”
“The dragons do not breath normal flames.”
“They don’t. Look—”
“I will find another way.”
“Is this about what I said? I’m sorry about that. I told you.”
“It is about our need to find whatever it is Tarlayn seeks. If we are to slay this Meriscoya to return home, then what she has said has value. She might be able to help us find Zabila, too.”
