“Left up ahead!” Silvoa shouts. “Come on, come on. I can feel him looking for me.”
The dog-angel reaches the intersection and tears into another pack. I haven’t seen any more of the lizard-birds, but Prime appears to have ordinary corpses to spare, and he’s happy to throw them away to slow our progress. Or so I assume—I don’t know how much attention he’s personally paying me, with the battle still continuing.
Continuing not far away, I suddenly realize. I close up with Hagan, dispatching a pair of half-crushed corpses the dog-angel has left in its wake. As he pushes onward, I can hear shouting, and the crackle and blast of magic. Silvoa directs us through another doorway, and I blink in the sudden light as we emerge into a familiar chamber.
It’s the room where we fought the lizard-birds, on our ill-fated first expedition to the ziggurat. Silvoa has led us to the balcony from which Prime—one of his puppets, anyway—taunted me before unleashing his ancient monsters. The strobing flashes of magic come from below, mingled with shouts and screams.
Hagan is heading directly to another doorway, at the other end of the balcony. I move to follow, then stop at the sound of a familiar voice.
“On the left!” Meroe’s shout of command is more like a scream, so hoarse it barely sounds like her. “Left, now! Rotting stop that thing!” Something explodes with a roar. “More! Keep it down—”
I run to the rail, and spot her at once. Our people are clustered in a loose semicircle at the doorway, a wall of bodies and magic lashing out at a solid mass of walking corpses. Lizard-birds stalk through the crowd, brushing their lesser cousins aside, throwing themselves at the humans in a frenzy of slashing talons and ripping fangs. The monsters fall by the dozens, burning or torn apart or slashed to pieces, but more climb over the blackening corpses before the flames have gone out.
People are dying. A lizard-bird jumps and lands in a cluster of Minders, reducing a man’s chest to bloody ruin with its spur-like claws before the others bring it down. One of the Cresos warriors has gotten too far from the line, his Melos armor glowing brighter and brighter as he hacks glowing green lines through a swarm of corpses that latch on and drag him down. I don’t envy him his choice—let the armor fall and be torn to pieces, or leave it up and boil inside it. Zarun fights with Melos blade and Tartak force, and beside him Thora’s hands move ceaselessly, bands of blue energy gripping the lizard-birds and tearing them asunder one by one. Jack paces at her side, shifting in and out of her own shadow, laughing as she cuts the corpses to ribbons.
Meroe is in the center of it all, surrounded by a rapidly thinning guard, screaming commands even as she kneels to lay her hands on someone torn and bleeding. Her dress is sopping with crimson, hands dripping with gore, and either she’s given up caring if people find out about her power or doesn’t think anyone is going to notice in the midst of all this. Shiara works next to her, armed with nothing more than conventional bandages and tourniquets.
For the moment, the line is holding, but only for the moment. This is part of a wider fight, stretching back through the complex—I can see shifting shadows in the corridor, and the strobing light of magic back there as well. Humans have limits to their endurance, but Prime’s hordes seem to have no end. They need help, or this is going to be a disaster.
My mind is already planning. I put one foot on the balcony rail, contemplating the drop—my armor will absorb it, and if I’m quick I can carve a breathing space in the mass of corpses before—
“Isoka!” Silvoa shouts. “No!”
I blink, and look over my shoulder. The dog-angel has half-turned, and Silvoa’s ghostly form is beckoning.
I should follow them. I have to follow them, or else this is all for nothing.
A lizard-bird gets within a foot of Meroe, shredding a young girl from our crew who’s helping Shiara with the bandages. Thora whirls and plucks the monster up with Tartak, mashing it into a paste in midair and letting the pieces fall away. Meroe doesn’t even look up until her task is done. Then she sees me, on the balcony. Our eyes meet, and I know I’m not going to be able to turn away.
I take a deep breath and shout. “I’m coming!”
Meroe’s answer is practically a shriek. “Don’t you dare, you rotting moron!”
My princess. Always ready to punch me when I need it.
Rot rot rot. I turn and run, and the dog-angel lumbers back into motion as we leave the sound of the battle behind us. The corridor stretches on, then descends a ramp and passes into an arched tunnel lit only by Eddica ghost-glow. A rank of walking corpses stretches across it, and I find my lips curling back in a feral snarl. After everything we’ve been through, what are another couple of dozen of the rotting things?
Behind them, arms crossed, is the handsome puppet Prime wore to taunt me in my captivity. I’m going to enjoy tearing that thing to shreds.
“Clever,” he says, as we approach. “One of the angels from Soliton, I assume? I didn’t realize your control extended so far. I underestimated you.”
“People have a tendency to do that,” I mutter. Beside me, the dog-angel tenses to pounce.
“Perhaps,” Prime says. “But I fear that now you have underestimated me. Your friend here is within the matrix of the city-system, which means, now that I know where it is—”
He gives an elegant shrug, and at the same moment the dog-angel freezes in midstep, one paw off the ground. Unbalanced, it tips sideways, toppling with a crunch.
“—it is no longer a threat.” He turns to Silvoa. “As for you, we have had quite enough of your poking your fingers in my affairs. Clearly my torments no longer hold any terror for you, so I’m afraid you’ll have to leave us permanently.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Silvoa says. “You have too much fun ripping me to shreds—”
A torrent of Eddica power, gray and ghostly, slashes across the corridor. Silvoa’s shape is outlined in it for a moment, and then she simply evaporates into wisps of fading smoke.
“Poor girl.” Prime fixes his gaze on me. “I don’t need her anymore.”
There is a long pause.
I have no idea what he’s done to them, with his mastery of Eddica that’s centuries beyond mine. Killed their ghosts? Is that even possible? But all I can do for now is raise my blades and step forward.
“Go back to your cell quietly,” Prime says, “and I may let your friends downstairs live. Those of them that are left, of course.”
I move.
The corpses are strung out in a long line. Visually impressive, but tactically unsound. Especially against a Melos adept. With sufficient numbers, the things could get me off my feet, bury me in decaying flesh until my armor overloads. But they need to catch me first.
I hit the monster in the center of the line with both blades, spearing him through the chest, then bisecting his ragged, ancient body as I rip the weapons free. To his left, a woman with flyaway gray hair reaches for me with fingers weathered enough to show bone beneath the skin. I take her arm at the elbow with the first blow, and her head with the second. Behind her is another corpse, and then another, as I dance down the line. They collapse in my wake, puppets with strings cut.
I reach the wall, bounce off it with both hands to keep my momentum, and face the mob of monsters closing from the other side of the tunnel. Focusing my will, I shift my left-hand blade to a shield of green light, slamming it in the face of the first corpse to close and driving him back into the others. It pushes them off balance, a mass of windmilling limbs and clutching claws, and I spin around the outside, slashing indiscriminately. A few of them work their way free of the group, lunging for me, and I meet them shield-first in an explosion of scintillating green sparks. My blade takes their heads, or cuts their legs from under them and leaves them twitching on the stones.
In a few moments, nothing is left standing except for Prime’s mouthpiece. He regards me, still expressionless.
“You haven’t won,” he says. “You know very well this body isn’t me. Destroying it
changes nothing.”
“I know,” I tell him, letting my shield lengthen back into a blade. He makes no move to defend himself as I bring both weapons around at the level of his ears, shearing his skull into several dusty, bloodless chunks. The body falls to the floor. “But you have to take your rotting satisfaction where you can get it.”
* * *
No sign of Hagan. No sign of Silvoa. Part of me still itches to turn back, return to Meroe’s side and help in the battle, but instead I push on into the darkness.
I’m close enough to the access point that I don’t need directions anymore. I can feel the flow of Eddica energy, running through the walls and the floor, all the far-flung lines of power converging. My shadow, thrown by the light of my blades, rears huge against the walls.
I hear the scrape of claws on stone. Lizard-birds, a pair of them, trying to flank me before closing. Prime’s attention is definitely on me, now, and I hope that means Meroe and the others are having an easier time. I watch the creatures tense as I step between them, and throw myself to one side a moment before they leap.
Four sets of talons hit the ground simultaneously, two man-sized lizard-birds twisting to keep me in view as they land in a spray of dust. I pop back to my feet, not waiting for them to recover. Forming my Melos shield again, I charge. The lizard-bird kicks, as expected, and its talon scrapes along my shield with a crackle. I let the impact throw me into a spin, bringing my blade around with heightened momentum, and the strike takes its other leg out at the knee. It collapses, writhing, even as its fellow bounds over it and comes down on top of me.
I try to roll with the fall, but the impact is still enough to make my armor flare, an uncomfortable wave of heat running over my skin. Wings flapping for balance, the creature rakes me across the stomach with one talon, drawing a wave of coruscating green fire. It’s hot enough to hurt, but I ignore it, reconfiguring my blade into the short, sharp spike I used to use hunting crabs. I can’t get much leverage pinned under the monster, but I don’t need much to punch the weapon into its breast. A moment later, I release the gathered power, like a spring uncoiling, and Melos energy surges through the thing with a vicious crackle. It collapses in a shuddering mess, feathers crisping and burning as energy sparks off of it. I shove it away from me and regain my feet, breathing hard.
The Eddica current is increasing. The access point can’t be far ahead, but I don’t know how many more monsters Prime has pulled in—
The ground shivers under my feet. A moment later, a faint shower of dust and mortar cascades down all around me.
Of course. I was wondering where that had gotten to.
The titanic lizard-bird stalks out of the shadows. It’s as big as I remember, big enough to swallow me in one bite. Or—as I recall Safiya’s death and taste bile—maybe two. Its talons are longer than my head. Its tail lashes back and forth as it comes on, its footsteps making the stone shudder around me.
“You caught me by surprise the first time,” I tell the creature. And Prime, if he’s listening. “But it’s going to take more than an overgrown chicken to stop me. I’ve killed uglier things than you.”
The monster opens its mouth wide in a soundless roar, then charges.
I let both my blades shift into shields, forming a single wide arc of green in front of me. At the same time, I scramble sideways, out of its direct path. Its jaws snap shut a foot to my side, but this time I don’t let my guard down too early. As before, the monster follows up its missed bite with a kick that would have left me impaled on its yard-long claws if not for my magical protection.
As it is, even with the shield between us, the impact picks me up and tosses me casually into the wall. Unlike the first time, though, the shield absorbs most of the blow, leaving me merely winded instead of half-cooked from the surge through my armor. There’s a crackle across my back as I hit the stone, another wave of heat. The lizard-bird turns with a predator’s grace, lunging forward to snap up its stunned prey.
I let it close, then push away from the wall, rolling forward. Its massive head rushes past above me, and it tries another kick, but I’m moving too fast. I’m underneath it, the huge pale belly bulging above me, gaps in the pebbled skin showing blackened muscles and shattered ribs thick with Prime’s Eddica magic. I shape my shields back into blades and bring them up in an X-shaped overhead slash, parting the tattered skin like moth-eaten cloth. A wave of dust and shriveled, decaying flesh cascades down, along with broken bits of bone.
The creature starts to turn, backing up so it can get ahold of me. Before it can, though, I jump, arms extended. I catch hold of the splintered end of a rib, and jackknife to swing myself up, feet punching through the opening I cut into the creature’s body. The thing is practically hollow, Prime’s magic preserving its bones and muscles but leaving the guts to slough away over the centuries. I roll over, bracing myself on opposing ribs, pushing through a few stringy bits of rotting flesh.
The monster doesn’t know what to make of me. It slams its bulk against the wall of the corridor, nearly tumbling me from my perch, then accelerates into a run and tries it again. I hang on, shifting to a more stable position with my legs wrapped around a rib. Summoning the Melos spike on my free hand, I let the energy flow into it, building up until I feel like my skin is about to catch fire. Then I swing out and jam the energy blade into the creature’s flesh from the inside, beside its spine, and let go.
Green energy lashes out, a wild, shimmering coruscation that crackles in all directions, searing ancient flesh to powder and snapping bones under the strain. The great lizard-bird bucks, then slews drunkenly to one side, its legs going out from under it. I lose my grip as it crashes to the ground, falling against another splintering rib. My armor flares and the world goes dark as broken bones and torn muscle cascade down on top of me. I ignite my blades and start hacking, blindly slashing the stuff, tunneling through the ancient monster’s body until I can see the darkness of the corridor ahead of me.
I emerge from somewhere in its midsection, ripping my way free like some horrible glowing parasite. The thing is on its side, legs scrabbling, trying to get up, a huge smoking hole blown in the middle of its back where my strike connected. I stumble along it, feeling the hot lines my armor is drawing under my skin, forcing the energy back into my hand for one more blow. The thing’s head stops its thrashing for a moment, and I dart forward.
I barely knew Safiya, in truth, but no one deserves to die like that, and even less so for simply taking their leader at her word. I don’t know if the revenge would have meant anything to her, but I mouth her name regardless as I bring my hand down. The spike goes in under the thing’s chin, and a moment later the discharge of Melos power blows its head completely apart, spraying bits of bone and desiccated brain against the wall, fangs pinwheeling away.
Bits of black goo drip from my hand as I straighten up, letting my armor dissipate. Cool air washes around me, but I can still feel the bone-deep ache of my exertions.
It’s time to finish this.
* * *
At the end of the corridor, an arched doorway leads into the access point, the now-familiar jumble of conduits and metal extrusions. The air thrums with Eddica energy. Prime has decorated in his own particular way, fixing a ring of skulls all around the room. I give them a wary glance, but none of them seem inclined to attack me.
I wondered if Prime would confront me in the flesh, but there’s no sign of him. Maybe he didn’t think I’d get past his lizard-bird. I certainly don’t plan on giving him time to correct his mistake. I stride across the room to the dais and lay my hand on the conduits, feeling the tendrils of the Harbor system reach out to examine my essence.
access request received; home//caspar
result:
authorized/accep—cep—cep—
No. Prime’s voice—his true voice, the dead rasp—echoes through my mind. I will not allow it. I will not.
His ghost-image materializes in front of me, hovering over the dais. It lo
oks nothing like his handsome puppet and considerably closer to one of the walking corpses, wrinkled and emaciated, ribs clearly visible in a shrunken chest. Gray hair sticks out in wisps from his mottled skull, and his eyes are black voids, the surrounding flesh cracked and seeping.
I am the Prime Eddicant, he says, his broken voice booming like thunder. This is my domain. Mine, and no other! Who are you to threaten me? You mayfly, you transient creature. You have no concept of true power! You know nothing.
He raises one withered claw.
You think you’ve won? The processes of this place are mine to command. Here, I can destroy you.
Gray energy surges behind him, lashing out at me from every direction. It feels like a sandstorm, a billion tiny grains abrading my flesh, except it drags its rasping breath across the surface of my mind. I feel myself scream, fall to my knees, desperately invoking my Melos armor, but the green energy doesn’t so much as shimmer. It’s helpless against this ghostly power.
My power. I bite down on the scream and squeeze my eyes shut, still able to see the maelstrom of gray light through closed eyelids. I am an Eddicant, just as much as he is.
You are nothing. I didn’t mean to broadcast the thought, but I can feel his mind pressed close around me, a nauseating embrace. If you had joined me, in a century you might have been worthwhile. Now you will die, and your spirit will amuse me until I tire of it.
I stand up, extending my hands. For a moment, the Eddica storm pauses, the currents closest to me shimmering uncertainly. Then they press outward, toward Prime’s illusory shape, slamming into the energy he throws against me.
City of Stone and Silence Page 34
