by K. Gorman
She tried not to think of how far under the surface they were.
They began to hear things. Sounds. Echoes. She gripped her flashlight hard again, wide eyes trying to pierce the dark. Jo noticed.
“Spooked? It’s just the city. Weird acoustics in here.”
Mieshka nodded. Still, she didn’t linger.
Eventually, the middle chasm ended, and the two opposing paths angled together into a foyer. Four large doors were boarded with plywood. There was nowhere else to go.
Jo held one open for her, revealing a sidewalk on the other side. Mieshka stepped out into the city under the city.
It was a normal nighttime street. An eclectic mix of buildings crowded either side. The oldest were made with brick and wore decorated trims—the mall they had left was an anachronism amongst the century-old community. Bright storefront displays cast squares of light onto the sidewalk, mixing with the diffused glow of streetlights.
A displaced utility pole stood in the middle of the street, the concrete around its base newer than the road. Mieshka looked up, and her mouth went slack.
Much like the spaceship’s underground hangar, this underground city had a framework to support its roof. It was a hybrid of steel and timber beams, crossing the street midway between the second and third floors of the buildings and rising quickly into a dim, impenetrable shadow.
She couldn’t see the ceiling.
“How far—?” she started.
“Ten stories in some places. Here, it’s more like five, ground to ceiling.”
Jo’s face was shadowed by the overhang of the mall. Mieshka toed the curb, her gaze following the line of utility poles down the street.
“Do people drive down here?”
“No. Carbon monoxide isn’t so good. Lots of bikes, though.”
Shops lined the street: groceries, DVDs, clothes. Across from them stood a café, its brickwork a black-and-red checkerboard pattern. People moved inside. She smelled fresh baking and coffee.
If it weren’t for the ceiling and the antiquated buildings, Mieshka could easily have believed she was in a less-populated section of Ryarne. There was even a draft to mimic the aboveground breeze.
Not a big draft, but, still…
“How big is it?”
“If you include all the outlying tunnels? Big. It’s quite elongated, but the Core itself is roughly seven square blocks. There are other sections—residential, mainly—around the Core: Eastside, Westside, and Southside. We entered near Westside.”
Before the mall, the tunnel had branched several times. Most of those arms had looked rather well-used.
Jo stepped onto the street. “There’s about ten thousand people down here.”
Mieshka followed. The street curved away from them to the right. The mall’s exterior ended with the city block. Shops had moved into its prime retail space. Farther down, she spotted a cathedral. A light burned outside its door. Supports encircled its spire.
“Let’s find somewhere to eat. This petty cash is burning a hole in my pocket.”
They drifted more than walked, Jo quietly letting Mieshka take the lead. A number of people greeted Jo, giving Mieshka curious looks as they passed.
Has news of my magic already spread? Hasn’t it only been a day?
After a few blocks, Jo turned her down a cobbled side street. The support beams swooped lower, hung with naked bulbs. The brickwork on either side was black with age. How old had this place been before it was buried? Some of the buildings looked ancient, but most matched what she’d seen of Lower Ryarne and some parts of Terremain.
Jo led her into a café parked on the corner of an intersecting alley. Soon, Mieshka found herself staring out from a lace-curtained window, her shoulder pressed to the glass. Jo settled across from her. A pot of green tea sat between them, with promises of cake to come.
“You’ve been quieter than I expected,” Jo said.
Rather than pester Jo for answers, Mieshka had been figuring out the mechanics behind the place for herself. She stared at the writing on the café’s window.
“There’s a lot more Chinese writing than in Uptown.” She’d been noticing it for a while.
Jo also glanced at the window.
“There’s a lot more Chinese down here. Higher density, anyway. Bit of a racial thing.”
“Racial thing?”
Jo’s chair creaked as she tipped it back.
“The Chinese were the first to be refused housing. Other minorities followed. It makes sense that there’s a large group down here.”
“Why were they refused?”
Jo didn’t immediately answer. Mieshka tried not to move under her stare.
“Your guess is as good as mine. I wouldn’t bring it up down here, though. Bit of a sore topic. Ah,” she said, her eyes lifting up to look behind Mieshka. “I was wondering if he’d show.”
Mieshka peered behind her. The man by the doorway was about as tall as her, dressed in black, and had a brimmed hat that put shadows onto his face. He also looked Chinese.
She hoped he hadn’t overheard their conversation.
“Long time no see, Joanne.”
Joanne? Mieshka hid a smile, but, as the man drew closer, that smile turned into a palpable unease. The back of her hand tingled. She tensed like she’d seen a gun.
“Not long enough.” Jo’s voice had teeth.
“You wound me.”
“As I recall, we were both wounded last time.”
“An accurate recollection.”
It was like she was missing part of the conversation. She didn’t have time to dwell on it; her attention was pulled to the edge of her senses, to the tingling in her hand where she’d felt the fire before. Now, it felt cool and slippery, and glowed with a subtle blue color inside its black ink.
“Is that a transfer sigil?”
Mieshka blinked. He’d come closer while she’d looked away, eyes fixed on the mark.
“It is.” Jo’s voice was vaguely triumphant. “And you can tell your boss that, too.”
“She’s new, isn’t she? What is your name?”
Mieshka didn’t want to tell him. The energy through the mark felt taut, like the spring of a trap. She forced herself to stay calm.
“I don’t believe you’ve told me yours, yet.”
His expression was unreadable. After a moment, he held his hand out.
“Roger.”
“Mieshka.”
When they shook, it felt like a weight dropped into place.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he said. “Mind the tea.”
She looked back at her cup. The liquid spilled above the brim, floating in the air.
She let go of his hand. It fell back with a soft plop.
“Are you the Water Mage?”
Jo choked into her drink.
Roger looked amused. “No. I’m her… apprentice, I guess you could say. I assume you are Aiden’s?”
Was he the Water Elemental Chris had talked about? Her jaw tensed. She found herself nodding. He seemed friendly enough now, but it was clear he and Jo had a history.
“That explains the rumors, then.”
Rumors? There were rumors about her?
“Word spreads awfully quick down here,” Jo commented dryly.
“It does.”
Mieshka tried not to look worried.
“I expect we will be seeing more of each other, Mieshka.” With a tip of his hat, he left. He waved through the window as he passed.
Jo and Mieshka watched the transfer mark. They did not speak until the glow had gone.
“So, you’ve decided? You’ll be his apprentice?”
“Maybe. What did you mean by ‘wound’?”
Jo took a sip of her tea. “He likes to pick fights.”
Perhaps he wasn’t as amiable as he seemed. She rethought his last words to her, and, after a second, decided that she didn’t particularly want to see more of him.
A moment later, the cake came.
Chapter 12
“Two calls in one day? To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Aiden sat in front of the screen and shoved the chair forward, its wheels crackling over the concrete. The engine’s screen flickered orange in front of him, displaying the Water Mage’s name, a graph of her voice, and nothing else. Sophia had not deigned to share a video link, which suited him just fine. They were both tired. Likely, she’d spent the day staring at the same graph he had, albeit in a different color.
The engine screens matched the Elemental property of the power crystal. His screen was orange, Sophia’s was blue, the Earth Mage’s green. Down in Terremain, Derrick had a violet-blue screen feeding off the Electric Element from both himself and his crystal.
Color-coded Elements. Back home, they’d learned all the colors in grade school. It was only in university that they had learned how to change them.
Back home. He still called it home.
“You have an apprentice,” she said.
He’d expected this. During her earlier soirée with Mieshka, Jo had made a point of running into Sophia’s right-hand man—another former soldier turned bodyguard.
“I do. Not an Elemental, though. Had to stick a transfer on her.” No need to admit Mieshka hadn’t actually agreed to apprenticeship yet. Not to Sophia, at least.
“I heard. She used Roger’s Water.”
He smiled at the thought. Yep, Jo hadn’t kept things quiet. “I found her first. Hands off.”
Sophia didn’t laugh. Somehow, he didn’t think she’d called to talk about his new potential apprentices. New magic people were exciting, but not a priority. Not right now.
He tilted his chair back. The light bothered him. His eyes were itchy, and his head had taken on a fuzzy, echo-y quality, as if he’d stuck it in a still-spinning clothes dryer, and he doubted she felt much better—neither of them had slept much since Michael had run off. The shield was a headache for them both.
“Why did you call?”
As he spoke, his voice echoed around the room, making the darkness seem sentient. Behind the slight tilt of the screen, his engine hummed and whirred, the occasional Terran component clicking as it activated. Deep inside, he felt the crystal in the same way he felt the sun during daylight.
A dragon lived inside this one. Sophia’s had a different sort of dragon. Water, not Fire.
“I can’t pick up the crystal’s location. It’s being blocked.”
Due to their nature—both the fact that they were crystals and the fact they came from the first synthesized brood—the crystals were linked. Theoretically, they should have been able to track the missing Earth crystal through that link. Yet, they both had failed.
Blocking was an obvious conclusion. Why bring it up now? She was avoiding the heart of this little chat.
He waited, listening to the sounds of falling water on her side. Unlike him, she’d furnished her engine room. She slept in it, too.
When she reverted to their shared Lürian language, his mother tongue and her second, he knew it was serious.
“I don’t think Michael left. I think he was taken.”
He sighed. “We’ve been through this. There was no sign of struggle.”
His interruption was met with a brief silence.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said, her voice small.
His turn to be quiet. A draft blew across his arm. He had not considered that possibility very thoroughly. Michael was the oldest of them; arguably the strongest, with more than a few old-world tricks in his repertoire. His house had been pristine when they’d visited. Only a half-full cup of cold coffee had been out of place. The man was an Earth Mage living underground—it wasn’t like he didn’t have access to his Element. Not like Sophia, who had to keep a fountain in her room and water piped within the walls.
“What do you think, then?”
“I’m thinking that we’re next. Us and our crystals.”
Well, yes, that had always been the fear. Even more than losing the shield, the Mages could not lose their crystals. They were too valuable. Aiden had his own contingency plan, which involved piling into his ship and flying off. It was somewhat complicated without an Earth Mage to open the hangar to the sky.
But then, it was an interdimensional ship. He’d just have to remember how to complete a proper jump.
“If his magic couldn’t beat it, how can we fight it?” she said.
He almost laughed, but the thought of Michael’s abduction was sobering. Sophia had half the Underground working for her—a small army to protect her. Aiden was the one more at risk.
Her raw voice put him on edge. She never showed weakness. Ever.
“You’ll be fine, Soph.”
“I’m afraid.”
Without a video feed active, he allowed the grimace that curled his lips. In all the years he’d known her, she’d been one of the strongest, most capable Mages he’d ever met. In person, among others, she tended to have a pointed, practical personality that suffered neither fools nor bullshit. They’d been students together in university, studying similar engineering fields, but it had only been close to the Transition period that they’d grown to know each other and become friends.
Actually, they’d stolen five crystals and two military spacecraft together.
Which meant that, despite the general assumptions, both Underground and above, that they were opposing forces, they were actually quite good friends.
So he wasn’t surprised that she’d admitted her fear to him.
But it was still way too much vulnerability for the Sophia he knew.
“You’re being paranoid.”
“Says the man with the escape pod.”
“Sleep in the bathtub, then.”
The joke worked. She laughed. “And where will you sleep, the furnace? Fine. Goodnight, Aiden.”
And with that, he was left staring at the shield’s graph again. The chair squeaked as he slumped down. Around him, the room subsided into the quiet click and whir of the engine, and the darkness seemed to thicken, taking on a watchful presence.
He should probably replace that lightbulb.
He sat there a while longer, eyes closed, rocking the chair with his foot. The tracking quandary returned to his mind. Engines were made of Maanai, a material which could work magic—if treated. They were limited by their programming and composition. Another Maanai device could block the signal.
What if I don’t need a Maanai engine to track it?
He frowned, eyes opening into slits to narrow on the screen. It could work. Mages hadn’t always used Maanai to channel magic—the same way Terrans hadn’t always used natural gas to heat their homes or Chromatix B to boost their medicine.
He brought up Mieshka’s data, skimming until he found the portion he was looking for. Hers was a unique type of magic. His ship had already proven how adept she was at absorbing crystals.
Maybe they could use her to track the lost one.
He rubbed his eyes and swung around to face the dark. After a minute, he got up.
Tomorrow. He’d try that tomorrow.
He locked the door behind him and made the pilgrimage back upstairs.
Chapter 13
Sophia Laforet sat slumped in her chair, staring at the dead connection on the blue screen. The engine hummed behind it, its glassy black surface reflecting the room like a tarnished mirror. Copper gleamed on parts of it, marking the hybridization between her old world’s technology and the new.
After a few moments, she closed her eyes and let herself relax further, listening to the trickle of water from the fountain next to her. At the side of her mind, the magic currently acting in a latent capacity, the shiver of water flowed through her Elemental senses. About the size of a large hot tub, the fountain’s containing pond took up the back right corner of the room, custom-built using some field stones they’d found in the Underground excavation plus other debris that had been cemented together and waterproofed to form the basin. The rest—the bioactivity, plumbing, fi
ltration, substrate, lighting, and other functional and esthetic design—had been a joint hobby between herself and, surprisingly, Roger.
He’d come a long way since they’d first met. Even five years ago, when the Underground had just begun its excavation and he’d only been three years into his apprenticeship with her, she’d doubted he’d had any skills that didn’t involve maiming people, but he’d surprised her.
The forest-feel of the pond, and the pond’s two resident koi fish, Teddy and Drake, had been his idea.
It reminded her of home—odd in itself, since her hometown was on the edge of a tropical jungle rather than the northern rainforest the pond resembled, but her father had kept fish. Not two fat koi, but a passel of little ones that used to catch the light in little electric-like flashes when they darted through the water.
The Maanai would have eaten them, too.
She gave herself a little shake—now was not the time to be thinking of that—and pulled herself up.
Aiden was right. She was being paranoid. But knowing the feeling wouldn’t stop it, and why shouldn’t she be? Even before the Transition, she’d been paranoid. It was as natural to her as her Element and had been so for a long time. It had also served them both quite well over the years.
Rubbing the base of her ponytail, she mulled back over the conversation. He hadn’t seemed worried, but she also knew that, if he were, he wouldn’t show it. All Mages carried an edge of paranoia about them, usually toward each other—historically, the Mage societies in power favored rather violent, explosive changes in government as opposed to the strictly-democratic Westran system—but he’d never been involved in that stuff, which was a large part of why he was in Ryarne instead of Mersetzdeitz where the action was. He focused on the little, practical things rather than anything highbrow political. It was one of the things she appreciated about him.
Michael, though… he was the opposite. She curled her upper lip back. He and his family had been big shots on Lür. Old money, old influence, with more than a dash of secret-society stuff mixed in. She hated pretty much everything about him. In fact, the only redeeming quality she’d ever found was his willingness to help locate and excavate the Underground—and she suspected he’d done it because he’d also wanted to live down here, and living in a place without basic infrastructure sucked.
