Fingers of dread crept up Lapis’s spine as the four of them continued towards the blue glow. What if they happened upon a group of khentauree modded with the aquatheerdaal spheres the Meergevens used? They would attack, and without a handy terron to interfere and provide shielding, how could they avoid being shot? Run back down the tunnel? The mechanical beings could outrace them.
“Turn off the lights,” Patch whispered. “I’ll go ahead. Sit ‘til I get back.”
She was damn well not going to sit until he returned.
“I don’t see anything on the screen,” Caitria said.
“Yeah, but you can’t detect that low signal, either. There’s no reason not to be careful down here.”
They did as requested, and Lapis bit her lip as dark encompassed them, the blue glow their only beacon. She squeezed her fingers into fists and attempted to bury the remembrance of Ambercaast and her terror. Letting Caitria or Vory realize how much the darkness now scared her would tarnish whatever reputation she held with them.
“He’s a brave one,” Vory murmured.
“He does this for a living,” Caitria said, so quietly she must have mouthed the words. “You have no idea what kinds of missions Faelan sends him on.”
Lapis did, and she did not want to be reminded of them while her partner placed himself in danger.
Pinpricks of blue light meant he turned, and she watched them, mesmerized by the distinctive patterns, as he neared.
“You can turn the lights on, but be alert.”
They clicked on their tech as Patch pivoted and hastened his step. They scurried to keep up; whatever he saw made him uneasy, for he typically paced his strides with Lapis’s shorter stature in mind.
They entered a cavern filled with warmer air. The blue glow came from flat-topped, thick-stemmed mushrooms that lined the walls and grew in calf-high clusters near rocks, old crates, and debris. The stems were white, with pleats running the length of them, the caps a cobalt blue with white scales. They had an ethereal sense about them, as if they lit a heavenly place.
Stalactites dripped down from the dark-shrouded ceiling onto stalagmites near the walls, hiding some parts of the metal paneling that once formed the room. Their white surfaces reflected the glow from the fungi. At the left wall, they created a horseshoe around the back of a collapsed khentauree the size of Cuddle Bear. Mushrooms in a rain ring surrounded it, and glittery somethings shimmered underneath the tallest cap.
The khentauree’s legs curled under the horse torso, which faced backwards. The human torso lay on top of the horse back, arms folded and positioned between, the head hanging down past the rump. An odd position, but the mechanical being did not seem functional.
“A grave?” Caitria asked.
“I think so,” Lapis replied, following a faint trail through the pebbles and scattered, ancient debris. “And I think it’s still cared for. I don’t see any minerals from a drippy ceiling on it, and those mushrooms look planted.”
“And the trail’s still used,” Patch said. “It goes across the cave to the other exit, but has a crosspath that runs from the wall on the right to the sparkly mushroom. All of it’s cleared.”
Lapis took the crosspath and stopped three strides from the rain ring. Each stem grew along the outline of a perfect circle carved through the dust surrounding the khentauree, evidence that someone, likely other mechanical beings, purposefully placed the fungi. The sparkles beneath the offering mushroom were random objects; pretty stones, bits of metal, ore, and a handful of gemstones. She found it odd, the gifts rested off-center from the head, and wondered why.
She stepped nearer and looked up at the face that hovered twice her height over the ground. It appeared as blank as any of the Ambercaast khentauree’s, which could mean the being had gone to silence, or that they simply rested. She disliked, she could not tell.
“Lanth, be careful,” Patch whispered. “I think the low signal’s coming from them.”
Ah. Did the khentauree still function? She would ask aloud if she thought they understood Lyddisian or Jilvaynan, but if Luthier and her group did not speak modern languages, neither would this one. Perhaps Sanna or Chiddle could write a “Hello” sentence or two in Taangin, so the mechanical beings they came across would understand they did not wish conflict.
How had Jhor convinced them to speak to him before he uploaded Lyddisian?
Sadness tweaked her heart. If they had gone to silence, its fellows thought they deserved a grand remembrance, and she wondered if that meant they once led a group, like Luthier or Ghost. Had Gedaavik coded them for specialness?
“The mineral runoff has glued everything else to the floor,” Vory said, her flashlight flicking around. “The crates look whole, too.”
“The larger khentauree are intimidating when they’re active,” Caitria said. “I’m betting no one looted the area because this one was nearby.”
“Maybe, but the exits aren’t large enough for a khentauree their size,” Patch murmured. “If they couldn’t leave this room, why fear them?”
“Why are they even here?” Caitria asked. “Did the owners assemble them in place? If so, why? The walls are metal, so they weren’t mining. Did they lift cargo? I suppose this place could be a storage room of some sort.”
“Cuddle Bear lifted cargo. He also crushed things, so this one probably did whatever needed done,” Lapis said, padding around the mushrooms to the nearest stalagmite. She slipped her fingers along the surface, and frowned. Instead of a cool mineral deposit, a room-temperature plastic surface met her curious tips.
“Guys, the stalagmite’s fake.”
The other three shuffled to the nearest one and also touched the surface. “That feels like ozicon,” Vory said. “Ragehill has quite a bit of it. It was a cheap but durable building material used for things like bathroom stalls, cabinets and interior lighting covers in some of the research labs. It’s ugly but hard to dent and lasts forever. We’ve never had to replace any of it due to wear.”
Ugly? The stalagmites were beautiful! Perhaps color made the difference?
Lapis glanced at the khentauree head, then retreated to her companions, careful to take the path. Everything seemed so purposefully placed, even the dust, she regretted disturbing any of it.
“There’s a tunnel behind this wall,” Caitria said, pointing to the one to which the crosspath led. “It’s large, too—big enough for a khentauree of Cuddle Bear’s size to walk upright without problems.”
“Let’s see where the other one leads first,” Patch said. “We don’t have to figure out how to open it.”
Lapis studied the wall as they proceeded on. If the stalagmite was fake, were the stalactites? Did they hide a doorway rather than glue it in place?
Carved rock formed the other tunnel, one large enough for two kravir side-by-side. Mushrooms growing from piles of rock at regular intervals produced illumination, making the tech lights redundant. Lapis refused to turn hers off. The rays bouncing off the stone created a sense of security, if not by much. The longer they walked without seeing a doorway or crossing tunnel, the more uneasy she became. What would they do if they happened across functioning khentauree?
“Patch, there’re some strange frequencies,” Caitria said, adjusting dials.
“Yeah. We’re coming up to a large cave, so keep alert.”
Lapis squinted at him, glanced back at the two women, and continued each step with a hard mental shove.
Large cave. Patch said large cave. The gigantic cavern that sprawled away from the exit could hold dozens upon dozens of Eaves taverns, and still not fill up the space between the floor and the shelf upon which they exited. The rock walkway ringed the space before dipping down sharply to the right, leading to the ground. White light blazed bright from the tips of nearly every speleothem, mingling with the blue emanating from thousands of mushrooms that grew from the walls. Circular mud huts large enough to house a single khentauree lined a tile-paved walkway that led to a double-story stone building.
The building’s windowless walls, made from precisely cut and highly polished dark rock, struck Lapis as something a khentauree would construct. Two stalagmites with glowing white tips stood at the open entrance, décor looped around them, though from that distance, their identity remained secret.
Patch pulled her down, and the four of them hustled out of the tunnel entrance. They scooted on their bellies to the edge and peered over the cliff. Vory withdrew a device from her pack and pointed it at the buildings below, starting at the left and moving to the right, then doing the same up and down. Had she met Tamor? They had much in common.
Lapis snagged the seefars from her pack, set the light down, and studied the ground far below. The huts, compared to the precise placement of the blocks in the larger structure, seemed slapped together, as if whoever created them disliked doing so and put the bare minimum effort into their construction. She distinguished nothing in the muddy, shadowy interiors, either.
She focused on the central building. Decorating the stalagmites were bone chains painted blue, the bits and pieces small enough that they likely came from forest animals like squirrels or birds. Dead flowers hung among them, sad, wilted brown specimens that dropped debris around the base.
Caitria looked as if she wished to strangle her tech, and glanced at Patch.
“What are you picking up?”
“The blocks are producing interference, and it’s messing with identifying the khentauree-specific signals Jhor uploaded, but around twenty active khentauree are inside. They’re lined up in a way that reminds me of a religious service; one at the front, the rest in neat rows behind, aisle between.”
“That might be a temple?” Vory asked, startled.
“It makes sense,” Caitria said. “We know Taangis did its best to outlaw what they considered barbaric, so forced workers and locals to go to their religious services rather than attend the heathen traditional ones. They might have even made the khentauree attend, and they continue those practices because that’s coded in their programming.”
Lapis winced. Poor khentauree.
“This entire place has a sacred feel to it,” Patch murmured. “Especially with all the blue reflecting off the white, making everything seem not real. We need to ask Sanna and Chiddle about religion at Ambercaast. Some of their actions strike me as oriented in that direction.”
“I can see Ghost as a prophet,” Lapis whispered.
“And his sprites appear from nowhere and disappear just like that,” Caitria said, clicking her tongue. “I don’t get the impression Gedaavik was very religious, though.”
“If his employers were, it wouldn’t matter,” Patch replied.
Awe trickled through Lapis as she gleaned info from the area. Even though the mushrooms appeared random, she noticed a pattern to them and wondered if the khentauree planted them on purpose, in those positions, for maximum effect. The reflections made the air hazy in brilliance, as if the atmosphere held the touch of a deity. Stray sparkles winking in and out, midair, added a glittery touch to the aura.
She imagined more than one worship center in Jiy would love to produce the same impact. The ethereal sight would trick so many into believing their temple had the favor of whichever of the Seven non-existent gods they worshipped.
Patch hissed. “They’re moving,” he whispered. “We need to go.”
She was not the only one concerned about the lack of cover.
They trotted back to the large khentauree, silent, intent on their step. Impressions continued to crash through Lapis, and questions to pester Sanna and Chiddle with piled up, too many to remember. Distracted, she ran into Patch’s back without realizing he stopped. He steadied her and looked at the other two.
“There’s more khentauree in the other room,” he said. “They’re lined up in front of the large khentauree, like in a religious ceremony.” He jerked his chin towards their rear. “And more are coming this way.”
Caitria winced. “So do we interrupt?”
“I don’t know. We can’t speak Taangin, and even if you can get Sanna or Chiddle on the speaker, they may not listen to them, especially if we’re interrupting something they consider sacred.”
“How are we going to sneak past?” Lapis asked.
“Hope they’re so enthralled in their service, they aren’t scanning for intruders?”
Not that they had any better option, she supposed, but Patch’s nonchalance annoyed her. Did he not recall what armed khentauree could do? Her memory flashed on the hunter’s shack and the huge divots in the ground likely produced by the wandering horde Ghost planned to subdue that winter.
They clicked off their lights and followed Patch’s lead; he trotted, then crept. The nearer they came to the room, the louder the humming became. Voices hummed in unison, all on different notes, and perfect pitch, of course.
Lapis expected Patch to halt and inspect the situation from the tunnel door; instead he scurried past. She picked up her pace to keep up; he hid behind a stack of crates with mushrooms growing on the side facing the large khentauree. She rocked against him, then peered through the crack between the second-level boxes.
At least ten stood in a line leading from the giant head to the back of the cave. They had their heads bowed, arms hanging, staring straight at the ground. They wore shimmery tunics over their right shoulders, the cloth refracting the blue and putting another layer of beauty in the air. Wide, pale brown leather straps belted the material to their waist, tied with two dangling laces containing blue glitter ends.
She moved to peek around the corner on her partner’s other side; the wall had slid back, revealing a cylindrical, grooved metal tunnel large enough for the big khentauree to move down if they gained their feet. An ancient, broken machine lay just inside, the front scoop ripped in half, the free part smooshed onto the top of the driver’s seat, smashing the metal and glass down to the base level. A single ratty boot, laces trailing, sat next to the flat remains of a tire taller than Lapis.
She bet the big khentauree did that.
Unlike the two caverns, flickery tech lights lit the tunnel. The flaking remnants of yellow paint ran down the sides in double lines, stopping at various grey metal boxes with their openings ajar and a jumble of wires and tubes exposed. Oddly, the sight produced the same sick dread she experienced when she beheld the skeletons in the trains at Ambercaast. Something bad happened there, and she doubted she would ever find out what.
The line of khentauree ended at the tunnel opening, blocking off access to the way they had entered.
“Looks like there’s a break between khentauree where the paths cross,” Patch breathed. “But otherwise, they’re stuffed together, front to back.”
“We can’t go around them without being seen,” Vory said. “What do you want to do?”
“You take lead. Just walk through them. Keep your weapon down, no sudden moves. I’ll take rear.” Lapis’s heart thrummed at that. “Go.”
Never the hesitating type, was he?
Vory stared straight ahead, walking quickly, confidently through the break, Caitria behind. Lapis stepped onto the path as the giant head creaked up and swiveled in Vory’s direction, then snapped to her. Patch pushed her shoulder, and she forced her feet into motion, raising a hand to wave the seefars at the khentauree before rushing after the two women.
They reached the tunnel, and Lapis sagged in relief. Nothing happened!
GGGRRRRAAAAWWWRRR!
The ground shook, her body shook, she fought to breathe past the buzzy roar. Dust puffed into the air, rock fell from the ceiling. She stumbled into a run after it ended, choking, unable to see through the dusty haze. She clicked her light on—it did not help—and careened towards the relative safety of the next cavern.
GGGRRRRAAAAWWWRRR!
“They’re following!” Patch yelled.
Shit.
More small bits of debris pelted her as she increased speed, the dust thick enough it sank into her tearing eyes; she ran into the open air of the cavern with shock and relief.
Abastion rebels with tech weapons faced the tunnel, Caitria among them, Vory further ahead and yelling at the group carrying stretchers to get out, quick.
“Don’t shoot them!” Lapis shouted. “Just go!”
She grabbed one man and hauled him around, leaving the skeptical others for Patch. Caitria gasped, and she whirled; five khentauree poured from the tunnel, intent on them, light in the center of their forehead growing brighter.
“But—” the rebel said.
“Don’t fire,” Patch growled, facing them as he backpedaled. “Is that everyone?”
“Yeah,” the rebel said. “The last are the injured, to keep them out of the cold the longest.”
Lapis backpedaled as well, purposefully keeping herself between the humans and the mechanical beings, hands raised to the shoulder, showing she carried nothing to harm them with. Hopefully they did not take exception to the seefars and a tech light.
GGGRRRRAAAAWWWRRR!
The khentauree raised their knees high in a dainty step, then halted, their forehead lights whirling, as she and her partner entered the first tunnel and hastened to the exit.
