The Clockwork King of Orl tok-2

by Mike Wild

  But she hadn't come all this way for nothing, and as Horse was probably getting a little disgruntled holding her dead weight, why not do him a favour and lighten his load? Besides, whoever had built this place must have built it with a front door, and in her experience of these old sites front doors were always easier to find from the inside than from the out.

  Decided, Kali detached the rope from her belt and began to swing back and forth, building up an arc of momentum that would allow her to make the jump. She continued to swing until she had reached her desired speed and apex, and then with a determined cry let go of the rope. She flew, arcing through the air and then dropping, and landed hard on the platform, rolling to lessen her impact. Lessened or not, there was an eruption of dust and a loud metallic clang that echoed around the ancient chamber, quieting only after Kali thought she might go deaf. She very much doubted anyone was home but, if they were, they now sure as hells knew she'd come to visit.

  All remained still and Kali stood, cautiously at first, but then, realising what she stood upon, throwing caution to the wind and instead grabbing the ornate railing to stare down, amazed. Still high above the chamber floor, the platform was clearly built for observation, and what it observed was the strange mass that dominated the place — the hill within a hill. Only it was no hill, she could see now, but a huge and vertiginous, winding metal stairway.

  Kali swallowed because it really couldn't be anything else.

  She was looking at the Spiral of Kos.

  It was as incredible as it was mystifying. Overlooking its summit — still impossible to reach from where she stood — the dizzying structure was constructed in the same ornate fashion as the railing on which she leant, the steps of the stairway itself spiralling up inside a superstructure composed of flowing and curving ironwork the likes and artistry of which she had never seen. What drew her attention more than anything, however, was where the stairway led. Because there, at its top, completely isolated from the rest of the chamber, was another railed platform, and on it a large metal plinth.

  And resting on the plinth was a giant key.

  A key! Oh, she loved keys. Kali had no idea why it was there, where it had come from or what it unlocked, but she was certain of one thing — she wasn't leaving until she had it in her hands.

  She turned, meaning to find a way off the platform and down to the first of those stairs, but as she did she caught a hint of movement from the Spiral itself. She turned back and squinted. Her eyes more adapted to the gloom, she noticed for the first time that the superstructure had apparently once housed some kind of hanging garden, for the dry and neglected remains of plants — thick tendrils and a number of presumably once-corpulent pods — still draped it now. That explained things. Perhaps one of those had shifted slightly in a draught from above — or then again, perhaps it had been nothing. A trick of the light.

  Kali moved off the rail, searching for the way down that had to be there. Oddly, though, she found no connecting walkways, no ladders, no obvious way off the platform at all other than a small gate that led to… well, she wasn't sure what it led to. But as she walked closer, she felt a glimmer of recognition. The gate led to a cage, large enough that she could, if she so wished, step inside and which had a single entrance-cum-exit. Though it was different in many respects — more ornate, more complex, more mechanical-looking — it was clearly a version of the devices in use in the more industrialised areas of Vos — hoists and pulleys that had once lifted warehouse materials but now lifted men. Was that what this was, then? A… lift that could transport her off this platform? If so, where was the rope or chain suspending it? Curious, she leant around the edge of the cage, examining it more closely, and saw that though there was nothing to suspend it from above, the rear of the cage was secured to a thick metal arm that rested in the upper of two wide recesses in the chamber wall, recesses that swept away and down the wall in a reverse spiral to that of the Spiral itself, vanishing into the shadows below.

  It had to be the way down. But after ages of disuse, could she trust it? Would the thing even work?

  There was only one way to find out. Kali opened the gate and stepped warily into the cage, feeling for any kind of shift beneath her feet, all too aware that under the suspended floor there was nothing but a long, long drop. But she found it solid enough and so turned and closed the gate.

  Kali waited. Nothing happened.

  She waited more, and still nothing, and she frowned. Then she spotted a dust-shrouded lever on the wall of the cage next to where she had entered. Some kind of switch? Swallowing, she laid her hand on the lever and pulled it down. There was an empty clank.

  Again, nothing happened — for a moment. Then, from somewhere inside the walls of the vast chamber, machinery that Kali knew to be older than her civilisation groaned as it stirred into life, filling the place with a bass cacophony as if it were haunted suddenly by its builders' ghosts. The noise resounded around the chamber, growing in volume until Kali felt the walls themselves rumble, and then silence descended abruptly and unexpectedly once more. Dammit, Kali thought.

  And then the cage lurched.

  Nothing could have prepared her for what happened next, and for a few exhilarating seconds she knew fully why she pursued the things she did. This was Old Race technology she was using, the first living being to have done so in perhaps a thousand years or more, and it was working.

  Oh gods, was it working!

  Kali laughed out loud.

  The cage in which she stood released itself from the platform and swept majestically down along the chamber wall as if it floated freely in the air, the movements of the mechanisms that propelled it barely discernible at all. The passage down the spiralling recess afforded her a constantly rotating view of the Spiral of Kos, travelling so smoothly she could have been flying around it. Down and down and round and round she went, ducking involuntarily as, at what she guessed must have been the halfway point, a vast counterweight swept up the lower recess and beneath the cage with a heavy whooooshh that seemed to take the air away.

  Kali watched the counterweight rise away and whooped, the magnitude of what was happening — what she'd found — hitting home. Her biggest find yet, all of this was hers to explore, and hers alone, the first person to tread within these walls since its Old Race occupants had gone. All of this — and that mysterious key.

  Gods!

  She looked down, almost clapping in anticipation of the cage berthing into a lower platform, and then she saw the light.

  Her heart thudded.

  It was hardly anything, a flare of whiteness perhaps two hundred feet below, but it was what the flare illuminated that was important.

  People.

  There were people below.

  It couldn't be.

  Kali stared at the shadowed figures, unable to distinguish who or what they were, only that a small group were crossing the chamber floor towards the base of the Spiral of Kos, their way lit by the raised hand of one of them. A glowing hand. Were they Old Race? Was it possible that some of them were still alive? Was it possible she was looking down at the builders? It couldn't be. It just couldn't.

  One thing was clear. The cage in which she stood was going to deliver her right into their midst. And she couldn't chance that, having no idea if they were friend or foe.

  Kali did the only thing she could. She rammed the lever back into its original position and, with a protesting groan, the cage lurched to a sudden halt, throwing her hard against its side. The groan caused the figures below to look up, and Kali threw herself to the cage floor, crawled to its edge and peered down, relieved as she saw them turn away. She'd been lucky — it seemed the figures had dismissed the noise as unexplained.

  Nevertheless, she was too exposed where she was. All it would take to reveal her presence above them was another curious glance at the lift, a whim. She had to get out of there and down — and quickly. Keeping her eyes on the unknown group, she crouched and then swung herself quietly out of the
front of the cage, twisting so that she could grab onto its side, and from there swung herself onto the metal arm on which it rode. Then she worked her way into the recess, wide and deep enough to accommodate her crouching form. Using it to get down would still leave her exposed but if she kept in its shadows, and her luck held, she would make it unseen.

  She began to inch her way down towards the chamber floor. She had perhaps a hundred, a hundred and thirty feet to go.

  And it was then that the vision hit her.

  Searing agony cut through her mind, as if someone had embedded an axe in her forehead, and suddenly her world was yellow and red and white, everything the colour of raging fire. What had been a shadowy, abandoned chamber a moment before was now consumed by a blaze apocalyptic in intensity, the Spiral of Kos being destroyed in a conflagration beyond imagining. Things lashed and writhed within the flames — strange things that she had no time to identify before agonised screams swept them away. For a second she was outside the dome, staring as a pillar of fire rose high above the darkness of the Sardenne, and then she was back once more, in the fire's raging heart, in its midst. It couldn't be real but it was. She didn't just see it, she could feel it, the heat from the fire strong enough to sear and bubble her skin and to blind her with its bright, bright heat. What the hells am I seeing? she wondered. What the hells am I feeling?

  Instinctively she flailed against it, and in that second realised where she was. Where she really was.

  But it was too late. Her flailing had taken her too far towards the edge of the recess, beyond balance.

  She tumbled out, and fell.

  And when she landed, the fire faded to blackness.

  And, as shadows loomed over her, so, too, did she.

  Chapter Two

  Kali felt something thudding again and again into her side and, with slowly growing awareness and annoyance, realised that it was a boot. Her eyes snapped open just in time to see the offending article coming at her again, and she instinctively grabbed and twisted it, flipping its wearer heel-over-head to the accompaniment of a startled cry.

  "Don't do that!" she growled, without even thinking who it was she might be talking to.

  Great, she thought, reprimanding herself. Possible first contact with an Old Race and what does she do? Fling one of them on its arse.

  She sat quickly up, bruised, throbbing and disorientated, and looked around. There was no more fire — no more vision — but neither any time to think about where it had come from or where it had gone as the wearer of the boot, a cloaked and hooded figure, had also risen and, snarling, loomed over her again, boot swinging back for another strike.

  Kali was about to kick his legs from under him and punch his lights out when a hand moved across the figure's chest and pushed him back to where others stood silently looking down at her.

  "Enough, brother," a gruff voice said. "Do you not see that our visitor from on high is awake?"

  "My apologies… brother."

  The speaker, becloaked and hooded like the rest, knelt by Kali, sighing as if somehow inconvenienced by her presence. The man was short, more accurately squat, and thickly muscled, his powerful bulk evident even beneath the loose folds of his cloak. Pulling back his hood he revealed a mane of grey hair flaring back from a face that was gnarled and scarred, inset with the coldest, grey-tinted eyes she had ever seen. Whoever he was, Kali thought, if he didn't have some Old Race blood in him — and she knew which Old Race — then her name was Fundinblundin Hammerhead.

  "Who are you?" the man asked slowly. His tone, civilised, patient and polite, was totally at odds with his appearance. "And what is it you are doing here?"

  Old Race blood, but not Old Race, Kali decided, ignoring his question for a moment. The thought that had struck her before her fall — that some of the builders might still be alive — had never really been likely — next to impossible, actually — and now that she'd had chance to see these people close to, it only confirmed the fact. But though their origin was far more prosaic, who these people were came as only slightly less of a surprise than the alternative. Six of them in all, their garb, speech and, most of all, the crossed-circle talismans they wore pinned to their sleeves, left no doubt as to their identity. This bunch were Final Faith, members of the most pervasive, most consuming and most intolerant religion to blight the peninsula, zealots to every woman and every man.

  They were not her favourite people.

  That, however, was immaterial right now.

  What was material was the obvious question. What the hells were the Final Faith doing in the Spiral of Kos?

  The key. It seemed to be the only thing in the place so it had to be the key.

  Well, if that was the case… Sorry, but she'd got here first.

  "I asked you a question, girl," the apparent leader reminded her. His tone had already hardened somewhat.

  Girl? Kali thought, and stared at him. "Oh, you know," she said innocently, "went for walk in the woods, got lost, fell down a sodding great hole…"

  The man nodded then abruptly tugged her toolbelt from her waist, tipping out the contents of some of its pockets. Kali shrugged as he picked through a selection of pitons, hammers, clamps and other excavation gear, regarding her questioningly when he also came upon some marbles, a sock and a mouldy, half-eaten pie. Okay, so maybe she should have a clearout once in a while.

  "Impressive tools for a walk in the woods," Mister Nosey nevertheless concluded. He glanced over at the broken, shard-covered bodies of the stickthings, which coincidentally she seemed to have landed on or nearby. "You managed to survive three brackan, too. Equally impressive."

  Brackan, eh? Kali thought. Have to remember that. "Yeah, well, I — "

  "You are intruding here!"

  The statement came so suddenly and so forcefully that it threw her off guard.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Intruding. This… reliquary is under the jurisdiction of the Final Faith."

  "Oh, really?" Kali said, bristling. "And since when did your little glee-club extend to the Sardenne?"

  The man smiled coldly. "Since my arrival here."

  Kali stared. She was only just getting over the shock that she had survived that fall — and its cause — let alone finding she had company, but one thing was already abundantly clear to her — this man was serious. And despite his superficial civility, he was dangerous. She could feel it exuding from his every pore.

  The fact didn't stop her speaking up, though. That was her trouble, people kept telling her, though it never did any good.

  "Well, then — you're a little off the beaten path, aren't you, priest?"

  The man's hand — leather-gloved — shot out without warning and clenched itself about her neck. Kali gasped and fumbled to release its grip, but it was strong. Very strong.

  The man stood, and, her throat constricting, she actually found herself being lifted from the floor.

  "My name," he told her, "is Konstantin Munch, and despite your disdain I am not one of the Enlightened Ones." He used the phrase that described the Final Faith's priesthood with a degree of disdain of his own, which she found peculiar. "I am, however, an agent of that church, acting on its behalf and that of the Anointed Lord, and so I ask you again — what are you doing here?"

  "Actually, I… bought the place," Kali rasped, choking. She hung a hand vaguely in the direction of the Spiral and its dead plants, twitched it. "Thought I'd open a herbalist's emporium but… was never very… green-fingered."

  Munch's hand tightened, the leather squeaking. "Ah, I see."

  "And you?" Kali ventured. "Mind… telling me what… you're… kaa-hurr… doing here?"

  "Actually, yes. Why don't we just say that my friends and I were led here by the Lord of All."

  No surprise, there, Kali thought. These people did everything in his — god's, her? Its? — name, including all the sacking, raping and pillaging, by some accounts. But Lord of All or not, something had led Munch and his mates to the Spiral's front door, wh
en even her map hadn't been specific about its location. And though she found it difficult to believe, she thought she knew what.

  She flicked a pained gaze — already flaring and soon to blink out, if she wasn't careful — to the side, examining Munch's companions again. Sure enough, the clenched fists of one of them still pulsated ever so slightly with the aftermath of energy release — the same release, presumably, that had lit up the floor of the chamber earlier. She couldn't see much of his face beneath its hood, only that it seemed harsh, thin and sallow, but there was an overly intense penetration about the shadowed eyes that Kali had seen once before, and cared not to remember. They were the eyes of someone who would normally be denounced by the Final Faith. Eyes that stared out not only at this world but beyond, into another layer of being. Eyes that saw the threads of the universe, used them and followed them. The eyes of a -

  "Shadowmage?" Munch said, sensing her recognition and puzzlement. He smiled, bobbing her dangling and struggling form almost playfully towards the mage in question. "The young lady wonders not only why we are here but why one such as I is in league with one such as you, Kallow," he said. "Are you offended?" Turning his attention back to Kali, he added, "Unusual, I grant you, but let's just say the Anointed Lord allows me some… latitude in my choice of companions, depending on the task she has set for me."