by Raymond Cain
Ahead of the drilling machine lay a wide tunnel. Tracks in the floor revealed the vehicle left and entered the tunnel many times. A faint odor of mold saturated the air, indicating that fungi had taken root inside.
“Flynn,” Kylara said, with a hint of urgency in her voice.
“What?” Flynn replied, too engrossed in the machine to look at her.
“Do you still have those picks?” she said, a slight tremor in her words. “Because I think you’re going to need them.”
“What?”
The twelve golems moved away from the wall. Their golems’ eyes blazed like forges and they headed for Flynn. They clenched their fists and crystals in their knuckles flared bright red.
“Anyone have any ideas?” Flynn said, stepping out of the drilling machine and backing away from the constructs.
The golems were nearly upon him and his heart was racing. He glanced around for an escape route and saw no openings.
“Stop!” Tasker yelled, and, in unison, the golems halted. They returned to a neutral stance and their blazing eyes dulled to a faint glow.
If Flynn didn’t know better, he’d think they were sleeping. He hesitantly tapped one of the golems in the chest with his sword, but it did not react. Gaining confidence, he stabbed it again, harder that time, and the folded steel blade did not leave so much as a nick in the construct.
“You do like to press your luck, don’t you?” Kylara said, snidely.
Flynn ignored his red-haired companion and turned to his brother. “How’d you do that?”
“With this,” Tasker replied, holding out a crimsonite ring on his right hand. It bore the crossed-picks insignia of the family that once lived there. “It was on the table in the previous room.”
Flynn let out an exasperated sigh. “You could have mentioned you had it earlier.”
“I could have,” Tasker said, tilting his head toward Flynn condescendingly. “But it wouldn’t have been logical to do so. It wasn’t relevant until just now.”
With the threat abated, Flynn returned his attention to the drilling machine. On the stone seat sat two metal helmets with aquazite coverings to protect the wearers’ faces. Three metal levers tipped with aquazite protruded from the floor of the machine, similar in design to the levers Tasker built into the Searunners.
“I’m going to test it out,” Flynn said, hopping onto the stone seat.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kylara and Lycia said together. They looked at each other with raised eyebrows as though surprised by the fact they agreed on something. Kylara moved to the far wall, as far as she could go without leaving the room.
“There’s only three levers,” Flynn said, wiping dust from the first one. It was capped by a crimsonite knob engraved with the crossed-picks symbol. He looked questioningly at Tasker and Lycia. “It can’t be that complicated. Don’t you trust me?”
The pair answered the question by joining Kylara on the opposite side of the room.
Flynn shook his head disparagingly and gently pushed the first lever forward. The nose of the machine groaned, emitting a sound like scraping stone. After a few moments of grinding, the crimsonite-covered cone on the front of the machine became unstuck. It spun, briefly scattering a ring of dust.
The dust filled the room and Flynn donned one of the miner’s hats to protect himself from it. The too-deep helm wobbled on his head but its crystal lenses allowed him to see clearly through the haze. Tasker, Kylara, and Lycia held their hands over their mouths but Flynn breathed without discomfort. The hats kept out foul air, in a similar fashion to the way breathing helms kept out water.
The next two levers were in the halfway position of a stone gear box by his feet and he pushed the first one forward. The wheels on the left side of the drill spun, turning the machine in clockwise circles. He collided with a stone golem that shattered when the crimsonite cone smashed into it. Flynn couldn’t believe how quickly the hardened construct was destroyed. Clearly, the machine was designed to destroy stone.
The large screws took broken golem bits and carried them to the rear of the machine. Rocks spewed out the back, spraying his friends and scattering rocky debris around the room. Flynn pulled the lever, bringing it further backward than it was before, and the drill spun in the opposite direction. The change in direction nauseated him and he returned the lever to the neutral position, stopping the machine.
“I think I have it figured out,” Flynn said as Tasker and the others were blindly moving away from him. They covered their faces and coughed after each breath until the dust settled.
Flynn pushed two levers at the same time and the wheels on both sides of the drill spun in unison, moving the machine forward.
“Golems, move out of the way,” Tasker demanded, bringing the hand bearing the crimsonite ring next to his mouth. The constructs obediently parted, opening the way for Flynn to enter the passageway with the drilling machine.
After moving forward a few feet, Flynn stopped the machine and peered over his shoulder. Tasker and the others finished brushing dirt off their clothing and hesitantly walked toward the vehicle. “Come on,” Flynn said, grinning. “It’s time to have some fun.”
Chapter Thirty
Lycia sat next to Flynn and donned a miner’s hat. Tasker and Kylara sat on the back of the machine with their legs dangling over the opening where bits of golems spewed out earlier. Tasker issued an order to the golems and they marched in rows of two behind them.
The machine rolled out on eight spiked wheels and the ground made crunching noises when rocks shattered under their weight. The drill squealed as it spun and the clip-clop of eleven marching golems was nearly as loud as the machine itself. Tasker said something but the words were drowned out by the noise. Flynn pulled back on the first lever, stopping the drill and cutting the noise in half.
“I said,” Tasker repeated, loudly. “What are you planning?”
The rough-hewn tunnel was dark, but the crystal lenses in Flynn’s miner’s hat made the tunnel appear brightly lit with red light. He met his brother’s gaze and shouted, “I believe this passage runs parallel to the tunnel leading into the city.”
“So you’re hoping to find a door into the tunnel?” Lycia asked.
“I’m hoping I don’t find one, actually,” Flynn said, smiling. He yanked back on the lever controlling the wheels on the left.
The vehicle turned sharp left and Flynn activated the drill as he smashed into a rock wall. His companions were shouting at him but their words were destroyed by the roar of thousands of crimsonite crystals biting into stone. The drill carved its way into the wall, creating a dust cloud and spraying rock chips everywhere. The rock wall slowly crumbled and a waterfall of rubble spewed out the back.
The dust was so thick that they would have been plunged into darkness were it not for the glowing crystals on the brim of the mining helmets. Tasker and Kylara were huddled on the back of the machine, their legs tucked in and their hands over their faces.
The violence and turmoil ended when the drill broke through and entered a well-lit hallway. The vehicle dropped a few feet and landed at an angle, nearly tipping, but it crashed down onto its eight bottom wheels and kept moving.
The drill gouged a wide groove in the opposite wall before Flynn was able to turn the vehicle and send it speeding up the tunnel. He shut off the drill and pushed the other two levers forward, moving the vehicle at full speed away from Deepstone. The eleven marching golems picked up the pace and jogged after them.
“We’re back in the tunnels outside of Deepstone,” Flynn explained, peeking over his shoulder. “Is everyone okay back there?”
“We’re fine,” Kylara said, wiping sand from her eyes. “But everyone in these tunnels would have heard that.”
“Don’t slow down,” Tasker added, stifling a cough with his collar. “The time for discretion is long past.”
Lycia looked disparagingly at her dirt-covered body. She wiped off some of the grime from her arms and legs,
then gave up and hung onto the machine. Evidently, she finally accepted that trying to keep clean was a futile effort.
Looking over his shoulder, Flynn grinned at the eleven golems jogging behind the drilling machine. Tasker could dispatch them to deal with threats behind them and anyone they encountered up ahead would be hard-pressed to attack them through the heavily-armored drill at the front of the vehicle. His excitement was building and he was beginning to think they might make it home alive.
The openings in front of the machine were small but Flynn did not have any trouble navigating through the tunnel. Small adjustments were required to keep the contraption between the walls and he was getting increasingly competent with the controls. Frequent checks over his shoulder revealed no sign of pursuers.
It was beginning to look like they might make it back to their ships unmolested until Flynn spotted a group of azurans stationed ahead. Most wore chain mail painted black with white skulls, and one wore a black robe. Black-handled maces with skull-shaped heads covered in spikes hung from their swordbelts, and longswords were strapped on their backs. The warriors drew their maces and looked on with wide-eyed fascination at the approaching drilling machine.
“They’re Theoric’s men,” Tasker said. “Likely stationed here in case we tried to escape.”
“How can you tell?” Flynn asked. They looked somewhat familiar but he found it difficult to distinguish one pale-faced azuran from one another.
“Skull masks are fastened on their swordbelts.”
It was an astute observation. Local patrols would have no need of masks enabling them to breathe underwater. Flynn discovered what a brilliant tactician Theoric was during the battle against Seahaven, and it made sense that the man would leave part of his crew behind in case their quarry got past them.
The cloaked azuran flipped back his hood, revealing a white face with tattoos of black skulls on his neck, cheeks, and forehead. The man—likely a priest—reached inside his cloak and produced a black wand tipped with a small silver skull. He leveled the wand at the drilling machine and chanted in a deep, resonant voice. The words were unintelligible and Flynn had the strange feeling they emanated from a distant realm, rather than the priest’s mouth.
A dark mist swirled around the skull-tipped wand. The darkness grew and the priest released a ray of black energy. It was a well-aimed attack; the ray passed between the open groove that Flynn used to see ahead. The dark beam shot over his right shoulder and passed harmlessly between Tasker and Kylara. It came close enough for him to feel its deathly chill on his skin.
Lycia reciprocated with a spell of her own. Heat was stolen from the air and flames formed around her right hand. Tendrils of flame dripped from her fingers and left black smudges on the drilling machine’s floor. The flames increased until her hand was no longer visible and she released a fiery ray that struck the priest, but the man’s cloak absorbed most of the spell. He removed the smoldering cloak and began another chant. The man’s face and hair was slightly burnt, but he seemed otherwise unaffected by the attack.
“Powerful spell,” Kylara said, sarcastically.
“It’s better at close range,” Lycia replied, dryly.
Tasker handed Stingray to Lycia, breaking the water strap around his torso as he did. “Here. Use this.”
A shimmering light passed along the polished crystalline barrel when Lycia took it from him. As she aimed, Kylara cowered. Flynn wasn’t sure if his red-haired companion was genuinely concerned about a ricochet or merely taunting her hated companion, but Lycia seemed not to notice. As she pulled the trigger, the vehicle rolled over a piece of rocky debris, knocking her shot high. The bolt struck the back of the drill, ricocheting back and flying inches away from Kylara’s head. It seemed the warrior’s reaction was justified.
“Dammit, Lycia,” Kylara said. “You’re more dangerous to us than the priest is.”
“Give me another bolt,” Lycia said, pointedly ignoring Kylara and reaching back for another bolt.
Tasker handed Lycia two more bolts and she shoved one of them into the end of the barrel. The water within barely had time to grab the bolt and retract before Lycia fired again. The bolt missed the priest but it struck an azuran warrior beside him. The man took the bolt in the chest and staggered backward into a wall. The warrior slid down and grabbed the bolt with both hands, appearing as though he was about to pull it free.
The priest backed away and continued chanting in an otherworldly tone. The skull-tipped wand became enshrouded within a dark, swirling mist, and he quickened his backward pace. After a final raspy syllable, a black ray flew from the wand, smashing into the drill and scattering tiny bits of crystal.
The priest ran away from the machine and somehow, began chanting anew. He turned to cast his latest spell and Lycia fired, striking the man in the shoulder as the magic was released. The ray punched a hole in the ceiling and the azuran staggered, but stayed on his feet. Part of Flynn was grateful the man was not knocked down. He cringed at the thought of the drilling machine grinding up the azuran or trampling him under its metal wheels.
The priest ripped out the bolt and ran up the tunnel toward his comrades. The warriors were a long way ahead but the priest’s lack of armor enabled him to gain on his companions. To their credit, even in chain armor the azuran warriors could stay ahead of the drilling machine. But Flynn knew they would tire before long.
Flynn pulled back on two of the levers, slowing his speed.
“What are you doing?” Kylara asked in a scathing tone.
He didn’t turn around but Flynn could feel the woman’s eyes boring into the back of his head. “Well I’m not going to run them over.”
Kylara let out an exasperated breath that was warm on the back of Flynn’s neck. “Why the heck not?”
“What? Because nobody should die that way. There’s no honor in it.”
“Honor?” Kylara replied incredulously. “There is never honor in battle. There is only victory and death. Increase your speed.”
The words stabbed into Flynn. Guilt gnawed at him as he reached for the levers but he couldn’t bring himself to push them forward. He looked around for support from Lycia and Tasker but they both looked back at him with eyebrows wrinkled in concern. Judging by their expressions, they appeared more worried about sparing his feelings than in their personal safety and fighting honorably.
“It just seems wrong,” Flynn said, staring dejectedly at the levers.
“Never mind,” Kylara said, reaching over Flynn. “I’ll do it.”
Kylara leaned over and shoved the levers forward. The slow-moving vehicle lumbered along a little faster and Flynn pushed Kylara back so he could regain command of the controls. He slowed the machine and wrestled with Kylara as she reached again for the levers.
“Stop it, you two,” Tasker said. “It doesn’t matter now. The intersection is just ahead. We couldn’t run them over if we tried.”
Tasker was right. The hallway was fast nearing the T-intersection where the ocean portal was located. The azurans could scatter in either direction and enter rooms if necessary to avoid getting run over.
The azurans reached the intersection, gasping for breath, and unsheathed their swords. Flynn slowed the drilling machine and pulled over to one side of the hallway. There were a dozen men in all, including the dangerous priest. “I think those golems will come in handy now.”
Kylara gasped in mock surprise. “The golems will fight them? But…is that honorable?”
Flynn was about to explain the ethical difference between ripping men to pieces with a drilling machine and giving them a fighting chance against golems, but he thought better of it.
Tasker ordered the golems to attack the pirates and the constructs ran by the machine after their designated prey. Seeing the small army of golems running after them, the pirates wisely sheathed their weapons, donned their masks, and scrambled for the portal. The magical opening became clogged with azurans pushing past one another to get away from the golems, b
ut they all made it into the ocean before the golems reached them.
“HOLD!” Tasker yelled, halting the golems before they would have fallen into The Abyss.
Kylara glared at Flynn, then at the fleeing azurans, then back at Flynn. “It’s your fault, Flynn,” she said, her face turning red with rage. “You didn’t want to run them down and now who knows how many people will lose their lives to that lot.”
“Not necessarily,” Tasker said, spinning the crimsonite ring around his finger and staring thoughtfully into the distance.
Tasker hopped off the drilling machine and marched over to the portal to address the golems. “There’s a skeletal warship out there,” he said, staring hard into the constructs’ red crystal eyes. “Destroy the ship, and kill everyone on it.”
In unison, the golems nodded and headed for the aquazite-ringed portal.
Lycia hopped off the machine and stared dumbfoundedly at Tasker. “But they can’t…”
The blonde girl’s voice trailed off when Tasker removed a small inkskin bag from one of his many pockets. The bag was secured with leather string and he tugged it open. A faint blue glow shone, revealing its contents.
“With enough aquazite,” Tasker began, his face painted blue by the glow as he stared into the bag, “anything can float.”
Tasker withdrew a handful of crystal dust and tossed it into the water-filled opening as the golems began climbing through it. After the first toss, he dumped the rest of the bag out into the seawater. At first, the glittery grains slowly fell, creating a shimmering cascade of blue light on the stone outside the opening.
Until Tasker held out both hands and tightened his face in concentration. Each grain of aquazite produced an air bubble the size of a fist. Thousands of bubbles attached to the golems, rendering them buoyant enough to float. Unaccustomed to the unusual mode of travel, the constructs continued moving their legs as though they were walking but the control Tasker exerted on them tilted each of them into a lying position.
Flynn and the others watched from the opening. The Dragon hovered a few swimming strides from the entrance, and the purple, electrical energy crackling along its hull seemed to keep the ghastly creatures in The Abyss at bay. The pirates were still boarding the ship as Tasker made a pushing motion with his hands, moving the golems faster to their target.
