by C. M. Hayden
“I think it’s hurt,” Taro said.
“Maybe that’s why it didn’t attack,” Suri said, picking her orb off the ground.
“This has to be some kind of fuel, right?” Taro said. “If it’s leaking so much, so fast, it’s either going to die soon, or it has a way to get more.”
“You’re missing the most important question,” Ven said.
“What’s that?” Taro asked.
“What the hell could’ve hurt something like that?”
The hall opened into a square chamber with a tall ceiling and so many walls that it seemed like a vast maze. Dark as it was, it was impossible to tell just how far it went. One thing that stood out was that the further they got into the ruins, the hotter it got. This room was downright boiling.
Taro squinted into the darkness. “Pipes, did your dad mention any of this?” There was no answer. “Pipes?”
Everyone searched for a frantic moment, but Pipes was not among them.
“Wasn’t he was just here?” Taro asked.
“I don’t remember seeing him since we got down here,” Suri said.
A grim realization appeared on Ven’s face. “We’ve got to find him.”
“Pipes!” Taro shouted into the halls. There was no response. “We’ll split up into groups. Try to stay within earshot. If you see anything, just yell.”
“This sounds like a good way to get killed,” Edrin retorted. “That construct is still out there.”
“We’re not leaving Pipes behind,” Ven said.
The point ended up being moot, as a yelp echoed through the halls. It was unmistakably Pipes. Taro and Ven broke from the group and followed Pipes’ voice to an adjacent hallway, piled high with rubble.
Pipes’ tiny frame was tucked away in a corner, with his arms around his knees. When he saw them, he tried frantically to crawl away.
“Ven?” Taro spoke like he was talking to a frightened dog. “It’s us.”
“My dad was right,” Pipes rasped. “They’re still here.”
Ven helped Pipes to his feet and brushed the stone dust off his shirt. “Who’s here?”
“They told me to follow them.”
“He’s losing it,” Ven said. “We need to get him out of here.”
They each took one of Pipes’ arms and carried him back to the others.
“Tell us exactly what you saw,” Suri said. She passed Pipes a canteen of water, which he gulped down.
“The crew of the Titan.”
“There’s no way they could have survived down here for so long,” Taro said.
“They didn’t survive. They died.”
Edrin scoffed. “He’s cracked in the head.”
“Shut up,” Taro said.
“Come on, you know it’s true!”
Taro ignored him. “Can you walk, Pipes?”
Pipes nodded, and they continued through the maze-like chamber. On the far end was more red muck and a cracked, ascending stairway. They followed it through a winding tunnel, until they met a welcomed sight: sunlight. Curiously, the closer they got to the sunlight, the colder it got; the tunnel exited to a courtyard, surrounded on all sides by ruins.
Here the pools of red liquid were ankle-deep and littered throughout slushy, muddy soil. The pools boiled and steamed.
Near the center of the courtyard was an airship, slightly smaller than the one that dropped them off. The letters on the side confirmed that it was the Titan.
Other than being rusted and having the top covered in ice, it might even have been sky-worthy. The skeletons of several crewmen lay at the base of ramp leading inside, but there were fresh marks in the slush and mud.
“Looks like we got here first,” Ven said as they hopped over the pools, toward the Titan. “Some of us will have to stay and secure the ship; the rest need to find the artifact.”
Rattling came from inside the ship; and Yoresh appeared, waving a steel rod. He raved and screamed as he swung. Taro and Ven were able to subdue him, but it took a few moments of struggling before he calmed down.
Yoresh’s eyes were glazed over. “Adrun kaya anvoldus.”
Taro slapped his cheek a few times. “C’mon, speak a language we can understand. What happened?”
“They’ve gone lanora.” Yoresh fumbled, trying to find the correct Amínnic word. “Crazy. All of them.”
“Where’d they go?” Taro asked.
Yoresh pointed toward a hole in the wall, across one of the bubbling pools.
“We located the artifact, but were stopped by a macha,” he said, in his thick Sahaalan accent.
“Macha?” Suri said curiously.
Yoresh searched for the word. “Machine. A construct. We damaged it, but began to see...creatures.”
“Why didn’t it affect you?” Suri asked.
“I and four others were told to guard the ship. One by one they left to check on the others, now only I remain.”
“I say we fly this ship away, right here and now,” Edrin said.
“Without the artifact, we fail the trial,” Ven said.
Edrin pointed to the skeletons. “It’s better than dying.”
“There’s no reason to believe any of them are dead,” Taro said.
“Didn’t you just hear him? Everyone who went into that door never came back. I’m staying right here.”
“You do what you want,” Taro said. “I’m going. Is anyone with me?”
Ven and Suri were the only volunteers.
“Seriously? No one else?” Ven shook his head. “Fine then. The rest of you, get this ship ready to fly.”
“The ship is ready now,” Yoresh said. “But it cannot be piloted alone.”
“Good. We’re going to find the others and bring them back,” Taro said.
When Taro, Suri, and Ven were at the base of the ramp, Ven nudged Taro with his elbow. “That’s a tall order.”
“Maybe a little confidence will keep them from flying off without us.”
The heat coming from the gap in the wall was overwhelming, like stepping into the furnace room at Crissom Foundry. The Waystation was unlike the rest of the ruins; it sloped down into a natural cave with rough black walls interlaced with smooth stone and metal architecture identical to that of the Magisterium. Taro could feel the heat on the soles of his shoes.
Ven touched some of the hot ash from the cave floor and winced. He brushed it away and uncovered a fist-sized gear. There were more pieces (nuts and bolts) scattered nearby.
“I think these are from the construct,” Ven said. “At least we can be reasonably sure that’s not just in our heads.”
They soon came across one of the recruits from the other team. It was a boy Taro recognized as Mylo, a first-year about Nima’s age. He was tucked away in a break in the cave wall, covered in ash, with a positively terrified look in his eyes. When they approached him, Mylo scratched at the wall and screamed.
Taro grabbed him by the shoulder and shushed him. “It’s just us.”
Mylo’s chest heaved and his bloodshot eyes zeroed in on them. His voice barely cracked above a whisper. “He told me you’d all been killed.”
Suri whipped some of the ash from his eyes. “Who told you that?”
“He’s been chasing me for days,” Mylo said. “You guys can hide here with me, if you want.”
Taro shook him. “There’s no one chasing you. This place is messing with your head.”
Mylo was delirious, and Taro realized reasoning with him wouldn’t help. He glanced at Suri. “Can you get him back to the ship, while we move forward?”
Suri held Mylo up by her shoulder. “I can try. With him and Yoresh, that leaves eighteen unaccounted for.”
“Hold on for a moment,” Taro said. He shined his light ahead of them as far as he could. There were several others sprawled through the caves, in similar condition to Mylo. The recruits writhed in the ash, tried to climb up the walls, and banged their heads against rocks.
Suri propped Mylo up with her shoulder. “This is go
ing to take a few trips.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Mind Games
While Suri worked hauling recruits back to the ship, Taro and Ven pressed deeper into the Waystation.
Ven held his light up to the cave wall. A half-dozen metal tubes were built directly into the black rock; each of them had a glass case on the front and pulsed with dim blue light.
“These look like power nodes,” Ven said.
The cave rumbled and rocks sifted from the ceiling, as they neared two recruits.
“Do you know them?” Taro said.
“Corin and Hunter, second-years.”
The larger boy, Corin, had somehow lost most of his shirt. The cloth hung off, and there was a bleeding gash across the inner side of his arm. It was full of ash and must’ve hurt like hell.
Corin pointed behind them and screamed. “Get down!”
Taro tried to calm him. “It’s all in your head. There’s nothi—”
Before he could finish, something struck him. Whatever it was had enough force to knock him clear across the cave and smash him, face-first, into solid rock. Blood gushed from his nose and cheeks, and he struggled through his daze to regain balance. He felt bits of rubble falling onto his head and heard Ven shouting.
The massive silhouette of the construct charged at him; but Taro rolled clear, and it struck the wall. The cave shook and sparks flew from the energy nodes. They lit up the cave, like a bright summer’s day, and the construct came into full view.
It didn’t seem to be modeled after a real animal, but was the close approximation of a cross between a scorpion and a tarantula. The outer shell was carved from smooth gray stone, and there was a huge gash on its left pincer; underneath, gears and wheels clicked and spun.
It smashed and snapped wildly, seizing Taro by his prosthetic and lifting him into the air. It hovered his body over teeth-like spinning blades, and its yellow eyes scanned him.
Maybe it was just Taro’s head injury, maybe it was the deleterious effect of the cave, maybe both, but he swore he heard it speak. It was a metallic, stuttering voice.
“In...tru...der.”
Taro unstrapped his prosthetic and fell to the ground just as the construct’s pincher snapped closed. It only bought him a few seconds, as there was no way he could get away on one foot.
Taro’s list of useful magistry was thin. The only enchantment that might have some effect would be a dispel to disable the machine’s casing enchantments, but even that was a long shot. It was one thing to perform magistry or templary while relaxed; it was quite another to perform it on a moving target that was actively trying to kill you. More to the point, the construct was created by the Old Gods; making a dispel powerful enough to counter its enchantments might’ve been impossible.
Ven threw rocks and shouted to get the construct’s attention, but it seemed dead set on finishing Taro, first. Taro retrieved his inscriber from his pocket; and when the construct came at him again, he grabbed hold and climbed onto it. It spun and slashed at him, cutting his back and arm. Taro held on for dear life and etched his dispelling ward into its back plate. He placed his hands on both sides of the inscription and the lines glowed, but nothing happened. The construct thrashed and threw Taro across the cave. His back struck a power node, and his inscriber tumbled from his hand.
The construct lurched forward, and its eyes focused in on the inscriber. Its huge pincer lifted it from the ash. “Arrrriiissss.”
“What did you say?” Taro said, bewildered.
The construct was now only a few feet from him. He had few precious seconds to think, and the sparking power node beside him caught his eye. It had been cracked open and bare cords hung out.
Using his sleeve as a glove, he grabbed the base of one of the live wires and jammed it into the construct’s damaged frame. The force of the shock blew the gears from the opening, and lashed Taro’s hands and arms with arcs of raw electricity. Simultaneously, the construct’s glass eyes exploded and Taro’s thin body was struck down, like he’d been struck by the hand of God.
The construct slumped to the ground, dead.
Taro couldn’t breathe for a full minute. Every nerve in his body felt like it’d been fried, and there were long black burns across his arms, hands, and face.
Ven appeared over him, checking his pulse and telling him to breathe (as if he wasn’t already trying). Finally, hot air filled his lungs, and he coughed up a half-quart of blood.
“I can’t believe you survived that,” Ven said.
“I survived?”
“Apparently. Despite this face, I’m not an angel.” He held his hand out. “Can you sit up?”
Taro rolled onto his side. “I think I’ll just lay here for a few minutes, or a month or two.”
“I’ll carry you back to the Titan. Whatever’s affecting the others is going to start affecting us, too, if we stay.”
“I need my leg,” Taro said.
Ven retrieved it, and Taro latched it back on. The runes were severely damaged from where the construct had grabbed it, and it felt like little more than a hunk of wood.
“We need to find Sikes,” Taro said. “He’s the only one left.”
“The Helian kid? I’ll find him, after we get you back with the others.”
“I’m fine.”
“That might just be the stupidest thing I have ever heard. You are most certainly not fine.”
“Get Hunter and Corin back. Sikes is my friend. I owe him.”
Ven sighed and collected Corin and Hunter. “As soon as I drop these two off, I’ll head back.” He slapped a large rock from Corin’s hand that the boy was gnawing on. “That’s not food.”
Taro cracked his back and pressed on, limping the whole way. He came to a seven-way fork in the cave that he recognized from Ross’ workshop, and knew the artifact would be on the fourth one from the right.
From this point, the cave transitioned into a room very similar to many in the Magisterium. On the right side were racks with replacement parts for the construct, and on the left were maps of the Waystation and complex blueprints overlaid with Deific writing. These were projected into the air with beams of light.
On a raised dais in the center of the room was the artifact, a smooth metal cylinder with a crystal case. Every few seconds it would pulse, and whatever energy was radiating from it made Taro’s head ache. The closer he got to it, the worse it got.
“What are you doing, Taro?” a familiar voice called from behind him. There, in a tattered sundress, was his mother. She looked more sickly than ever. “Why are you still here?”
Taro ignored her. When he turned back toward the artifact, his father was standing in front of him. His face was covered in rotting flesh. Taro took a deep breath and walked directly through the image. The voices continued in his head, as he examined the artifact. They taunted him, told him to stop, to run, but he tuned them out.
He checked over the artifact, looking for anything that might deactivate it. It was clearly the source of all this, but there was no obvious off switch.
He managed to unlatch the top half and to expose its inner workings. Multicolored crystals lined the sides, connected with thin, clear wires and copper fixtures. The runes inside were unlike anything Taro had ever seen.
The voices continued as he worked, but one voice stood out as different from the others. This one was real and belonged to Sikes, who was standing at the entrance. He was bleeding from his wrists.
Sikes raised his arm and touched the bleeding gash. “It’s too much to handle, Taro.” He flashed a serrated piece of metal with his other hand.
“Put the knife down,” Taro said gently.
“Why?” Sikes said.
“Whatever the problem is, it’s all in your head.”
Sikes rubbed the side of the metal with his bloody finger. “All in my head?”
“That’s right.”
“Was being locked up for two months all in my head?”
“Sikes, please.”
“You abandoning me—was that all in my head?” His voice got progressively louder as he spoke. “The beatings, the cracked skull, the broken ribs. Was that all in my head, you son of a bitch?”
“Please,” Taro said. “Just put the knife down.”
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Sikes flipped the knife in his hands, like he was going to stab himself.
There was no way Taro could get to him in time.
At that moment, nothing else mattered. He didn’t care about bringing the artifact back. He didn’t care about passing the trial. He smashed the artifact on the dais has hard as he could, and it shattered. The crystals flew across the room and the pieces crackled and smoked.
The artifact pulsed one last time like a shockwave, and knocked Taro onto the floor.
The last thing Taro saw before his eyes went dark was Sikes’ silhouette, standing over his beaten, bloodied body.
Chapter Twenty-four
For the Uniform
Taro wasn’t sure he was alive. His eyelids cracked just enough to see shadows moving around him, and his arms and legs felt like they weighed a ton. He groaned and a figure rushed to his side.
“He’s awake.” It was an older woman, a nurse from the looks of it. “Bring him some water.”
Taro was in a long room with tall, slanted windows. Rows of hospital beds sat in alcoves along the wall, separated by curtains.
“Where am I?” he asked.
The nurse wet a rag in a bucket of ice water and placed it on his forehead. “The infirmary. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Sikes—”
“Is in better shape than you.”
Taro realized he was missing his prosthetic. “My leg. What—”
“I’m not sure what happened to it, I’m afraid.” The nurse changed his bandages and gave him a god-awful concoction of herbs and mineral water. She then lathered a gray paste over his burns.
The double doors at the end of the infirmary creaked open, and Ven peeked inside.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said. “Are visitors allowed?”
“I suppose. Just don’t excite him too much.”
