He tried to stay upright, but this was worse than the swaying of a ship in a storm. The hole of the monster's throat, which had looked like a tunnel, suddenly was a vast shaft. He was falling, down, down, down, with no end in sight.
Christian landed, hard. The air left his lungs as he hit the cold floor, and the back of his spine hurt where he'd hit. He lay dazed for a moment. It stung like hell, but he didn't think he'd broken anything.
He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.
He was in a room with dark, metallic walls and floor. The walls and floor had strange markings on them. The markings were small, raised bumps, about the size of the distance from his nail to the joint of his forefinger. A cold draft blew on his scalp from above his head.
One long hall stretched to his left. Strange clangs and bangs, like the sounds of a far-off duel, echoed from it.
There was no sign of Miriet. Samuel lay, prostrate, not too far from where he sat. Christian moved to check. The boy still breathed.
Christian murmured a prayer of thanks under his breath. He sat on the floor, tracing his fingers over the bumps as he thought.
The creature had swallowed them alive. It was like the story of the prophet Jonah, who'd been swallowed by a great fish. But this didn't seem like a creature's guts. If anything, Miriet was right. This wasn't a creature, it was a machine.
He wished he had his staff, though it was a demon's weapon. The weapons of man were useless against the workings of other worlds, and Ariador, with its curse, was even less useful than he'd have wished.
Christian looked around.
"Miriet?" he called.
There was no reply.
He cursed under his breath and bent, picking up Samuel. The boy was light, and he was able to carry him over his shoulder without too much trouble.
After another moment of thought, he started off-down the tunnel, and into the belly of the beast.
Chapter Eleven
Christian edged along the corridor nervously. Samuel weighed on his shoulder, and his steps clanked against the metal floor. It felt like he was in armor, but he felt exposed without his gauntlets and breastplate.
The walls and floor were made of that same, strange, lumped steel. The walls were pierced by colorful pipes, red and orange and green. The smallest was as wide as the hilt of his sword; the largest easily exceeded the thickness of an oak tree.
Christian heard a loud clicking sound behind him and turned, slowly, drawing Ariador. He knew he couldn't fight well with the heavy weight of Samuel on his back. But if there were creatures here, inside the leviathan, they weren't going to be friendly.
A long shadow like a crocodile's snout peered around the corner. Shoving Samuel into a more comfortable position, Christian commended himself to God under his breath.
He stepped forward.
"Oi, put that thing away. You're going to hurt yourself." The voice was bossy, self-confident, and utterly familiar.
"Miriet?" He frowned, but relaxed in relief.
"Way ahead of you, Christian." She snorted.
"Where are you?" He sheathed his sword, and looked around. The shadow seemed to be coming from around the corner, but he couldn't see Miriet.
"Hold on a second..."
A flash of bright scales dropped from the ceiling, heading right for his face. Christian blocked, instinctively, with his arm. Miriet hit it and fell to the floor.
"Tarking little gods..." she cursed. "What'd you do that for?"
"You threw yourself at my head." Christian picked her up. "Are you hurt?"
"You bruised my dignity." Her nostrils flared. "Other than that, I'm fine."
She climbed up Christian's arm, sharp claws scraping his skin through his shirt. Christian thought she was being rather less careful than usual, but he said nothing.
"So... how are we gonna get out of this one?" Miriet's tail swayed back and forth, and her voice held a heavy note of hesitation.
"I don't know. I think..." Christian's brow furrowed. He didn't want to seem too gloomy, but there was no better way to say it.
"We're trapped."
He knew he shouldn't have trusted the Captain's advice, but he'd seemed so sure of himself, and Miriet had had no idea what she was doing. He could have kicked himself, but Miriet's claws had done the job for him-he could feel the lines of pain running up his arm.
"Yeah, well. That's obvious." Miriet slumped, and her scales turned rusty gray.
"It's a machine," Christian said, slowly. "So how do we... break it?"
"Well..." Her whiskers twitched, and her scales shimmered through a rainbow of colors as she thought.
"If we can find the controls, I can figure out what makes it tick. Then I can shut it down."
"Have you ever driven one of these... creatures?"
"Not on your life." Miriet snorted. "Do I look like a soldier to you?"
"No." Christian felt his shoulders tense up. He adjusted Samuel's body and kept walking. "Where are we going?"
"We need to find the control room," she murmured in his ear. "It's gonna be near the center of the machine. Once we find that, I might be able to shut it down. Key word: might."
Samuel stirred, and groaned.
"Arundel?" His eyes opened. "Where are we?"
"In the belly of the whale." Christian set him on his feet. "We've still got a chance, so says Miriet."
"The lizard?" Samuel shook his head. "Mother Mary. This is... not good."
"I'm not a lizard," Miriet said, dryly. It sounded like she had said this a thousand times before. "And we've easily got a chance. We just have to get to the center before-"
The ground shook, heaving up and down with all the force of the sea. Christian clung, as best as he could, to the wall, trying to brace himself. He felt as though he'd been pulped from the inside-out.
"Before what?" Samuel asked, tone sharp.
"Before this thing capsizes the Polaris. C'mon!"
Miriet leaped off of Christian's shoulder and took off in a jittery bound, sharp claws skittering along the metal of the floor and catching on the strange markings. She tripped, splaying her legs like a dog on a polished wood floor.
Christian picked her up. She struggled in his hand.
"Let me go! I know what I'm doing!" she cried.
"You're having trouble walking." Christian put her on his shoulder. "Direct us. I'll carry you."
She grumbled and climbed up his arm, claws digging through the cloth of his doublet and stopping a hairs' breadth away from his skin.
"Left at the fork," she said.
For a long moment, they walked in uneasy silence. After a while, Samuel cleared his throat.
"Christian... how do you know that isn't a demon?" he said, quietly.
"I can hear you." Miriet groaned, and her scales turned red.
"I was talking to Christian," Samuel said, archly.
"Look, we've been over this," she said. Her voice grew ascerbic, like an elderly schoolteacher. "I'm not a demon, I'm not his familiar spirit-whatever that means-and really, don't you have more important things to be worrying about?"
Samuel ignored her, staring straight at Christian.
"I know your House's... reputation. I didn't think you partook in the dark arts," he said. "But we should get rid of this thing. It's brought us nothing but trouble."
Christian frowned. His House, it was true, had had more than its share of witches, warlocks, and necromancers, in times long gone; House Arundel had always had more than its share of men of ambition. The Arundels of the past had been willing to do anything to get the better of others, even if it meant consorting with devils and the spirits of the dead.
Of course, Christian didn't live up to his House's dark reputation. Except for certain natural urges he couldn't avoid, he was a man of honor, even occasionally a good man. The idea of speaking with a devil made his skin crawl, and performing magic was entirely out of the question.
"Christian..." Miriet moaned. Her voice crackled, like a boy's voice b
reaking. "How is it possible? He's thicker than you are..."
Her tail twitched, flicking his neck. Christian sighed.
"Miriet saved my life. I owe her a debt," he said.
A knot of doubt rose in his stomach. He felt as though he ought to trust her, but at the same time, the worry that she was a demon wouldn't go away. He shuddered, and his hand rested on Ariador's hilt.
"It's your loss." Samuel paused. When he next spoke, fear filled his voice. "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Christian turned his head.
"That infernal noise." He winced. "The... buzzing."
Christian turned, trying to make it out. He could vaguely pick out a sound, but it seemed more like a pain in his ears than anything else.
"What is that?"
Miriet cursed, long and loud and fluent, though Christian couldn't make out what she was saying.
"Proximity alarm, that's what it was." She cursed again. "We're dead meat. Tarked ten times over."
"What exactly is a proximity alarm and why is it ... bad?" Samuel said, nervously.
"We're not authorized to be in here. Meaning the system's going to try to shut us out, however it can." Miriet shuddered. "I just hope they don't have nanobots in here or we're fish food."
"What exactly is going on here?" Christian frowned.
"Just keep moving. Follow the red pipe," Miriet said, nervously.
Clanking footsteps, like those of a knight in armor, rang through the corridor. Christian wheeled around. Two knights were coming towards them.
Their armor was strange. He couldn't tell if the knights were from Iria or Aquitaine or his own homeland of Aviganis, but the armor didn't seem like it came from any of those lands. It was richly decorated, almost like clothing, and brass borders cluttered the edges of each plate.
"Halt-state your-business," they ground out. Their voices sounded a little like Miriet's, tinny and unreal.
"Run!" Miriet clawed at Christian's shoulder.
"...A knight never refuses a worthy battle," Christian said. He turned to face them. This was the brave thing to do, he knew, but his mouth felt dry and his heart hammered just at the thought of it.
"No, no, no, those aren't real people. They're robots." Miriet's claws pierced Christian's skin, digging into his flesh. "You need to get outta here."
"Robots?" Christian asked, backing away slowly. Samuel was already running. The younger man was as fleet-footed as the deer in the King's Forest, and Christian didn't think he could keep pace.
"Mechanical men. Made out of metal." Miriet's tone was even terser than usual. "You can't win this one, Christian."
Christian decided to heed her, and hurried after Samuel. The robot knights' heavy feet clanked against the metal floor. They moved with heavy purpose, like a warhorse crossing a battlefield.
Glancing at them again, he sized them up. They seemed slow and heavy, but impossibly strong. Even their gaudy rococo armor didn't seem to weigh on them. They were men made of metal, with the impossible strength of a god.
But... they didn't have shields, and they didn't have very good neck guards. He thought that he could fight them, if he had to.
He frowned, and steeled himself.
Was that a dead end ahead? He could feel his heart hammering.
They were gaining on him. They were gaining on him, and he could feel himself starting to panic. He drew Ariador. The leather-wrapped hilt felt sticky in his hand.
"Miriet, Samuel, go!" His sword felt light; at least he'd practiced with it enough. "I can hold them off."
"Christian, that's insane-" Miriet began.
Samuel turned a corner and was soon well out of sight.
"We-” Christian swallowed hard. “We have to stop it before it capsizes the ship." Christian gestured with Ariador. "Go, help Samuel."
"But-"
"GO!" Christian turned to face the knights, trying to shake Miriet off. She went flying, hit the wall, and lay all too still.
God preserve us...
There was no time for Christian to check for her safety. The first of the knights set upon him, attacking with the force of a raging bear.
Christian raised his sword, just in time to block, but the knight began to force his sword to one side. It took all of Christian's strength, honed by years of training, not to let himself become disarmed.
"That was a dishonorable strike, sir Knight..." he growled.
The strange knight didn't speak. The second knight approached him, slowly. Christian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
"Retreat, and don't harm my friends," Christian said. His voice was shaking. He took a step backwards, knowing he was losing more ground than he liked to lose.
The knights advanced, swords out. Christian knew he had been a fool. He dashed towards the wall, picked Miriet up, and ran.
He felt like a coward, of course. How could he not? He was running away from a battle, in the most dishonorable way possible.
He told himself that it was to protect the lady, and to keep himself and his comrades from dying. He had the best of reasons. But he'd still started a fight he couldn't finish. He still felt like an idiot, a coward, a fool, and all the fine excuses in the world couldn't change that.
Miriet stirred in his arms.
She began to thrash, almost in a crocodile-like fashion, and hissed like a serpent.
Christian tried to hold her more tightly and restrain her, but she went berserk, clawing at his hand. Her rib cage moved in short, rapid bursts, like a pair of bellows.
She bit his hand, with a quick strike like a cobra's.
He gasped in pain. God's teeth, that had hurt.
"Miriet, dammit, it's me!"
The knights were gaining on him, he knew. They ran as tirelessly as the Angel of Death himself. If they caught him, he knew, his fate would be no different than if the Angel had been the one to give chase.
"Oh... little gods.”
She climbed up his arm and onto his head.
“Sorry, Christian... you startled me."
"Never mind that." He spoke harshly, more harshly than he should have. "Come on, which way's the ... 'control room', did you say?"
"Yeah." Miriet turned his head to the left. "That way, hurry it up. Oh, and stick to the sides of the hall. The robots get their power from a track in the floor."
"Power?"
Christian scowled. His sword was beginning to weigh down his arm. He'd have to make a stand soon, and he knew, all too well, what happened to people who made 'heroic' last stands. He'd been at the Great Rift, after all.
"No time to explain. I think we've hit the control room."
Miriet stood up on his shoulder, bracing herself on his head. There was, indeed, a set of two steel doors in front of them, as seamless and regular as if they had been made by God Himself.
"Can you get it open?" Christian asked. He saw neither knob nor lock, and wondered if they could even enter.
"Way ahead of you."
Miriet leapt off his shoulder and towards the wall. She walked along it like a fly, scuttling to a small box.
Christian heard that damnable clanking behind him, and turned.
The knights were coming around the corner, slowly, one after the other. They marched in lock-step.
"Miriet..." he murmured, uneased.
"I'm working on it!" she said. “Give me one tarking second.” Her claws clicked against the strange device inside the box.
"Miriet, we don't have time for this-"
The doors opened, sliding into the wall with a whoosh of air. Christian grabbed Miriet, clutching her tightly around the middle, and ran into the room.
The room was small, like the inside of a carriage, with marvelously enchanted walls. The walls showed an image of the sea around them, churning with every motion of the sea serpent. The Polaris, he was relieved to note, was still intact, though it had taken a beating.
There was a set of doors in each of the four walls, one pair of which was rusted open. Pieces
of furniture that he couldn't name, though they looked a little like tables, were between the doors and in the corners. They were covered in lights and strange sigils which Christian couldn't read.
Samuel was in there, too, he noticed. He must have gotten in through the rusted doors.
"Thank God you came. I was beginning to worry."
"We're not out of danger yet," Christian said, and frowned. "Miriet, are those knights still on our trail?"
“I'd bet so.” Her tail coiled around his upper arm.
"Should I try to hold them off, Lord Arundel?" Samuel drew his sword.
Christian frowned. He certainly admired Samuel's valor, but it wasn't wise to fight those... things.
"I couldn't stand against them, Samuel," he said. "Don't waste your life."
"We may have no other choice," Samuel said. "It'd be best to fight them on our terms, not theirs."
"You didn't try to face them like I did. There's only two of us, and they have the strength of ten men." Christian put a hand down, heavily, on Samuel's shoulder. "I wish we could do battle with them, but this is neither the time nor the place."
He turned and glanced at Miriet, who was hunched over the table, claws clacking against the sigils and levers. She seemed to have at least a broad idea of what she was supposed to do, and this relieved him.
"We should listen to Miriet. At least for now."
Samuel's lips tightened into a hard line, and he glanced at the console where Miriet worked.
"Christian... the demon's sapped your courage." His voice was strained, and strangely high-pitched. "We need to destroy it, before it unmans you completely."
He advanced, slowly, towards Miriet, his sword drawn. Christian's heart went into his throat.
At least Samuel's sword wasn't a broadsword, or anything like that. It had a short, but wickedly curved, blade. It seemed more suited for cutting foliage than flesh, but that was cold comfort.
Christian moved to block Samuel.
The steel door opened with a slight hiss. Christian's eyes flicked towards it.
The two knights entered, swords gleaming in the dim light of the enchanted walls.
Christian drew his sword with shaking hands. He was scared for Miriet-for he could do nothing to protect her-and he was scared for himself. After all, he had drawn Ariador in anger at Samuel. He hoped that, since he was using it to protect the others, and not to kill, he would not be cursed.
The Court Of Stars (The Commonwealth Quartet Book 1) Page 9
