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Authors: Robert

Chains of Loss (26 page)

BOOK: Chains of Loss
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“They’ll follow us.”

He aimed upwards.  “No, they won’t.”  There was another crack, and Derek heaved on the rope.  “Move.” 

Rathiela and Mycah looked at him for only a moment before the rope started to pile up around him.  They didn’t need to be told again.

 

***

 

Gorti stumbled into the gates.  He’d blacked out twice from the pain, but he’d made it.  There were a dozen guards standing; he grabbed the highest ranking one he saw.


Listen
.  Drotak and Droluch are here.  They and the Darkeners bring stardust; they seek to destroy the Temple.  Raise the alarm.” 

The guard gaped at him for a good five seconds.  His patience snapped and he bit the guard’s throat out.  Energy surged through him, and all of his injuries faded away, fusing his broken bones into solid knots.  He discarded the corpse and turned to the second highest.  “You. You’ve been promoted to the rank of ‘person responsible if the temple’s damaged.’ 
Raise the dark-cursed alarm!”

 

***

 

James heard the commotion before his troops had reached the top.  He hoped it didn’t mean what he thought it did, but he couldn’t afford to stop moving.  Anyone looking down from the walkways could see people coming up the pass; if something was going on, security would be on alert and their odds of being caught tripled. 

Still, the west gate was usually lightly guarded.  So long as they had the element of surprise they could fight their way out with minimal casualties. 

 

***

 

Derek’s anger had played out.  He couldn’t let them follow him.  He didn’t trust himself not to hurt them if they did.  So he wanted to make sure they couldn’t.

Pulling down the pulley and basket system was only the first step.  The baskets could be replaced.  The pass or the bridge, however...

He went to full-power scanning, no longer caring whether or not the orcs could detect it.  A kilometer of rock probably muted the signal, at least.  Within moments, he knew every flaw in the rock of the escarpment – and that the only group in the pass had already traversed the area he wanted to change.  He ran simulations until he knew exactly what he had to do to accomplish what he wanted, then drew bead and fired.

Six shots left his gun, followed by four high explosive charges.  He turned to follow the girls as the pass caved in on itself, thousands upon thousands of tons of rock sliding in to seal it shut.  By the time it settled, the end of the pass would be almost half a kilometer up; he couldn’t have made it end higher without endangering the city above.

The orcs might be able to clear it – but it would involve carting rock away for
years
.  He spat into the water, then turned to follow the girls.  He was done here.  Given a little time, perhaps he’d recover.

 

***

 

James picked himself up.  What the hell had that been?  His rangers were strewn about the ground, groaning.  He cursed, but couldn’t hear it.  There was no way the city wasn’t on alert now.  It was time to improvise.

“Orcs.  You continue with the plan; you might be able to blend in.  Everyone else, we’ve got no choice now; we’re going back.”  He couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he managed to get the message across.

He swore the entire way down the pass, economizing his time by venting and gauging the slow return of some of his hearing at the same time.  He should’ve paid attention when the ruby broke. 

Three hundred meters from where the pass should have ended, they ran into a rock face.  James shook his head in disbelief.  The prophet really hadn’t been kidding.  He did a quick headcount; there were about two dozen rangers left.

“Taerlae – if you can climb, climb.  See if you can get anyone else over.  If you find an easy way over before it's too late, come get me.  I’m…going to buy you some time.”

“Sir?”  He didn’t catch who had spoken.

“Get going.  I don’t do goodbyes.”

That said, he turned from the group and headed uphill.  Best case scenario, nobody was actually looking down the pass.  He would be able to just walk out.  Of course, that wouldn’t happen. 

Next best  case, maybe they'd be slow to go down the pass and he'd be able to back out.  Not happening. 

More likely, he’d encounter an army heading towards the bottom of the cliff.  He’d be able to slow them down for a moment – maybe even get them to turn back.

Sure enough, he could see them.  He spat in their direction and drew his weapons, then dropped into a kempraana stance, shortsword high, dagger low.  He was doomed anyway. 

“All right, you shadow-blinded zealots!  You know me as Drotak, the Darkener, who has laid so many of your kind low!  Step forward, fools.  The shadows hunger.”

He grinned as they closed ranks.  That last line was the kind of stupid thing his enemies loved to fling about.  They wouldn’t hurry to come at him – and they’d try to take him alive.  Eventually, they would succeed, unless he managed to get them to kill him.  Either way, he’d bought his men some time.

 

***

 

Mycah fell as the ground shook.  The noise that filled the air was louder than anything she’d ever imagined; she couldn’t cling to the bridge because she had to cover her ears.  The headband melted onto her head and the noise dissipated into blessed silence.  She gripped the bridge and pushed herself up into a kneeling position, only to find that the bridge was no longer level.  An entire section of it had fallen to one side, and the piece she was on was precariously tilted.

Rathiela was gone.  It took Mycah less than a second to realize that she’d probably fallen into the water.  Her heart skipped.  The taerlae would know how to swim, but she couldn’t have used the skill in decades at best.  They were far from the shore.  She would probably drown.

Mycah flung herself over the side; it took a full second’s fall before she hit the water.  The moment she hit, she felt something familiar. 

{Sister!  It is time!}

The water boiled around her, not from heat but from the waushan that was dispersing from the ruptured waterskin. 

{Glorious new home!  As promised!}

She twisted in the water, taking a deep breath and seeking Rathiela.  The taerlae was flailing in panic; Mycah caught her and held her.

“It’s okay!  There’s a waushan!  It’s safe!  You can breathe!”

Rathiela didn’t stop struggling.  Mycah looked away.

“Friend!  Take us to the surface, please!”

A thick sheet of ice formed underneath them, buoying them upwards.  They broke the surface and kept going.  Mycah knew the trick; the Waushan was turning the sheet of ice into a pillar, raising them back to the bridge.

Derek stared at them as they stepped off, his berserk trance apparently broken.  Rathiela threw herself into his arms, wild-eyed and coughing.

“Okay.  What’s that?” Derek asked, pointing.

“It’s a waushan.”

“They’re made of ice?”

“No – water.  The waushan is the lake.”

He looked over the side of the bridge.  “The whole lake?”

“Not the whole thing, but…kind of.  It’s aware of whatever happens here.”

He gave her a calculating look.  “Can it break the rest of this bridge?”

“Yes – ”

“Ask it if it will.  And any other bridges.  All of them.”  He released Rathiela and started walking again.  “I want to keep moving.  Away from the orcs.  Let’s go somewhere safe.”

Mycah snorted.  “Safe?  You’re going into the wilds.”

“We’re going away from the orcs.  We’ll be safe, right?”

“No, Derek.  There’s no such thing as ‘safe’.  We’re clear of the orcs’ homelands, but there’s probably some of them down here too.  If that wasn’t enough, we’re headed through haunted ground.”

“Haunted.”  The way he spoke the word was clearly the verbal equivalent of holding a dead rat at arm’s length.  “What else?”

“The Chimera.  Ghouls.  Vampires.  Reapers.  Fetches.”

Derek stopped short.  “You’re not kidding, are you?”

“Not even slightly.”

“Is there a safer way to go?”

“Not really.”

“Spreck.”

 

***

 

Derek’s Personal Log, 10-24-81

Too much has happened in the past few days; I find myself perpetually on my heels.  In an attempt to organize the information that’s been coming at me, I’ve started up a data wiki.  I suppose my Shadow would say that, with this act, I’m falling back on hope – hope that somewhere out there, there are other New Athenians, and that some of them will one day read this document. 

There’s also the chance that, since I can share cybernetics, someone else from this broken Earth will have a read, so I’m going to try to present this information as cleanly as possible.

 

Specific people:

Derek Kazenushi – Me.  I’m light-years away from home (see New Athens) – which shouldn’t be
possible
– and stranded amongst people that I really don’t understand. 

Derek’s Shadow – My best friend.  He’s an artificial intelligence and normally houses himself inside my own body.  All New Athenians have a Shadow. 

 

Mycah O’Ryan (Orion? Must ask.) – Native of Earth…all right.  In trying to create this file on her, I’m realizing how much I
don’t
know about her.  What kind of title is Lady, other than stating the obvious?  Who hurt her, and why does she have those nightmares? 

 

Mycah’s Shadow – A newborn intelligence, though one that develops rapidly in some ways.  In others, only experience can bring wisdom.  Speaking of wisdom, it will not be my policy in the future to trust the advice of an AI that’s less than a day old.

 

Rathiela – A member of the extraterrestrial race known as taerlae.  I know less about her than about Mycah.  Actually, the two have spent some time talking to each other in an unknown language (probably Rathiela’s native tongue).  I’m glad they’re making friends with each other.

1.
                    
Private Note:  Rathiela’s biology is
entirely
inhuman.  Preliminary analysis via mediceps indicates that her species doesn’t even have standard DNA.  Curing her of her condition will likely present difficulty.  Must reach Kaitopolis.

 

Norah – Last name unknown.  A ‘seraph’ of the city of Kaitopolis, she has wings but was not born with them; they were added later, presumably through the technology of another New Athenian.  I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much; it could have been some well-preserved remnant of ancient tech.

 

Calarto – Rathiela’s brother, though Mycah has implied that declarations of blood relations among taerlae are not always to be taken literally.

 

The Orc – Name Unknown – Origin Unknown.  He hunted us from where we crashed, all the way to the orcish city and the Worldsedge. 

 

Private File:  S – I have not met this person, but his or her prophecies look hard to fake.  Reserving judgment.

 

Places:

 

New Athens – My home, if it still exists.  My people left Earth many centuries ago, traveling slower than light, to the star, which they took the liberty of renaming Apollo.  My ancestors had picked a Greek naming theme, so they named the star’s second planet Elysium, et cetera. 

1.
                    
Private Note:  Funny how my family got an Asian surname out of that, somehow. 

We lost contact with Earth a bit before arriving; that was about seven hundred years ago. 

1.
                    
Technically it was contact with the Kuiper Belt, but that’s immaterial.

Anyway, a few days ago we had to evacuate.  See the Sundering for more details.  Long story short, I wound up here, separated from the rest of the fleet, in a crashed ship. 

 

Earth – What. In.  Tarus.  My people have dreamed about what happened when we lost contact.  Nobody ever pictured
this.
  I’ve met taerlae and orcs (gnokla?) since I crashed, and Mycah’s told me of several other races.  I’ve seen the ruins of ancient buildings that look like they simply fell over.  No radio contacts, not from Earth, nor from Luna, nor Mars…nowhere. 

             
Private Note:  There’s something that’s not occurred to me until now.  We didn’t just sit there wondering.  There was an expedition back at some point.  Communication was spotty due to distance – when did it leave?  When did it, or should it, arrive?

 

Kaitopolis – Apparently a major city, one of a few that lie far to the north.  I’m looking forward to seeing it.  The rulers of the city have apparently received technological assistance in the form of kharai – bio-tweaked humans. 

BOOK: Chains of Loss
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