by William King
He had met beings that did that before. He had fought them all his life. But the Aurathean was not a being he wanted to fight against. It was a being that served the same god as he did.
Only it did not seem to think so.
Perhaps it was lying. Perhaps this was all part of some deception. But if that was so he could not see the purpose of it. If it was a lie, it was a very subtle one. Did it mean to call his faith into question? Why would such an immortal being care about his faith? Because souls were important. They were counters in a divine war waged across all creation. Except that the angel did not appear to think that.
He pushed the thought to one side as something he could not make sense of.
“You are looking oddly thoughtful,” Rhiana said. He noticed the others were listening closely. They wanted to hear what he had to say.
“The prospect of death will do that to a man,” said Kormak, dodging the issue. He did not want to talk about his doubts, even to his closest associates. They were his. They stained his soul. It was for him to wrestle with them. If he had time.
“It’s not the first time you’ve faced death,” said Rhiana.
“It is the first time I have after talking with an angel,” said Kormak. The words slipped out without his wanting them to.
“It did not look much like an angel,” said Zamara, looking over his shoulder. His hand stroked his triple elder sign. He was quite clearly nervous that the Aurathean might overhear him. “It does not look like it could wear the armour in the Cathedral of Trefal.”
“You have seen the golems,” said Kormak. “These are merely engines that its consciousness occupies like our souls inhabit our bodies.”
The doorway came closer. “An angel could wear an infinity of forms,” said Zamara. “Perhaps it could control the armour of Zhamriel as it controls its golems.”
“Do you think it could wear flesh?” Rhiana asked. Clearly, her mental encounter with Zhamriel had disturbed her. Kormak wondered if it were possible that the angel could somehow infiltrate her consciousness, the way demons did with the sorcerers they possessed.
“Is that not what some of the prophets were?” Anders said. “Angels wearing the forms of men.”
Kormak could not picture the Aurathean intelligence wearing human form but that did not mean it was impossible. If the Aurathean could cloak itself in flesh, how would it do it? Did this mean that the Aurathean was lying or that the prophets had not been what scripture claimed they were? Or did he simply not know enough to form a judgement. That was the likely answer. He could not upend his view of the world based on a few minutes of conversation.
Yet, it was happening. It had been happening for a long time, since he had first talked with the Old Ones and encountered artefacts of the Elder World. He had seen things that caused him doubts and the Aurathean had done nothing to reassure him.
They passed through a huge orichalcum arch and into the interior of the Furnace. Strange runes glittered on the walls around him, reminding him of the words written on Dhargon’s Beacon.
He took a deep breath and focused on his surroundings. Now was not a good time to be distracted. He needed to keep his wits about him.
The air smelled strange and stale. It had a metallic taint to it. They pushed on into the building. The temperature grew hotter and Kormak found he was sweating. All around metal structures loomed. Huge pistons rose and fell. Massive fans slowly rotated, stirring the warm air.
Kormak had a sense of déjà vu. He had seen these things before, in his dream. Rhiana took out her pearl. It glowed greenly in the gloom as they made their way down. The lights here were dim and there were pools of shadow everywhere. The ground vibrated, as if massive machinery was in motion somewhere deep beneath their feet.
“I don’t like this place,” said Anders. “It is not meant for human beings.”
Kormak saw the truth of his words. The citadel had not been built on a human scale, this part least of all. The great central tower rose above them. They passed into it and stood on the edge of a chasm as wide as a man might throw a spear.
“This way,” Rhiana said, an odd edge to her voice, as she pushed on ahead.
They followed the edge of the well down into the gloom, and then entered a space where several tunnels intersected. Following one took them through a long hall in which huge machines lay on a track. They had an unfinished look to them, likes siege engines left half-complete after artificers had fled the field of battle.
Some of them had wheels like those of a chariot but the height of a man. Some had spaces where the wheels should have gone. Everything felt dormant. Scattered across the floor were the broken remains of various engines. In places, they had melted. Some had exploded or been hit so violently they had shattered into fragments.
None of this had the feel of recent violence they had seen on the surface. It was as if whatever civil war had been fought here had occurred ages ago. No one spoke. Rhiana looked lost in mute contemplation of the wreckage for a moment before she led them onwards. Zamara glanced around as if trying to memorise everything. Anders’ gaze darted nervously about. The sand people were ominous shadows.
Kormak’s heart thudded within his chest. He took a deep breath and put one foot in front of another. He felt as if the last moments of his life were advancing quickly upon him. He told himself he had felt this way before. The prospect of quick, violent death was something he had lived with for decades.
There was something different about this. He had questions in his mind and he did not want to pass into the Kingdoms of Dust without knowing what the answers were.
Long shadows skittered away from them. They came to a huge partially closed bivalve door.
Something moved in the darkness beyond it. Glowing eyes focused upon them. A golem emerged from the gloom, massive, monstrous, moving with menacing purpose. It should not have been here. Had the angel betrayed them? Had it made a mistake? Had its rival managed to send its own forces into the Furnace without the angel detecting it?
He had no idea. What he was certain of was that the thing meant them no good. It lumbered towards him, hands outstretched, intent on doing him harm.
Kormak leapt forward, sending his blade smashing through the golem’s head and cleaving right down to its chin. He glared around looking for other enemies but saw none. Some instinct warned him that something terrible was about to happen.
* * *
Balthazar tore apart one of the attacking golems with his claws, drew upon the power of Shadow and sent it smashing into another. He was not entirely certain who it was under the control of, his ally or his ally’s other self. It did not matter much. He was not letting anything threatening within reach. The two combatants might be able to tell their warring forces apart but he could not.
“Hold,” said the voice of the fallen angel. It looked as if they had won a victory here. All the remaining golems had formed a protective ring around Balthazar and his companions.
Balthazar felt power flow from the transformed Nexali. He was no longer quite so afraid of the Aurathean. He felt the urge to curse it and tell it not to give him commands. He knew this was a side effect of the transformation though. There was no need to be so foolish. “What is it?”
“Intruders have entered the Furnace.”
“So?” Balthazar could not keep himself from using an abrupt tone.
“They are your enemies. They have made it through the citadel to the central Furnace without me detecting them.”
“You have found them again. That is good. Now we will be able to eliminate them at our leisure.”
“No. They must be eliminated at once.”
Once again, Balthazar felt like telling the fallen angel not to command him. Something nagged at him though. “Why so?”
“Pray do not interrupt me again. Time is of the essence if we are to survive.”
That got Balthazar’s full attention. “What…”
The Aurathean was already speaking over him. “My enemy must ha
ve recruited their aid. There is only one thing that it can be attempted by sending humans into the Furnace. It is attempting to initiate a self-destruct protocol.”
Nexali glanced at Balthazar. The words were indeed ominous. “You mean it intends to destroy itself.”
“I mean it intends to destroy this entire installation, itself, myself, yourselves included.”
“How can it do that?”
“By over-riding the restraints on the Furnace and unleashing all its energies at once. The explosion will tear apart this entire complex.”
“Can’t you stop it?”
“My enemy is blocking all my attempts to move forces into the area. At the moment, we are stalemated.”
“I thought you were stronger.”
“Given time I can overcome it, of that have no doubt, but I do not have the time. It will take less than fifteen of your minutes for its human cat’s-paws to destroy the citadel assuming they are properly briefed, and we must assume they are.”
“You are saying that we could all die within the next quarter of an hour.”
“Yes. The humans must be stopped before they can achieve my enemy’s goal.”
“Show me the way.”
“My enemy is interfering with my ability to send golems into the area.”
Balthazar thought about this for a moment. He had gained many skills when he absorbed the Old One. “Just show us to where we can pick up their trail. I will do the rest.”
The golem was already moving as it said, “You had better hurry.”
* * *
Kormak moved forward cautiously. His every nerve stretched for signs of danger. He felt it all around him and he was sufficiently experienced to pay attention to such premonitions.
This was a strange place. It had not been built for humans. Sometimes the pathways were too low, sometimes they were so narrow, they had to turn sideways on and edge their way forward.
The temperature was building up. Everyone except the sand people was sweating. Kormak suspected that even they were under their hardened carapaces.
Rhiana looked horrified. Kormak could not tell whether it was because of their surroundings or what she had experienced earlier. The green light from her magical pearl gave her face a haunted look. It reflected in the solid white of her second eyelid and turned them into pools of the deepest green. Her gills pulsed in the side of her throat as if they were desperately trying to pull water out of the dry air.
Zamara held his sword in his right hand even though there was currently not enough room to swing it. He caught Kormak looking at him, swallowed and forced a wan smile onto his face. Anders merely grimaced and gestured for him to go on.
They emerged into a larger corridor. The ceiling suddenly rose high above them. Odd runes glittered and swirled in the opposite wall.
“Right,” Rhiana said and turned in the direction prompted by her implanted knowledge. Small flat metallic objects whizzed by, emerging from the gloom suddenly and then vanishing into the darkness. They were about the size of a paving stone, flat and suggested nothing more than the floating sandrays of the desert although they were made of metal. Clearly, they served some purpose here but he had no idea what it was.
He felt as if he was under observation and realised that it was perfectly possible that both the angel and his adversary were using these floating engines to monitor them.
* * *
Balthazar entered the Furnace. Fear gnawed at him. This maze of metal corridors was daunting. He did not like its sterile inhuman air. Worse yet, it would not be long before the Guardian triggered the destruction of the citadel. Even the Dark Angel feared that and it had a much better grasp of the Guardian’s odds of success than Balthazar had.
If he did not get to grips with Kormak soon it would not matter whether Balthazar killed him or not. There was no way he could escape this place in time to avoid his own destruction.
Or was there?
He detected hints of a spell that might work among the memories of the Old One and the dreams implanted in his mind by Xothak.
Better to catch the Guardian before he could wreak destruction on the citadel than risk the possibilities inherent in that spell.
He glanced at the Old Ones who formed his guard. “Find the humans,” he commanded. “Time is of the essence.”
One of the Eldrim took the form of a monster, half human, half wolf. It sniffed the air and snarled. It could not have been too difficult for it to pick up the scent trail, Balthazar thought. No living things had been in this place for millennia. The rest of Old Ones adopted similar shapes. He gestured to the pack and they loped deeper into the Furnace.
As Nexali watched, Balthazar gave his carapace demonic wings and arrowed into the air. She followed, heartbeats later.
He forced himself to grin. Soon he would tear out Kormak’s heart with his bare hands. Or at least watch as his minions did so.
* * *
“There’s something behind us,” Rhiana said. Her voice sounded choked. “Something very powerful.”
“An Old One?” Kormak asked, thinking of the creatures he had seen with Balthazar earlier. If anything was capable of overhauling them so quickly it would be one of them.
Rhiana nodded.
“Then we need to move faster before they overtake us,” said Kormak. “Lead on!”
They raced down the corridor looking for the way into the heart of the Furnace.
Chapter Twenty-One
A glowing crystal loomed before Kormak. It was five times his height and made of wraithstone inset with orichalcum. It pulsed with incandescent power. Lines of such menhirs arced from the doorway to the heart of the Furnace chamber. They reminded him of miniature versions of Dhargon’s Beacon.
There were other entrances. Great archways partially sealed with orichalcum doors. Above each glowed many gems. A spiral pathway ran around the outside of the walls rising high up the tower. That would be the way to the roof. The ceiling glowed bright above them, so high it looked like it might touch the clouds.
The Furnace was a massive structure of truesilver and orichalcum, wraithstone and gems Kormak did not recognise but which set Anders to licking his lips. Kormak’s elder sign was uncomfortably hot. He was in the presence of great mystical power.
Rhiana looked at it. “That is what we must destroy. You need to break those runes.”
She pointed directly at an orichalcum band surrounding the central pillar. Glittering runes flickered on its side, suggesting patterns that eluded the mind in a maddening fashion.
The area around the Furnace was imprinted with odd angular runes like the script on the Beacon. It came to him then that these things had been created by the same beings, and quite possibly were connected.
What was the Beacon? A warning? A pylon for channelling magical energy? The Solari had used runestones in that fashion, perhaps it was merely in imitation of what the Auratheans had done. He knew his mind was attempting to distract him from the task at hand. He had a mission to perform here. He needed to be about it, and yet he did not want to.
He was not sure why. He had put himself in the way of danger in the past without a second thought. What was so different this time? Perhaps it was the stakes. Perhaps it was the structure itself and the presence of Zhamriel and his own doubts about his faith. Perhaps it was simply the sight of Rhiana. He did not want her to die and that was the likeliest outcome of their present course of action.
Glancing at his companions, he could tell that they felt similarly. Or perhaps they were simply overawed by the alien structures.
“I haven’t seen anything like this since Triturek,” said Zamara. “And that feels like a lifetime ago.”
It was only months since they had visited the city of the degenerate amphibians, and yet Kormak knew what he meant. Time had passed quickly, crowded with conflict and events. Perhaps this was what life was always like. Rushing ahead until suddenly you realised that your path had ended at a cliff edge, that everything was about to stop.
“This is bigger than that,” Kormak said.
“It makes Leviathan seem small,” said Rhiana. Her voice was quiet and full of awe. Kormak thought of the great monster they had slain in the Quanath Deep and he knew what she meant. There was a power here that dwarfed even that of the city-sized sea monster.
“You’ve been busy,” said Anders sourly. “I hate this place, and yet there is something about it. I am glad I have seen it. It almost makes coming here worth it.
“There is power here,” said Ahexotl, raising a carapaced hand in a gesture of respect that was echoed by his warriors. “So much power. It is like looking upon the heart of the sun.”
“Yes,” said Kormak, coming to a decision. “And we have to stop it beating.”
Even as he spoke, he sensed something wrong. His hackles stood on end, his sense of imminent danger intensified. Rhiana froze on the spot and glanced around as if she felt it too.
A familiar figure stepped through the doorway behind them. Balthazar.
“Greetings, Guardian,” the sorcerer said. “We meet again.”
Balthazar radiated power, the way the gigantic demon had back in Helgard Keep. He moved with an easy confidence although there was something odd about his shape. The carapace armour of the sandfolk encased him, and that was covered in a slimy sheen of glistening protoplasm. Colours flowed over it like oil on the surface of water. Great folded wings of flesh wrapped his shoulders like a cloak.
“It will be the last time,” Kormak said. “For I am going to kill you.”
“Should I tremble at your threats?” Balthazar said. “Your blade is formidable but I am not without resources of my own.”
His carapace flowed once more in a way that made Kormak think of Vorkhul. There was much about Balthazar now that reminded Kormak of the Old One, of many of the Old Ones that Kormak had met. Yet he was undeniably and recognisably himself. He was Balthazar and an Old One and unless Kormak missed his guess something more.
