The cradle of ice, p.60
The Cradle of Ice, page 60
part #2 of Moonfall Series
At the last moment, emerald fire lashed out from below, trying to burn away what she had done, but it was too late. A great rumble rose around the ship, trembling it. Below them, the seven petals of the door peeled open, sliding into the surrounding dome wall.
Warm air burst upward, instantly turning to mist in the cold and swamping around the Sparrowhawk. Blinded, Darant backed them out of that thermal chimney. The sudden warmth also challenged the lift of their balloon’s hot air. They momentarily dropped until they reached the frigid cold, then lifted higher again.
Jace and Krysh helped them stand. Shiya managed on her own.
“What if the spider closes it again?” Jace asked.
Nyx knew the answer, but Shiya voiced it.
“I locked it open,” the bronze woman intoned.
Nyx nodded. At that last moment, as the spider recovered from the deafening blast, Nyx had felt the shift in the copper. Those hard bits of matter had realigned, wrecking the pattern. Like jamming an iron bar into a forge.
“How did you know how to do that?” Nyx asked Shiya.
She gave a confused look. “I … I just did.”
Nyx remembered when she had flown her raash’ke for the first time. Certain buried reflexes had risen without thought, from memories instilled into her. Had Shiya experienced something like that? In the past, Shiya had demonstrated some knowledge of these doorways and their locks. Though Shiya’s memories were corrupted or missing, some deep corner of her awareness still reacted instinctively when the spider had lashed out, thwarting him.
Graylin and Rhaif came rushing in, looking frozen.
“Did it work?” Rhaif gasped out through chattering teeth.
As answer, Nyx pointed to the misty column of warm air rising out of the open dome.
“What now?” Jace asked. “Do we drop the Sparrowhawk through there?”
Darant spoke from the wheel. “That hot air will make it treacherous. And as it is, it’s a tight fit through that hole. We lose the Hawk, and none of us are leaving.”
“Then how’re we getting down?” Rhaif asked.
“You know as well as I do,” Nyx said, repeating Daal’s words from two days ago. “We’ve done it before.”
Jace closed his eyes and groaned.
* * *
ATOP NYFKA, DAAL swept a circle around the Sparrowhawk, waiting for the others. The cold was brutal. It felt as if the air had turned brittle, too hard to even inhale. He didn’t know if it was due to their flight deeper into the Wastes or some strange property of the massive copper Oshkapeer below, as if the structure were sucking heat from the air around it, maybe from the Urth itself.
He skimmed high above one of those fiery chasms that lined the copper’s edges. The rift glowed from molten rock hidden in its depths. But what wasn’t hidden, but still far down, was a massive tangle of heavy, twisted metal beams—not copper, maybe iron or steel, but clearly ancient, older than the complex above, marking the skeletal ruins of another age buried under this one.
Nyx had told Daal about the site they sought in the Brackenlands. She described it as a large village, what she called a city, but nothing lay out in these barren lands except the copper structure. Was the wreckage below the remains of a lost city? Was the copper Oshkapeer its grave marker?
He shuddered and turned away. He scanned the skies to the east, searching for any sign of the enemy who had attacked the Crèche. But the fires of the Sparrowhawk and the reflected fiery glow of the copper only made the surrounding Brackenlands darker. The warm mists still rising through the open door further hazed the view.
Still, he searched for several more breaths. With no danger in sight, he swung back to the ship and waggled his wingtips, letting the others know that all looked clear for now.
On his signal, Nyx took flight. She burst low under the ship’s balloon, then swept high. Behind the pair, more wings spread into the sky. Tiny figures dangled under them before being drawn closer to keep warm.
Daal leaned over his saddle and tucked his knees tighter, signaling Nyfka, but his mount seemed to know his intent and dove. He remembered a similar harmony whenever he rode Neffa, those moments when two became one. He knew now such a deep bond was due to his innate bridle-song. Though he couldn’t bridge to another heart as intimately as Nyx could, he still felt that gifted connection, that bond between rider and mount. In moments like this, he felt closer to Neffa, as if she rode these skies with him; his memories of hunting with her had helped forge his bond with Nyfka, as if the orkso had been preparing him for this all along.
Thank you, Neffa.
Daal swept down to the others and drew alongside Nyx, riding wingtip to wingtip. Hugging her saddle, she glanced across to him. She glowed with bridle-song, trailing wisps of golden fire in her wake. Her eyes shone with the same blaze.
The sight of her stole his breath—then they were into the warm mists.
After the frigid cold, the warm air scorched. He gasped at the sudden heat. But after a few breaths, the burn tempered to a steamy balminess. He dove steeper, taking the lead, protecting Nyx.
Once through the huge doorway, the air cleared. The shock of the sight below and around him bobbled his flight. He clutched harder to his saddle and urged his mount into a smoother arc across the interior of the dome. The vast space looked even bigger from the inside.
Nyx drew alongside again.
She nodded to him, broke away, and guided the others toward the copper floor.
He let her go, making a final sweep above them.
What wonders have we opened to the world?
* * *
NYX SPIRALED TOWARD the dome’s floor, her gaze sweeping dizzily in all directions. The copper of the inner walls was coated by a dense labyrinth of crystalline tubing, steel joinery, and great windowed tanks bubbling with golden potions. It all glowed softly, with occasional brighter energies coursing over sections, like tamed lightning.
She had to blink away some of the sharper dazzles as she wound cautiously below. Seven huge tunnels led off down those tentacles. From them, giant rubbery cables—as tall as lumbering martoks—snaked out and dove under the copper floor, vanishing away. But Nyx knew where all seven were headed, what they were meant to power.
Before landing, she circled the wonder at the center of the dome.
Cradled in bronze and suspended by a rigging of archways was a perfect sphere of crystal. It was the size of a warship and felt as threatening. The upper hemisphere rose above the floor, while its lower half hung over a huge hole, wider by half than the orb itself.
The crystal’s surface was circumscribed by crisscrossing bands of bright copper, while smaller wires etched a complicated pattern between them, like the arcane scribblings of a mad alchymist.
Still, none of it hid what lay at the heart of the crystal.
A huge pool of golden fluid pulsed and writhed, churning and swirling.
Though awed and terrified, Nyx recognized its character, if not its massive scale. She tore her gaze away and stared at the shine of Shiya’s bronze form. When the miraculous woman had climbed out of the mines of Chalk, it took the power of the sun to keep her moving. She had to constantly draw energy from the fires of the Father Above. Only later, she had recovered a crystalline cube, swirling with the same golden elixir. Once implanted into her, it had granted her continual power thereafter and sustained her still.
Nyx turned back toward the golden sea shining at the center of the sphere and cowered at the thought of all that energy. She finally had to look away, shying from the enormity of it all.
As she turned and swept away from the sphere, she caught a glimpse down the massive hole along the orb’s edge. She expected to see molten fire glowing below, but the sight was worse. The shaft fell away into a darkness that felt bottomless. She imagined the shaft drilling to the core of the planet. What little could be seen of the upper reaches was a complex of ladders set amidst shelves of scaffolding, all descending into that eternal blackness.
She shivered at the sight of that abyss and continued around the sphere to descend to the floor. She landed first, her mount’s claws skidding with a bone-chilling screech across the copper. The others were lowered or dropped by the raash’ke.
Staying seated in her saddle, she surveyed her group. Their faces shone from a spectrum of wonder and awe to horror and disbelief.
Overwhelmed, Jace sank to his knees. Krysh stumbled over to his side, having to lean on his young friend. Nyx didn’t know if the alchymist was stunned by the flight down from the ship or from the astonishing sights around him—likely a combination of both.
Graylin stared back at her, focusing on her, ignoring the rest.
Past his shoulder, Shiya helped Rhaif to his feet. He hung on to her like a drowning man on a bit of floating flotsam.
A shout drew her attention to the side, where Darant gathered Vikas and two more of his men, one of them with a broken arm in a sling. Darant stared up at the fiery glow of the Sparrowhawk through the chimney of mists. His face was pained but determined. He had hated to abandon the ship, but they needed as much force down here as possible and Glace had proven herself fully capable of defending the Hawk, though she had been left with only the barest skeleton of a crew.
The last member of their group still swept high, on patrol. Daal watched for any sign of that molten shape of the spider. But after being thwarted, the bronze spider must have scurried off down one of those seven tunnels, hiding in the shadows.
Daal was not alone up there. The flock of raash’ke, who had ferried the party down, now winged through the air, adding to the patrol, ready to defend them. Nyx reached up with a thrum of song, thanking them for their diligence and help. As she did, she felt a faint presence of the raash’ke horde-mind. It watched with the cold immensity of its ancient eye, still weakly linked by its brethren circling above.
Nyx finally slid from her saddle, running a glowing palm over Metyl’s damp flank, whispering her thanks to him. He stirred and reached back, rubbing a cheek against her chest, a rare sign of true affection. She scratched his small ear, earning a rumble back.
Rhaif called over, a note of panic in his voice. “Help me!”
Nyx hurried over with the others.
Rhaif stood before Shiya, his palms on her chest, his feet being pushed across the copper, unable to find a foothold on the seamless surface, not that it would’ve helped against Shiya’s immense strength.
“What’re you doing?” Darant asked.
“What does it look like?” Rhaif’s face purpled with the strain, hopping a bit on his bad leg. “Trying to stop her.”
They all crowded to his side, ready to help.
Rhaif explained. “She barely got her footing when she suddenly stiffened. Her eyes went dark. She started marching away without a word, deaf to my questions. Something’s got ahold of her.”
Nyx noted the copper under Shiya’s feet vaguely glowed, casting out ripples with each step, as if she were marching across a still pond.
“Let her go,” Nyx warned, moving closer.
Graylin tried to stop Nyx, but she shook off his arm.
She pushed Rhaif aside.
“We’ve all witnessed such dogged compulsion by Shiya,” Nyx explained. “Back when she led us to the Shrouds. Some buried part of her is reacting to this place. This is where she was meant to be. Trust her.”
Nyx remembered Shiya reflexively locking the dome open. Whatever was driving her must come from the same core of her being.
Rhaif backed away. They all followed in Shiya’s wake as she strode with swift steps, still rippling that glowing pond under her. She crossed around the circumference of the massive sphere that towered high, churning with its golden sea.
Shiya drew no closer to it, wending wider, heading to the dome’s wall.
Her goal came into view.
Imbedded deep into the crystalline web that bubbled and shone throughout the dome’s interior stood a tall shield of copper. It looked molded out of the back wall itself. Nyx stared up and around, sensing the vast spread of the glowing maze led here, to this one spot.
Shiya is meant to be here. She is the key to this place.
The bronze woman marched inexorably toward her destiny. Once close, she shed out of her shift, baring her nakedness. She mounted a short ramp up to the copper shield.
Rhaif no longer tried to stop her. Like Nyx, he had seen such a cocoon of metal and crystal. “It’s like back at the Shrouds,” he mumbled. “Or inside the egg where I first found her.”
Shiya turned her back to the shield and pressed herself against it. As contact was made, the floor jolted under them. The dome rang like a bell. The noise deafened and drove them to their knees.
Shiya stiffened, her head thrown back.
We have witnessed this before, too.
But not this powerful.
The crystal that cupped around the copper shield grew brighter and spread outward in dazzling waves of energy. The rhythmic sweeps of fire sailed outward, swirled wide, then rushed back, crashing like a wave against a cliff.
With each strike, Shiya’s back arched off the copper, her mouth open in a silent cry that looked rapturous.
Rhaif took a step forward, but Graylin held him back—not that Rhaif could have reached her.
Thick curves of glass swept out of the walls to either side and closed over Shiya, encapsulating her, becoming a true chrysalis.
Nyx knew this felt right, where Shiya’s long journey was meant to end.
She was wrong.
From the edges of the cocoon, jagged coruscations of green fire burst forth, wrapping around the crystal. More flames shot across the inside of the dome. The energies out there still swirled but only seemed to fuel the green fire with every crashing wave. The emerald flames became an inferno across the chrysalis.
Shiya vanished behind the blaze, but not before Nyx saw her bronze form thrashing and convulsing inside. Her silent scream was no longer rapturous—only tortured.
Nyx and the others backed away, recognizing the truth.
This wasn’t Shiya’s destiny.
It was a trap.
88
AALIA RUSHED ALONGSIDE Rami through the cavernous throne room. They were surrounded by a cadre of forty Paladins. The clatter of their escort’s steel-shod boots on hard marble echoed throughout the great hall, sounding like a stampede of panicked horses.
Her heart pounded in tempo with them.
They sped around the huge pillars that held up the roof, past the arcades to either side that would seat the thousands who would gather for great events. They aimed for the two gold thrones atop the dais at the far end. One was slightly less prominent than the other. Sheltering both were two huge wings, spreading high, climbing toward the rafters. Two giant obsidian swords curved in front of those wings, standing out against the gold feathers, merging the sigils of the Haeshan Hawk and the Klashean Arms.
Between those wings rose a huge rosette of stained glass. The low winter sun shone through its center, creating a shining bloom that blessed those seated below. It was the glorious Illuminated Rose—a namesake that her father had gifted to Aalia.
As she fled toward the thrones, she wondered if the violence committed upon the emperor had cursed her.
Still, she ran, refusing to relent.
A short time ago, she and Rami, along with a small cadre of Paladins, had been on their way to the Blood’d Tower, to ready for the battle over Tithyn Woods. Then horns had sounded everywhere, echoing from within and without the palace. Screams soon followed and the strident clash of steel.
Aalia had urged her Paladins to reach the Blood’d Tower. Along the way, they had gathered more royal defenders. As they fled, they caught flashes of fighting in the surrounding halls. Bombs blasted in the distance.
Now their goal was in sight.
The archway into the Blood’d Tower stood to the right of the throne dais. They rushed toward it, only to meet another force flooding out. The Paladins closed tight around Aalia and Rami. Through their barricade, she spotted Shield Angelon as he came pounding out the archway with a rush of guardsmen. He had Prince Jubayr under his wing.
Both sides froze, not sure who was enemy and who was friend.
Aalia shouldered through her Paladins. “Shield Angelon!” she called over, testing the mettle of the matter.
The relief that crashed over the man’s face was answer enough. He turned and shouted orders. Their two forces merged.
Angelon pushed Jubayr over to her and Rami. “The Blood’d Tower is compromised. A warship poured forces and fire from on top, forcing us to flee.”
Aalia heard fighting and explosions. “The Sail and the Wing?”
Angelon nodded. “Garryn and Draer are trying to hold them off with a handful of forces.” He pointed to the entrance into the throne room. “We must go.”
They all turned, but before they could cross more than a few steps, the battle broke into the hall, both at the far end and through side galleries. It was not the start of the fight, but the end. The last remaining defenders fell. The bloodied attackers swept together and rushed toward them.
“Back!” Angelon urged.
He tried to retreat to the archway of the Blood’d Tower, only to have Sail Garryn come running out with a handful of wounded men. The Sail wiped blood from his eyes and shook his head.
“Lost,” Garryn wheezed as he stumbled to join them.
“Wing Draer?” Aalia asked.
Garryn placed a fist to his forehead, both in greeting to his empress and as a salute. “Fallen.”
Their group was forced to the pair of thrones and pinned down in the open. There was not even any shelter behind the chairs. Still, Angelon was determined to die serving out his title, to act as her personal shield.
He pushed Aalia between the thrones, standing before her. Jubayr took a post on the other side of one seat, Rami across the other—the emperor’s throne.
My throne, she reminded herself.
Though it might not be for long.
The Paladins and guardsmen closed tight ranks before the dais, forming seven rows, the last walls of the imperium.
