He leaned against the wall, trying to breathe. His armor weighed him down like chains.
He got as much of his armor off himself as he could: the gauntlets, the sabatons, the smaller pieces. He knew he was probably scratching and denting it, but he didn't care. He hugged his knees to his chest.
"God..." he mumbled under his breath.
"Christian?"
The voice came from one of the corners. Christian tried to collect himself and crawled over. The stench of black mold hit him like a brick, and he wrinkled his nose.
"Daniel?" he hazarded, trying to place the voice.
"Yes..." He heard Daniel shifting around, and when the boy spoke next, his voice was much louder. "Are you all right?"
"Fine." Christian sighed.
"...Your pet was in here," Daniel said. "The... lizard."
"Miriet?" Christian blinked with surprise. "What do you mean, 'was'?"
He felt his breath come quick in his lungs.
"Well..." Daniel's voice was nervous. "She said she was going to get help. Climbed out the window... She's gone."
Christian let out a sigh of relief.
"She probably went to get the Polaris' crew." He fidgeted with the back of his armor, trying to get it loosened, at least. He felt like he was being boiled alive, even in the cold cell. "Thank the gods for Miriet... but we'd better see what we can do to help her."
"How do you mean?" Daniel asked.
"... Well, there's bound to be a way out of here." He stood. "There's no such thing as a perfect prison."
"So we try to break out on our own... and then meet your friends on the way out?" Daniel's voice squeaked with excitement. "If I can get out of the cell, I can probably open yours."
"You can?" Christian's eyes widened.
Mother Mary. He was probably wrong to trust the dhunni, but...
"I know a lot about locks." Daniel's words raced faster than the alien's ship had. “My mother made them sometimes. And I took one apart and put it back together-”
“That doesn't mean you'll be able to break one.” Christian frowned. “We'll have to think of some other way.”
The door creaked open, and one of the Solari goblins came in. It was clad, head to foot, in that steel-blue armor Christian had come to know so well, and it had a gun pointed at him. The red beam of light that came from its tip was like a dagger ready to strike at his heart.
"Follow," it croaked.
Christian palmed one of the gadlings from his armor. He made a show of standing shakily, and got up.
He'd look at this as an opportunity, he told himself. He could find exits, and learn how the prison was set up. When the time was right, he could stab his captor, break Daniel free, and run to meet the ship's crew on the other side.
He walked out into the hall and felt something behind him. He turned to glance at it, and saw another blue-armored Solari knight behind him, gun pointed at his back.
Of course they wouldn't let him go that easily, would they?
He kept his fingers tightly clenched around the gadling, walking at the same pace as the first Solari.
Christian looked around, but there were no doors in the walls, nor any windows he could climb through. He was trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea.
The Solari led him along like a child's pet dog on a string. They kept moving down flights of stairs that looked like they'd been carved in long winding spirals from the bedrock of the earth, like the peel of an apple. Christian's heart raced.
They passed a few other Solari as they moved, all armed, all armored, moving up and down the stairs. They were like ants, moving from place to place for reasons no human could understand.
There was a door at the end of the staircase. A small black box was fixed to the wall beside it; a red light flashed in it like a dragon's eye.
The Solari leading Christian tapped his gun against the box, and the door opened, though no one had touched it. Christian frowned.
"Move." The goblin behind Christian jabbed his gun into Christian's back.
Christian stepped forward, uneasily, into a room glowing with blue light. The walls were the same dark stone as the rest of the fortress, but a mass of wires snaked along the floor, and strange engines whirred and hissed.
He didn't expect to see another human in there, but the room was almost full of them. Humans were strapped to tables lined along the walls, like a mockery of an infirmary. Some of them seemed to be sleeping; others looked dead.
"What's this, then?" A young woman with hair that looked like moss stood by the examination tables; she looked up, and her lip curled a little.
"New test subject? Strap him down."
The two goblins grabbed at Christian. They were ungodly strong. He tried to struggle, tried to lash out with the gadling, but they pinned him to the table.
They tied him down with straps made of some rough fabric. The gadling fell from his hand and skittered onto the floor, falling out of sight under one of the pieces of machinery.
The moss-haired woman crossed the room, walking towards him.
"...Hrmm. Preparation 8, you think?" she asked.
She held a syringe with a needle easily as long as Christian's forefinger. He tensed, straining at the cloth that held him down. He had to get out of here. There was no way he was allowing that thing to be jammed into his arm—
It pierced him like an arrow. He hissed through his teeth at the pain. It was worse because he'd tensed up. His muscles burned as if he'd been running for hours, with a dull ache.
The burning probably only lasted for a few moments, but it felt like an age. It gradually dulled, numbed, and ceased.
Christian strained at the bands again. This time, though, he felt them strain.
God above-He grinned fiercely, and pushed even harder.
The bands broke like dry grass.
The moss-haired woman backed away, towards a counter.
“That... was not supposed to happen.” She raised her hand, reaching for a button on the wall.
Christian slid off the table.
“Don't move.” He frowned.
“Wasn't planning on it.” She lowered her hands, clenching one into a fist. Christian noted she'd been taught to throw a proper punch-her fist was tight, but not too tight, and her thumb was on the outside. She'd be a decent combatant, if it came to blows.
Hopefully, things wouldn't go that far. He didn't want to hit a woman, let alone hurt one.
“Where are my weapons?” he asked. He looked at her through narrowed eyes.
“Everything we take goes to the armory. Your stuff is probably in there.” Her voice was even, but the evenness sounded forced.
“I'll give you five seconds head start,” she said. “Then I'm sounding the alarm.”
“A head start? Why?” Christian frowned. She had no reason to give him even one second.
“That way you won't snap my neck.” She spoke dryly. “One...”
Christian ran.
He felt like he was pushing himself through something lighter than air. The world raced past him. He was moving faster than he ever had before, so fast that things rushing past him seemed blurred.
He got fifty strides from the lab before he realized that he had no idea where the armory was.
A loud blast, like the sound of a trumpet, rang through the corridor. The 'alarm', Christian guessed. Damnation, he was a fool, he'd be caught as soon as he came.
He doubled back, taking a turn right, and continuing down the hall that stretched out before him. This hall was lined with lengths of pipe, almost like the inside of Leviathan.
Christian stretched forth his hand and broke a pipe. His newfound strength served him well. He was able to break it as easily as if it had been a twig from a tree.
Strange gas rushed from the broken pipe. It was thick, gray, and choked Christian. He held the breath he had left and tried to race through it.
A Solari turned to face him, but it had a sword, not a gun. Christian hit it, knockin
g it down with ease. He ran past it, though, not bothering to press the attack-the gas was smothering him.
His lungs burned, and he desperately wished to breathe clean air. The toxic cloud had spread over most of the corridor. He wasn't sure if he could make it to its end.
Christian broke into a run, but it wasn't nearly as fast as before. He gasped for breath, and the gas entered his lungs. It burned his eyes and throat, like breathing in smoke.
His vision blurred, and he thought he might drop unconscious.
Cold air brushed against his face. Oh, God... He had never been happier to take a breath of air. He stood there for a moment longer, gasping and panting, chest heaving as he breathed.
Finally, he began to move again. He was slow, at first, but as he got his wind back, he began to walk quicker.
There were signs along the wall, but they were in a language that he couldn't understand. He cursed under his breath.
As he continued, though, he heard a crash, and the sound of martial screaming. The clash of steel on steel, and that burnt-air stink of alien guns being shot, filled the air the further along he went. A battle raged.
The door at the end of the hall burst open. A member of the Polaris' crew, armed with a Solari gun in one hand and a short, notched sword in the other, backed into the corridor, with two Solari goblins on his tail.
"Arundel!" he shouted. "Captain's lookin' fer ya."
He fired at the goblins-inexpertly- and ran down the hallway. One of the goblins followed him.
The other one fired at Christian. He tried to dodge the ray, but it hit him squarely in the shoulder.
He was knocked off his feet. His senses screamed and he clutched at his head. Every nerve in his body seemed to have caught fire, and he gritted his teeth, trying to stay conscious—
When he came to his senses, moments later, he was in the middle of a skirmish. The smell of scorched air surrounded him. Crewmen and Solari alike seemed like Titans above him, fighting with sword and gun. He was in a maelstrom of stamping feet and falling bodies.
He tried to stand, though his body still felt like it was on fire, and grabbed a fallen man's sword.
Christian pushed himself into fighting. He tried to ignore the protests of his body and focus on the battle, staying in the moment.
It didn't work. He faltered, and weakened. He was hit again-fell to the floor, nerves screaming-and knew no more.
★★★
Christian awoke from a fitful slumber in a soft bed. Sunlight spilled from a small, round window, onto his face, and trickled over the folds of the white sheets.
He was no longer wearing armor, or the clothes he'd worn beneath it; in fact, he was dressed only in his trousers.
He felt numb and tired, but alive, and that was an improvement from how he had felt when he'd fainted. The memory still made him cringe, but he was able to push it to the back of his mind.
The room around him was unfamiliar. The walls were white, and the floor was covered in thin sand-colored mats. Apart from the bed he lay in, it seemed bare.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he had died. Everything was so clean and white, and it was almost perfectly silent. But Christian discarded that thought almost as soon as it came into his mind. It would be strange to have died without knowing you were dead.
Besides, he wasn't fit for heaven.
He caught a glimpse of his armor, piled neatly in the corner. Ariador rested against his breastplate, and the staff leaned against the wall. He knew for sure that he was still alive. There were no weapons in heaven.
Was he a prisoner? There was a door on the far wall, and it didn't seem like a cell door.
Christian stood. He stretched-his muscles still ached, dully-and went to open it.
The knob turned easily, but he paused. He heard voices coming from the other side of the door, and recognized one as Miriet's.
"...don't see why not," Miriet said. "You've got the skills they'd need, don't you?"
There was a brief pause.
"I don't think I do," another voice said, quietly. It nagged at Christian for a moment, because he couldn't place whose it was.
"I can read a map-but if what you say is true, they have far better maps. I can fight, but my weapons are useless against... things like that. And I can sail a ship, but what good is that when-"
"Don't say things like that!" Miriet said, a little sharply.
Christian now felt as though he was eavesdropping and turned away from the door, but he could still hear the conversation too well.
"It's true," the other voice said, flatly. Christian finally realized it was Sara's voice, but she was speaking without any of the gruffness she put on when she was playing at being Samuel. It was strange to hear.
"I'd be useless," she said.
"You're brave and strong and smart, that's what they're really looking for. The rest is mostly just training." Miriet sounded like she was coaxing a balky horse. "And you wouldn't be alone, either."
"My only companion from this world would be Christian." Sara laughed, weakly. "Even were that not the case... my place is here."
"Your 'place' is wherever you want it to be," Miriet said.
"No, my place is making sure my Family doesn't die." Sara sighed. "You wouldn't understand."
“I think I do,” Miriet said. “But you don't have to stay where you're put, you know?”
Christian entertained the thought of opening the door, but then he'd be invading their privacy. The choice was to stay in here and keep eavesdropping, or to try to interrupt them.
He wasn't sure what to do, so he crossed the room, sitting back on the bed. He could still hear them, but he tried to ignore it.
“Whatever do you mean?” Sara asked, dryly.
“The people you were born to, the place you were born in... you don't have to stay there. You can leave.”
“They're my Family. I have an obligation to them.” It surprised Christian that Sara would have to explain.
“Are you happy?” Miriet asked. Christian knew her voice well enough by now that he could almost hear her tilting her head to one side.
“What?” Sara sounded surprised.
“Are you happy?” Miriet repeated.
“I don't see what that has to do with anything.” Sara's voice was guarded.
“If you're not happy staying, why are you still doing it?”
Christian's heart felt uncomfortably heavy. Guilt weighed on him like leaden armor. He couldn't bear to listen to them anymore.
He raised his knuckles to the door, and knocked.
The door opened a crack, giving him a glimpse of a room with white walls and tall, narrow windows. It was furnished strangely, in the style of Jihrat. There were large pillows on the floor instead of chairs, carpets on the floor, and silk curtains hanging from the ceiling. He smelt a faint hint of incense on the air, and almost felt like he should cross himself; the smell of incense reminded him of church.
Sara glanced at him, and flinched, startled.
“Good morning, Arundel." Her eyes darted to one side.
“Good morning. Where am I?”
“We're in the home of your... companion. Daniel Waking Stone.” Sara spoke quietly. Herred-brown hair was wild, sticking out in every direction. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and her face was pale.
"The zombie lives!" Miriet was curled up on a chair, not too far from the door. Her scales were a dull shade of green, almost the same color as a leaf. "We were getting worried about you."
Christian clasped his hands behind his back. He felt like an errant schoolboy.
"...How long was I unconscious?" he asked
"Well, a good... eight hours? Your breathing was regular and all, so I wasn't too worried, but..." Miriet's nostrils flared.
“So less than a day, yes?” Christian relaxed.
Sara nodded. "It's morning, now. We're preparing to leave with the caravan your... friend suggested.”
“Where is he?” Christian asked, frowning.
<
br /> “I have no idea. He said he was going to talk to his father and mother; we haven't seen him since.” Sara folded her arms. “I think he might be upstairs.”
He frowned, and stretched. He still felt a little weak, but there was no way he was going to betray it to anyone else.
"When do we leave?" he asked, voice low.
"As soon as you're fit to go....I take it that means this evening?" Sara's gaze was sharp.
"Yes." Christian wasn't too certain he'd be ready, but he didn't want to show weakness in front of her.
"Good. Gather your things." Sara gestured. "Go find Daniel, if that's what you wish. And... Tekari, you'd better go with him."
"But-" Miriet began.
"I've made my decision," Sara said, quietly.
"Fine. If you change your mind, I'll be here." Miriet nodded.
"Thank you for your concern," Sara said dryly, ushering them out. She slammed the door, leaving Christian bewildered.
"What in the name of Saint Agnes was that about?" he asked Miriet.
"Well... you'll have to talk to her, but..." Miriet shrugged again. It was amazing how closely a six-legged lizard could mirror human gestures. Christian wondered how much of it came easily to her, and how much of it was a conscious attempt to make herself comprehensible.
"Guess you'll wanna hear too, nen?" She laughed.
"Go on." Christian felt a surge of nervousness well up in the pit of his stomach. If Miriet was going to tell him whatever she'd told Sara, it was probably important.
"The Commonwealth-you remember, right? The place I'm from?”
Christian nodded.
“The... kingdom in the stars, right?”
“Right. They're always looking for good people for Exco. I remember, one of my nestmates was going to join up, they would get xir started in life that way."
“What happened to … to your nestmate?” Christian raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, xe changed his mind. Last year of general ed, xe decided xe'd rather be a fishery manager. Now xe's living in the back end of gods-forsaken nowhere.”
Her scales flashed green for a moment.
“Not too different from me, huh?”
“You were saying, Miss Tekari?” Christian raised an eyebrow.
The Court Of Stars (The Commonwealth Quartet Book 1) Page 13
