by Keri Arthur
He grinned. “Then it's just as well you and I aren't sane.”
I snorted but nevertheless followed him over to the large building. I stopped on the other side of the rusting metal door, then shoved the knife away, drew my rifle, and nodded. Adrenaline pulsed through me, making my heart race and my muscles tremble in readiness.
He gripped the handle and thrust the door open. I half expected it to squeal in protest, but it made no sound. Sunshine poured in through the opening, lighting the interior for several yards before giving way to shadows and then darkness. The scent of death stirred past my nose, but it held none of the viscosity of the rest of the encampment. The only other detectable smell was smoke, although if there was a firepit in this hall it had long gone out.
Donal slipped inside and stopped to the right of the door. I went left and pressed my back against the cool stone. There was no response to our appearance and absolutely no sound.
I swept my gaze across the shadows, studying the long hall's sides, looking for any sign of life. There was nothing here… and yet it didn't feel empty.
I pulled the knife free and it immediately flared to life, sending rays of golden light spearing out from its blade. Dust filled the air, drifting down from the thatched ceiling and coating the backs of the seating benches. There were three wide aisles—one down the middle and two that ran along either wall—and some sort of stone platform at the far end.
There was no evidence of life here, and no evidence of death despite the smell.
I glanced at Donal and raised an eyebrow. He motioned me to the left edge and then pointed toward the platform. I nodded and moved out, keeping as close to the wall as practical, the rifle gripped in my left hand and the knife in my right. My hold on the blade's hilt was so fierce that my knuckles practically glowed.
The smell of smoke became more pungent the deeper we went into the room. I couldn't see its source, but the closer I got to the platform, the grimier the walls became. I had a strong suspicion the staining wasn't caused just by smoke.
The light pouring from the knife became so intense it was almost painful to look at. But the flickers of red remained faint, and I had no idea whether that meant the magic here wasn't as strong, or if—given the other magic had been based in sacrifice—this one wasn't.
The rectangular platform at the end of the hall was made of stone and was several feet taller than even Donal. There were stairs at either end and, after a brief hesitation, I carefully climbed the nearest ones. It wasn't a platform but rather a two-foot wide wall that surrounded a massive firepit. Thankfully, the pit was empty aside from a thin layer of ash, coal, and what looked to be bones.
Human bones.
I shuddered and studied the length of the hall with more than a little confusion. There might be evidence of human sacrifice here, but it wasn't the source of death I could smell. And yet, this place was absolutely empty. So what was knife reacting to?
I turned and looked at the rear wall. The thick muck coating the stones seemed to absorb rather than reflect the knife's golden light, which made it hard to pick out inconsistencies. Even so, there didn't appear to be a secondary exit from the building.
I frowned and joined Donal on the other side of the pit. “Anything?”
He shook his head. “Perhaps the knife is simply reacting to the barrier's presence.”
“Maybe.”
He glanced at me. “But you don't think so?”
“No. The death scent hangs in this room, even if it's not as strong as outside. Yet there is no sign of bodies anywhere.”
“That's not surprising given how pervasive the goddamn smell is.”
“I know, it's just—”
I stopped as I caught sight of an odd protrusion on the left edge of the otherwise smooth sides of the pit. I knelt and held the knife out to illuminate the entire pit. It was a door handle—and a rather ancient looking one at that.
“Well, I'll be damned,” Donal murmured, and jumped down.
“We just might be if we tempt fate and enter wherever that door leads,” I said, even as I joined him.
“As long as your knife keeps pretending it's a mini sun, we should be all right. You want to open it?”
“What door are we talking about?” came Marx’s comment.
“One that rather oddly sits in the side of what looks to be a ceremonial firepit, and which I suspect is an entrance into an underground passageway or crypt,” Donal said. “Which begs the question, how did the bipeds know about it?”
“If they’re capable of restricting the earth, it’s possible they can sense where she doesn’t exist,” I said. “But we don’t know that the bipeds do know about it.”
He glanced at me. “Whatever you knife is reacting to isn’t this room. It’s pretty reasonable to presume that something lies beyond this door.”
“Whatever might be going on,” Marx commented, “once you head into that tunnel we’ll be briefly out of contact. Notify me once you hit the surface again.”
“Will do, Cap.” I moved past Donal, gripped the handle, and then looked back. “Ready?”
He nodded and raised his pulse rifle, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. I took a deep breath and then pushed the door open.
Nothing jumped out at us. Nothing moved.
I released my breath, but tension still rode me. Before us lay a wide, high tunnel that had been hewn out of the earth and shored up with thick slabs of metal.
The air running past my nose was heavily scented with death, though its source held none of the rancidness that lay beyond this building—not surprising given this tunnel appeared to run deep.
“You and the mini sun go first,” Donal said. “I'll follow close on your heels. If anything moves into the light, drop so I can shoot it.”
“Just remember my threat to haunt you and don't get too trigger happy before I can duck.”
“If you can be sure of anything, Princess, it's the fact I'd rather have you alive than dead.”
I stepped into the tunnel and held the knife in front of me, letting its light burn away the shadows. It would give away our presence if there was anything alive at the base of this tunnel, but it would also give us time to either react or flee, given that both the bipeds and the Skaran appeared to have an aversion to light.
The tunnel sloped down sharply. The deeper we got, the hotter it grew and the stronger the tremors became.
And while the voice of the earth remained mute, I slowly became certain of one thing. Those tremors were an expression of anger at what was happening up ahead.
At what she was being forced to do.
And that left me with a horrible possibility—that the bipeds were capable of not only restricting the earth with their magic but also using her. If that were true, then we were in even more trouble than I'd initially presumed.
The urge to simply run from the death and destruction that was marching inexorably toward the Red City and Cannamore was so damn fierce that I actually paused. Donal swore softly, did a quick sidestep to avoid running into me, and then raised an eyebrow in question.
“Sorry,” I muttered and forced my feet on. I might want—with every bone in my body—to do nothing more than escape this place, but I had a bad, bad feeling we needed to see exactly what the bipeds were doing here.
Up ahead, the tunnel gave way to what looked to be a cavern. Red flickered down the blade's length and instinct had me sheathing it. Its light muted, and the shadows closed in ahead.
Shadows, not utter darkness.
There was a light source somewhere in that cavern, but it wasn't the one fueled by a blood ceremony. This light was a fierce red-gold glow that hummed with power.
Earth power.
Or something very similar to it.
I licked my lips and edged closer to the end of the tunnel. The cavern that opened before us was both deep and natural, made of a black, glass-like rock that glistened and gleamed in the red-gold glow emanating from its base.
That
glow was molten earth.
Lava.
It bubbled up from a wide pit in the middle of the cavern. Three mages surrounded it; each held a silver staff that was thrust deep into the black stone and topped by a red stone that was linked by a bloody beam of light to those on either side. Power thrummed through the air, a force so foul it made my skin crawl.
But they weren't just creating a pit of lava.
They were raising it, shaping it into a thick, wide ram of liquid hell, and pushing it into a tunnel at the base of the wall opposite us.
A tunnel that was the same shape and width as the ram of molten earth.
“They're using the lava to create a fucking tunnel,” Donal whispered. The air stirred around us as he spoke, taking the words back up the tunnel rather than toward those below.
“I’m guessing it runs toward that attack party we discovered.”
“It seems a whole lot of trouble to go to when this settlement is already theirs,” Donal said. “And it didn't take a damn tunnel to achieve it.”
I pressed my fingers against the nearby wall. The earth couldn’t answer me, but that had never stopped me sensing her emotions. What I felt now wasn’t anger; it was muted, agonized, suffering.
She was dying.
In using their lances to melt the earth and create the lava ram, they were completely and utterly draining the earth of her spirit, her power, and her life. This area, like that long strip that ran from the volcano, would never recover.
And there was no way to stop them. Not here. Not now.
I clenched my fist against the urge to try anyway, and said, “Maybe the attack party isn't their goal. Maybe their aim is to connect with the wider tunnel we discovered in the Dead Lands.”
“Then the deep shit the wind has been whispering about for the last couple of months really will hit.” His voice was grim. “Is there any way you can stop them?”
“No. In creating the lava, they drain the earth of her voice and power. The longer they draw on her, the wider and deeper the death.”
He frowned. “If they're capable of commanding the earth, why go to this extreme to create a tunnel? Why not just order it done, in the same way as you can create an earth shelter?”
I hesitated. “It’s a guess, but I think they’re drawing on the heat within the earth rather than her energy, as earth mages do. In doing so, they drain the earth of any ability to sustain life far quicker than drawing on her power ever would.”
“Which is why I could hear the wind's whispers in much of the dead lands and you couldn't hear the earth.”
I nodded. It was also the reason why the air from the chimneys had been so heated, and why the earth trembled so fiercely. She was expressing her anger at being so used in the only way she knew how.
“Why now, though?” Donal asked. “They've obviously been in that volcano for eons—why have they suddenly become so hell-bent on destruction?”
“Maybe it's got something to do with the actual tremors that started a couple of months ago. Maybe they were as dormant as their volcano until then.”
I shifted and looked away from the lava pit—and in that moment not only caught movement but also the source of the death scent. Over fifty armored bipeds were devouring the remains of the Skaran—remains that were not warrior class, but rather men without tusks, as well as women and children. Which suggested this cavern wasn’t a crypt but rather a shelter. They’d probably come down here seeking safety but had instead succeeded in doing nothing more than trap themselves.
I hoped their deaths had been swift, but I very much suspected that had not been the case. Not given there was some who still moved, even as they were being consumed.
Despite the heat of this place, a deep coldness began to creep through me. I rubbed my arms and stepped back from the ledge. “We'd better get—”
I stopped abruptly and snapped my head around, staring into the darkness of the tunnel behind us. Nothing but silence met my gaze, and yet I had the feeling that we were no longer alone in this place.
After a second, I heard it again. The soft brush of metal against stone—a sound that wasn't caused by the earth's tremors further up the tunnel.
I glanced at Donal, raised one finger, and then pointed into the tunnel. He immediately raised his rifle and then stepped forward, lightly pressing his cheek again mine to whisper, “Your senses are sharper, so you lead and I'll follow. The minute we're close enough, blind them with the light and get out of the way.”
I nodded, my heart racing so hard it was practically tearing out of my chest. It could only be either a Skaran or a biped, and neither was something I particularly wanted to meet in the confines of the tunnel.
I wrapped my fingers around the hilt of the knife, oddly comforted by its fierce pulsing as we moved back into the tunnel's darkness. Silence wrapped around us and though there was no immediate repeat of that metallic sound, the air ran with a scent that sat uneasily between rotten meat and bitter acidity. I'd smelled the latter once before—when we'd killed the armored bipeds in the ruined city. Which meant the biped that approached was wounded—but where the hell had it come from? There were no arteries off this tunnel, and there'd been no indication of any sort of burrowing in the meeting hall. But that only left the possibility it had come from outside and meant that, no matter what we'd thought, the daylight wasn't deadly to them.
The smell grew so strong that even Donal couldn't have missed it. My fingers tightened on the knife's hilt. It was very close now.
A stone scuttled toward us, bouncing lightly off the wall. The noise was like a rifle shot in the tense silence.
That was close enough.
I dragged my knife free, raised it high, and stepped aside. As the golden light banished the darkness, the biped hissed and raised a hand, instinctively protecting his eyes. Donal released three quick shots and the biped’s chest exploded.
A scream rose from the cavern behind us and was soon joined by others.
Donal grabbed my hand and hauled me forward so damn fast that for the first couple of steps he was all but dragging me. Once I'd caught my balance, I ripped my hand free from his and raced past him. He might have longer legs, but I was fueled by fear. We ran up the long incline and out into the pit. Donal boosted me and then tossed me his gun and jumped, catching the edge with his fingertips and dragging himself up. I put the knife away, handed back his rifle, and drew mine.
Movement, to our left.
I swung around and fired.
The biped screamed as the blast tore a hole through his hip, but he kept on coming. I fired again, and again, until he went down in a spray of blood and bone.
More screams echoed across the silence and the ground began to move. This time it wasn't the earth or her anger, but rather buried bipeds coming out of hiding. We might not have seen them, but the bastards were certainly here.
“Run!” I leapt off the edge of the pit and raced for the door.
Several shots boomed out and then Donal was beside me. We ran up the center aisle and out into the sunshine but didn't stop, heading directly across the empty meeting area.
Screams had my head snapping around. The bipeds were following us. They might not like the sunshine but, as I'd feared, they weren't hampered by it.
Donal nudged my shoulder, gently pushing me to the left. I frowned up at him.
“A test,” he murmured.
The bipeds didn't immediately follow our change of direction but instead kept running directly ahead. Then the one nearest us raised his nose, drew in a deep breath, and barked an order. As one, they changed direction and came after us again.
They were using scent, not sight.
Then the knife pulsed to life. I pulled it free and the blade immediately gathered brightness.
Donal all but groaned. “Not again.”
“I'll get you through the barrier, then I'll chase this—”
“Not on your goddamn life,” he cut in brusquely. “Go.”
I spun and ran ri
ght, chasing the magic that the knife was sensing. It looped us back toward the old hall but didn't lead us inside—I wouldn't have followed it if it had—but rather behind. Sitting within a ring of black stone between the old hall and the barrier, and partially buried in the soil, was a silver staff topped by a clear stone. Though it didn't appear to be emitting any sort of energy, it was certainly present—the force of it was so strong it felt like gnats were nipping at my skin.
I slid to a halt and glanced behind us. Our pursuers hadn't yet caught the most recent change of direction and currently weren't in sight.
“You keep watch. I'll see what I can do with this thing.”
“Are you sure this is necessary?”
“As necessary as anything else we've done today.”
He grunted and shoved a fresh clip into his rifle. “Try not to be too long. We've five minutes, if that.”
I didn't waste time answering. But the minute I stepped closer to the ring of black stones, the ground within it began to stir. Once again it wasn't the earth—it was a biped.
As one of the mages with the yellow-green head plates began to emerge, I quickly raised my rifle and fired. The stones flared to life and the pulse speared off sideways, hammering into a nearby roundhouse and exploding something within.
“They're coming,” Donal warned. “So whatever you need to do, do it fast.”
The only thing I could think of doing was using the knife. I shouldered the rifle, then gripped the knife with both hands and thrust it as hard as I could into the heart of the nearest black stone.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. The biped continued to emerge from the ground, but its movements were slow and there appeared to be some sort of film over its eyes. It was looking around in what appeared to be confusion and its gaze slid past me without any immediate alarm.
But just because it couldn't see me didn't mean it soon wouldn't.
The knife began to pulse against my palms and its light grew until it became so fierce I couldn’t look at it. A heartbeat later, the entire black stone circle exploded, sending me sprawling as sharp shards of rock sliced through the air and into my skin.
I swore as what seemed a million pinpricks of pain erupted across my body, but it was a sound lost to the boom of Donal's pulse rifle.
