“Alaria,” I said then, only half-sarcastically, “is Arendal’s place invisible?”
Ignoring me entirely, she walked to the cliff’s edge and peered down for a few seconds, then stooped down and hopped off the edge.
My eyes widening, I rushed to see where she had gone. Evelyn did the same.
Alaria gazed up at us from a narrow ledge about ten feet below where we stood. Motioning for us to join her, she moved quickly but with remarkable agility and grace along the ledge.
I hopped down myself and then helped Evelyn, and then we were rushing along, as quickly as we dared, following the redheaded goddess’s lead. I noticed soon that the ledge inclined slightly down, and after a couple of minutes looked up and realized we had curved back under the cliff to such a degree that I could no longer see the top. The world had become rock wall on one side and blank emptiness on the other, and the fog rolled in thicker to obscure what little there was to see. Lightning flared in the distance, followed by thunder several seconds later, low and rumbling. The wind grew stronger, and a few scattered raindrops smacked on the ledge around me. A storm was setting in.
“Come on,” Alaria called back. “We are nearly there.”
I grew a tad nervous. This was not a situation I wanted to be in: no visibility, exposed against a uniform background. I followed her advice and moved as rapidly as I dared, short of running over Evelyn, who occupied the middle spot in our procession.
After a while, the ledge curved around to the right and opened up into a much wider shelf that had been hidden from sight. We continued across it and at last Alaria stopped, standing in front of a narrow, rectangular groove that seemed to have been cut into the rock of the cliff face.
“Ah, this must be the front door,” I observed.
Ignoring me, Alaria brought both of her pale hands up, her long, black sleeves hanging down. The golden rings she wore on three of her fingers glittered dimly in the pale light. Stepping forward, she pressed her hands to the rock wall. We waited—
—and nothing happened.
Glancing back at me, puzzled, she repeated the attempt at whatever it was she was doing. Again, nothing came of it.
“Did you try knocking?” I asked, but she was already drawing her hands back in toward her body, clenching her fists. I felt the Power surge through the area, buzzing through me but clearly building up in Alaria. Then she reached out again, touching her now-sparkling hands to the rock wall.
The shrieking sound that resulted I first attributed to Alaria, but I quickly realized it was not being produced by a throat. Some sort of alarm had been triggered, and I took that as a cue to back up and summon a blue sphere of protection around Evelyn and myself. Alaria I left to her own devices. The last thing any god ever wanted was a knee-jerk protective gesture from another of us. Even so, I stood ready to extend the sphere if she looked to be in danger.
The danger hit soon enough. As she stepped back, surprised by the sound, two small, heretofore invisible panels slid open above her head and metallic, snaking tubes extended outward, small spheres at the tips glowing bright green. Like insect eyes on stalks, they waved about, looking this way and that before focusing on the three of us. The tubes retracted back inside the panels with a snapping sound and another pair of cylinders, these not so flexible, protruded out from below them. I knew a gun when I saw it, and called out a warning. Alaria, though, was slow to react, focused as she was, I presumed, on trying to open the door.
Instantly I reached out with my left hand, the one not currently engaged in channeling the protective sphere, and willed the creation of a smaller sphere just in front of the barrel of the weapon. A brilliant emerald beam of energy speared out, met my new sphere, and deflected just enough to miss its target.
“Dammit!” I yelled at Alaria, just as the other weapon fired a shot that struck my larger sphere but failed to penetrate it. “Get in the game!”
Alaria looked back at me and blinked, as if only just noticing what was happening around her. In her defense, it had all transpired within a couple of seconds, but still I expected better from her—-there was no telling how powerful these weapons were, or what they could do, even to us. Especially since they were, presumably, Arendal’s creations. Moving into action now, she reached up and grasped one of the gun barrels. The Power flooded through her and sparkling light rippled down her arms. As I watched in amazement, she exerted her strength upon the barrel and it twisted in her hand, then came entirely free in a shower of sparks and metal fragments. Repeating this with the other weapon, she had them both disabled before they could fire again.
I waited for a few more seconds, just to be sure we were safe, and then dropped the defensive sphere.
Behind me, Evelyn clapped her hands slowly and said, “Nice job.”
I nodded and said, “Yes. Nice.” Alaria continued to surprise me with her resourcefulness and her abilities.
Bestowing a half-smile upon us, Alaria turned back to what I was sure now was a door, pushing and poking and prodding it. Minutes passed, during which her mood grew blacker and her language coarser. Finally she whirled and glared at us.
“The defenses are entirely disabled,” she growled, “but I cannot find a way to open the locks. And they are… formidable.”
Before I could make a suggestion, Evelyn said, “What about the cane?”
Alaria’s eyes widened.
“Yes,” I agreed, somewhat annoyed it hadn’t occurred to me, either.
Alaria rubbed at her eyes with her left hand, muttered a few more choice phrases, then raised her right hand to chest level and exerted the Power.
“We have traveled a great distance from your island, Lucian. I will have to approach the pocket universe from a different direction, obviously,” she said, reaching inside.
She fished around for a few seconds, with no success, then leaned further toward the hole she had torn in reality, reaching deeper.
“But,” she said, “I believe I can—ah.”
And she drew forth the silver cane with a flourish.
“Simplicity.”
Holding it up before her, she studied the instrument with a mixture of awe and curiosity, tracing the fine lines engraved along its length with a finger. Then, apparently satisfied, she turned and raised it high, pressing it against the door.
“No guarantees,” she said. Though the manifestation of their energies took similar form in terms of color and effect, I could tell that Alaria was suppressing her own power and encouraging the emergence of that which Arendal had infused within his cane. A field of sparkling white light fell upon the door, and as we all watched, the stone slab slid slowly, soundlessly to one side, revealing an opening into the cliff side.
Alaria ceased channeling the cane’s power and the light faded. With a satisfied nod, and not even a look back, she stepped through the doorway. Evelyn and I followed.
The interior was so dark that I could not get a sense of just how big it was, how high, or how deep it extended into the mountainside. A flash of lightning outside provided a quick glimpse of a huge chamber ahead of us, stretching for at least two hundred yards. Alaria and I both raised a hand at the same time, generating twin spheres of light above us, one clear and one blue, revealing a bit more of what lay ahead. And this is what we saw:
Banks of exotic machinery more than forty feet tall lined the nearest side wall, all of it dark and apparently deactivated. Rows of large metal worktables in orderly rows, some covered in odd mechanical components, filled much of the floor space. Light fixtures dangled a few feet above eye level here and there, suspended from chains and cables that disappeared high overhead into darkness. The place had the air of some mad scientist’s lair, abandoned yet not entirely safe. Cautiously, the three of us moved into the chamber, extremely wary of any sounds or movements not our own, but detecting none.
“Do you see a way to turn on the lights?” Evelyn asked.
“Not yet,” I replied, and Alaria shook her head as well.
&nbs
p; The darkness seemed somehow fitting, though. For as long as I could remember, the location of Arendal’s secret sanctum—his refuge, his lab, his hideaway—had been shrouded in metaphorical darkness and mystery, as one of the better-guarded secrets among the gods. Never reluctant to show off his latest discoveries and inventions, he never felt the desire to discuss their origins, leading to all sorts of speculation as to whether he was creating the stuff himself or had found it somewhere. Hence a great desire on the part of many to find this place—and ransack it. Part of the reason he had caught me so unprepared in our earlier confrontation was my surprise at his lack of weapons and gadgets, other than his cane. Apparently he had internalized some of the components he had created, and incorporated others into his cane, making himself quite formidable. I already considered myself somewhat fortunate that our clash had resolved in the manner it had; now I grew positively grateful.
Evelyn, standing a few feet behind me, produced a small but powerful flashlight from a pocket in her flight suit and moved off to the left, clearly anxious and excited at the prospect of finding her compatriots, surely believing she was closer to them now than at any time during our travels. Meanwhile, Alaria made her way among the tables to my right, pausing briefly here and there to examine interesting pieces of equipment as she passed it. And I, my blue light shining above me, strode over to the banks of machinery covering the near wall and leaned in close, studying it.
For several minutes, nothing of note occurred, and I began to wonder why we were wasting our time hunting about in a dark and abandoned workshop. Then a metallic, sliding sound came from Evelyn’s direction, and I turned to see what was happening.
She had pulled back a panel in the side of one of the bigger worktables.
“Look at this,” she called, then began pulling items out and setting them on the tabletop.
Moving around the table, I looked at her find and felt the shock of awful recognition.
“Those…”
Alaria joined us.
“What?”
She peered at the matte black objects now sitting atop the table and frowned.
“You have seen them before,” I told her. “We all have.”
She shook her head, waiting.
“The Dark Men,” Evelyn explained, holding up a glove and turning it over and over in her hands. “These are parts of what they wear.”
Alaria’s eyes widened. “I—I did not recognize them. But—yes, I see it…”
Boots, more gloves, and smooth faceplates lay where Evelyn had put them; all so dark the light from our spheres of illumination seemed to disappear into their ebon surfaces.
“But why would Arendal have such things?” Alaria asked softly.
“I am afraid I know why,” I said.
“Perhaps he defeated one of them, and dissected it for research purposes,” she suggested, the tone of her voice indicating she scarcely believed it and doubted I would, either.
I shook my head, stunned.
“Arendal was not my main suspect,” I said. “This surprises me.”
“Maybe someone is framing him,” Evelyn suggested.
“Are we certain this is his facility?” I asked Alaria.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I took the location directly from his mind, from his memories.”
I looked at her then, startled.
“His memories? Did you see anything else there? Anything that would explain what he was doing?”
She looked at me, started to reply, and suddenly the room shook violently, metal tables rattling and dust falling from high above. Crimson lightning flared within the room, and with a ripping of the fabric of reality, a glowing red portal gaped open wide. Through it charged two of the nightmare figures that had seared themselves in my mind at our earlier meetings. They had found us. In the blink of an eye, the Dark Men were upon us.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
More than one of my colleagues in the god business had, at some point or other, described me as a deceiver—a title I must admit had held some degree of legitimacy, at least in the old days. Now, however, I found good reason to question whether the one person I had best deceived in all my life was myself. For I had actually begun to allow myself to believe that things were looking up, that the whole sordid mess in which I had been embroiled since my return from exile might soon be resolved. More the fool, me, the ebon engines of destruction seemed to say as they reintroduced themselves to my already overly complicated life.
Crimson lightning flared about, filling the chamber with jagged, flickering shadows. The two Dark Men emerged from the portal and looked around, their bodies stiff and their motions jerky, robotic.
“Get down!” I shouted, pushing Evelyn back and reaching for Alaria. I felt that in this case she might actually appreciate my help. She had already moved to her right, away from us, though, so I made the snap decision to allow her to fend for herself and to concentrate on Evelyn and myself.
“Stay low,” I hissed at Evelyn. “Use the tables for cover. Head toward the exit.”
The Dark Men crackled with power, rivulets of blood-red energy coruscating down their arms and legs and sparkling in the air around them, giving them the appearance of voids at the center of crimson suns. First one, then the other became aware of our presence and our location and started toward us silently.
I considered every option at my disposal, from a quick offensive to the strongest defensive measures I could employ. None seemed likely to be effective. I had only escaped unscathed from the first one I had encountered because we had been out in the open, where I could outrun and outmaneuver him. And still I had been forced to employ every element of our surroundings to my advantage, use every trick in my book, just to make it to the gates of the City. Here, in a closed room, and against two of them at once, I did not fancy our chances at all. Our best bet was to get outside, quickly, and run for it.
As if reading my thoughts, one of the Dark Men moved around to position himself near the door. The other advanced on us smoothly.
Risking a quick look back over my shoulder, I saw another doorway further along the wall. I had no idea where it led, but at this point I was in no position to be picky. Grasping Evelyn by the wrist, I dashed for the other door, pulling her behind me.
The door looked to be made of a heavy, gray metal, and I found myself hoping it was heavy enough to withstand what was surely about to happen to it. It was surrounded by a broad frame and had a small, transparent window in the center. I searched around it but could find no way to open it. Anger and frustration grew inside me, along with other feelings I chose to ignore as best I could.
“He’s coming,” Evelyn said, her voice nearly cracking from anxiety.
I heard her rummaging in her bag and pulling out one of the guns.
“Would now be a good time?” she asked.
“Now would be an excellent time,” I replied, just before I spotted a small red square lower down on the left side of the door framing. I pressed it and the door slid open. Behind me, Evelyn pulled the trigger of her pistol twice.
“Nothing. They’re blocking it or something,” she said. “We need to get out of here!”
Unceremoniously I yanked her through the open doorway and into what turned out to be a much smaller storeroom of some sort. Crates and boxes and jumbled piles of of equipment lay everywhere. Whirling around, I realized the nearest Dark Man stood only a few steps away. His hands, wreathed in burning energy, reached out.
“Alaria! Where are you?”
No reply. She was nowhere in sight.
I shrugged, felt bad for her for only a second or two, and pressed the button, sealing the door closed. Keeping my finger on it, I surged the Power through the door’s circuitry, feeling the internal controls shorting out even as sparks sprayed out in my face.
“Where is she?” Evelyn asked, the gun still in her hand.
“I don’t know,” I replied, straightening up again and cautiously attempting to peer through the window in the door, l
ooking for signs of either Alaria or our attackers, and seeing neither. “What happened when you shot them?”
“Nothing—except that the aura around them flared up both times I fired. Could they deflect it?”
“How should I know?” If my super-guns could not bring them down, what chance did we have at all?
A dark shape moved suddenly on the other side of the door, and I tried to see—and then jumped backward just as a black-gloved fist smashed into the window. The clear material cracked but did not shatter. A second blow, an instant later, impacted the door just below where the first had landed. The door shuddered and no longer appeared to fit properly; it now had a distinctive curve inward towards us.
“They will be through this thing any second now,” I breathed.
“Can you get us out of here?”
I had not tried yet, for a number of reasons: It takes a few seconds to complete the procedure, even when one is not facing cold, merciless death, mere feet away. Worse, I had never been here before, and Alaria had done the navigating on our journey, meaning I would be starting from scratch, with no clue as to our exact location or what planes lay close by. Moving too hastily, I could easily tear through the wrong barrier and drop us into a volcano or cause us to step out into an airless vacuum. And, on top of all this, Alaria might still be out there in the other room somewhere, injured and unable to escape. Dark lord I was, yes, but I could not simply run away and leave her at the mercy of these… things.
Another blow of a black fist and I started to reassess that last thought. Just then, though, something caught my attention—something about the Dark Man who stood mere inches and a single metal door away. As he drew back his fist to strike again, I noticed that the energies flowing all about his arm, while crimson in color, appeared to congeal into fiery globules where they came closest to touching his form. The pattern of the globules, the way they flowed about him and down his body, like thick liquid more than energy—this seemed extremely familiar to me. I had seen it before, somewhere… and the memory made me think, perversely, of beautiful women and laughter and…
Lucian: Dark God's Homecoming (The Above Book 1) Page 24
