ã€ŠSecrets of Ruin (Ruin Book 2)ã€‹


 Chapter 1: Liberation

    Diving from five kilometers up with little more than wood and canvas wings to break his fall wasn¡¯t exactly what Jim would call a normal day. But then again, when was the last time he¡¯d had a normal day? Diving, shooting, brawling, running...so much running. This was just another misadventure in the crazy life of a wanderer turned pirate turned revolutionary.

    Below, a white, puffy cloud layer loomed, looking deceptively soft. He knew though, a short distance below its inviting wisps was a very wooden, very hard landing. If he missed, he¡¯d have another minute or so to think about it before he met an unceremonious end with the dune sea. If his aim was true, he¡¯d have to time his wing deployment perfectly or risk becoming a stain on the side of the enemy airship.

    ¡°Woooohoooo!¡± Jim turned to see Alia Rychist, his captain, wife, and future mother to his child. She was obviously enjoying herself. Next to her, Vachir and Sandra Mason cut through the air with the grace and style of true professionals. Their finned metal helmets gleamed in the afternoon sun. Each of the divers¡¯ bodies were rigid and perfectly pointed as they plummeted downward like human bombs.

    Jim couldn¡¯t risk turning his head for fear of disrupting his course. Instead, he glanced left through his peripheral vision, straining against the age fogged brass diving goggles. He was pretty sure he saw a small grin replace Sandra¡¯s usual stoic expression for a moment.

    Whoosh.

    Suddenly, they struck the top of the cloud layer. Jim knew it was just vapor and air but, he couldn¡¯t stop himself from involuntarily flinching at the imagined obstacle below. Instantly, the world was white, and he was freezing. Cool, moist air had a way of doing that when one pushed through it at over three hundred kilometers an hour. A quick shiver worked its way down his spine.

    Jim held up the multi watch on his left hand, careful not to change his dive direction. The complicated contraption told time, altitude, temperature, and displayed awakened power levels. Cramming all that cutting edge technology into one device resulted in an overly cumbersome but necessary extra weight. Jim watched the altimeter tick down. The dial spun worryingly fast in a counterclockwise motion as the group continued their controlled fall.

    4km¡­.3.8km...3.4km¡­.3.1km¡­

    At three kilometers, Jim shot his arms and legs out, slowing his descent, but only slightly. He had to keep his concentration on the fall direction or risk colliding with Alia and harming her or the child that had been growing within her for three months. He¡¯d attempted to talk her out of the dive the day before but as always, Alia was a rock of stubbornness that could not be moved.

    It was infuriating to him sometimes but, her strength of will was also one of her most endearing qualities. Now, he had another life to protect though. He was teetering on the sharp edge of worry and anger. Worry for his wife and child to be, and anger for her obvious irresponsibility. Jim was usually a man of brevity, but he always found plenty of colorful expletives when arguing with Alia.

    Jim took a breath and focused on the task ahead. As quickly as they had entered, the group erupted from the underside of the cloud. Wisps of vapor twisted into small swirl formations, leaving white trails behind them. Below, much closer than they¡¯d expected, the Alliance airship stuck out like a black boulder floating kilometers above a coarse sea of golden sand.

    ¡°Deploy! Deploy!¡± Alia shouted through the rushing wind. Live or die, the dive would end soon, and Jim was glad for it. He pulled the deploy cord hard, hoping for a better result than his last dive. The last time he¡¯d attempted to use bail wings, he had nearly fallen to his death when the primary cord had broken off in his hand.

    Fortune favored him. His hard tug was met with the familiar thump of wind meeting canvas. Jim¡¯s body was jolted by the sudden loss of velocity. A copper taste filled his mouth followed by a delayed pain in his tongue. To either side, the others deployed their wings. Each turned their finned heads to direct their direction. Soon, the group was spiraling downward toward the lazily floating airship.

    The mission would require absolute silence and stealth. If the alarm was raised prematurely, they¡¯d have a fight in close quarters against at least seven to one odds. The tough part would be not killing the captives. Awakened priests and acolytes were all firmly under the mind control of the Prophetess and thus, each of them were the enemy. Yet, they were also the group¡¯s objective.

    To get at the four or five awakened crew members, they¡¯d have to fight their way, silently, through at least a few dozen Alliance soldiers. Just another day among many. Another day of adventure. Another day of mortal peril.

    Ahead of Jim, Sandra Mason bled off as much velocity as possible in her final approach. Behind her, the group had finished its downward corkscrew maneuver and were lining up for a soft, hopefully silent touchdown. Jim would be the last to land. With only a few dozen meters to remaining, Sandra arched her back into a standing position and pulled the cord for her first air bottle. Jim watched from the back, impressed at her abilities.

    The small canister of compressed air expelled its contents violently. The sudden thrust was enough to counteract gravity and slow her fall to just a meter per second. Her black military boots landed on the canvas with near perfect grace. Seconds later, Vachir and Alia repeated the same maneuver.

    Great, Jim mumbled under the wind. Way to set the bar high, guys.

    The canvas of the small airship¡¯s balloon was coming up fast...too fast. Jim arched his back, attempting to use his bail wings as air brakes before deploying his first canister. Unfortunately, his maneuver had been executed too early. He still needed to bleed velocity. The result was not exactly what he¡¯d hoped for.

    Suddenly, his splayed body shot upward. Before he could react, he stopped mid air and begun to plummet backwards. Quickly, he drew his wings in and pulled the cord for his first canister. The violent push slowed his fall as he¡¯d hoped. It also spun him into a triple backward somersault. His backside hurt more than his pride.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never met someone with such an ineptitude for bailwings,¡± Vachir whispered as he reached down to help Jim to his feet. Jim was still seeing stars as he stumbled forward. Alia and Sandra snickered at him while they affixed their clamps to two of the many J-ropes holding the balloon to the airship.

    The J was short for Jacob¡¯s ladder - a common name for the wide, net-like rope ladders that could be found on both landships and airship. On landships, they served as simple climbing ladders to the crow¡¯s nest or other parts of the mainmast. But, on airships, they seconded as netting to hold the balloon in place. Nobody knew who Jacob was but, the name had been part of daily vernacular since the beginning of recorded history.

    Jim replied as he and Vachir fastened their own clamps into position, ¡°Well, I am and awakened of earth after all. Not too much of that up here. I consider landing with no bones broken to be a personal best.¡±

    He snapped the clamp into place and nodded at the rest. From here on out, they would have to operate in silence.

    Alia gave the signal to begin. The group adjusted their clamps and started their slow descent over the side of the balloon. Below, the edge of the bag swam in a passing patch of murky clouds. From their angle, it appeared as if they were descending into nothingness. Jim hated this part.

    Clearing the edge of the balloon, they went from rappelling to free hanging. As they continued their drop, the topdeck of the ship resolved in the mist. Alia motioned quickly for them to stop. Using one hand, she relayed instructions to Sandra.

    Two targets. Ten and one o¡¯clock. Fifteen meters. Sandra, use the daggers.

    Sandra nodded. Reaching into her flight jacket, she withdrew two small knives from a bandolier. The small weapons were only about fifteen centimeters long but were absolutely deadly. Each had been laced with Suahm venom gland extract.

    The giant lizards could reach over three meters in length and were difficult to hunt. Most arduous though was capturing one alive. The paralyzing venom had to be extracted from a living Suahm in order to retain maximum potency. None made it easy. It had taken the crew of the Liberator weeks just to find one and capture it. Needless to say, every throwing dagger was immensely valuable.

    Enter ex-Lieutenant Colonel Sandra Mason. As the only non-awakened among them, she more than made up for it with a frightening proficiency for virtually every exotic weapon in the book. Taking a breath, she focused on her target. Suddenly, the first soldier collapsed in place, his rifle rattling on the deck. Jim never even saw her hand move.

    The second soldier turned to examine the sound. His face twisted as he nearly sounded the alarm. A quick squish preceded his face first collision into the deck. From his back, the small black handle of the poisoned dagger sat, awaiting extraction.

    With the immediate danger over, the group descended down the remaining segment of J ladder and pulled themselves onto the deck. Vachir and Jim quickly tossed the paralysed soldiers overboard. Although the men would likely bleed out from their wounds before the paralysis wore off, they couldn¡¯t take the chance. The last thing their still very awake minds would experience would be the distinct feeling of falling and the inability to move followed by a high speed impact with the sand below.

    The group was moving again. In the lead, Sandra¡¯s thick military grade boots were surprisingly silent on the wooden deck. Both bloodied daggers had already been sheathed and two new ones had taken their place. Jim, Alia, and Vachir each drew their scimitars. Using awakened powers would alert any awakened of air on board, not to mention the commotion it would cause. This mission had to be carried out the old fashioned way - with steel.

    As they approached the hatch to the gundeck, Vachir stepped forward. Placing his hands on the wooden slat, he closed his eyes and concentrated. He could only use his powers for a moment or risk alerting any other awakened onboard. After a long second, he opened his eyes. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    He whispered as quietly as he could over the hum of the the engines and the whistling winds, ¡°Three soldiers near the entrance. Two fire awakened somewhere on the far end of the gundeck. I didn¡¯t have time to pinpoint the last one but, I think, there¡¯s an air awakened down in the hold with a few more soldiers. One other thing. There¡¯s at least five or six more Alliance up in the quarterdeck, hopefully sleeping.¡±

    Alia sighed and considered her options. She would have to do it fast because, each moment they spent on the ship, they risked detection. After another few moments, she asked quietly, ¡°Sandra, how confident are you in your throwing abilities?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d say, I¡¯m a decent shot,¡± Sandra replied in a hushed monotone. The daggers sheathed in her double bandoleers said otherwise though.

    Vachir scoffed, ¡°Riiight. What Miss. False Humility here means to say is, she is likely the best shot in the land of Ruin. I¡¯ve seen her hit moving targets out to twenty meters with frightening accuracy.¡±

    Before Sandra could protest, Alia raised a hand for silence. The distinctive sound of feet on wood echoed up through the hatch. Someone was coming up the ladder. The group shifted to the foredeck side of the wooden slat and waited. The hatch creaked open and a brown haired man in his early twenties, facing aft, popped his head out.

    ¡°Hey, Rashid,¡± he called. ¡°Second watch is about to start and I¡¯m starving. Where ya -¡± Alia grabbed the back of the soldier¡¯s neck. A small burst of awakened energy rendered him instantly unconscious. Before he could collapse to the gundeck below, Jim and Vachir grabbed his arms and swiftly hauled him onto the topdeck.

    They were out of time. The plan would have to evolve with each step. Alia whispered to Sandra, ¡°Save those daggers for the two awakened below. Go for non vitals if you can. Even a glancing blow should paralyze them. The whole point of this is to keep them alive.¡± Turning to Jim, she added, ¡°You and Vachir, dispatch the two guards. Remember, no awakened power unless absolutely needed.¡±

    The point didn¡¯t need to be debated. The captain was the captain and, the plan was the plan. Each of them nodded in agreement. Hopefully, the soldiers would be near enough to the hatch ladder to be caught off guard. After quickly throwing the unconscious soldier overboard, Jim locked both rails between his boots and dropped down with Vachir following closely behind.

    As soon as his feet hit solid wood, Jim was off in a sprint. The soldiers were not as close as he had hoped. Ten meters ahead, the remaining two guards turned from their conversation to face the fast moving shadow that had burst onto the gundeck. The first opened his mouth to shout. His head was removed from his shoulders in a spray of blood and flash of steel.

    The second guard was a bit lighter on his feet. Rolling away from Jim, he jumped back up with scimitar in hand. Vachir was on him before he could react. It wasn¡¯t fast enough though. The man parried Vachir¡¯s first overhead strike and shouted, ¡°Intruders!! INTRUD-¡± Jim¡¯s blade sung as it entered and exited the man¡¯s windpipe in one quick motion.

    Two blurs flew by Jim¡¯s head with a sharp whistle. Sandra¡¯s daggers found their targets across the room. Both awakened had raised their arms to incinerate Jim and Vachir but, their attack wouldn¡¯t come. The first dagger buried itself into the left side of the first man while the second, a girl who appeared to be in her late teens was far less fortunate. From her left leg, blood spilled out, too fast for a superficial wound. Both awakened collapsed backwards from the instant paralysis.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Sandra exclaimed as she ran across the room the check on the girl. ¡°I was aiming to graze her leg, not penetrate an artery.¡±

    Jim was no less impressed. Hitting the small teen¡¯s leg at all from twenty meters away was nothing short of incredible as far as he was concerned. Above, a sudden commotion of feet on deck plates told them, their secret was out.

    He turned to Alia who was also running to check on the awakened girl. Pointing back, he shouted, ¡°Alia, burn the hatch. It will buy us some time. I¡¯ll take care of the girl.¡± He ripped a strip from his undershirt and hurried over to the fallen acolyte. Her skin was already growing pale with blood loss as he tied the cloth tightly around her leg.

    Alia raised her arms toward the gundeck entrance. The first soldier was already dropping through the hatch, rifle in hand. Nearby, a steadily burning flame from one of the glass enclosed gas lights burst from its container and leapt into her hand. In a moment, she had formed it into a raging ball of orange fire. Pointing her open palm forward, she willed the ball of destruction toward the entrance.

    With a loud boom and a blast of superheated air, the hatchway, and the unfortunate soldier, was incinerated. Jim could feel the air being sucked in through the open gun ports to feed the hungry fire. More men, no doubt caught in the explosion, screamed above. ¡°We have to get these two out of here!¡± Jim yelled over the shouts of men and the crackle of burning wood.

    Before anyone could answer, a bolt of white electricity leapt across the room and struck Alia. Jim watched in horror as her body jerked and hit the deck plating hard. He turned to face their attacker who had emerged from the hatch to the cargo hold but, Vachir was already on it.

    Vachir¡¯s arm thrust forward to return the favor, but his lightning found an empty hatchway. The awakened of air had already retreated back down below. Suddenly, gunshots rang out and two new holes appeared inches from Vachir¡¯s feet. The soldiers below were shooting blindly through the flooring. More loud cracks sounded from above.

    ¡°Ah hell,¡± Vachir grunted angrily. ¡°This thing is taking a really bad turn.¡± Leaning down, he picked up Alia¡¯s limp body and quickly examined her. ¡°She¡¯s ok, Jim. Just a little dazed.¡±

    ¡°Jim!¡± Sandra shouted. ¡°I have an idea. Help me with this.¡± She was bent over one of the ten pound cannons, cutting one of the breech ropes with a bloodied dagger. ¡°Your scimitar!¡± she shouted. His instinct was to help Alia, but they would all be dead if they didn¡¯t move. Watching Sandra as she sawed the thick rope, it took him another second to figure out what she was trying to accomplish. A smile crept across his face.

    Jim raised his scimitar above his head and brought it down on the rope with three hard blows. With a snap, the thick breech rope was cut and the heavy iron weapon broke free of its restraints.

    The pair slowly pushed the cannon to the rear of the gundeck, against the aft wall and angled it at twenty degrees, as high as it would allow. Gunshots continued to crack from above and below. Holes in the wood cast tiny beams of light through the thickening smoke. One round buzzed by, inches from Jim¡¯s head while another grazed Sandra¡¯s right shoulder, eliciting a grunt through grit teeth.

    Spurred on by their deteriorating situation, Jim moved quickly to pack a gunpowder charge into the breech followed by a round of explosive shot, specially designed for close quarters combat...normally against other ships of course.

    He grabbed a nearby ramrod and pushed the canister down as far as it would go. Next, he ran through more gunfire from above and retrieved a burning piece of wood from Alia¡¯s makeshift fiery barrier. He placed the glowing ember at the touch hole and braced for what came next.

    Instantly, the deck was awash in smoke and fury.

    Suddenly, the sounds of battle were replaced by a loud, high pitched ring. Sandra shouted something at him but, he couldn¡¯t hear her. There was sound coming from her mouth, but it was as if his mind refused to translate the words. Shaking his head, he finally regained some focus. ¡°Grab that guy!¡± she shouted, ¡°I¡¯ll get the girl.¡± He couldn¡¯t seem to form words, so he just nodded in agreement.

    Jim slung the unconscious man onto his shoulder. The stranger was thickly built - especially for a priest. The brainwashed followers of the Prophetess had little need for physical conditioning normally as their awakened abilities more than made up for anything as crude as brute force.

    Owing either to her formidable build, the girl¡¯s small form, or both, Sandra effortlessly threw the pale faced teen over her shoulder and sprinted off in the direction of the breach. A section of the topdeck had collapsed downward to form the semblance of a ramp. Vachir was the first to disappear up the hole, holding Alia as he did so. Sandra and Jim were hot on his heels.

    Gunfire continued to pour out from below, boring more holes in the deck, followed by-

    ¡°Damnit,¡± Jim growled as a burning sensation worked its way up from the arch of his foot. Of all the places to be shot, he thought angrily. Limping the last few steps, he emerged onto the topdeck. All around, Alliance soldiers lay in various states of gore and carnage. The few who hadn¡¯t been obliterated cried and groaned pitifully. The explosive round had done its bloody work quite well.

    Jim continued his slow hobble across the topdeck. Loud footsteps echoed from behind him. The rapidly thickening smoke had flushed the third awakened priest and his Alliance henchmen out of their hole. ¡°Drop!¡± came a familiar voice from across the deck. Alia had recovered from her temporary daze.

    Without thinking, he rolled to the right, doing his best to protect the man on his shoulders from a head injury. A tearing sound and flash of red hot fire sailed above his head and exploded directly behind him. The priest and soldiers that had emerged were engulfed.

    Jim could hear them screaming as they disappeared below. He didn¡¯t know what was worse, the sounds of their agonized voices or that they continued on for some time as each one burned to death.

    The blaze was quickly spreading. The entire forward topdeck was nearly engulfed. Below, new billows of smoke began to push out of the newly blasted cannon hole. The raging fire at the forward deck was turning into an unstoppable inferno as the first J-ropes began to burn.

    The ship had only minutes left as a vessel of the sky. Soon, it would adorn the dunes below in a million pieces, taking Jim and the others down with it. But, as every captain knew, in Ruin, no amount of skill or experience could beat a little luck on your side. Fortune would again favor them today.

    From the portside, small iron grapples soared over the railing and landed on the deck with loud thuds. Alia, who had recovered from her daze, rolled sideways as a nearby hook skipped backwards until it caught on the port railing. Dozens others did the same. Their attached ropes tightened. Jim turned to see their savior.

    From the grey mist, a giant airship emerged. It was an absolute behemoth compared to the small vessel burning away beneath their feet. The black and red hull of the Liberator, their home in the sky, was clear against the backdrop of swirling clouds. Its twenty four gun portside was a welcome sight for Jim.

    With renewed strength, he grabbed the still paralyzed priest under both arms and dragged him over to join the others.

    Two large booms rattled their faltering airship. The sudden jerk snapped the forward J ropes, whipping them skyward and causing the vessel to list down sharply. The fire had reached the forward powder reserve.

    ¡°Hurry up with those harnesses!¡± Vachir shouted across the expanse. Seconds later, eight small bags landed on the deck. The team scrambled to retrieve and unpack them.

    We won¡¯t be needing that many bags, Jim thought, sadly. They would only be needing two for rescued awakened this day.

    Within each bag was a rope mesh and dual clamps. Originally, the plan had been to disable the awakened onboard without setting off an alarm and bring them to the topdeck for retrieval. Once the Liberator descended to altitude, the group would retrieve the bags, harness the disabled priests and acolytes, and escape.

    Things hadn¡¯t gone exactly as planned. They rarely did.

    Jim quickly removed the mesh and laid it out on the deck. Hopping on his good foot, he rolled the priest onto the purpose made tangle of ropes. Careful to cover the man¡¯s full height, he tucked the corner of the mesh underneath his back and rolled him until the ropes formed a makeshift swaddle.

    He couldn¡¯t help but snicker inwardly at the sight. The man looked like a human sized fly, trapped in layers of webbing, waiting to be some lucky spider¡¯s dinner. Next, he grabbed the clamp and fixed both ends to the web, and finally to the grapple rope. He sliced the thick rope at the base of the grapple, careful to avoid hitting the priest. The sudden loss of tension sent the tightly wrapped priest springing into the air before falling and dangling directly below the Liberator until someone could pull him up.

    Jim suddenly remembered that the man had been paralyzed, not knocked out. He was probably watching the entire event in frozen horror. Not fond of heights himself, he couldn¡¯t help but feel at least a little sorry for the poor soul.

    ¡°Move your ass, Jim!¡± Alia¡¯s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Already, Sandra had finished with the awakened girl. Jim spotted the acolyte¡¯s tightly webbed body swaying from a rope, beneath the Liberator. It slowly ascended as the crew above hoisted her to safety.

    Seeing his limp, Alia rushed to his side and placed his arm on her shoulder. Vachir and Sandra had already clamped onto their grapple ropes and were waiting with expressions of urgency. Smoke was pouring through every slat of deck plating, threatening to choke their lungs of air long before they burned to death. More J-ropes snapped. The airship tilted further downward as its balloon started to break free of the last of its restraints.

    It was now or never.

    Jim clamped the nearest grapple rope, which was already straining from the sudden increase in tension. With scimitars in hand, each of them quickly slashed at the bonds. Simultaneously, their bodies sprung upward. They were free from the falling airship. Free but not finished. A sudden explosion ripped through the air and catapulted the group horizontally. The fire had reached the powder reserves.

    It was too powerful, too loud, too...everything for Jim. He didn¡¯t have time to think. The blast knocked any sense of reason out of him and basic instinct took over. He was holding onto a small rope, suspended kilometers above the ground, with nothing but a small rusty clamp. There was no figuring his way out of this one. He knew, all he could do was maintain a white knuckled death grip and hope for the best.

    The blast pressure slammed into their bodies like an invisible brick wall. Suddenly, they were swinging downward at a frightening speed. Before any of them could react, their bodies had passed underneath the hull of the Liberator and were bleeding off velocity¡­ upwards.

    Much like a tetherball, their ropes were losing length quickly. They weren¡¯t circling a small pole but rather, an enormous airship. Jim found himself suddenly upside down and sailing, ass first, toward the topdeck as his body continued to shed speed. He supposed being smashed to a pulp on the deck of his home in the sky was better than falling to the dunes.

    Death would wait. With a loud oof escaping his lips, Jim¡¯s body slammed into the J-ropes of their airship. Very suddenly, he was upside down, hanging by his legs in one of the large rope nets that held the Liberator¡¯s balloon above the hull.

    Turning, he spotted the other three in similar situations. Each hung in a very undignified way, helpless until someone could ascend the ladder and untangle them. They all looked as confused as he was.

    Yep. Just another day in the life of a revolutionary, Jim thought with a sigh.

 Chapter 2: Trouble in Paradise

    Kalandra Meyer had been alone for what seemed like a hundred lifetimes. All she could remember was being trapped in the impossibly dark and oppressively humid dungeon. The restraints that affixed her arms to the cold iron chair were immovable. When the Prophetess first invaded her mind, she¡¯d tried to fight back but, with each pull at her chains or shout into the dark, her energy was sapped.

    It would take days of recovery before she could even speak and days more until her body could gather the strength to move. The iron chair was freezing but, the room was hot. The air was thick yet, it seemed she could never get a full breath of it. She was constantly on the edge of collapse but never granted the mercy of unconsciousness.

    Countless times, the cycle would continue. When her strength was regained, she would struggle and attempt to break free, only to be drained again. Finally after she¡¯d lost count of her attempts at escape, she relented. This prison was designed to reward struggle with misery. Apathy would at least mean she could keep her faculties¡­ for what little benefit that afforded her.

    The lack of comfort wasn¡¯t the worst part. It was the crushing loneliness. In a real prison, she could at least rest assured someone was alive in there with her. The screams of tortured victims, the cries of the broken, the guards bringing you a pitiful meal. But here, nothing. The only sound in the room was dripping water. It echoed off invisible walls, never ceasing, never caring.

    This day, or perhaps night, as it always had, the dripping continued. Darkness filled the formless room, thick as the stifling air. She¡¯d lost all sense of time or hope. Now, she sat, blank faced; removed.

    A cool breeze suddenly swirled through the air. Then, it was gone.

    Sitting in the same state for what could very well have been a thousand years had honed her to the same sensations. Nothing ever changed. The breeze was like a punch in the gut. Layers of haze and hopelessness fell away from her mind and she was instantly alert. Her eyes darted left and right and saw nothing but darkness. She knew what she¡¯d felt though.

    Through the quiet, a very distant rumbling started to vibrate the floor beneath her iron chair. At first, it was is if she were hearing machinery from miles away through a cave wall. The sound continued to grow in intensity. Soon, the entire room felt like it would fall apart around her as it bucked and jolted.

    The ferocious sound and violent shaking should have frightened her, but it had been a long time since she bothered to feel fear. Sadness, yes. Hopelessness, yes. But not fear. Death from whatever this was was preferred to an eternity of nothingness.

    Her heart pounded in her chest with anticipation.

    Then, the sound ceased. The room was flooded with bright white light.

    For a few moments, the light was too intense. Unable to move her arms, she could only close her eyes as tightly as possible. Suddenly, a soothing baritone reached her ears. The sound of another human was a sparkling oasis in a hopeless dry desert. ¡°Hello there. My name is Jim. Can you understand me?¡± the voice asked.

    The relief in her heart was beyond description. A voice, no matter how unknown was welcome in this place of nothingness. She chanced to open her eyes. Ahead of her, the blurry image took form. It was a man. Malice or ill intent were not to be found in his eyes. This was no servant of the Prophetess. He smiled and asked again in his soft voice, ¡°Can you understand me?¡±

    It had been so long since she¡¯d spoken. Nearly as long since she had bothered to form a thought that might be translated into words but, she did understand him. Slowly, she nodded her head. Tears poured from her eyes. If she died now, at least she¡¯d seen another person.

    The man smiled. His eyes were kind but, there was weariness behind them. He reached out a hand toward where she was sitting and said, ¡°Let¡¯s get those restraints off of you.¡± Suddenly, the shackles on her arms and legs were gone. Not just broken. Gone. He reached down and grabbed her hand in his own. It was warm; real.

    ¡°What is your name?¡± the man who called himself Jim asked. She realized, she¡¯d have to actually speak. As he helped her stand slowly to her feet, she tried to conjure up the words. Even moving her mouth felt foreign. Finally though, she spoke, slowly, ¡°My n¡­.name is...my name is..is Kalandra. Kalandra Meyer.¡±

    Jim smiled again and replied, ¡°Kalandra Meyer, welcome back...to freedom. Her constructed world vanished, and the a small infirmary appeared. She was back. She was free.

    ***

    ¡°You know,¡± Henry commented as he parried another rapid strike from Jim¡¯s practice sword, ¡°I dare say, you¡¯re getting better at this. Batting away a sideways slash that would no doubt leave a normal man bruised, Henry jolted behind his slower human opponent and swatted him on the backside with the flat of his sword.

    Jim stumbled forward and rubbed his right cheek. From nearby, some of the gathered crew members laughed and cheered him on. Kalandra also stood, at the fringes of the group, quietly watching. It had only been a day since her release from the Prophetess¡¯ control. Normally very shy, she¡¯d latched onto Jim.

    He had tried to warn her away, insisting that he made for lousy conversation. She didn¡¯t care. He had saved her and she would follow him to the ends of Ruin. Besides, she wasn¡¯t fond of conversation herself. Being around someone almost as quiet as she was set her at ease.

    ¡°You going to let him kick your ass? Literally?¡± Taruh shouted from the front of the crowd. New laughter rang out among those gathered.

    Harol, the lead deckhand had even taken a break from his usual duties to watch. The man was a walking machine, void of most emotion, focused on whatever task he felt was most important. Today though, he couldn¡¯t pass up a chance to see Henry in action. ¡°Hey! Do clockwork men have balls?¡± he shouted. ¡°Find em and go for a cheap shot, Jim!¡±

    Jim was breathing heavily. The practice swords were made from hard Pecan wood, meant to simulate weight and strength of steel as closely as wood could. His sword arm was tiring and his reaction time was lengthening. The sparring match had been hopeless from the start, he knew, but repeated matches against the frighteningly fast clockwork man was doing wonders at honing his skills.

    Jim had always been confident with a blade. Unlike the other awakened among the crew, his powers were not much use in the sky. As an awakened of earth, his usefulness required¡­ earth. Since most of their engagements were kilometers in the air, he¡¯d purposed to sharpen his swordplay abilities.

    He continued to circle his opponent as the crowd cheered him on. Bets were passed around and taunts were flung at both opponents. Knowing that no human could hope to best Henry in a duel, the bets weren¡¯t placed on a victor but rather, points. If Jim could land five blows to Henry¡¯s fifty, it was considered a victory for Jim. He was at three.

    Seeing another potential opening, Jim thrust his sword toward Henry¡¯s midsection. The thrust was batted away. Jim expected the move however and used the sudden sideward momentum to spin and slash low. In any form of swordplay, a spin was considered foolish. Fun to watch on stage perhaps, but impractical in a real fight. Jim was counting on it.

    He dropped to the deck and rolled sideways in a threesixty degree arc. Henry sliced through the air but, Jim had already gone too low. His preposterous move was met with a satisfying clang of wood on brass as his sword met Henry¡¯s mobility ball. The crowd erupted. More crewman crept out from below deck to watch the spectacle. Henry, being his usual jovial self laughed at Jim¡¯s audacity.

    ¡°Haha. You never cease to amaze, Jim¡± he taunted. ¡°It makes sense that you would resort to...childish tactics.¡± Henry darted to Jim¡¯s left and slashed at his leg. Jim stumbled sideways to parry and was thrown off balance in the process. Taking advantage of his opponent¡¯s misstep, Henry continued around and struck twice before Jim could respond. Again, the crowd cheered.

    Taruh, who had been keeping score shouted, ¡°Fourty-eight to four, Henry!¡±

    Jim was spent. His lungs heaved to gather oxygen from the rarified air. Over the months, he had adjusted to life at high altitudes but, he still had limits. The ship rocked gently under his feet as he regained his footing. ¡°Is that a hint of anger I sense?¡± he taunted back.

    Henry laughed and shook his metallic head, ¡°No, just disappointment. I thought I¡¯d taught you better. It seems, you need another painful lesson.¡± Before Jim could respond, Henry thrust at his left shoulder. His blow was parried but, his next attacks were already thought out. A slash to the right was met with another successful block but the thrust to Jim¡¯s left pelvis was not.

    Jim bent over in pain and shouted, ¡°Damnit Henry. That was too hard!¡± The crowd was in hysterics, shouting, ¡°Final blow, final blow!¡± Henry shrugged and leaned down to Jim. ¡°Sorry about that, I''ll make the last one quick,¡± he replied. But, Jim wasn¡¯t ready to lose.

    Jim¡¯s stance shot straight again. His hand shot out as the sword was instantly turned into a projectile. The last effort of a desperate man. His sword sailed through the air and impacted Henry¡¯s right shoulder. With a loud clang, many bets were suddenly lost.

    Despite the majority of them being stripped of their winnings, the crew cheered at Jim¡¯s desperation move. It was his first time ever scoring five hits before Henry reached fifty. A spiritual victory if nothing else. Henry, laughing at the preposterousness of it all, rolled over to the heaving Jim and lightly tapped him on the shoulder with his blade for the fiftieth point. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    With the match concluded, Jim lay on his back for a minute and caught his breath. Soon, the crew returned to their normal duties. Kalandra had been assigned by Harol to attend to mess hall cleaning duties. All new crewmembers had to work their way up to the more desirable positions. Glancing over one more time to ensure Jim was alright, she disappeared quietly through the door below the quarterdeck.

    The deck was quiet again aside from the steady breeze and low hum that accompanied their dual steam powered propellers. Thin wispy clouds drifted by overhead as their ship continued its journey west.

    Henry reached a metallic hand down and helped Jim to his feet. Sweat was pouring down his face, but he was all smiles. He hobbled over to the portside railing and rested on his forearms, watching the dune sea crawl by below. Squinting, he could make out a small line of landships, no doubt on a trade run to Freeport from somewhere in the south.

    Landships were the bulk trade vessels of choice in ruin. Even a small cutter could haul three times the cargo weight of a similarly sized airship. Despite the ongoing post-war purge in the conquered lands of the Federation, trade from the south was alive as ever. If the reported guerilla action within Alliance territory was making a difference, it didn¡¯t show.

    Henry rolled alongside Jim and slapped him on the back. ¡°I think I¡¯m a bad influence on you, Jimmy boy,¡± he joked. You¡¯re becoming a downright dirty fighter.¡± He turned and leaned back against the rail. Metal screeched as he attempted to mimic the human habit of crossing one¡¯s arms.

    Jim flinched at the sound and replied, ¡°I¡¯ve always fought dirty. In my prior career, there was no other way. It¡¯s more likely, you¡¯re growing too confident in my failings.¡± He leaned over the railing a bit further, trying to catch the cool breeze on his sweat drenched head. It had taken some months and a few frightening battles but, most of his fear of heights was gone. The Liberator was his home now.

    Henry laughed. His voice always sounded oddly metallic when he did. As if the machinery holding his ether cube was not designed for it. Shrugging, he replied, ¡°I suspect, you¡¯ve been underestimated plenty of times in your life. It¡¯s too bad Sandra wasn¡¯t around though. Now, she is almost a challenge.¡±

    Jim sighed, ¡°You and I both know, where Vachir goes, she goes.¡± Earlier that day, Vachir and Sandra had set out ahead of the Liberator in the small cutter landship normally stored below-deck. The plan was set for them to arrive in Freeport a day early and arrange docking rights for their airship...likely through a series of bribes.

    While docked, they would take on supplies and the crew would enjoy a few days of leave. During their stay, Vachir would meet with the Protectorate ambassador to the Unaligned League - a nebulous alliance of most free ports and trade towns not associated with the empires of Ruin.

    According to Emat¡¯s prophecy, the next clue to the key¡¯s location was located deep in Protectorate territory. Unfortunately, their cities were strictly off limits to outsiders except for rare exceptions. It was a long shot but, Vachir hoped he still held some weight with the northern empires.

    Henry interrupted Jim¡¯s thoughts, asking, ¡°Why do you suppose that is?¡±

    ¡°Suppose what is?¡± Jim inquired.

    ¡°Why do you suppose she follows him around like a lost puppy?¡± Henry asked.

    Jim laughed and replied, ¡°More like a lost tiger. That woman is a walking death sentence for anyone who happens to get on her bad side.¡± Henry nodded and Jim continued, ¡°It¡¯s likely some sense of duty to him. Neither of them likes to talk about their Federation days but, get enough alcohol in someone and, even the strongest willed soldier opens up.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Henry asked, ¡°do tell.¡±

    Jim shrugged and replied, ¡°There isn¡¯t much to tell. A month or so ago, after our raid on that Alliance convoy, they celebrated a bit to hard and got pretty smashed. The conversation eventually led to their time as soldiers. Seems they served together for something like twenty years before, you know¡­ the last battle.¡± Henry¡¯s shade darkened as he nodded. The glow in the distance of the capital city fires still burned fresh in their memories.

    Jim continued, ¡°They¡¯ve saved each other¡¯s lives a dozen times over in just as many battles.¡±

    ¡°And you don¡¯t think all that time in the heat of battle would have resulted in a closer relationship?¡± Henry asked with a hint of mischief in his voice.

    Jim thought about it for a moment and shook his head, ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m no expert on people or romance.¡±

    ¡°Speaking of which,¡± Henry asked, ¡°I noticed Captain Rychist wasn¡¯t there to watch your beating. Trouble in paradise?¡±

    Jim sighed, ¡°always.¡± Turning toward the forecastle, he stared at the door to the captain¡¯s cabin. Since their nearly disastrous raid the day before, both had been avoiding each other. She knew what he was going to say and he knew the argument that would ensue. He still had to try.

    Taking a deep breath, he continued, ¡°Well, Henry. If I don¡¯t make it out alive, speak well of me at my funeral.¡±

    As he started toward the door, Henry grabbed him by the shoulder and commented, ¡°Perhaps you should clean yourself up first. You know...pretty corpse and all that.¡±

    ***

    ¡°Dammit, Jim. I¡¯m sick and tired of you treating my like a brittle desert flower. I don¡¯t need your coming to my rescue every five minutes and I don¡¯t need you choosing my missions for me. I knew the risks going in and you -¡±

    ¡°Are you really that oblivious?¡± Jim interrupted. ¡°There¡¯s a child growing inside you. Our child. This isn¡¯t about you. It stopped being about you or myself the moment we found out. Throwing yourself into harm¡¯s way goes way beyond personal decision.¡±

    He threw himself backwards on the bed of their small space aboard the Liberator. He closed his eyes and tried to quell the anger that was building up inside. ¡°This has become a problem we can¡¯t just give up on and walk away from.¡±

    Alia stormed across the cabin and thrust a finger toward Jim, ¡°You are the problem, Jim. You find problems in everything; fault in all I do. I¡¯m not a child. In fact, I¡¯m much older than you. As for our...baby,¡± there was something alarming in the emphasis, ¡°I¡¯m not going to let it get in the way of my duties as a captain. If it lives, it lives. If not, it wasn¡¯t meant to be.¡±

    Jim had gotten to know Alia very well over the past four months. She was many things but, none of them were superstitious. He rubbed his temples in frustration and sat up. Shaking his head, he asked, ¡°Since when did you start believing in things like fate?¡±

    Alia sniggered in disgust and turned toward the door. Before should could get far, Jim stood up and protested, ¡°No. Not this time. You can walk out on any other fight but, not this one.¡± This argument was getting him nowhere fast.

    He decided to take a gentler approach and tried again in a voice of forced calm. ¡°Alia, when you mentioned our child, I couldn¡¯t help but notice a bit of...disappointment in your voice.¡±

    She stopped but continued to face the door. He¡¯d struck a nerve. Her response was hushed. ¡°No, Jim,¡± she replied gently. ¡°I¡¯m not disappointed. I...No. That¡¯s a lie. I am disappointed.¡±

    Jim¡¯s heart sank at her words.

    She continued, ¡°I¡¯d always assumed that I could never have children. After so long as a breeder, so many lost children, I was barren. For a long time, that didn¡¯t mean anything to me. Raising a family was the last thing on my mind. I had a ship, a crew, responsibilities.¡± She didn¡¯t sound entirely convinced of her own words.

    ¡°But then, I came along and messed all that up,¡± Jim commented dryly.

    Alia turned to face him. Her face was still red but, her anger was bleeding away into sadness. ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± she replied. ¡°I was happy that I couldn¡¯t have children. It meant that I was one less person at risk of spawning more slaves for that bitch. Without the ability to conceive, I could deny her that one small thing.¡±

    Jim crossed the cabin and placed his hands on her shoulders. ¡°Is that what this is about?¡± he asked. ¡°You¡¯re afraid of conceiving some sort of monster?¡± He waited for another angry protest but, it never came. Alia stared ahead, stone faced.

    Finally, she nodded and replied, on the verge of tears, ¡°Yes, Jim. I¡¯m afraid, ok? Is that what you wanted to hear? Captain Rychist is afraid.¡± Again, she turned away from him, unable to face him as she added, ¡°What if she did something to me while I was under her control? What¡¯s to say our child won¡¯t be-¡±

    Jim crossed the room and turned her around gently. Placing his hand on her face, he replied ¡°Alia, anything that comes from you could be nothing less than perfect.¡±

    She smiled and replied, ¡°Careful putting me on such a high pedestal. When I fall, I could really hurt myself.¡± They both chuckled.

    Well, it¡¯s a spiritual victory. That¡¯s two for the day, he thought.

    ¡°Please just promise me one thing,¡± Jim asked.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Alia replied cautiously.

    ¡°Until the baby is born, no more off-ship adventures.¡±

    Alia took a deep breath and collected herself. ¡°Ok, Jim,¡± she relented. ¡°No more wild adventures until after the baby is born.¡±

    Jim didn¡¯t quite know what to say. With feigned surprise, he asked, ¡°Did I just win an argument?¡±

    A smile crept up one side of Alia¡¯s face. It was one of the quirks he loved about her. ¡°Don¡¯t push your luck, mister,¡± she warned.

    Sitting back down and raising his hands in surrender, he added, ¡°Now that that¡¯s over, there is one other thing I¡¯d like to do to ensure our child is healthy.¡± Alia raised a suspicious eyebrow and crossed her arms.

    Patting on the spot next to him, he asked, ¡°Would you mind laying down for a minute?¡±

    Alia rolled her eyes, ¡°Sex? Really? Jim, I really don¡¯t think now is the time to-¡±

    ¡°No no no,¡± he interrupted. ¡°Not that. Although that would be pretty great...¡±She punched him in his arm and they both laughed. He tried to push that particularly appealing thought out of his mind as he continued, ¡°As you know, awakened of earth have the ability to heal others. But, I believe I can also...well, I don¡¯t know the right word for it but, diagnose?¡±

    Alia tilted her head and asked, ¡°Diagnose what?¡±

    Jim replied, ¡°Do you remember the cave back after we escaped the Prophetess¡¯ ambush?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she answered. ¡°Where you healed me and I returned the favor by kicking your ass.¡±

    Jim shook his head and replied, ¡°I recall being on the giving end of that ass kicking.¡± They both laughed and, he received a few more punches in the arm.

    ¡°Ok ok!¡± he shouted, hoping to salvage some of his already sore sword arm. ¡°What I was getting at was, I didn¡¯t just heal you. Somehow, during the process, I gained an intimate understanding of every injury to your body. It was as if I could feel each wound and transfer the pain to myself in order to heal it.¡±

    ¡°What are you getting at?¡± she asked skeptically.

    ¡°I think I can...diagnose our child.¡± Alia shook her head immediately but, he continued. ¡°Whoa whoa, hang on. This is different than healing, Alia. It doesn¡¯t cause me harm. It¡¯s simply a way for us to ensure the baby wasn¡¯t injured back on that ship when you were struck. Also, as you know, I have the ability to remove any control the prophetess might have on another¡¯s mind.¡±

    He thought back to his earlier experience with Kalandra and the other fire awakened, Rashid. The mental toll it took during each cleansing made him respect the late Doctor Hanson even more. The man had freed the many among the crew of The Liberator, one by one, long before Jim had joined them.

    He continued his plea with, ¡°If she does somehow have a hold on our child, I can break it. Our baby will not be a ¡®monster¡¯ as you fear. Not if I have anything to say about it.¡±

    Alia sat in silence for a moment and considered his proposal. Finally, after what he assumed must have been a conflicted inner monologue, she nodded. ¡°Ok,¡± she replied. ¡°But, please, be careful. The youngest person Benjamin ever cleansed was sixteen. I don¡¯t even know if you can get into the mind of a three month old unborn child.¡±

    Jim smiled and nodded as Alia lay down next to him. Placing his hands above the small bump that would undoubtedly grow to be quite large in the next six months, he closed his eyes and concentrated.

    The sensations that flooded him were beyond visual but not quite a physical feeling. It was as if he simply knew every part of Alia¡¯s body. He could sense a slight pain in her lower back. No doubt, from being thrown into the bulkhead by the awakened priest¡¯s lightning. He resisted the urge to heal her and continued his search. As he traveled through her body, he didn¡¯t quite know how to move beyond it and into the developing child¡¯s small form.

    As he continued to search, he picked up a faint heartbeat. It was far too rapid to be Alia¡¯s. And, there was something else. Something he didn¡¯t expect. Suddenly, he was overcome with emotion.

    Although he was travelling through her body with awakened powers, he was faintly aware that tears were forming in his eyes back in the waking world. As if down a long hallways, he could hear Alia¡¯s concerned voice asking, ¡°What¡¯s wrong Jim? You¡¯re crying.¡±

    Willing himself back into the present, he slowly opened his eyes. The world was a blur until he wiped away the tears. In front of him, Alia¡¯s face was white with horror. ¡°Oh gods, what is it? Is it dead? Oh no no no I can¡¯t-¡±

    Jim shook his head and smiled. ¡°No,¡± he replied, ¡°They¡¯re not dead. And they''re free from any control. Far from it in fact.¡±

    Alia¡¯s eyes widened, ¡°They? Are you saying..¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Jim replied. ¡°You¡¯re pregnant with twins. Two girls and, I¡¯ve no doubt, they will be a beautiful and healthy as their mother.¡±

 Chapter 3: Freeport

    The burning sands stung any part of Sasha¡¯s skin that was left uncovered. He supposed he should be grateful that he made it out of Hurria alive at all. It had been months but, the screams of the dying still haunted his dreams at night. All that accompanied him these days was thirst, pain, and his pack gamal.

    The hairy pack animal held all his worldly possessions in a pair of leather bags dangling over its sides. The contents jingled with each plodding step. His scimitar, a few nearly empty tin canteens, some flint, and two single shot pistols whose ammo had long since been expended. The only thing worth anything in trade was his breach rifle.

    Sasha patted the hairy creature on its long neck. It shuddered and raised its head, turning to glance at him through its glossy second eyelids. ¡°Don¡¯t worry girl. We¡¯ll stop soon,¡± he reassured the creature. If it understood, it didn¡¯t show as it returned to its slow march into the reddish nothingness of a steadily rising sandstorm.

    Sasha wiped away a new layer of dust from his goggles. He drew his keffiyeh tighter across his face to ward off the biting sand and choking dust. Squinting, he tried to make out a rock formation, cave, cliff, anything that could provide a shelter for the night. If they settled out in the sand, there was a good chance the storm would bury them overnight. He¡¯d have to continue until death or shelter presented themselves. He wasn¡¯t sure which it would be tonight.

    He took another rationed pull from one of his battered military canteens. The Alliance soldier he¡¯d killed certainly wouldn¡¯t be needing it, or his rifle, ammunition, and sword for that matter. One less Alliance murderer was a small price to pay for survival.

    The patrols had become a greater problem with each passing day. In the months following his escape from the funeral pyre of Hurra, Sasha had moved from small town to small town on the outskirts of conquered Federation territory, taking any odd job he could get. Often, the pay was a simple meal.

    Most contracts usually involved running personal security for some deposed noble or occasional politician fleeing the purges. Though he¡¯d forgotten who he was before Hurria, he¡¯d discovered that he was quite handy with a blade.

    When Alliance patrols would sweep through, he would quietly sneak off to the east, outside of the occupied zone. Lucky for him, the Unaligned League had always retained a fierce neutrality in the war between the Federation and Alliance. The fall of the Federation hadn¡¯t changed that stance.

    But, the Prophetess cared little for treaties and agreements. Her smaller scoutships frequently crossed the skies of the eastern desert, searching for survivors of the purge. The steady eastward stream of refugees was helpless against her military might. He¡¯d resorted to travelling at night or during storms to avoid capture.

    Sasha remembered little of his life before the hospital. At night, his head would throb and he would be overcome with dizziness as flashes of a previous life overtook his senses. For him, the old axiom - ¡°time heals all wounds¡± wasn¡¯t entirely accurate. Despite months having passed since his escape, he was no closer to a full night¡¯s sleep.

    Just such an episode was beginning now. A familiar tingling worked its way up the back of his head and began to spread. Sasha knew, in minutes, he¡¯d be incapacitated, reliving old memories through unconsciousness but retaining little of it upon waking. He grunted in frustration.

    Squinting into the blasting sand once more, he scanned the swirling copper shaded soup for a sign of shelter. The wind continued its mocking howl as it coursed across his vision. If he weren¡¯t so accustomed to the sounds of the desert, he might have missed the distant noise among the roar.

    A low moan¡­ it was the sound of wind, but not on sand. Solid rock! He thought. Trying to push the pain from his senses, he closed his eyes and tilted his head. Slowly, he turned toward the sound until he was sure the storm wasn¡¯t playing tricks with his hearing. Eyes still closed, he gently nudged the gamal until the pack animal was facing the same direction.

    The creature squealed in protest. It too was tiring of the storm. Gamals, with their second eyelids and thick scraggly fur were naturally protected against all but the worse the desert sands could offer. They could go weeks without water, but needed rest and nourishment too.

    ¡°Easy girl,¡± he spoke gently. ¡°Shelter is just ahead. See? He pointed to a small outcrop that was beginning to silhouette behind a screen of tumultuous sand. He doubted the creature could understand him but, it helped him retain some of his sanity to talk to someone or, something in this case other than himself.

    The pain was beginning to blur his vision. Cursing his luck, he shook his head to clear it, but it only brought on greater discomfort. As his gamal approached the rocks, Sasha¡¯s headache was reaching the peak of its intensity. He would only have another minute or so before he slipped into a painful dream.

    As consciousness began to escape him, he spotted an opening in the rock face. A cave! he thought with glee. The gamal shared his enthusiasm and cantered toward the entrance. As they made their way inside, his eyesight failed.

    With his last moments of eyesight he noticed, the cave entrance wasn¡¯t natural at all. It was perfectly rectangular with strange symbols carved into the stone. He was entering a manmade structure. He¡¯d heard of artificial caves before. Cannibals, he thought with alarm. It was his last thought. The dreams had come again.

    ***

    Vachir¡¯s head was hurting and, it wasn¡¯t for lack of coffee. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried his best to push the frustration out of his voice, ¡°Ambassadors, this is not some sort of vendetta. Don¡¯t you understand? There is more at stake here than the¡­ Federation.¡±

    His homeland was painful to speak of, even though it had been months since their escape. Following Emat¡¯s prophecy, he had no choice but to reluctantly abandon the front lines in the final moments of battle. He¡¯d spent every day since questioning his decision. Was Emat correct? Was he as important as the Ll¡¯tal had insisted he was, or was the whole prophecy just some made up hocus pocus by a superstitious old creature?

    Shera Lin, the governor of Freeport and diplomatic representative for the Unaligned League replied first, ¡°With all due respect...General,¡± his old title stung just as painfully, ¡°It¡¯s been three months since the fall of the Federation. Despite constant warnings from you and scores of other Federation refugees, the Holy Land and Warlord Alliance have not advanced out of your conquered territory or shown any hostile intent.¡±

    Ambassador Fredrickson of the Protectorate added his own voice to the discussion, ¡°Besides, it would make little sense for them to do so. The Protectorate and the Alliance have shared decent relations for hundreds of years. Since the conclusion of the last crusade in fact.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s another thing,¡± Vachir interrupted. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯ve forgotten your history but, both crusades were instigated by the same woman. She¡¯s made her intentions well known. Call me a dabbler in cliche but, I have always believed the old saying ¡®actions speak louder than words.¡¯ Or perhaps you¡¯d like another. How about ¡®a snake cannot change its spots?¡¯¡±

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Fredrickson chuckled, ¡°I do know my history, quite well in fact, General and, as I recall, she was beaten...soundly, in less than a day by our forces. She¡¯s not foolish enough to make the same mistake twice.¡±

    Vachir turned to Shera Lin and asked, ¡°How about you, Governor? I¡¯ve read the news reports. Every day, they¡¯re filled with stories about tensions between the Unaligned League and the Alliance. Incursions into your territory, military movements near the city of Togsov, even a few skirmishes.¡±

    The Governor frowned at Vachir and replied, ¡°You should know better than to believe everything you read. You served decades as a political liaison, to the Prophetess as I recall. You and I both know, the newspapers care more about ¡®making¡¯ news than actually reporting it.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± Vachir asked, ¡°you¡¯re saying, none of it¡¯s true?¡±

    ¡°Not entirely,¡± she conceded. ¡°It is true that there have been some¡­ disagreements between the Unaligned League and Alliance on exactly where our territorial lines fall. With the ongoing military action across our borders, it¡¯s only natural some of the conflict spills over from time to time.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± Vachir interrupted, ¡°Military action? My homeland was conquered. There is no military to speak of. What¡¯s happening is cold blooded slaughter. Every day, hundreds are raped, murdered, tortured, or subjected to any number of horrific crimes. This isn¡¯t war; it¡¯s genocide. Plain and simple.¡± He stood up and paced to the far end of the room to hide the anger in his expression.

    The Governor spoke softly, ¡°I sympathize with your people, General. Truly, I do. I think we have been more than accommodating to the continuous stream of Federation refugees who crowd our southern cities. We are doing our best to integrate them into the population and provide food, housing, and jobs to everyone.¡±

    Vachir sighed and replied, ¡°Yes, I know, Governor, and I thank you for that, but none of it will matter soon. She is coming, you know. She won¡¯t be satisfied with the lands of the Federation. Like the treacherous sand viper that she is, she will eventually strike, and when she does, I fear it will be too fast for you to stop her.¡± With that, he turned to leave.

    Ambassador Fredrickson called after him, ¡°A moment, General. There is one other thing.¡± Vachir turned to face the man. The ambassador¡¯s pasty white face was twisted in discomfort.

    Fredrickson glanced at the governor who nodded curtly. He sighed, ¡°General, I would ask that you no longer request these meeting with us. Our time is very valuable and¡­ well, to be perfectly honest, you are a man without a nation. A non-citizen.¡±

    Vachir groaned inwardly. He¡¯d been expecting this. The Ambassador continued, ¡°To this point, we have humored you out of respect for your military record and our previous good ties with your empire. It¡¯s time we faced facts though. The Federation is gone. You are essentially an¡­¡±

    Vachir knew what the Ambassador was going to say and finished his sentence for him, ¡°An outlaw.¡± Before either representative could say more, he slammed the door behind him. The last nail in the Federation¡¯s coffin had been hammered.

    ***

    The Beal River was at its lowest this time of year. It was mid-summer in Ruin and water was scarce as always. As one of the few sources of natural fresh water, the river was under the tight control of The Unaligned League. Up and down its grassy banks, signs dotted the landscape. Each one read, ¡°WATER THEFT IS A CRIME PUNISHABLE BY DEATH,¡± in bold letters.

    League soldiers patrolled its shrinking banks around the clock, their imposing presence warding off all but the most desperate. Jim watched another group of white and black clad soldiers as they marched by, sweating under the brutal summer sun. Their breech rifles were slung lazily across their backs but, their eyes were constantly alert. Water theft was a very real problem at every source.

    All population centers, from small villages to enormous capital cities were built around life giving water. In Ruin, it was worth its weight in black crystal. Being so expensive was one reason most airships and other steam powered devices were usually only ever found in the possession of government military or the very wealthy.

    ¡°So, that¡¯s another bridge burned,¡± Sandra commented, her voice an unwelcome distraction from the relaxing sound of the river. Jim, turned his attention back to the others around the small cafe table. Jim, Sandra, and Henry had been listening to Vachir as he recounted his earlier conversation with the Governor and Ambassador.

    ¡°Yes and, I fear it may be our last one,¡± Vachir replied in a worried tone. ¡°The Protectorate ambassadors in every city we¡¯ve visited feed me the same line about neutrality and non interference. As for The League, well, I either get an earful of empty sympathy or just plain apathy.¡±

    Vachir sighed and continued, ¡°We¡¯ve been at this for months and we¡¯re no closer to convincing anyone. It¡¯s like the whole world would just as soon bury its head in the sand than see the storm coming on the horizon.¡± He ran his hands through his recently greying hair. The events of the past three months had aged him. Despite being a prime awakened, the stress of all he¡¯d endured had been most unkind to his body.

    ¡°And what of Mountain¡¯s Breath?¡± Henry asked. ¡°Have you had any success in gaining entry?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Vachir replied. ¡°These damn stubborn Protectorate lackeys won¡¯t budge. You¡¯d be amazed at how resistant they are to any outsiders in their territory. Why they even have ambassadors is beyond me. It¡¯s not as if they need the outside world at all.¡±

    And, for all intents and purposes, they didn¡¯t. The Protectorate was by far the oldest empire in Ruin. It had existed for over nine thousand years. In comparison, even the Warlord Alliance, with over sixteen hundred years to its credit, was an infant empire.

    Many historians longed for the vast knowledge they could uncover from Protectorate archives. Throughout history, the Protectorate had been a nation of reserved technophiles. Very little was known about their cities except that they were off limits to everyone else.

    Most of the greatest innovations came out of Protectorate territory however. Black crystal, ether cubes, airships, pushstones; all were first discovered their lands. Many suspected the reclusive nation was hundreds...perhaps thousands of years ahead of the rest of the modern world.

    Henry stroked his chin, trying to emulate his human friends. The screeching sound of metal on metal caused them all the cringe. ¡°So,¡± he noted, ¡°let¡¯s recap, shall we? We are without friends, without entry to the one place we need to be and, drifting on the winds of uncertainty.¡±

    Their silence said it all. The mood around their small cafe table was dark. For the first time since their journey had begun, Jim and his friends had no idea what to do. Henry tried to cheer them up, ¡°Let¡¯s look on the bright side. At least we have our ship and our health. That has to count for som-¡± His voice cut off abruptly and, he tilted his head.

    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± Jim asked.

    ¡°Shh,¡± Henry replied. ¡°Do you hear that? There¡¯s some kind of commotion out front.¡± He rolled toward the back door of the cafe and peeked in. Turning back to the group, he added, ¡°You might want to come see this.¡±

    Jim hastily threw down enough black coin to pay for their food and followed the rest through the cafe and out the front door. As he stepped into the blazing sun, he saw what Henry¡¯s clockwork ears, or whatever he heard with, had picked up.

    Groups of people were running down the dusty street. Some of them were shouting. Others spoke rapidly amongst themselves. All looked anxious. More people began to pour out of nearby buildings to join the procession.

    Jim called after one of the nearby groups, ¡°Hey, what¡¯s going on?¡±

    A young man shouted back. His voice was full of excitement and perhaps a hint of fear, ¡°Togsov has been attacked. War! We¡¯re going to war!¡± Before Jim could ask more questions, the man and his friends had already disappeared into the rapidly growing crowd.

    They were all running the same direction. It took Jim a moment to realize exactly where they were going. The airship docks!

    ¡°Well,¡± Sandra commented dryly, ¡°That¡¯s one way to get the League to stop dragging its ass.¡± They joined the rushing crowd and headed toward their ship.

    ***

    Alia let out a low whistle as she stared at the crippled airship bobbing in the next berth over. The wooden scout ship was similar to The Herald in size. Alia had opted to keep the smaller ship docked at home in their mountain hideaway, not far from the Ll¡¯tal village.

    Unlike their airship however, this one was in horrible shape. Nearly the entire portside had been blasted away, revealing the sagging decks of the small vessel. It was an eerie sight, as if she was staring at an interior diagram on a ship where the side not drawn so as to reveal the contents inside.

    Judging by the scorch marks across its hull and the blackened piles of flesh that she was pretty sure were once human bodies, she knew it had been attacked. As she examined the battle damage, she heard heavy footsteps on the deck behind her and turned to face Harol.

    The deckhand was, as always, the perfect image of brevity. ¡°She was attacked. Alliance and Holy Land. Came from Togsov,¡± he noted cooly. Alia laughed inwardly. Over the months since their flight from the Federation, Jim had taken a liking to the small statured gruff man. Yet, she couldn¡¯t recall them ever saying more than a few words to each other.

    ¡°Attacked?¡± she asked. ¡°I guess I¡¯m not surprised. With the Federation out of the way, the Alliance is on to its next target. But, Togsov? That city¡¯s a fortress.¡±

    Togsov was often called ¡°The Desert Rock.¡± The entire city was carved out of an enormous stone formation that seemed to spring from the eastern dunes. At its peak, the tallest building was over forty stories above the base. The city had formed in tiers over thousands of years. Each tier contained a honeycomb of tunnels that were filled with a rich history of pictograms, writings, thousands of rooms, and other archaeological curiosities.

    The ascending layers represented a different era in Ruin¡¯s past with the bottom being the oldest. Many a historian spent their lives studying its many secrets. She had never cared much for history, but even Alia knew, attacking a city with such rich cultural ties to all the empires of Ruin was a crime against humanity.

    ¡°City¡¯s under siege,¡± Harol replied. ¡°Nobody in or out. Prophetess¡¯ givin¡¯ ¡®em an ultimatum. Surrender or die.¡±

    Alia shook her head. ¡°Requesting surrender? That doesn¡¯t sound like her. She destroys everything and makes demands after. If she¡¯s staying her hand, you can bet your ass, there¡¯s a reason.¡±

    Turning back to the crippled airship, she spotted Henry¡¯s bronze tinted body in the growing throngs of humanity below. Close behind were Jim, Vachir, and Sandra, all making their way back to the dock. ¡°Harol,¡± she ordered, ¡°inform the crew. We fly out tonight. We need to get back to Shelter and prep The Herald for combat.¡±

    ¡°Combat, Captain?¡± Harol asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied with a cold edge, ¡°nowhere is safe anymore. Not even this far north. War is coming to Ruin.¡±

 Chapter 4: Ship in a Bottle

    Sasha groaned. Another night of blinding pain. Another day of dreading the coming night. He tried to sit up and was rewarded with a wave of dizziness that sent him horizontal. The back of his head was aching, but something about this pain was different from the usual nightly occurrences. Laying there trying to center himself, he puzzled out the source of his lingering headache.

    ¡°I think I hit my head,¡± he commented to himself. In response, a familiar moan from his gamal echoed off bare walls. He concentrated and tried to recall the previous day¡¯s events. The sand¡­ the storm¡­ the¡­ cave!

    It all came back to him. Cannibals! He jolted upward again, this time fighting off spinning vision until he was centered. Looking around, he remembered the artificial entrance to the cave. Only one type of people lived underground, and he was pretty sure he recognized the symbols.

    Sasha¡¯s heart quickened. Grogginess was replaced by a sense of painful alert. The heavy thudding in his chest synced with the pulsing pain in the back of his head. He took inventory of the space around him. It was a cavern, definitely. Very unlike a cavern though, it was... shaped.

    The roof and floor were perfectly flat and straight. Along the walls, a strange transparent crystal, or glass, he thought, ran straight into the darkness of the passage. He turned around. Down the opposite end of the hallway, a faint orange light flooded in from the outside world.

    The silhouette of his gamal was black against the morning light. It was grazing upon something on the passage floor. Mushrooms, he guessed. It appeared to be perfectly content in what it was doing, so Sasha turned back to the dark end of the hallway.

    ¡°Perhaps not cannibals,¡± he whispered to the dark. Cannibals lived in natural caves. They scratched a living raiding unfortunate trade convoys in the north and occasionally deep in the dune sea. That¡¯s another thing, he thought. What is a cave doing in the middle of the deep desert? His curiosity was stronger than his fear. Deeper into the cave was the only way to answer his questions.

    He began.

    ***

    ¡°General, wait! A moment of your time please!¡± Vachir recognized the voice of Governor Shera Lin.

    Next to him, Sandra Mason was tying down the last of the rigging. Their airship was nearly prepared to cast off. Leaning over to Vachir she whispered, ¡°Ten coins if you work ¡®I told you so¡¯ into the conversation.¡±

    Vachir chuckled and replied, ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be very grown up of me, Sandra.¡±

    They both tried to hide their smiles as the Governor approached. A somewhat portly woman in her forties, she was obviously not accustomed to physical activity. She panted as she stepped wearily onto the deck. Beads of sweat matted her black-greying hair.

    ¡°General, you *pant* can¡¯t leave yet. *pant* You¡¯ll be needed *pant* here soon.¡± The governor leaned over and grabbed her knees, trying to catch her breath.

    From the forecastle, Jim and Alia emerged and made their way over to the group.

    After taking a few moments to catch her breath, the governor righted herself and tried again, ¡°General, as of now, this dock is closed to civilian traffic. Article twenty two of the League charter states that, ¡®in wartime, all League civilian vessels may be called upon to serve a military role in defense of their nation.¡¯¡±

    As if to emphasize her point, a pair of league guards marched up the stairway to their ship berth. Their rifles were slung behind their backs, but Vachir spotted a hint of stiffness in their gait.

    Alia, who had been listening nearby, stepped in. ¡°Governor,¡± she replied, ¡°we have no intention of sticking around. We¡¯ve been warning you and the others for months. We told you this would happen and, you know what we got? Laughed out of every government office more times than I care to count.¡±

    ¡°So, the war you wanted has finally come and you choose to abandon us?¡± the governor asked.

    ¡°No,¡± came Alia¡¯s reply, ¡°I¡¯m not that vindictive.¡± Jim prodded her with an unbelieving glance. He was rewarded with an elbow in the ribs. She continued, ¡°However, we have people all over northern Ruin finding awakened potentials and bringing them to the safety of our hidden refuge. Our first duty is to bring them home.¡±

    ¡°Besides,¡± Vachir interjected, ¡°You and the ambassador did say, I am a¡­ what did you call it? ¡®Non-citizen¡¯ I believe were his exact words. Frankly, we have no obligation to you or anyone else.¡± Sandra glanced at Vachir, waiting for him to utter the words that would find her out of ten black coins but, he held his tongue.

    The guards finally reached the deck. Although in considerably better shape than the governor, their quick flight had also left them breathing heavily and sweating under the hot sun.

    Governor Lin sighed, ¡°Yes, I believe he did, General. You can go ahead and say it.¡±

    ¡°Say what?¡± Vachir asked.

    ¡°I told you so,¡± the governor replied.

    Sandra glanced at Vachir, careful to hide her grin. ¡°That doesn¡¯t count,¡± she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Vachir, quite familiar in dealing with politicians and stuffy armchair generals, was an immovable rock of calm.

    ¡°Now¡¯s not the time for that,¡± he replied dryly.

    Sandra let out a sigh, catching the Governor¡¯s attention. Vachir glared.

    The governor continued, ¡°I know you have no obligation to me or the Unaligned League. However, I -¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait! Don¡¯t leave yet!¡± a voice interrupted from the ship berth below.

    Alia rolled her eyes and mumbled, ¡°The Prophetess does exactly what we¡¯ve been warning everyone about for months and suddenly, we¡¯re the most popular people around.¡±

    Ambassador Fredrickson emerged from below and made his way up the gangway. Like the governor before him, he was panting from an apparent sprint. His face was the trademark pasty white of every Protectorate citizen. Even when they weren¡¯t exerting themselves, they appeared layered in a thin sheen of perspiration.

    The ambassador approached the group and took a moment to catch his breath.

    Jim commented, ¡°Governor, if you and others like you are going to make a habit of running up these air berths, you should consider installing a lift.¡± Alia didn¡¯t bother to suppress her laughter. Vachir and Sandra didn¡¯t fare much better.

    Alia crossed her arms and asked, ¡°So Ambassador, how can the suddenly important Liberator and his faithful crew assist you today? I don¡¯t suppose the Protectorate is at war now too?¡± The assembled crew chuckled.

    ¡°Yes..well maybe...or probably. I¡¯m not sure actually. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here.¡±

    Surprise washed over each of their faces as they realized, he wasn¡¯t joking. ¡°Wait, what?¡± Jim asked.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°I¡¯ve just received word from our embassy in the Alliance capital of Trest. Before they were silenced, they reported that Alliance soldiers had breached the embassy walls and were placing our citizens under house arrest,¡± he replied.

    ¡°Wait wait wait,¡± Alia held up a hand. ¡°How could you possibly have just received word? It would take the fastest airship days to cross from Trest to here. Last I checked, aside from the League ship that came in earlier, none have docked recently.¡±

    ¡°We have...technological means of expediting communications from one place to another,¡± he replied with a practiced response.

    ¡°And naturally,¡± Sandra replied dryly, ¡°You don¡¯t wish to share said technology with the rest of the world.¡±

    Fredrickson ignored her remark and continued, ¡°I have confirmed with my government that, the Prophetess¡¯ and Alliance forces were turned back about fifty kilometers east of Shining.¡± He turned to the governor and added, ¡°We intercepted and halted the advance of a very large force of air and landships bound for Freeport.¡±

    The governor¡¯s face went white. She replied, ¡°Then, we have you to thank for our continued freedom. But, why? I thought the Protectorate preferred neutrality and non-interference. Not that I am not deeply grateful for the gesture of friendship from our southern neighbors.¡±

    The ambassador waved away the governor¡¯s posturing, ¡°Yes. And, we maintain that stance. However, we will not allow the armies of any empire pass through our territory. Our open borders policy does not extend to machines of war. If the Alliance wants Freeport badly enough, it can traverse the western wastes, through cannibal territory.¡±

    A chill went up Jim¡¯s spine. He¡¯d encountered cannibals on more than one occasion. They were beyond violent to the point of absolute insanity. There was no negotiating or bargaining with them. They wanted only one thing. Flesh.

    Some traders, trying to find a quicker route between Trest and Freeport had ventured into cannibal territory. Few lived to tell of it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think being forced to move through cannibal territory will sit very well with the Prophetess,¡± Jim commented.

    ¡°Indeed it won¡¯t, and it hasn¡¯t,¡± Fredrickson replied. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯ve come to ask for your help. Ambassador Holin, our representative in the Alliance capital of Trest has been placed under house arrest.¡±

    Sighing, he added, ¡°Although our military is significantly more advanced, we are not...equipped to mount a rescue operation without sparking an incident that will lead to all out war. That¡¯s why I¡¯ve come. To ask you for a favor.¡±

    Sandra was the first to respond, ¡°Ambassador, I¡¯m not sure what rumors you¡¯ve been privy to but, we¡¯re not equipped to ¡®mount a rescue mission¡¯ as you say. The Liberator is a good ship, but Trest is the capital of the entire Alliance. The city is armed to the teeth. Not to mention, the invasion group is likely billeted up within its walls, licking their wounded egos after being denied passage through your lands.¡±

    Ambassador Fredrickson glanced at the governor before he replied, ¡°Yes, such an attempt would be suicide. However, I have a somewhat¡­ unconventional mean of entering Trest that presents zero risk to you.¡±

    ¡°Nothing is ever zero risk. What¡¯s in it for us?¡± Alia asked dryly. Sandra and Vachir both nodded. Over the past months, the ex military ¡°by the books¡± duo had adjusted quite well to a life of piracy and opportunism.

    Fredrickson smiled. His perfect teeth looked strange behind thin, pasty lips. ¡°Entrance into the research city of Mountain¡¯s Breath,¡± he replied. ¡°That is what you have been trying to do for months, am I right?¡±

    Alia smiled. ¡°Throw in a couple thousand coin and you¡¯ve got yourself a deal, ambassador.¡±

    Fredrickson pondered for a moment. Finally, he nodded and replied, ¡°Deal. Now, with your permission, shall we head to the planning room and prepare a rescue plan?¡±

    As they made their way to the aft porthole, Vachir leaned toward Fredrickson and commented, ¡°Oh by the way ambassador, I told you so.¡±

    Sandra Mason was out ten coins.

    ***

    ¡°You¡¯re joking. Please tell me, you¡¯re joking, because the only alternative is that you¡¯re insane,¡± Henry exclaimed. Next to him, Jim and Ambassador Fredrickson watched as the craft surfaced from beneath the water.

    The dark and abandoned floating warehouse was certainly an unlikely place to hide one of the Protectorate¡¯s technological wonders. At the south end of Freeport, the steadily bobbing structure looked like just another ill kept old maritime storage facility. Two League soldiers, disguised as common fishermen, poles and all, stood guard outside at all times.

    Giant white bubbles of warm humid air erupted all around the emerging craft as it recycled its trapped atmosphere for a fresh intake. To Jim, the function of such a machine was impossible.

    Measuring at least a hundred and fifty meters long and made of what Jim could only describe to himself as ¡°purple glass,¡± the craft was a mix of beautiful and ridiculous. The hull was completely transparent. Inside, he could see people walking around and performing various tasks similar to the crew on a typical landship.

    One man manipulated the controls near the bow of the cigar shaped vessel. Jim guessed the man was the captain or pilot. Other men lifted unmarked wooden crates  from near the center of the vessel while more wandered around other areas. What really caught his eye though were the pairs of elongated ovals that protruded from the ship.

    There were two on the top and two on the bottom - one fore and one aft. Sitting in strangely curved seats that were suspended on metallic poles from the ceilings of each bubble, the occupants wore strange goggles with wires protruding from them. The wires ran into larger wire bundles that traversed the length of the inner hull. Every few meters, the wires would connect to large square shaped lights.

    Jim spotted small quad barrels protruding about thirty centimeters from the bubbles. Connected to each were more unusual looking strings and wires.

    He tried to focus on the light sources that lined the hull, but they were too bright. Something was illuminating the entire transparent vessel from the inside. He had a feeling, it wasn¡¯t fire. The familiar hum of ether cube machinery vibrated the parting water around the craft.

    ¡°There is no way in hell I am going into that...death trap,¡± Henry exclaimed. Jim thought he caught a hint of fear in his clockwork friend¡¯s voice. Ambassador Fredrickson smiled mischievously. The man was not particularly friendly. He snorted with amusement at Henry¡¯s concern.

    The rising ship came to a stop with steady hiss. A door seemed to appear out of nowhere as a section of bulkhead near what was likely the cargo bay lowered into a ramp. The men handling the boxes began to unload them onto the nearby platform.

    Henry rolled forward and backward as the floating platform bobbed under the weight of the loading crew. Still smiling, Fredrickson asked, ¡°In what way is this thing a ¡®death trap¡¯ if I may ask?¡±

    Henry was shaking. Jim was pretty sure he was trying to hide it but, the metallic nature of his voice betrayed him. ¡°First off, I don¡¯t know what a sumbersable is but-¡±

    ¡°Submersible,¡± Fredrickson corrected him.

    ¡°Sure, fine, ¡°Henry replied before continuing, ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is but, the thing is made of glass. Perhaps you haven¡¯t noticed but, I¡¯m made of brass, steel, and any number of other very heavy, very hard substances. I¡¯d shatter that thing just bending over to tie my shoes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to see how you wear shoes.¡± Jim commented.

    Henry tried to roll his eyes, but the limits of his mechanisms failed him again. Fredrickson chortled as Henry continued, ¡°And another thing. It goes underwater. Water and clockwork men do not mix very well. Again, I¡¯m made of metal.¡±

    Jim nodded, ¡°He¡¯s got a point there. I¡¯ve had to do some crazy things in my lifetime, but going underwater in a glass container is a bit beyond my uh¡­ thrill threshold.¡±

    Fredrickson chuckled again and shook his head, ¡°You have nothing to fear, boys.¡± Jim caught a condescending tone in the ambassador¡¯s last word. ¡°You see, this ship isn¡¯t made of glass. It¡¯s comprised mostly of black crystal and a few other elements that I¡¯m not permitted to describe to you.¡±

    Jim stared at the ambassador in shock. This much black crystal could be worth...a small city, he thought. It was enough to make him and everyone on The Liberator rich beyond imagination. But, how could it possibly be black crystal? The stuff usually dissolves in-

    ¡°Impossible,¡± Henry interrupted Jim¡¯s thoughts. ¡°Black crystal dissolves in water. It¡¯s how the Liberator and other airships get their lift steam. Even in cold water, this thing would corrode away in a matter of days.¡±

    The ambassador¡¯s voice held a tinge of impatience as he replied, ¡°I would love to discuss the finer points of black crystal refining and material composition but, I¡¯m afraid we¡¯re pressed for time here.¡±

    ¡°Young man, Jim was it?¡± he asked, pointing at Jim. ¡°Can I borrow your pistol for a moment?¡±

    Over the months since he had joined the Liberator, Jim had upgraded from his single shot dueling pistol to an eight chamber hammer design. Being an enemy of the Alliance meant, he wasn¡¯t constrained to the more ridiculous civilian weapons laws that traders in their territory were subject to.

    Jim pulled the weapon from under his coat and handed it to the ambassador.

    Fredrickson¡¯s humor returned. He smiled and added, ¡°Don¡¯t worry my boy, I know how to handle a firearm.¡± Again, the condescension in his voice irked Jim. Glancing at Henry, he could see, his friend also seemed unhappy.

    Turning back toward the submersible, Fredrickson leveled the pistol and fired. The shot rang out in the large floating warehouse. The suddenness of it caused Jim and Henry to jump.

    Jim¡¯s ears were still ringing as the ambassador handed him back his smoking weapon. ¡°You will notice, gentlemen, the ship is undamaged,¡± he noted with the same off-humor that was quickly lowering Jim¡¯s opinion of him. He suspected that Fredrickson took far too much pleasure in knowing things that others didn¡¯t.

    To emphasize his point, Fredrickson pointed at a small beam of sunlight piercing through a new bullet hole in the decaying roof. Henry let out a mechanical whistle. It sounded more like a tea kettle that had been forgotten too long on the burner.

    Receiving no argument, the ambassador continued, ¡°As for being underwater, you see those crates there?¡± He pointed to the growing pile of cargo still being unloaded by the two sailors. Jim nodded.

    ¡°Those are full of ether cubes. Blue ether cubes. As well as a significant amount of unrefined crystal. Both of course, can not survive in water.¡± Henry immediately straightened. Jim too was surprised.

    The only known source of blue ether cubes was deep in the heart of the Holy Land. The Prophetess used them in the construction of her many clockwork slaves. Long ago, Henry had been one of them.

    Henry rolled over to the nearest crate and placed a hand on its unmarked surface. Turning back to the group, he exclaimed, ¡°But, how? I thought these were only found in the mines around Golden Spire.¡±

    ¡°Tell you what,¡± the ambassador replied. ¡°I will explain everything onboard, but we really must get going.¡± He turned to the cargo haulers and ordered, ¡°Leave the crates outside with the guards. They know what to do.¡±

    He turned back and cross his arms. ¡°Well? What will it be, gentlemen?¡±

    Henry hesitated another moment before gingerly rolling up the ramp of the submersible and descending below. Jim could hear him mumbling as he rolled into the ship, ¡°Damn my curiosity. I swear it¡¯s going to kill me one of these days.¡±

    Fredrickson followed behind. Jim was still nervous but, he¡¯d heard more than a few stories of Protectorate technological marvels. He¡¯d dismissed them all as common superstitious talk, but standing in front of a completely transparent submersible ship with many enticing curiosities broke those assumptions.

    Jim could almost hear Alia¡¯s voice as he remembered a conversation they¡¯d had in the mess hall a few months earlier. ¡°You know, Jim,¡± she¡¯d said, ¡°The greatest adventures usually start with the words ¡®what the hell.¡¯¡±

    He already missed Alia. Surprisingly, she had opted not to argue with him when he insisted she stay with The Liberator. As promised, she would not be placing herself into any more unnecessary danger until after the children were born.

    At that moment, the Liberator was undocking with the rest of its crew. They had agreed to a compromise with the governor of Freeport. In exchange for their freedom of movement in League territory during wartime, they would come to the aid of any League vessel in distress.

    Also, the governor placed a lucrative privateer contract on the negotiating table. One thousand coins for each landship destroyed. Five thousand for each airship. Double that for capturing one intact. Judging by the look on Alia¡¯s face, Jim was sure she was holding back a loud ¡°WOOHOO.¡±

    Jim turned his attention back to the odd contraption bobbing in the water. Finally, he shrugged and turned to enter the impossible ship. As he walked through its clear entranceway, he echoed Alia¡¯s words, ¡°Ahhh, what the hell.¡±

 Chapter 5: Another World

    Jim had never seen so much water. For that matter, he¡¯d never seen so much life. The Black Forest didn¡¯t hold a candle to what was playing out in front of him. Through his quarters¡¯ window, it was more transparent wall than actual window, he watched as wonders he¡¯d never imagined floated in and out of view.

    In the empire spanning passage, referred to by Ambassador Fredrickson as ¡°The Great Underground River,¡± waterborne life was everywhere. Jim had seen plenty of fish at the marketplaces of waterside cities like Freeport, Trest, and Hurria but, these were creatures from another world.

    As the thrumming craft sped through the pitch dark tunnel, Jim spotted a school of¡­ snakes was the only thing he could think to call them. There were hundreds of them moving together in a tightly packed group. Each had symmetrical lines of diamond shaped glowing spots running the length of their bodies.

    Their spots all glowed a vibrant blue that cast a soothing hue on the tunnel floor, twenty meters below their submersible. The water was remarkably clear. Through the transparent siding, Jim could see as far as the light would reach. Even at its smallest point, the passage was enormous, measuring five hundred meters across and up.

    The walls of the passage were wavy, similar to the endless dunes of The Great Dune Sea but, smoother. In the first hours of their journey when Jim had asked Fredrickson about the strange formation, the ambassador had launched into a scientific explanation of something called ¡°lava tubes.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a lava?¡± Jim had asked.

    Although the ambassador was always happy to lorde his ¡°superior knowledge¡± over others, he¡¯d decided it best not to try and explain. Shrugging, the pasty complexioned man just replied, ¡°a relic of a time before both of us,¡± and walked away.

    More creatures floated past his wall, casting deep purples into Jim¡¯s room. They were much larger than the small water snakes. The elongated bodies gave them the appearance of a comically stretched fish. There were two of them. Their tooth filled mouths were nearly as big as the entire school of ¡°snakes¡± that was now swimming rapidly away. Thousands of small appendages came together to form shapes similar to fins. They wriggled and waved, propelling the predators at incredible speed through the water toward their prey.

    Suddenly, the school of water snakes changed from their mellow blue to a brilliant red. The mix of deep glowing purples from their pursuers glowed against the passage floor as both groups disappeared further down the tube.

    Jim willed himself away from the scene of underwater drama. Nature was calling and, he had to make his way to the lavatory at the rear of the ship. Earlier, he had asked Fredrickson, ¡°How does one use the facilities on a ship that is entirely transparent?¡±

    That had elicited a laugh from the man. ¡°Near the door in each room is a small black square. Run two finger across it like this,¡± he explained, running his index and middle finger across the door to Jim¡¯s quarters. In a matter of seconds, the room had gone from transparent to a dark, milky black and purple, much like black crystal in its raw form.

    Armed with that valuable information, Jim made his way down the hallway of the cramped submersible. As he walked, he passed the rest of the crew quarters. Some were transparent, usually the unoccupied ones. Others were a familiar opaque. Either their occupants were sleeping or simply didn¡¯t want to be watched, like fish in a tank.

    He¡¯d learned that the crew compliment was only twelve. Apparently, Protectorate vessels required very little in the way of human touch. Four gunners, a captain, first officer, engineer, and five others assigned to various tasks around the ship were all that it needed.

    Soon, he reached the doors to the cargo bay. Behind it would be the lavatory and behind that, the engine room. Currently, the cargo bay was dark and shut to viewing from the outside; Something he found odd considering it was typically unoccupied. Jim turned the latch and opened the door. ¡°At least I didn¡¯t have to ask that smartass how to open doors in this place,¡± he mumbled to himself.

    The cargo bay was filled with worn wooden boxes. They looked out of place against the smooth walls of the submersible. Their purpose was mostly to hold black market trade goods.

    The black market was thriving in the land of Ruin. With the newly sparked war, it was flourishing now more than ever. According to the ambassador, the Protectorate and League had fostered an agreement many years earlier. With their submersible, the Protectorate would ferry rare materials north such as black crystal, ether cubes, and exotic spices.

    From time to time, heads of state or other important figures were smuggled into one of the cities along the southern lakes. In exchange, the League would provide rarities such as meat traded from the Northern Tribes, grains, and rare earth metals mined in the Eternal Mountains.

    The ¡°triangle of trade¡± had been in motion for thousands of years aboveground. Jim wasn¡¯t very surprised to learn that it wasn¡¯t limited to landships and airships.

    As he made his way toward the back of the cargo bay, he noticed something very odd. The wall to his left was completely transparent. By itself, it wasn¡¯t an uncommon sight on the submersible, but why only one wall? he thought. Ignoring his need to use the bathroom for the moment, Jim crept over to the exposed side.

    As he approached a stack of crates leaning against the siding, he spotted a pile of trash on the ground. One of the crates had been opened and, some of the wrapped sun dried food had been removed. Rats was his first though. The pests had plagued wooden and metal ships alike since the dawn of time.

    Jim picked up a nearby pry bar from atop one of the crates. He raised it above his head and shifted into place. With a powerful shove, he pushed the box aside and leapt into the small space. What he found wasn¡¯t a rat.

    Huddled in a small makeshift sleeping area was a very surprised young woman. He recognized her as the one he had recently freed from the Prophetess, Kalandra Meyer.

    ***

    The Prophetess was a beacon of beauty against the burnt out husk of Hurria. Each step crunched as if she were stepping on ice. Yet, beneath her feet was just ash and dust. Beside her, Grand Marshal Alakir Rio tried his best to keep his composure.

    To his men, the Alliance military leader was a figure of fear and respect. At nearly seventy years old, he¡¯d served the Alliance for over half a century. Thanks to his prime awakened powers of fire though, he looked like a man in his thirties.

    ¡°It¡¯s lovely, isn¡¯t it?¡± the Prophetess asked, blissfully. Alakir glanced around at the destruction, trying to locate her reference. All that remained standing in Hurria was made of stone. Occasional walls and mudbrick chimneys stuck out like withered claws among fire wasted city blocks. Some of the more prominent buildings had also survived the inferno with little more than burn scars.

    Most of the remaining structures sagged in various directions though. The fire had been so intense in some places, it had softened the stone itself. A testament to the frightening effect of thousands of fire awakened focusing their rage at the same time.

    There were many ways for Alakir to describe what he saw. ¡°Lovely¡± was not one of them. ¡°How so?¡± he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

    The Prophetess¡¯ face twisted into a scowl. Alakir¡¯s heart skipped a beat. He¡¯d seen horrors, battles, and death most of his life but, catching the leader of the Holy Land in a bad mood was a sentence worse than death.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°Do I need to explain it?¡± she asked, annoyed. ¡°We stand here among the ashes of your enemy, the Federation. Centuries of conflict, finally ended in fire and destruction. You should be rejoicing, Grand Marshal Rio. Your enemies have been crushed. The Alliance is unopposed; the most powerful empire in Ruin.¡±

    But at what cost? He thought to himself. Hundreds of thousands of Alliance soldiers dead, the conquered holdings of our enemies completely sundered, and a continued guerilla war across the land. Suddenly, remembering that the Prophetess could hear the thoughts of others if she chose to, he cleared his mind.

    If she¡¯d been listening, it didn¡¯t show. She continued, ¡°Now, we fix our eyes to the ancient city of Togsov. It is a deep desert city, completely dependant on trade. Without a steady supply of food, the League stronghold should fall quickly to our blockade.¡±

    Turning to Alakir, she asked, ¡°Now, to business. What of the third army?¡±

    The Alliance had three army groups totalling nearly two million men. 1st Army Group had been mired down over the past three months in garrison duty. From the Jindagee Marsh to the Mensora Foothills, an ongoing guerrilla war against Federation remnants was taking its toll on his men. In the past three months, nearly ten thousand Alliance warriors had been felled by partisans and had little progress to show for it. Every time a cell would be burned out, three more would take its place.

    It had been an infuriating three months. Worst of all, the Holy Land never seemed to be around during the ¡°surprise attacks.¡± Casualties had been comically one sided with nearly all deaths occurring among Alliance ranks. Now, the majority of the Holy Air Corps were blockading Togsov, leaving the demoralized 1st Army Group to deal with Federation insurgents.

    Again, trying to clear his mind of the many frustrations of command, he focused on the Prophetess¡¯ question. ¡°3rd Army Group is proceeding on schedule, my queen. The first landships should reach Torchlight within three days. The city is not sufficiently walled for such an attack, so we expect it to fall to our bombardment within twenty or thirty hours, assuming they don¡¯t surrender immediately.¡±

    He decided to take a chance, ¡°With some air support from the Holy Air Corps, we could hasten the conquest of The League cities with minimal casualties to my men.¡±

    The Prophetess rejected his suggested with an irritated wave of her hand, ¡°My forces are committed to more important tasks. Torchlight and Rock Bottom should present little challenge to your men. Be glad you have been given such a simple assignment.¡±

    There was nothing simple about it. He had no doubt that the League had been warned by now. Its cities would be preparing for a fight. Every inch of their territory would be paid for in blood¡­ Alliance blood. 3rd Army Group was over three hundred thousand strong but, the deep desert had a way of sapping the strength of even the greatest warrior.

    ¡°And what of 2nd Army Group¡¯s push toward Freeport?¡± the Prophetess asked.

    This was the part Alakir had been dreading all day. Since there were no priests embedded in 2nd and 3rd Army Groups, the Prophetess had to rely on conventional means of dispatch through Alakir¡¯s couriers. The bleak message had just come in that morning and, he¡¯d done everything he could to avoid her all day.

    Taking a deep breath, he began, ¡°My queen, I regret to report, 2nd Army Group was turned back at the Protectorate border. They refuse to allow our troops access through their territory. In light of this -¡±

    Instantly, ice cold fingers were around his throat. Alakir found his one-hundred kilo body suspended above the ground effortlessly. The Prophetess¡¯ eyes were endless pools of blackened rage. As she squeezed tighter, he could feel both his lifeforce and awakened powers being drained from him.

    ¡°Those inbred, self righteous, arrogant technophiles! How dare they. I¡¯ll see every one of their cities burn. So help me!¡±

    With one arm still holding his dangling body above the ground, she turned away and mused, ¡°If we can¡¯t pass through their territory, we¡¯ll have to¡­ ugh, bargain with them. Undoubtedly, the cowards wish to avoid war at all costs.¡±

    Her last words were practically spit. During the last crusade, the Protectorate had nearly obliterated the Prophetess¡¯ forces. Before her attack, they¡¯d vehemently maintained their neutrality. Thinking them weak, her forces, emboldened by their victory in the south, had attacked the Protectorate capital at Vigilance Oasis. In less than an hour, her army and airforce were nearly wiped out by their far superior technology. She wasn¡¯t apt to make the same mistake twice. Not yet. Not until she was ready.

    Alakir tried to speak. The world was fading to grey as his body became more desperate for oxygen. Finally, as if she had nearly forgotten his presence, the Prophetess glanced at him. Sighing, she released her grip. His body collapsed to the ground like a child¡¯s doll. He gasped for air and coughed, trying to clear his throat.

    ¡°Well, what is it?¡± she asked impatiently.

    ¡°My queen, I *cough cough* have already attempted to anticipate your wishes. I¡¯ve ordered *cough* the embassy in Trest to be placed in lockdown. It¡¯s my hope that we can use the Protectorate ambassador as-¡±

    ¡°We can use their own assets as a means of securing passage through Protectorate lands,¡± she interrupted. ¡°I know how zealously they hold on to their damned technological marvels. No doubt, they would be most displeased if we were to confiscate the contents of their embassy.¡±

    The Prophetess had hijacked his idea as her own. He supposed, it was better than being strangled to death. Not to mention, her complete disregard for the lives of the Protectorate citizens. To her, people were merely pawns.

    ¡°Yes, my queen. In exchange for their property and citizens, we could bargain for passage through Protectorate territory and crush the League capital at Freeport. I doubt they would risk conflict after all. I do have one concern though,¡± he replied.

    ¡°And what is that?¡± she asked.

    Considering his question carefully, he asked, ¡°What do we do if the Protectorate government refuses our request?¡±

    The Prophetess clenched her fists. Her already pale skin became whiter around her knuckles. Through grit teeth, she replied, ¡°If they refuse, you will mobilize the rest of the Alliance reserves. I had hoped to push it off until the League and Northern Tribes had been subdued but, we have to prepare for the possibility of war with the Protectorate.¡±

    ***

    ¡°Kalandra? What in the hell are you doing here?¡± Jim asked, confused and angry at the same time.

    The small teen stared sheepishly at the floor and muttered something. Jim tried again, ¡°You¡¯re going to have to speak up. What are you doing here?¡±

    The girl slowly stood up. Her head was still lowered as she whispered, ¡°I¡¯m here to help you.¡±

    Jim lowered his voice, trying a gentler approach, ¡°Kalandra, I¡­ listen, I appreciate your coming along to help, but frankly, we are likely heading into a very dangerous situation. The embassy is deep in the heart of the city and-¡±

    ¡°Yes, I know!¡± Kalandra interrupted.

    Quickly placing her excitement in check, she lowered her voice again. ¡°The embassy is located on the corner of Golden Circle and Rich Street, next to the Northern Tribe and League embassies. About two blocks from the industrial quarter.¡±

    ¡°Uh, how did you come across that information?¡± Jim asked, confused. ¡°Were you hiding out in our planning session as well?¡±

    The girl shook her head quickly, ¡°No no, of course not. You see, before I was...enslaved, I lived right across the street, in the administrative sector.¡± Her voice was rising as she grew more bold, ¡°My father worked for the Trest Printing Office.¡±

    The door to the forward section of the submersible opened. Through the opening, Henry peered in. ¡°Jim, are you in here? he called.

    Stepping out from behind the boxes with Kalandra in tow, he replied, ¡°Yeah, over here Henry. Seems we have a stowaway onboard.¡± The girl stood behind him, half concealed and starting at the floor.

    ¡°What in the-¡± Henry exclaimed. ¡°Isn¡¯t that the new convert? Umm, Kassandra?¡±

    Replying in a whisper, she corrected him, ¡°Kalandra, sir.¡±

    At that, Henry laughed, ¡°My dear, I¡¯m not the captain. No need for titles. Henry will do just fine. Jim, how did she get on board? Sneaking on a completely transparent ship, well...that¡¯s an impressive skill, to say the least.¡±

    Kalandra replied quickly, ¡°Oh no, sir¡­ I mean Mr. Henry, I-¡±

    ¡°Just Henry please,¡± he interrupted.

    ¡°Yes, of course umm. Henry, I was asked to come aboard. There was no sneaking involved,¡± she added.

    Jim raised a suspicious eyebrow, ¡°What do you mean you were invited? Usually, if I invite someone to come along with me, they don¡¯t hide in the cargo bay and steal my food stores.¡±

    Henry chuckled and Kalandra turned a shade of red. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sorry about that,¡± she replied. ¡°It¡¯s just, I...I¡¯m not comfortable around people and, well, I don¡¯t really like that Fredrickson person.¡±

    Both Henry and Jim laughed. Jim patted Kalandra lightly on the back and commented, ¡°Well, join the club. And, I can appreciate the desire for privacy.¡± He shot a friendly glance at Henry before continuing, ¡°that leaves one question. Who asked you to come and, why weren¡¯t any of us told?¡±

    ¡°Oh, right. Sorry,¡± she replied, digging through the inner pockets of her burgundy hooded cloak. Finally, she produced a small envelope tied in twine. ¡°She made me promise not to open it and to give it to you once we were underway.¡±

    ¡°Who did?¡± Jim asked.

    ¡°Captain Rychist,¡± she replied.

    Jim sighed and grabbed the envelope. After untying the twine and removing a small paper, he turned so that Kalandra and Henry couldn¡¯t read its contents.

    To my dearest husband whom does no wrong. Not a good start. The sarcasm was practically burning letter shaped hole in the paper. As I sat here contemplating the next six or so months of benign nesting aboard the Liberator while you and Henry are off having all the fun, I wondered to myself just how to ensure your safe return.

    I think you and I can both agree that you have a serious obsession with protecting the helpless. Although I¡¯ve tried to convince you that I¡¯m not one of said helpless damsels, you always come charging to my rescue.

    With that in mind, I present to you, the most helpless among our crew. It¡¯s my hope that, you will be so concerned for her safety all the time, you won¡¯t make any stupid decisions and will return to me in one piece. Also, it doesn¡¯t hurt that the poor girl is obsessed with you. At least I know that she won¡¯t let you out of her sight either.

    Finally, her father works for the Trest Printing Press. I¡¯m sure you know, that¡¯s just a politically correct name for ¡®Alliance Propaganda Office.¡¯ Assuming your rescue goes well, I¡¯d like for you to make a stop off at his house and convince him to come back with you. I have a plan that would find the employ of a propaganda specialist very beneficial to our cause.

    Take care of the girl, my love, and come back to me in one piece.

    Love, Alia Rychist.

    Jim sighed, ¡°Even when she isn¡¯t here, she has to get the last word.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Henry asked, impatiently, ¡°What did it say?¡±

    ¡°It looks like we have our work cut out for us when we arrive,¡± he replied. Turning to Kalandra, he added, ¡°And, if all goes well, you might get to see your father again.¡±

    Before she could reply, an alarm sounded through the submersible. At once, the transparent wall faded to its black crystal opaque state. Fredrickson¡¯s voice came from somewhere above them, ¡°Battlestations! Jim and Henry, report to the bridge. We¡¯re about to have company.¡±

 Chapter 6: Echoes of the Past

    Sasha¡¯s torch cast dancing orange light on the walls of yet another hallway. He¡¯d been descending down one after the other for what felt like hours. At the intersection of each hallway, a collection of symbols with arrows next to them was inlaid upon the walls.

    He didn¡¯t recognize any of the symbols but, the arrows were pretty self explanatory. At the first intersection, he stood and stared stared at the odd shapes, trying to make sense of them.

    He¡¯d finally decided on the least exotic of the three symbols, the triple line. Each identical corridor slowly sapped his hopes of finding something, anything. One thing was for sure - he was descending. More troubling though was his torch which was nearing its end. Once it was gone, he¡¯d be trapped in a blanket of absolute darkness, forced to feel his way back.

    Contemplating turning around, he nearly ran headlong into a clear wall. His torch was wrenched from his hands as he slammed against the unexpected barrier. The burning wood bounced off the ground with a thunk that echoed down the empty halls.

    Sasha cursed and rubbed a quickly rising bump on his forehead. Letting the torch burn on its side for the moment, he turned his attention back to the glass and ran his hands across the smooth surface. It was foggy with layers of calcium and dirt accumulated on the other side. Time had taken a toll on the material.

    He squinted but, there was no seeing through the mess. Sasha continued to probe the glass for an opening, handle, break, anything. Grunting in frustration, he reached into his scabbard and withdrew his scimitar. Taking a step back, he aimed for what he hoped was the weakest point.

    A hard strike against the glass yielded poor results. His sword bounced off with a thud. It sounded more like metal on metal. Sasha dropped the scimitar and rubbed his right hand. In frustration, he kicked the door. Again, it echoed deeply back with a metallic bellow.

    After a few more frustrated kicks and strikes, he leaned against the glass to catch his breath. He could risk a precious shot from his pistol, but ammo was life. Every round was a possible life saver. His curiosity wasn¡¯t worth that much.

    As he reached down to pick up the torch, something caught his eye. An impression on the wall. It was much smaller than the ones he had seen and only about a meter off the ground. Sasha kneeled and dusted away years of dust with his hand. It filled the air and sent him into a fit of coughing.

    Placing his keffiyeh over his face, he moved in to examine the wall. The impression was about thirty centimeters in height and width. Engraved into the black stone was a shape that was very much like a hand but with much longer fingers. Below it, the familiar three line symbol was etched into the surface.

    He¡¯d gone this far. Might as well keep going, he thought. Unsure what to do, he placed his hand in the indentation and pushed.

    Nothing.

    He pushed again, harder this time. When he received the same result, he tried hitting it, holding his hand on it backwards, even shouting ¡°open!¡± To hell with this place, he thought. It was yet another frustration in a long line of frustrations.

    The room was growing dimmer as the torch started to burn out. Suddenly, he realized how much time he¡¯d spent trying to solve this riddle. Now, he was in danger of trapping himself deep underground in absolute darkness.

    Grabbing the panel for stability with one hand, he snatched up the torch with the other to bring it closer to the panel. If he couldn¡¯t find some more writing, something he could understand, he would have to make his way back¡­ quickly.

    As he brought the torch up for better lighting, suddenly, the flame leapt off the end of the smouldering wood and was absorbed into the black stone of the panel. In an instant, the hall was pitch black. The darkness was nothing like the darkness of night. Here, it was almost palpable. It was as if an invisible blanket had descended on the room and weighted the air down.

    For a moment, panic rose in Sasha¡¯s gut. His heart beat faster and his breathing quickened. He¡¯d never considered himself a sufferer of claustrophobia, but his present situation was certainly helping it along.

    At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but no, he was sure he¡¯d seen it. A red glow, only for a moment. He felt along the wall until he found the panel again. Starting into the nothingness, he waited for it.

    flash

    This time, he knew he wasn¡¯t crazy. A light humming slowly filled the air. It sounded to Sasha like a swarm of bees. His mind began to play tricks on him. He imagined bugs crawling all over his body. He tried to will the illusion away but, the crescendoing sound wasn¡¯t helping.

    And then - the noise faded as the room became awash in pale white light. He closed his eyes as the light was more than they could handle after so long in the darkness. A voice echoed through the hallway, ¡°Kola et ama¡¯a efna, ma amal.¡±

    A tingling crawled up his spine and into his head. There was a moment of silence before the mysterious voice spoke again, ¡°Welcome to Archive Nine, awakened warrior.

    The door, previously a solid panel, split open to the left and right. A gust of air blasted Sasha in the face. It was stale, old, like an abandoned corner of a library or a long deserted house.

    Ahead of him appeared a chamber with more ether cubes that he was aware existed. Thousands of them, all blue, all highly illegal in the possession of a civilian, sat stacked neatly behind ten meter high glass panels.

    In the center of the room, a black semicircular panel stuck out. On its surface, the same hand shaped indentation glowed red. To its left and right, two more identical indentations lay dormant. There were no buttons or levers otherwise.

    Everything about the room was bizarre. From the strange sounds and chirps to the glowing lights, to the perfectly stacked ether cubes. The room was obviously from a time long before him. Sasha had seen and heard enough of Protectorate technology to know, this was not one of their wonders.

    He had two choices. Leave, or press his hand into another strange panel and await what came next. Curious to a fault, he spent little time on inner debate. Feigning confidence to imagined onlookers, he stepped forward and thrust his hand into the indentation.

    Then, the world he knew disappeared.

    ***

    ¡°Guardians. Hundreds of them. Maybe five minutes out,¡± Fredrickson spoke dryly as he viewed a glowing green circle on a console in front of him. On it, expanding circles spread outward every few seconds and disappeared at the edge. On one side of the screen, a blob of tiny white dots positioned themselves slightly closer to the center with each sweep.

    ¡°What are we looking at?¡± Henry asked as he leaned in to watch the strange display.

    Fredrickson sighed impatiently, ¡°It¡¯s called sonar. It¡¯s a technology well beyond your¡­ uhh, who the hell is this?¡± His attention had shifted from the display back to the group. Kalandra slipped in closer to Jim, gripping his arm.

    ¡°Her name is Kalandra. She¡­ it¡¯s a long story,¡± Jim replied.

    Fredrickson nodded and replied, ¡°One we will certainly have to discuss if we survive this emergency.¡± Turning to Henry, he pointed to a ladder near the center of the room. ¡°You, clockwork man, I need you in turret number one. You were brought on this mission because you possess a reaction time far superior to any human. Looks like you¡¯re going to get to utilize it.

    Henry let out a sarcastic laugh and rapped his knuckles on the large brass ball that his legs attached to, ¡°this big ol thing and ladders don¡¯t mix. Also, my name is Henry.¡±

    ¡°Listen, Henry,¡± he emphasized his name with annoyance. ¡°You and I both know, clockwork men possess immense strength. I have no doubts that you can hoist yourself up to the gunner seat.¡±

    Henry huffed. Fredrickson¡¯s bad attitude was beginning to grate on his disposition. He turned and rolled to the ladder. With one arm, he launched himself up three meters and scrambled into the gunner seat. In seconds, he was situated and took hold of the two joysticks on either side of the seat.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Jim shook his head, ¡°Wow, he looks like he knows what he¡¯s doing. You¡¯d never guess it was his first time in one of those.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because it isn¡¯t,¡± Fredrickson replied. The tinge of superiority was back in his voice. He obviously relished in knowing things others didn¡¯t. Anticipating Jim¡¯s response, he raised a hand and continued, ¡°If we come out of this, I¡¯ll be happy to explain.¡±

    He turned back to the artificial green circle. The white blob was nearing with each sweep of the sonar. Fredrickson was sweating more than usual. ¡°You see this collection of white dots?¡± he asked, pointing. Jim nodded as the ambassador continued, ¡°Each one represents a guardian and, there¡¯s a shitstorm of them converging on our ship.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a guardian?¡± Kalandra asked from behind Jim. He¡¯d almost forgotten she was there.

    ¡°Technology far beyond that of the Protectorate,¡± Fredrickson replied. Jim caught a hint of reverence in the ambassador¡¯s voice. So, that¡¯s what it takes to impress one of these Protectorate nutjobs, Jim thought.

    The ambassador continued, ¡°They are small machines that infest this passage. Way more advanced than your typical clockwork man. They come from a time before The Fall.¡±

    Jim stared at him blankly for a moment. Finally, he asked, ¡°The Fall? I¡¯ve heard that term before. What is it?¡±

    Instead of his usual snooty response, Fredrickson was aghast, ¡°Are you...really? You know. The¡­¡± He stopped and stared at the pair. Both looked back in confusion. ¡°Unbelievable. It¡¯s no wonder you are all living in such a backward society full of - nevermind. You,¡± he said, pointing at Kalandra. ¡°What is the date?¡±

    ¡°The 21st of Hulas,¡± she replied timidly.

    ¡°And the year?¡± he asked impatiently.

    ¡°AF9602,¡± she replied.

    ¡°There you go!¡± Fredrickson exclaimed. ¡°AF, After Fall. I mean, don¡¯t they teach you that in school?¡±

    ¡°School wasn¡¯t much of a priority for me as a kid. Finding my next meal was.,¡± Jim replied coolly.

    The unseen enemy was nearly upon them. The return ping was steadily growing louder. ¡°You two need to strap into compression chairs,¡± Fredrickson commanded, pointing to two vacant chairs near the rear of the bridge. ¡°This ride is about to get bumpy.¡± To emphasize his point, he scrambled to his own chair and strapped in.

    As an awakened of earth, Jim was completely out of his element under the water. The same went for Kalandra and her fire awakened abilities. Both quickly made their way to their respective chairs.

    As his strap clicked, the first ¡°bump¡± shook the ship. His teeth knocked together and his body pushed against the shoulder harnesses.

    The guardians, whatever that meant, were here.

    ***

    Damn, I¡¯m good at this, Henry thought as he squeezed the trigger on his right joystick. Twenty meters behind their vessel, a trio of guardians exploded. Each one created a temporary bubble of highly compressed gas that turned the small area around the exploding machines into a superheated pocket of destruction. As the pressure of the water overcame the explosion, the bubble contracted in one more brilliant flash of acrid yellow light.

    Of course, it all happened in considerably less than a millisecond. Henry wasn¡¯t sure which disturbed him more; That he knew the anatomy of an underwater explosion or that he operated the advanced tech of the Protectorate with the ease of a long practiced veteran.

    Two more guardians came into view of the ship¡¯s brightly glowing lights. The captain, whose name he never did catch, had turned all external lights to maximum illumination to assist the gunners in their deadly work. Sighting between the quad barrels, Henry would have smiled if his metallic face were capable of it.

    He squeezed the trigger again. Four barrels unleashed a fury of projectiles at nearly five hundred rounds a minute each. The ¡°sonic bullets¡± operated much like the underwater explosions he had just witnessed. Each bullet compressed the water around it into a superheated pocket of gas, allowing them to travel nearly as fast as they would through air. Again, he had no idea how he knew these things.

    I¡¯m going to have to get some answers out of that pompous ass if we come out of this, he thought.

    Straight lines of gas reached out to the guardians from both turrets. The nearest of the squid shaped devices, no more than half a meter long disappeared behind new explosions. A second before the pair exploded, a small pointed metal cylinder, thirty centimeters long, emerged from a hidden hole in its chassis.

    The object picked up speed as it arced gracefully toward the aft upper turret. Both gunners tried to shoot it down, but even Henry had his limits. His shots missed by a few centimeters, the other gunner¡¯s by significantly more. Suddenly, the tiny depth charge exploded and rocked him in his seat. He couldn¡¯t see clearly from this distance but, he was sure the gunner in the other turret had either been killed or knocked unconscious. Bubbles escaped near where the man¡¯s seat attached to the hull.

    ¡°Breach!¡± He heard someone shout from below. A new, more foreboding alarm sounded. His fear of water threatened to overcome his senses but, more approaching guardians provided a proper distraction.

    He pulled the trigger again, sweeping in the direction of the oncoming machines. The target rich environment earned him a few lucky hits. More brilliant explosions shook the ship. Each flash added to the growing dread of their situation. As another guardian erupted, the millisecond burst of light gave Henry a momentary view of what was coming. Hundreds of the small metal squids popped into view before disappearing into the darkness again.

    What was coming would be way more than quad guns, advanced or not, could handle. In seconds, their would be overwhelmed. If one depth charge had caused a breach, a couple hundred would mince them into pieces too small to identify with a magnifying glass. Henry pressed down on a small button below the left trigger.

    From a hole near the base of his turret, a metal box emerged. It had no propulsion. No special technology. It simply floated in place. The drag of the water quickly pulled the device behind their speeding submersible and it disappeared into the blackness.

    Henry would have held his breath if he had lungs. One second passed, then another. Oh please, please, please, don¡¯t be a dud. It would be my cursed luck to get the one frag mine that-

    White light flooded every centimeter of his transparent bubble. The seat beneath him jolted away from the explosion, pushing his considerable weight against the shoulder harnesses. Hundreds of small explosions crackled behind the initial detonation, throwing the ship forward in an even greater velocity.

    The other two manned turrets continued to fire into the fray from the underside of the submersible. Henry could feel the ship listing forward, effectively blocking him from whatever was left of the guardian swarm. Then, impact.

    ***

    Jim probably would have vomited if he wasn¡¯t too busy holding on for dear life. The impact against the floor of the lava tube sent everyone against their harnesses, including himself. For a moment, the submersible ground to a halt against the rough surface beneath them.

    But, its momentum was too great. With its bow caught, the stern of the ship rose quickly in the rushing water until they were nearly ninety degrees, end over end. Cool water from the slowly leaking topside turret rushed down the hall and instantly soaked him and the other bridge crew.

    Alarms blared from the cargo bay. No doubt, the impact had jostled the crates loose. Then, he was upside down. With a groan, the craft continued its roll until - crunch. The submersible lay silently on its roof.

    Through it all, the bottom gunners continued to fire. Jim was impressed with their focus in light of the bizarre situation. More vibrations shook the ship as more guardians were extinguished.

    Henry¡¯s last chance assault had not done enough to stem the tide of machines. New explosions rocked the flipped ship. More alarms sounded from every corner. ¡°Purge the tanks!¡± the captain shouted over the bedlam.

    One of the crewmembers shuffled up the perescope with both legs wrapped tightly around it. He stretched a soaked arm out to a nearby console. Lifting a protective layer of glass from one of the buttons, the man smashed his hand down.

    A loud whine filled the submersible as it shook violently. Jim could feel the floor, which was now the roof, pushing on his legs. They were ascending.

    The ship began to right itself, rolling lazily as it rose from the lava tube floor. Henry emerged from the gunner¡¯s couch, soaking wet, and a moment too soon. As he gingerly hoisted himself onto the ceiling, the submersible flipped. His metallic body crashed to the floor. Loud cursing followed.

    They were ascending¡­ fast. Through the vast darkness of the water, he couldn¡¯t see the roof of the lava tube yet but, he knew soon, they would be getting up close and personal.

    ¡°Hey, you!¡± Fredrickson called. ¡°You¡¯re about to put those powers of yours to good use.¡±

    More explosions shook the ship but, they were lessening in intensity. The submersible was rising faster than the guardians could give chase. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Jim shouted back.

    Fredrickson pointed up, ¡°There¡¯s about thirty meters of solid rock between the top of this tube and the surface. I need you to clear us a spot or we¡¯re going to shatter on impact. Emphasizing his point, new streams of pressurized water broke through unseen breaches behind one of the ship¡¯s consoles.

    The water in their small space was sloshing back and forth and certainly rising. Jim spotted Henry clinging to a nearby console. Jim had spent enough time with his clockwork friend to interpret his emotions. Even though the clockwork man could not display them through facial expressions, Jim could see, he was miserable.

    Turning back to Fredrickson, Jim shook his head, ¡°That¡¯s a hundred metric tons of rock. I¡¯ve never moved anywhere near that much.¡±

    Despite the critical situation, Fredrickson smiled. It was his usual arrogant smile. Again, he knew something nobody else knew and, even on the brink of death, it brought him comfort. Nodding toward a nearby black crystal bulkhead, he replied, ¡°Then it¡¯s a good thing we¡¯re sitting inside a giant awakened amplifier.¡±

    Of course! Jim thought. Just like the Phoenix. This thing is one giant black crystal tube. He recalled being introduced to the Phoenix a few months earlier. The fighter, made of high grade black crystal composite and metals, was a natural conductor of awakened power. Alia had put it to good use in the last stand of the Federation.

    Then again, we lost that battle, he thought.

    The explosions were far enough away that he could chance finding his footing. Unbuckling the harness, he dropped from the raised seat to his feet. His legs instantly folded beneath him. The constant rush of adrenaline had left him weakened and wobbly.

    Trying again, he stood and stumbled to a nearby bulkhead. ¡°What the hell do I do?¡± he called back.

    Fredrickson shrugged, ¡°You¡¯re the awakened. I figured you knew.¡±

    Jim sighed. Placing both palms against the cool crystal wall, he closed his eyes and opened his mind to his second sight. The tunnel took form around him. The submersible disappeared, and all that remained were the shining life forces of each crew member.

    Below, the guardians continued their upward scramble toward their rising ship but, to Jim, they were voids against a black backdrop. Whatever they were, they weren¡¯t alive. He focused his second sight on the approaching cavern roof. They were coming up on it quickly. If he was going to act, it had to be now.

    In his mind, he began to peel layers from the cavern roof. He imagined himself digging at a large patch of sand and tossing its contents aside, much as a child in a sandbox would. Chunks as big as their submersible jostled themselves loose and were tossed sideways into the dark water.

    Layer after layer was removed. He did his best to direct the largest pieces away from their vessel. Some of the smaller bits made it through, their loud bangs ringing throughout the ship. The submersible was only a few dozen meters from the ceiling now. They were too close. He couldn¡¯t risk pulling down any more layers without one of those layers colliding with their crippled vessel.

    Taking a deep breath, he poured his will into one final upward thrust.

    ***

    The western drylands was baking under the summer sun, as they had been every day for thousands of years. This far west, the only creatures strong enough to survive knew to burrow deep underground to avoid the punishing daylight. The afternoon winds whistled across the barren landscape. Wisps of sand and dust occasionally swirled in and out of existence.

    Suddenly, the ground began to vibrate. The unusual sound of water bubbling, unheard in these parts for over one hundred centuries, drowned out the tepid afternoon calm of the far desert.

    A small patch of sand began to depress as if collapsing into an unseen hole. The patch was tiny at first, measuring a few centimeters. The hole continued to grow as more sand fell into the abyss.

    The sound abruptly stopped. For a moment, the quiet of the desert returned. Then -

    A geyser thirty meters wide exploded into the air in a white foamed tower of water and sand. Suddenly, the battered submersible erupted out of the enormous opening. With a hiss, it jolted forward, bow first and beached itself partially on the sand.

    ***

    On the bridge, the warning klaxons were silenced by still staggering crew members. Jim sagged back into his shock chair. Their submersible was damaged, possibly beyond repair. Worse yet, they were hundreds of kilometers from civilization.

    Danger, adventure, risk. Jim had had enough of it all. He closed his eyes and thought of the one person who always brought him comfort. At least he could find some peace in knowing she was safe, far away from this mess.

 Chapter 7: A Candle Burning

    ¡°This is a mess, captain,¡± Vachir grumbled. Another arc of awakened lightning crawled along the outer hull of the Liberator, leaping between the shrapnel and cannon balls that had lodged themselves into the side. They both ducked instinctively.

    Alia waited for the energy to dissipate before leaning sideways against the railing and returning fire. She was careful not to put pressure on her growing belly as she gathered the fire from a nearby smouldering hole in the ship. The heated ball formed a few centimeters above her palm before being violently flung back at the smaller ship that had been trading fire with them.

    The ship¡¯s awakened of air ducked behind the battle scarred railing in time. Two nearby soldiers that had been exchanging fire with Alia¡¯s crew were not so lucky. The blast force was enough to throw them across the deck. It wasn¡¯t enough to render them unconscious though. Their screams of dying agony could be heard above the gunfire and cannons as they burnt to death.

    More cannonfire rocked the ship beneath their feet. Alia stumbled and was caught in Vachir¡¯s powerful arms. ¡°Please Alia,¡± he shouted, ¡°the topdeck is no place for a woman with child. Even if she is a prime awakened. Get to the upper deck at least and let me deal with this priest.¡±

    Over the past weeks, Vachir had assumed Jim¡¯s duties of nagging her about her health at every opportunity. They¡¯d even found themselves in a few heated arguments. She had promised to Jim not to leave the safety of the ship until after the children were born. Nothing was mentioned about pirating the Prophetess¡¯ vessels.

    ¡°Your sounding way too much like my husband, Vachir. One might think you two are in league together,¡± Alia replied sarcastically.

    Another cannonball tore through the air above them and ricocheted off the tip of the bowsprit, taking a few splinters with it. ¡°Now, captain!¡± Vachir shouted back.

    Alia grunted in protest before marching stubbornly toward the stairs to the topdeck. It was more of a waddle. Her belly had grown astoundingly fast in the few weeks since they had departed Freeport. She was only a few months pregnant, but she looked as if she were ready to give birth any day.

    They were on their way to see Emat, the enigmatic leader of the Ll¡¯tal people. Hopefully he would have the answers. Unfortunately for Vachir¡¯s sanity, the captain had spotted a lone Alliance destroyer on the horizon patrolling the southern tip of the Eastern Eternal Mountains. She just couldn¡¯t resist.

    ¡°Cannons, focus fire on their gunports!¡± Vachir shouted, ¡°I¡¯ll deal with the topdeck.¡±

    ¡°Aye sir!¡± came the reply from those who could hear him. The word was passed down the line and soon gunners and crew were repositioning their cannons downward. The fire from the enemy destroyer had been mercifully erratic. A few crewmen had fallen to injury, but the liberator¡¯s armored sides were holding up.

    Vachir leaned backwards below the safety of the ship¡¯s railing and closed his eyes. His breathing slowed and his focus narrowed as he gathered the power within himself. The topdeck crew began to fire down onto the smaller ship. The air between the two vessels was quickly filling with the stench of gunsmoke. The noise around him mellowed though as Vachir prepared himself.

    In a quick fluid motion, he stood and stretched his arms toward the destroyer. A web of electricity instantly engulfed the topdeck. It sizzled and cracked as it sought out any metal or flesh in the area. Vachir knew, spreading that much awakened power over such a large area would diminish its effect. But he only needed to disable their crew and priest. The Liberator¡¯s sailors would do the rest.

    The enemy priest wailed over the sounds of battle as energy surged through his body. The last of the Alliance soldiers joined him in agonizing shouts of helplessness. As the remnant of his energy was expelled, Vachir stumbled backwards and was caught by Harol, the ship¡¯s lead deckhand.

    ¡°That¡¯ll be enough sir,¡± the short stocky man growled. ¡°Ma¡¯ boys¡¯ll take it from here.¡±

    Two dozen crewmen, armed with scimitars and salvaged breech rifles secured across their backs stepped up from the protected portside of the topdeck. In their hands were compressed steam powered grapple guns.

    The unwieldy weapons were heavy, inaccurate, and ugly. This close to the enemy though, they only needed to shoot in the right general direction. ¡°Steady boys,¡± Harol shouted over the continuing cannon fire, ¡°Steady.¡± The Liberator released a belch of steam. The acrid smelling cloud erupted through top deck ventilation grates and exhaust pipes on balloon above.

    Their altitude decreased slowly until both vessels were nearly level. They had to wait for nearly perfect level to, ¡°¡­ LOOSE.¡± Harol¡¯s command was obeyed and twentyfour iron grapples sailed across the small space with a hiss. Trailed of steam followed the uncoiling ropes for a short distance.

    Loud clang sounds told them, most of the grapples had hit the enemy¡¯s wood deck. Quickly, the boarders began the process of anchoring and securing the enemy vessel. Each of them worked a release lever on their steam grapples that deployed 4 sharp spikes from the front and rear of the guns.

    Next, they planted their weapons in pre drilled holes along the starboard deck. Finally, the process of pulling the enemy ship in began with the boarders turning a built in double hand crank on the weapons.

    Ropes and men alike groaned in protest against the efforts of the grapple cranks, but the gap was definitely closing. Below, Vachir could hear shouts of ¡°grapeshot! Point blank, continuous fire!¡± Soon, their cannons would be belching thousands of tiny lead balls in an effort to further thin out the enemy¡¯s dwindling numbers.

    From the Liberator¡¯s upper deck, more crew emerged, preparing to board the enemy vessel. Leading them was Sandra Mason. Her head sported the classic Federation kepi. Even though the Federation had been conquered and officially ceased to exist earlier that year, she had never wavered in her love of her homeland.

    Fresh Alliance soldiers spilled out onto the deck of the enemy vessel like ants. They were brought under immediate fire from the breach guns of the Liberator¡¯s crew. The ships were drawing closer with each second. Bedlam of close range rifle fire and grapeshot cannon fire filled the air.

    Ten meters

    A grapefire round erupted from one of the swivel guns and cut down two of the nearest Alliance soldiers. They cried their last through gurgling blood.

    Five meters

    The swivel gunner suddenly slumped over her cannon before falling backwards into a heap. An Alliance round had gone clean through her eyesocket and out the back.

    One meter

    Both sides had disappeared behind a wall of gunsmoke.

    Contact

    The ships collided. The sound of reinforced wood siding grinding against each other complimented the sudden percussive roll across the deck. Some of the less experienced boarders stumbled and fell. Sandra grabbed a nearby rail and rode out the retching of the two behemoths.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Before they had completely stopped. She¡¯d already vaulted herself over the rail, scimitar in hand, through the blinding smoke. From Vachir¡¯s angle, it looked as if she¡¯d charged blindly into the smoky gates of hell.

    Everyone on the topdeck followed. They leapt onto the enemy deck with a loud cry. The sound of screams, steel, and shot filled the air. Vachir was already weak from his use of Awakened power, but he wouldn¡¯t sit out a fight.

    They would win this battle. He already knew it. This is what the crew of the Liberator did best. There would be casualties though. There always were. If he could help reduce those losses by throwing himself into the fight, he would.

    Leveraging himself up against the railing, he took a breath and centered himself. Then, he charged into the fray.

    ***

    Jim¡¯s ears were ringing. It was a problem that seemed to have developed after meeting Alia and beginning his crazy life of adventure. Or as he saw it, the daily struggle to keep her from killing herself in some insane way. The day had been spent inventorying their supplies and assessing the damage to the submersible.

    For some reason, everyone had assumed he was in charge. It was a responsibility he neither wanted nor felt he was qualified for. Alia made leadership decisions. Not him. After hours of giving directions and keeping Fredrickson from being decapitated by anyone and everyone he pissed off, Jim was mentally and physically drained.

    Now, it was well into the evening. A cool breeze, or rather a breeze that wasn¡¯t stifling hot, rolled across the desert landscape. He¡¯d found a rock outcropping a few hundred meters from where the submersible had emerged and quickly snuck off to lay down and look up at the stars.

    There had always been something soothing about staring at the heavens. When he had been a free trader, he¡¯d spent many nights on the deck of his small landship staring up for hours, sometimes wondering at what was out there, but usually just soaking in the calm of the open sky.

    Later, after joining the Alia and her band of ¡°Freedom Fighters,¡± he would sneak up the J-ropes and lay out on the top of the balloon to watch the same sky go by. While he much preferred to spend his evenings in her bed, the occasional heated argument would send him up there to his equivalent of ¡°sleeping on the couch.¡±

    His thoughts drifted to Alia at that moment. Her beautiful green eyes. Her odd crooked smile. The way she still tried to hide the scar across her face with a strand of hair, even though he had insisted that he didn¡¯t care about it.

    But there were also the things that drove him crazy. Her stubborn attitude. Their endless un-won arguments. Her refusal to accept help. For reasons he was sure he¡¯d never understand, he loved her. Even when the attraction felt one sided.

    The broken moon was well on its way across the horizon. Long milky shadows dotted the landscape where starving plants struggled to grow. Jim listened as the gentle night breeze worked its way through the sparse vegetation and pushed the desert sand along on its eternal journey. The ringing in his head had finally ceased and his eyes were growing heavy.

    ¡°You know, I¡¯ve come to you in some interesting places but, middle of the deep desert without a landship... you¡¯ve got balls kid.¡±

    Jim leapt to his feet, but one foot missed the rock he¡¯d been laying on. OOF his back hit the sand below as the wind was forcefully pushed from his lungs.

    ¡°What the¡­¡± gasp ¡°hell is the ma..¡± gasp ¡°matter with you?¡± He coughed a few times.

    ¡°Sorry my boy,¡± came the stranger¡¯s reply through crooked teeth. ¡°These moments of peace are the only ones where we can talk freely.¡± It had been months since Jim had seen the strange old man of his dreams. He looked as old as ever, perhaps older still. Just as before, his eyes were bright and youthful, contrasting his face as if they didn¡¯t belong.

    Jim sat on the rough sand for a few moments and caught his breath. After a few more lungfuls of the hot desert air, he asked, ¡°What are you doing here, old man? Here to tell me more riddles?¡±

    The man chuckled, ¡°This time, I come bearing riddles with a sprinkling of knowledge.¡± Jim was stoic, so the man continued, ¡°You seem to have found yourself in quite a predicament on this little mission of yours.¡±

    ¡°And what do you know of my little mission?¡± Jim asked.

    The man smiled and replied, ¡°I see the question in your eyes my boy. You are asking yourself, is he real or am I crazy? If he knows of my mission, he must be part of my imagination, or perhaps a spy¡± Jim shifted uncomfortably. The old man stepped toward Jim and held out a wrinkled hand. ¡°Here,¡± he commanded, ¡°touch it.¡±

    Jim was reluctant. He¡¯d almost grown used to the idea that the stranger was simply his imagination playing tricks on him. But, the things he¡¯s said¡­ and predicted, Jim thought. He took a deep breath and extended his hand, grasping the old man¡¯s in his own.

    It was coarse, cold, and rough. Worn by the sands, time, or both. More importantly, it was quite real. He eyed the man¡¯s hand suspiciously and asked, ¡°how do I know this isn¡¯t just another dr-¡±

    A loud smack and a stinging on his left cheek caught him by surprise. In one quick motion, far too nimble for his age, the man had struck him with his free hand, dispelling any doubts.

    ¡°Dammit,¡± Jim cried angrily, ¡°there¡¯re less painful ways to make a point.¡± He rubbed the spot where the man had struck him which was still tingling.

    The man released his grip of Jim¡¯s hand and snorted, replying, ¡°If there¡¯s one thing I know about you, it¡¯s that your entire life has been one painful lesson after another. This seemed the most fitting way to remove any doubts.¡±

    He continued, ¡°you once asked me my name. I suppose it¡¯s best I give myself one now. You can call me Malachi. It means Messenger.¡±

    Jim tilted his head and replied, ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve heard the name before.¡±

    Malachi shook his head, ¡°no, I don¡¯t suppose you would have. It¡¯s from an old forgotten language of a long lost people who themselves were ancient even in the times of our ancestors. It seemed a fitting name for my purpose in these, my last days.¡±

    Jim stopped rubbing the red spot on his face and asked, ¡°Last days?¡±

    Malachi smiled. Through crooked teeth, he replied, ¡°Well, yes. Llook at me boy! I¡¯m ten years late for my own funeral.¡±

    Jim shook his head, ¡°I don¡¯t think I believe that. You look old, yes, but your voice¡­ your eyes, something is wrong, it¡¯s like you are a young person buried beneath an old man¡¯s body.¡±

    At that, the man¡¯s face lit up with genuine surprise. ¡°Very impressive,¡± he replied. ¡°Very impressive indeed. You are right of course. I suppose you could call me a young soul. My choices led me to look like this. Choices I hope to spare you from.¡±

    ¡°Such as?¡± Jim asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid, that conversation would take longer than we have. There is a very real danger approaching and my time with you, as always it seems, is limited.¡±

    Jim¡¯s heart began to beat faster. One thing he¡¯d learned in his prior conversations with the man who now called himself Malachi was that, he had a knack for being prophetic.

    Seeing the concern on Jim¡¯s face, Malachi added, ¡°Don¡¯t worry. There is still a little time. I¡¯ve come to bring you a warning and some guidance.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s start with the warning then,¡± Jim replied.

    Malachi nodded, ¡°Your awakened power is growing within you, my boy. With each use, you hone your ability to use it. However, unlike fire, water, and air awakened, ours is a blessing and a tremendous curse.¡±

    ¡°Ours?¡± Jim asked with surprise.

    Malachi¡¯s eyes opened as he realized what he¡¯d divulged. For the first time since Jim had seen him, fear crept across his face. ¡°That was foolish of me,¡± Malachi answered. Sighing, he continued, ¡°Yes, I too am an awakened of earth, like yourself.¡±

    ¡°You mean, I¡¯m not-¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± Malachi interrupted, ¡°there is very little time. We will speak again of this later. I do ask that you never share knowledge of me or our meetings though.¡± Jim nodded, prompting Malachi to continue.

    The old man placed a hand on Jim¡¯s shoulder, ¡°For now, I have come to warn you, use your abilities as sparingly as possible.¡± Jim had many questions but held his tongue as the man added, ¡°Awakened of earth can heal others, and also themselves. This is our greatest strength, but also our death sentence.¡±

    Malachi coughed. A deep wet wheezing escaped his lungs. Despite the sweltering heat of the desert, the old man shivered. Finally, he recovered and spoke, ¡°Every time you heal another, you forfeit a fragment of your life.¡±

    ¡°But,¡± Jim interrupted, ¡°I¡¯ve only ever healed someone twice since my awakening. Both times were necessary.¡±

    ¡°Ahh, but you forget, young one. Your extraordinary powers of healing extend to your own injuries too. Every time you use your abilities on the soil, it takes a physical toll, does it not?¡± Malachi asked.

    Jim sighed, ¡°Yes actually... In a big way. Half the time, I end up unconscious or burned from my hands to my neck.¡±

    Malachi nodded, ¡°Yes. As is the case with all awakened, using our powers in battle brings harm to ourselves, usually by burning our arms and in extreme cases much of our bodies. While other awakened heal their injuries over time as any non awakened would heal say¡­ a bruise, your powers accelerate that process. Each time you heal, days of your life are stolen away forever. You are a candle, Jim. Burning away at both ends.¡±

    It took a moment for Malachi¡¯s words to settle in. Thinking back, Jim whispered, ¡°The battlefield at Green River, the skies above the dune sea, or in the mountains. I¡¯ve already used my abilities dozens of times since my awakening. How many years have I lost?¡±

    ¡°One or two already,¡± came Malachi¡¯s reply. ¡°Though, your extended life as a prime awakened will at least make up for some of that time.¡±

    Jim was dizzy. He steadied himself against the boulder he¡¯d fallen off of earlier.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t warn you sooner, but I was delayed,¡± Malachi added, staring blankly at a painful memory he had chosen not to share. ¡°Now though, there is a more important matter to discuss. Your life, and keeping it beyond this night.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Jim asked, still thinking on the years he¡¯d already burned away.

    ¡°There is an ancient machine of war buried very near to here. I am going to teach you how to find it. Hopefully, I¡¯m not too late.¡±

    Jim was growing tired of asking questions. ¡°Enough with the damn riddles. Too late for what?¡± he replied impatiently.

    ¡°Listen,¡± Malachi instructed grabbing Jim and turning his gaze northeast, ¡°A sound rises on the dawn wind. The cry of a thousand hungry voices and the droning of a thousand ramshackle skimmers as they come to the feast.¡±

    Jim¡¯s blood went cold. Cannibals.

 Chapter 8: Blood and Metal

    Welcome Ma¡¯al warrior. How should I address you?

    Sasha was in darkness. He could still feel the sensation of standing over a console in the strange room, but he could see nothing.

    Again, the tenor voice repeated inside his head, Welcome Ma¡¯al warrior. How should I address you?

    ¡°Uhh,¡± Sasha began, ¡°You can call me Sasha.¡±

    Sasha, welcome to Complex 4. Population: 2,456. Systems functioning at 14%. All prisoners accounted for. Maintenance recommended soon. How would you like to proceed?

    Sasha replied slowly, unsure of what to do, ¡°Uhh, pop¡­ population. Show me where the population is located¡­¡±

    ***

    ¡°My prophetess, I¡¯m sorry to disturb you. I bring news,¡± Lord Scieth began, bowing low as he entered the prophetess¡¯ attunement chamber. The large dome shaped room glowed a faint blue. Whether from the pools of water adorning the floor or from his master¡¯s power, he wasn¡¯t certain.

    The prophetess sat motionless upon her raised throne of sapphires inlaid on ancient manza wood. Her eyes were closed and her porcelain face was twisted into a grimace. As she often did, she wore a flowing robe of sky blue that seemed to pour down the steps of the dais like a gentle waterfal.

    He tried again, approaching cautiously, ¡°my queen?¡±

    A sharp exhale escaped her lungs and the room dimmed. Her eyes opened to reveal cold black pools as she stared at Lord Scieth unhappily. If she¡¯d wanted to punish him for his intrusion though, she was restraining herself.

    ¡°Lord Scieth,¡± she spoke, annoyed, ¡°For what purpose have you disturbed my work? Do you realize how difficult it is projecting my thoughts as far east as Togsov?¡± The color slowly returned to her ghost white face.

    Before he could reply, she held up a hand. ¡°Bring me a guest!¡± she shouted. Her voice echoed through the barren chamber. A moment passed and her expression turned to annoyance. Just when it seemed she would have to shout the command again, a clockwork servant emerged through the double doors behind Lord Scieth.

    In its grasp was a frightened young man, no more than twenty years old. He was very well muscled despite showing the telltale signs of underfeeding. From head to toe, he was covered in ashen dust. Scieth recognized the look. The young man was likely from deep in the black crystal mines outside Golden Spire. Judging by his relative good health, he was probably recently ¡°employed.¡±

    ¡°What is your name,¡± the prophetess asked gently. As she did, she rose from her throne and gracefully descended the steps. Her movement was fluid; nearly ethereal. Her dress was cut down the center in a large V, exposing just enough of her breasts to replace the young man¡¯s fear with a much more powerful drive.

    ¡°My uh, my name is Mat. Mat Johnson,¡± he replied. He tried his best to stand straight, unable to pull his gaze from her slender form.

    Seeing the look in his eyes, she giggled. It was a practiced act, meant to increase his desire and thus feed her more energy. The prophetess stopped a few meters from the young man and stared at him. Finally, she asked, ¡°Where did you get such a strange name? Surely not from Alliance lands.¡±

    The man shook his head, ¡°No, queen. I was born in the Jindagee Marshlands. I was taken away when my homeland was conquered. I -¡±

    ¡°Say no more,¡± the prophetess interrupted. Stepping forward, she grabbed his filthy hand in her own. Lord Scieth could see the subtle twitches in her face as she fought her own desire to drain the young slave of his life force. She¡¯ll want him prepared and brimming with vitality first, he thought, careful to hide his own disgust at the thought of what was to come.

    The prophetess turned to the clockwork servant who was standing nearby, trying its best not to attract attention. ¡°You,¡± she commanded, ¡°take this handsome young man to be cleaned up. Feed him, offer him rest, clothe him,¡± she grinned with desire at the slave, ¡°but not too much clothing. Then, send him to my bedchamber.¡±

    The look in the young slaves eyes was unmistakable. Hunger. For food, or women, probably both, he thought with a shudder.

    The prophetess leaned forward slightly, exposing a bit more of her form that had been hidden beneath the tailored robe. ¡°After tonight, young Mat, you will never be hungry again,¡± she whispered.

    At that, the clockwork servant guided the smiling slave out of the chamber through the servant¡¯s door.

    ¡°Now that dinner preparations are underway, what is it you want?¡± the prophetess asked impatiently.

    Lord Scieth bowed low again and began, ¡°My queen, someone has found Complex 4.¡±

    The prophetess¡¯ eyes went wide. ¡°It¡¯s been so long. Are you certain?¡± she asked.

    Lord Scieth nodded, ¡°nearly one hundred years and yes, I am. Our seekers felt it. Somewhere near Togsov too actually.¡±

    The prophetess laughed and clasped her hands together. The sleeves of her dress met in the middle, giving the illusion of water pouring from her palms. ¡°Tomorrow,¡± she began, ¡°we depart. I¡¯m sure the alliance general could do with a little inspection of his siege anyhow. Tonight though, I have a matter to attend to.¡± Her smile turned into a hungry grin.

    ¡°My queen, perhaps we should consider departing sooner. We can¡¯t risk its contents falling into the hands of -¡±

    The prophetess¡¯ hand shot out like a desert viper and grabbed Lord Scieth¡¯s arm. Instantly, he could feel himself weakening. He fell to his knees, unable to hold up his own weight.

    ¡°I said tomorrow, Lord Scieth. Or is such expediency worth your life?¡± she asked as her eyes darkened.

    Though he was her son, Scieth wasn¡¯t entirely convinced she wouldn¡¯t act on it. She hadn¡¯t eaten for nearly a week. ¡°Y..yes my queen,¡± came his feeble reply. ¡°I will prepare your airship and we will be underway at first light.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± she replied, releasing her grip. ¡°Tonight, I celebrate our good fortune.¡± At that, she turned and exited the chamber at a brisk pace.

    ¡°I almost pity that poor boy,¡± he muttered when he was sure she¡¯d left earshot. ¡°And the poor fool who found Complex 4.¡±

    ***

    Chok no gah! Chok no gah!

    ¡°Hurry!¡± Jim shouted at the two crewman who were lifting the last crate of provisions onto the hovering pushstone cart. Both men were haggard. The chanting of the cannibal hunting party, now only a few minutes out, was a powerful motivation despite their exhaustion.

    With a thud, the last crate hit the cart causing it to drop a few centimeters and indent the sand beneath. At that moment, Kalandra, who had been watching the horizon with wide eyes, shouted, ¡°I think I see them. They¡¯re coming over the hills to the north!¡±

    Jim pointed at the crewmen who were doubled over, catching their breaths, ¡°You two, grab your rifles and follow us. No unnecessary shots. We don¡¯t have the ammo to waste.¡± Not waiting for a reply, he leaned against the cart. It moved slowly at first but gradually built up speed.

    Kalandra, who had also grabbed a rifle from the submersible¡¯s armory, emerged from the broken hole in the side of the vessel a few paces behind him. She quickly made her way over and pushed against the cart. She was much smaller than Jim, but he welcomed the help.

    Soon, the pair was running in full sprint as the cart floated above the sand with little resistance. The crewman, still panting, ran to catch up. It was another half kilometer to the opening of the cave, but to Jim it felt like a hundred.

    He could barely hear his footsteps over the howling winds and rising chants. As they continued to rush the cart along, he looked sideways toward the northern horizon. What he saw nearly threw off his concentration and caused him to trip over his own feet. His tight grip on the cart¡¯s handles kept him from making a complete fool of himself.

    Cresting a nearby dune only a few hundred meters away, the skimmers began to appear. Their black streamers bent and bowed sharply in the rising morning wind. The lead cannibal leaned hard left against the torrent, maintaining the balance between himself and the olive colored sail and mast.

    Unlike the last cannibals Jim had seen, these looked marginally better fed. There frames, while gaunt, showed more muscle than rib. They also appeared far better armored than the starving attackers he, Henry, and Sasha had narrowly escaped with their lives against a few months earlier. Many wore breastplates and pauldrons of woven bone armor. Woven, Jim knew, with the tendons and sinew of their victims.

    Next to him, Kalandra screamed. ¡°Don¡¯t look at them!¡± Jim shouted. ¡°Just focus on getting this thing to the cavern. From behind him, a loud crack rang out. ¡°No, wait!¡± he yelled back to the trailing crewmen. ¡°Wait for a clear shot.¡±

    Chok no gah! CHOK NO GAH!

    The chanting was growing to a frightening crescendo as the skimmers quickly gained ground. In seconds, they would be in range to loose their spears. Ahead, the mouth of the cavern grew larger. The voices of their pursuers echoed off the face of the stone, giving the illusion of voices all around them.

    More cracks rang out, but this time, they came from ahead. Two flashes of light from atop the sandstone blinked. Jim heard a sudden blood curdling cry as one of the nearest cannibals was felled. He could hear the man¡¯s oof as his body hit the sand. ¡°They¡¯re almost on top of us!¡± he heard one crewman cry.

    More shots joined the chorus up ahead. Jim caught a flash of light against metal. It was Henry. He was lying prone above the mouth to the cavern, taking careful shots at the oncoming storm of bodies. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Jim, hurry!¡± Henry shouted over the wind and chants. ¡°The boys have set explosives and that Fredrickson ass-¡± He fired another round. Another scream announced he¡¯d hit his mark. ¡°Asshole would just as soon blow you and I sky high than risk his own pasty skin.¡±

    Jim pushed against the cart with waning strength. It bounced and bobbed a meter from the burning sands leaving soft indentations. Finally, they reached the entrance. Jim had forgotten that the cave turned sharply right near the opening. They were running at full sprint toward a slanted wall and would -

    UNGH!

    Jim and Kalandra both smashed into the cave wall just as the darkness surrounded them. Jim spotted a bright spark as the metal clad cart ricocheted off the stone wall and spun out of control into the unseen depths.

    It took him a moment to clear the cobwebs from his head. His eyes hadn¡¯t had enough time to adjust to the darkness, but he could see Kalandra on the ground, doubled over and holding her left side. A pang of guilt stabbed at him. It was likely that he¡¯d injured her when he collided with her and the cavern wall.

    Two more gunshots echoed off the walls at the entrance. Jim turned to see Henry silhouetted against the light of midmorning. What he saw beyond was the thing of nightmares. The hordes of cannibals had closed the distance. A sea of bone armor clad bodies, hundreds of them, were converging just outside. Skimmers and their masts became tangled as riders simply jumped from their floating platforms haphazardly and rushed toward the entrance.

    Henry had unslung a second rifle and was firing wildly toward the mass of hungry men. The crewmen who had followed them in had fared better than Jim and Kalandra. One leaned down and grabbed her gingerly under her back and legs and quickly ran off into the darkness. The other knelt and began adding to Henry¡¯s fire with his own breech rifle.

    With nowhere to go, the sound of their weapons echoed loudly off the wall which made the ringing in Jim¡¯s ears worse. He stood as quickly as his shaking legs would allow and unslung his own rifle.

    ¡°No playing hero, Henry. Both of you, let¡¯s go!¡± he shouted at his clockwork friend and the crewman.

    Henry continued to fire but began rolling backwards. ¡°Hop on!¡± he commanded. Jim would have questioned him if there was time. Instead, he leapt onto his friend¡¯s back. Planting his feet on the metal frame supporting Henry¡¯s movement ball. With his free hand, he grasped the crewman¡¯s forearm and pulled him up.

    Just then, the first cannibal breached the entrance. There was fury in his eyes as he charged toward them, spear held high. His mouth opened to reveal sharpened teeth as he screamed at them and charged.

    A shot from Jim¡¯s breech rifle collapsed the creatures chest behind a red mist. He fell lifeless in the sand. More bodies poured in. ¡°Hang on!¡± Henry shouted. Suddenly, they jolted backwards. The sand and rock crunched beneath Henry¡¯s movement ball as they increased speed rapidly. Jim, Henry, and the crewman continued to fire into the bodies that were now spilling through the entrance.

    Then, they were in darkness. They¡¯d rounded the first corner and were now descending into the abyss, deeper into the cavern. ¡°Now Fredrickson!¡± Henry shouted. It took a second for Jim to remember. Still rolling into the darkness, Henry added, ¡°you two might want to cover your-¡±

    BOOM

    The dust filled air pulsated and the floor bounced up and down. The group was tossed backwards, helpless against the torrent or sound and soil. Jim lost his grip on Henry¡¯s shoulder and he landed flat on his back against the floor of the cavern. He saw flashes of light as his head struck the hard surface.

    Stars swam across his vision. Through them, he saw Henry¡¯s metallic hands reach down under his armpits. The clockwork man lifted him effortlessly and slung Jim over his shoulders. ¡°We¡¯re not out of it yet,¡± he heard him say, though it sounded as if he were speaking through a pillow¡­ in another room.

    Jim shook his head and tried to will away the throbbing in his skull. ¡°I¡­ uhh what?¡± came his feeble reply.

    Ahead, he spotted Fredrickson, Captain Michie, and the rest of the crew including Kalandra who was still doubled over, clutching at what was probably a broken rib. Behind them, a pair of torches glowed, reflecting off a metallic surface that seemed to cut directly across the cavern.

    Fredrickson stepped forward. Even in the orange glow of torchlight, he looked pale and sickly as ever. ¡°He said, we¡¯re not out of it, and he¡¯s right¡± the ambassador replied angrily. ¡°There¡¯s an army of cannibals out there. Once they¡¯ve finished feasting on their fallen comrades, they¡¯re going to dig their way in here and feast on us. We¡¯ve pretty much given them their dinner on a platter by trapping ourselves in this place.¡±

    Jim had an overwhelming desire to knock Fredrickson¡¯s head off his shoulders. An impulse he feared he might act on if he wasn¡¯t still trying to maintain his balance. Already, Jim¡¯s exceptional healing abilities were kicking in. The various gashes across his legs and chest from falling had stopped bleeding in only a few seconds.

    I wonder how many days or weeks I¡¯ll lose this time, he thought as he remembered his conversation with Malachi.

    ***

    In the early morning hours, while everyone was still sleeping, Malachi had brought Jim to the cave. He¡¯d led him down the passageway to the large metallic wall. ¡°What is it?¡± Jim had asked him.

    ¡°It¡¯s your escape from this place,¡± Malachi replied. ¡°I suggest you wake your comrades and start offloading everything you can from your submersible before trouble arrives. You will need the contents of your cargo bay soon enough.¡±

    ¡°How do we get through this wall? It looks like solid steel,¡± Jim had asked.

    ¡°Look to the Protectorate Ambassador. He knows a great deal about this technology,¡± came Malachi¡¯s reply.

    As he often did, Malachi disappeared, leaving Jim questioning his own sanity. He¡¯d spoken with Malachi enough times though to heed the man¡¯s word.

    ***

    ¡°Hey hotshot, are you listening to me?¡±

    Finally, the ringing in Jim¡¯s ears stopped. The sound of torches steadily burning echoed off the cavern wall like a far away wind. In the distance, he could hear the shouts of cannibal voices and the scraping of tools on rock. The urgency of their situation snapped him back to attention.

    Henry, who had been holding Jim up, finally released his grip. Jim steadied himself for a moment. When he was confident that he wouldn¡¯t fall over, he made his way over to the steel wall and ran his hands across the cool surface. Every half meter, a small rivet would disturb the otherwise smooth design. He probed the wall further, discovering more rivets but otherwise nothing special.

    ¡°You did say, this was the way out, right? I¡¯m not seeing a door, oh wise sage.¡±

    The ambassador¡¯s tone cut through Jim¡¯s concentration. Jim curled his lip and he turned a sharp about face. Grabbing the unpleasant man by his collar, he promptly slammed him into the steel wall.

    ¡°You know, ambassador,¡± Jim spoke through gritted teeth, ¡°It takes a lot to piss me off to the point of physical violence and well, you¡¯ve done it. There¡¯s only one other person I know who can push my buttons like you do and, she¡¯s much prettier than you.¡±

    The ambassador tried to protest, but Jim lifted him off the ground just enough to turn the man¡¯s attention to taking in labored lungfulls of air.

    He added, ¡°I have no doubt, every man and woman in this cave would care very little if I were to beat you to within an inch of your life.¡±

    Henry interrupted, ¡°I¡¯d say, we would all be a tad jealous if we didn¡¯t each get to partake in such an activity.¡± Some of the crewmen chuckled darkly and nodded. Captain Michie tried his best to hide a snicker.

    Jim continued, ¡°However, I believe in second chances. So,¡± he slowly loosened his grip on Fredrickson¡¯s collar and let the man slide down until he was standing with his own wobbly legs. ¡°I am going to ask you nicely, just this once, will you assist me in finding a way through this wall?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a wall, it¡¯s a bulkhead,¡± the ambassador replied shakily.

    ¡°That¡¯s it, he¡¯s mine,¡± Henry commented while punching his metallic fist into his open palm with a clang.

    ¡°No no, wait!¡± Fredrickson protested, stumbling backwards as he did so. ¡°I¡¯m saying, this is a ship, not a structure. L¡­ look at the rivets! See?¡±

    Henry halted his advance and turned back toward the wall. He ran his hands across the surface, feeling out the evenly spaced rivets. His metal hands on the steel bulkhead pierced the air with a screeching sound. Everyone cringed.

    ¡°I dare say, the man is right,¡± Henry exclaimed. ¡°What¡¯s more, look, over here near the cave¡¯s edge.¡±

    Captain Michie grabbed a torch and accompanied Henry to a spot where the wall and metal met. Jim and the still shaking Fredrickson followed behind. At the very edge of the metal, just under a caked layer of sandstone, Jim spotted it. A small door, rectangular and no longer than his forearm.

    It had been fused by centuries of sand buildup but, there was no mistaking what it was. ¡°There¡¯s some kind of panel,¡± Jim noted. He trotted over to the stack of provision crates that were piled neatly against the opposite cave wall. After searching for a moment, he found a steel crowbar that had been brought with the cargo. It was leaning against the damaged pushstone cart.

    ¡°Ahh very good, that should do nicely,¡± Henry exclaimed. Taking the crowbar from Jim, he quickly chipped away the buildup around the panel. Everyone covered their faces as a cloud of dust and dirt slowly billowed across the floor of the large cavern. The clockwork man moved impossibly fast as he carved a space around the panel.

    In seconds, he¡¯d cleared a meter wide opening. Finally, he gently chiseled out the thin layer of sandstone that had fused the panel closed. He bent the rectangular strip of metal sideways with a loud CREAK.

    Fredrickson whistled and shook his head. ¡°Unbelievable,¡± he muttered in astonishment. ¡°I never thought we would find one so well preserved.¡±

    ¡°One what?¡± Captain Michie asked, tilting his torch closer to the panel for a better glimpse.

    Despite nearly being beaten half to death by an angry mob moments before, Fredrickson¡¯s countenance was jubilant. Laughing, he turned to the captain and replied, ¡°This is a Burrower. We aren¡¯t sure what the ancients called them, but it¡¯s the name archaeologists in the Protectorate have assigned it.¡±

    Jim and the others stared at the ambassador. He sighed and continued, ¡°We have very little information about the time before The Fall but, some of our archeological digs have turned up machines such as this. Never so well preserved though. From piecing together the few fragments we¡¯ve gathered, we determined that these machines ferried our ancestors under the sand, much in the way my submersible moves through the water.¡±

    Henry held up a hand to interrupt, ¡°you know, I was just getting used to the idea of a vessel that moves beneath the water. Now, you¡¯re telling me this thing moves under the¡­ ground?¡±

    Fredrickson shook his head and replied, ¡°it used to move under the ground. This thing is over ten thousand years old. It¡¯s not moving anywhere.¡±

    The sound of falling rocks and a guttural shout echoed from the far end of the cave.

    ¡°Sounds like our friends outside are quite hungry,¡± Henry joked. ¡°Perhaps, we could speed this up?¡±

    Fredrickson grabbed the torch from the captain and squinted as looked over the control board. Most of the buttons on the panel looked as if they had been fused by exposure to extreme temperature or perhaps just time. Without taking his eyes off the panel, he motioned toward the group. ¡°You, clockwork man¡­ err, Henry. Could you remove this panel for me? Quickly.¡± He asked. The shouts were growing louder and a soft light began to shine from around the corner of the cavern.

    Henry wedged the crowbar between the panel and the backplate. ¡°First of all, thank you for calling me by my name. Are you sure about this though? Won¡¯t we break it?¡± he asked.

    Fredrickson nodded, ¡°yes yes, that¡¯s the point. This panel is worthless. I think there¡¯s a release lever behind it though. If I remember my archeology days correctly, that is.¡±

    ¡°How long has it been since you were an archaeologist?¡± Henry asked worriedly.

    ¡°About two hundred years,¡± Fredrickson replied.

    Henry¡¯s glow darkened a few shades, ¡°two hundred y-¡± a loud crash of boulders echoed down the cave and light spilled around the corner. Long shadows accompanied the sounds of footsteps and shouts.

    As the first cannibal rounded the corner, a crewman opened fire. Jim opened the breech of his own rifle and began to reload it. As he did so, he shouted over the sounds of approaching battle, ¡°Just do what the man says. We don¡¯t have much time.¡±

    Henry leaned against the crowbar with all his weight. It was more than was needed though as the panel, weakened by millenia of wear, shot off and ricocheted on the cave wall before landing with a thud.

    ¡°Now,¡± Fredrickson instructed, ¡°reach into the hole and feel for a lever. Once you find it, pull downward until you hear a click. I think that should release a pneumatic seal and open the hatch¡­ assuming it will open at all.¡±

    ¡°Very reassuring, ambassador,¡± Henry replied sarcastically. As he reached his hand beneath the bundle of wires in the open hole and started to feel around for a handle, he commented, ¡°you should know, clockwork men don¡¯t have nerves, so I can¡¯t exactly feel anything. I won¡¯t even know if I¡¯m gripping this lever until-¡±

    Click

    ¡°Ahh, seems I found it.¡±

    Suddenly, the cavern vibrated. A large squealing sound drowned the gunfire for a moment. Dust and rock fell from the areas covering the metal door as it fought against the design of nature and crushed the sandstone that had glued it into place for thousands of years. Slowly, it began to slide upwards.

    Captain Michie motioned toward Jim and the crewmen, ¡°You three, start loading those crates into the ship or whatever the hell that thing is. Your clockwork friend can fire faster than ten men anyhow.¡± As if to drive the captain¡¯s point home, Henry, free of his obligations at the panel, rolled to join the firing line with a rifle in each hand.

    In one fluid motion, he fired both rifles, opened their breeches, loaded a new round, and spun them back to level to fire again. Jim counted no more than two seconds between each shot.

    ¡°Move it Jim!¡± Henry shouted impatiently. ¡°I¡¯m a quick shot but not a miracle worker. There¡¯s a lot of pissed off cannies coming this way.¡±

    Jim and the others started to frantically drag the crates, one at a time, into the darkened interior of the burrower. Whatever it was, it had metallic deck plating. The torches did not afford enough light for them to see more than a few meters within but Jim could tell by the echo of gunfire against unseen walls, it was huge.

    Fredrickson, in an unusual bout of bravery, bent over to pick up the now unconscious form of Kalandra and quickly trotted into the vessel. Jim and the others continued dragging the crates one by one, quickly as they could until only a few remained. The cannibals were pouring into the cave in a flood of bloody, sweaty flesh and menacing weapons.

    Fallen warriors were quickly dragged behind the lines, presumably to be eaten later, while others charged forward. The gap between man, machine, and monster was closing fast. As Jim assisted one of the crewman with the last crate, a spear whistled by his head. It skipped across the metallic floor of the burrower with a flash of sparks and disappeared into the darkness.

    At that moment, another loud squeal of metal on metal cut through the air. Jim looked up to see the massive steel door slowly descending. Jim thrust the last crate in with a free foot. It bounced across the floor and broke open, spilling dried meat and other precious food supplies across the floor.

    He cursed and turned. As he leveled his weapons against the side of the hatchway frame, he shouted, ¡°Henry, Captain, that¡¯s the last of it. Come on!¡±

    Henry rolled slowly backwards, continually firing as he did so. Captain Michie turned and started toward the entrance. As he took his first step, his eyes went wide and he froze in place.

    Just beneath his sternum, a black crystal tipped spearhead emerged. Blood dripped from its jagged point as the captain fell to his knees. Henry had been so occupied with firing and reloading, he nearly ran backwards into the closing hatch. As he ducked under the lowering doorway, he spotted the dying captain.

    Before Henry could rush back to his aid, Fredrickson grabbed his arm and pulled him back. ¡°No!¡± he shouted, ¡°You¡¯ll never make it back in time.¡±

    Henry¡¯s tone was desperate, ¡°Let go of me, you pasty faced selfish ass!¡±

    The man¡¯s strength was no match for Henry, but by the time he shook Fredrickson free, the door was too low. The last thing Henry and Jim saw was the horrified look on the captain¡¯s face as the cannibals reached him and promptly dragged his dying body into the mass of hungry flesh.

    The door sealed with a loud clang. Outside, they could still hear the muffled shouts of cannibals and the pinging sound of crude weapons against steel. Jim silently prayed to whatever gods might be listening that captain Michie had died before they began to eat him.

 Chapter 9: Ghosts

    Now viewing Prisoner 342: Charges are treason, murder, and assault.

    ¡°Whoa,¡± Sasha protested, ¡°How about we find someone with a brighter personality to talk to.¡±

    Please re-state the request.

    Sasha sighed. He¡¯d been talking with this machine for hours. It had been a one sided conversation. Finally, he¡¯d said the right command, by chance. That was over an hour ago. Since then, the machine had been reading back prisoners and their various offences.

    ¡°Show me your prisoner with the least number of offenses.¡±

    Please re-state the request.

    ¡°Gods, this thing is stupid,¡± he whispered, ¡°Why would anyone design a machine that takes ten times longer to do what a human can do?¡±

    Please re-state the request.

    An idea spawned and Sasha tried again, ¡°List all prisoners and offences.¡±

    A positive sounding tone announced that he¡¯d finally said something right. Suddenly, his vision was filled with an enormous list of text in a muted green. Though the image was in his mind, he squinted his eyes instinctively to read the tiny letters.

    As he did, suddenly the words enlarged as if he were stepping closer. He had to hold the console with his free hand to keep from losing his balance. Using the same logic, he leaned back slightly. The text zoomed out, and slowly the list retreated to a comfortable distance.

    As requested, the data was arrayed by prisoner name and offense. He slowly crept down the list. Each name was followed by a number of frightening crimes. It seemed this prison, whatever it was, housed the worst society had to offer.

    His eyes scrolled the list faster and faster. Instead of reading offenses, he would just look for lines with the least amount of text and stop to read. So far, murder or rape were his brightest options.

    He kept scrolling. Suddenly, the frame around the text changed to a sky blue. Sasha stopped. The offense boxes beside the blue names were empty.

    ¡°Hey uhh, machine, what does the blue box mean?¡± he asked.

    Please re-state the request.

    Sasha grit his teeth and tried again. He read off the name of the first prisoner in blue, ¡°What is the offense of¡­ Stephan Fischer?¡±

    The same positive tone sounded, followed by the computer¡¯s voice, Stephan Fischer - Prisoner of War.

    ¡°Oh? But, what was his crime?¡± Sasha asked.

    Please re-state the request.

    Sasha growled, ¡°The hell with it. I would like to meet Stephan Fischer.¡±

    Stephan Fischer¡¯s reprogramming is 83% complete. Are you sure you wish to release the prisoner?

    ¡°Yes yes! Just do it!¡±

    A high pitch whine began from somewhere in the room. He quickly withdrew his hand from the console. The artificial vision faded and the world took form around him. As before, the room was a mix of soft white light and blue glow from the transparent cabinets of blue ether cubes.

    Suddenly, he saw movement in one of the cabinets. He instinctively drew his scimitar. From somewhere above the enclosed space, a grey mechanical claw quickly descended. It grasped the topmost ether cube with a clank.

    The whine increased in pitch and volume for a moment while the claw hung motionless, still grasping the cube. Then, there was silence. For a moment, nothing happened. Sasha began to move toward the cabinet. Just then, the cube started to hum.

    He doubted he would have heard it at all if his surroundings weren¡¯t so quiet. Then, a voice echoed through the room from somewhere above, personality implant complete. Proceeding to corporeal adaptation.

    ¡°Corp what now?¡± Sasha asked the voice. It either didn¡¯t hear him or was ignoring him.

    Almost too fast for Sasha to see, the claw withdrew into the top of the cabinet, taking the ether cube with it. There was a sound of whining gears followed by a very loud metallic clang.

    Again there was silence for a moment. This time, Sasha waited. Suddenly, there was a hiss of escaping air to his right. He turned to see a set of large doors seem to part from what was once a smooth blank wall. As they slowly opened, they revealed a machine man. He stood on a large metal ball.

    Sasha recognized it. ¡°A clockwork man!¡± he exclaimed. The machine rolled forward slowly until it had exited the chamber. From within its body, a familiar blue hue shone outward. It turned to Sasha and stood at attention.

    Then, it spoke, ¡°Soldier 721, awaiting your orders, sir.¡±

    ***

    ¡°So what now?¡±

    Jim stared at the gray metal door that was separating them from the cannibal horde. Outside, the shouts and curses continued. Small vibrations rumbled across his feet as the creatures began hurling rocks at the hull. Jim knew they possessed no technology that could break through the thick steel plating, but he was still on edge.

    ¡°Uhh, sir?¡± the voice repeated.

    Jim suddenly realized he was the target of the crewman¡¯s question. He sighed and turned away from the door. The two remaining crewman, Fredrickson, and Henry stood in a semicircle around him looking lost. Kalandra had been set carefully against a nearby bulkhead and had fallen into a troubled sleep.

    ¡°I¡­¡± Jim stumbled over the right words, ¡°I¡¯m not sure why you think I¡¯m in charge.¡±

    Henry replied, ¡°Seems you¡¯re the de facto captain, Jim since, you know¡­ our last one was eaten¡±

    Jim scowled at Henry. ¡°Yeah sorry,¡± Henry spoke shyly, ¡°I tend to make jokes when the situation is dire. That one was in poor taste.¡± His shade darkened.

    Jim looked at the questioning faces staring back at him. He would have to come up with something. ¡°Well, this is a ship. I¡¯m assuming it has an engine room. Maybe¡­ I don¡¯t know. I guess we should find that?¡± he replied.

    Fredrickson crossed his arms, ¡°Seems we¡¯ve been exceedingly lucky in finding this artifact.¡± He raised a suspicious eyebrow and added, ¡°How exactly did you say you found it?¡±

    Jim felt a sweat gathering on his back. Malachi had given him specific instructions not to reveal his existence. Not that I would want to anyways. There¡¯s still a chance I¡¯m crazy and Malachi is just a construct of a very sick mind. He straightened up and replied as sternly as he could feign, ¡°I told you, ambassador. I came across it by chance while I was out for a walk last night.¡±

    The ambassador shook his head, ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain why you insisted we risk everything. By evacuating the goods from the submersible and bringing them here, we left behind our one working turret and the relative protection of the ship¡¯s hull. How did you know this was more than just a slab of metal in a cave wall?¡±

    Alia had accused him on more than one occasion of being a terrible liar. Worse, he didn¡¯t like the added attention Fredrickson¡¯s questions were calling upon him. He grasped at excuses and picked one. ¡°I¡¯m an awakened of earth, Fredrickson. We can feel the soil around us if we reach out. I reached out and felt a large gap. I assumed it was either a ship or at the very least, some abandoned structure. That submersible would have been a death trap. At least here, were are safe.¡±

    Fredrickson stared silently for a moment, adding to Jim¡¯s anxiety. Finally, he relaxed and replied, ¡°Well then, we are in your debt.¡± Jim stifled a loud sigh of relief. The ambassador continued, ¡°I agree with Captain Jim. Let¡¯s find the engine room.¡± Henry chuckled at the title.

    ¡°Ok,¡± Jim ordered shakily as he handed them a torch, ¡°Crewman Hath and Vale, you two pair up and start looking.¡± He handed the next one to Fredrickson, ¡°and you, see if you can find some sort of button or lever and maybe some gaslights we can light.¡±

    The ambassador smiled and replied, ¡°Sorry¡­ captain but, these vessels came from an era beyond the use of gaslight.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, and don¡¯t call me captain,¡± Jim replied annoyed.

    Fredrickson swept the room with his arm, ¡°These things used some kind of ancient power mechanism. Similar to the power of ether cubes. Far more advanced than modern day alternatives.¡± He could see the annoyed stares from around him and added, ¡°Look. This ship is the very embodiment of ancient tech. Protectorate science is advanced, but we haven¡¯t come close to what our progenitors accomplished. The truth is, there is so very little evidence of the time before the Fall, we have extremely limited info. I¡¯m no expert. I just know a few more things about them than you all do. I¡¯m not lording it over you.¡±

    ¡°Ok fine,¡± Jim relented, ¡°We still need to find the engine though.¡± He turned to his clockwork friend, ¡°Henry, you stick with Kalandra. I don¡¯t think those cannibals will ever break through the hull, but if they do I want you here waiting for them.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Before Henry could protest, Jim turned to the ambassador, ¡°And you, Fredrickson,¡± he handed him a second torch,¡± help Hath and Vale find that engine room. I¡¯ll take the last torch and head the opposite direction. There¡¯s a better chance of finding it if we split up.¡±

    He quickly grabbed his torch and started walking away from the group toward the nearest hatchway. Henry called back, ¡°Are you sure you want to go off by yourself?¡±

    Five minutes of leadership had already made him weary. Jim shouted back, more sure than he had been about anything that day, ¡°By myself, yes. Absolutely.¡±

    ***

    It had been at least an hour. Jim¡¯s torch was a glowing ember. Small blue flames occasionally flickered and crawled across its surface and then promptly disappeared. He had more oil and rags in his travel bag, but his eyes had adjusted well to the darkness. He found he only needed a little light to find his way and opted to conserve precious torch fuel as much as possible.

    Ahead, another hatch, just like the other dozen he¡¯d come across, stuck out against the endless grey walls. Also like the others, it had a large wheel connected to metal bars meant to hold it into place. Whoever was last on this ship locked every damn door in the place, he mused with a mix of frustration and curiosity.

    As he approached the door, he thought he saw something unusual about the coloring. Though most of the paint on the ship had cracked and fallen away, there were still bits of it spread around in patches. On this door though, it had been peeled in odd lines across the surface. Also, the hatch appeared to be closed but not latched.

    He exhaled slowly as he realized, he would need more light. Jim knelt down and unslung the travel bag from his back. From it, he withdrew an oiled rag. It¡¯s scent was pungent with the sharp odor of the flammable concoction it had been dipped in. Careful not to burn his hand, he quickly wrapped the torch with the strip of fabric.

    Instantly, the smouldering wood flamed back to life. Jim held his hand up to the light as his eyes slowly re-adjusted. Finally, blinking through the tears, he drew the light toward the door.

    What he had seen was not paint. In fact, there wasn¡¯t a fleck to be found on the door. Instead, hundreds of thin lines textured its surface. Jim recognized the pattern. Russing his hand over one of the deeper cuts he thought, these are scratch marks.

    As he continued to probe the metal, he found any number of dents, scratches, gashes and other attempts at forced entry. Yet, the door was clearly unlocked. Jim¡¯s heart quickened. He had to remind himself that the ship had been abandoned for thousands of years. Whatever had taken place had happened before recorded history.

    Re-slinging his bag, he grabbed the hatch handle and pulled. The door shrieked as metal fought against metal. Thousands of years of dust buildup fell away in a choking cloud as the door swung slowly open. Jim coughed and covered his face with his arm as he stepped inside.

    The dust fell behind him and gave way to his orange torchlight. It filled the room, illuminating its mysteries. Immediately, he knew, this place was different from the others. Where all of the areas he had explored so far had been vast but otherwise barren, this one was smaller and furnished. He spotted a collapsed bed or perhaps couch to his right. Springs lay in a pile of dust and fabric. The chamber smelled of stale air.

    Jim crept cautiously into the small space, careful to step lightly for fear of waking imagined ghosts. As he moved slowly across the floor, the light of his torch gave shape to more of his surroundings. Ahead of him on the floor, more fabric lay in a bundled mass. To his left, an ancient wood desk had crumbled into a heap. Its lacquer flat top had long ago degraded into a dust covered slab.

    He made his way to the pile of fabric first. He knelt down to grab one of the strips, hoping to find fuel for his torch. It was stiff in his hands as he palmed it. More like stale bread than bendable fabric. Jim pressed a piece of it between his thumb and index finger. The material crumbled like a half dried cake of sand and fell from his grip.

    Had Fredrickson witnessed his blatant disregard for historical artifacts, he no doubt would have panicked at seeing such a thing. Jim chuckled at the thought and continued fingering through the material.

    The years had long ago faded any color from the garment but, he did spot something; something white. Jim brushed more fabric aside. Much of it crumbled against even the gentlest of his efforts. Finally, he blew as hard as he could.

    A large cloud of dust slowly cleared. Beneath it, the form took shape. ¡°A skeleton!¡± he exclaimed in a loud whisper. His voice echoed off the bare walls and into the room he had come from. Jim brought the torch closer to examine the remains.

    The skeleton was incomplete. Pieces of it lay spread out under the garments in a very inhuman shape. It was as if the person had fallen or been crushed. Maybe they crashed and the body was mangled, he wondered. Then, he saw something that turned his blood cold.

    The bones had marks on them. Teeth marks. Nearly every bone did in fact. Some horrible creature had been the end of this venerable soul. Jim pieced what he had seen together. Then it dawned on him. Now the marks on the door made sense. This person had met their end when a creature or perhaps creatures had broken through the door and devoured them. Savagely from the looks of the many lines bitten into the bone.

    Jim stood and walked to the table, eager to leave the once living relic. This time, he was not careful. He had no reservations about damaging the inanimate object and bullishly rummaged through the wood pile in search of torch sized pieces to bring back to the group.

    Soon, he¡¯d gathered a pile of similarly sized wood pieces. What remained of the desk was little more than kindling. Jim kicked through the pile as he searched for pieces large enough to turn into firewood. Suddenly, his toe struck something hard. It screeched as it skipped along the metal deck plate.

    Jim walked over and picked the small item up. It was a metallic box no bigger than his hand with a tiny lock the size of his pinky. Why would someone bother to install such a tiny lock on a box? he wondered, you could break it as easily as -

    Suddenly, there was a strange buzzing followed by a low hum that seemed to vibrate through the deck plating. Overhead, a faint light slowly came to life. It was milky white and seemed to pour in from the ceiling itself.

    The crew and Fredrickson it seemed had successfully activated the ship¡¯s ancient power core.

    ***

    ¡°Well done captain!¡± Henry exclaimed as Jim stepped through the hatchway onto the main bridge. ¡°You got this old pile of slag running again.¡±

    Jim shook his head, ¡°not me, and I told you, don¡¯t call me captain.¡±

    A few hours without Fredrickson to drag him down had put Henry back into high spirits. He laughed and replied, ¡°Well damn, Jim. It¡¯s either you as captain or that walking gamal¡¯s ass, Fredrickson.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t your mother ever teach you it¡¯s rude to talk about someone behind their back?¡± came Fredrickson¡¯s voice from the far end of the room. The pale man stepped onto the bridge from one of the hatchways followed by crewmen Hath and Vale. The crewmen looked resigned while the ambassador was almost beaming.

    Henry turned and replied, ¡°Oh I¡¯ll happily repeat my observations to your face.¡±

    Fredrickson was unphased and waved Henry¡¯s insult away, ¡°Perhaps it would brighten your day to know that I found the engine core. I¡¯m also happy to report, we have an ample supply of fuel.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Jim answered.

    Fredrickson smiled, ¡°You know, I have to admit. That was a pretty clever bit of intuition transferring the entirety of the sumbersible¡¯s cargo bay over here. Looks like we¡¯ll have all the provisions we need to escape this place.¡±

    Henry scoffed, ¡°This is the part where we ask you to elaborate and then you go into a long and boring story about how you are so smart because you know something we don¡¯t and blah blah blah. How about we cut to the chase and you tell us how to get out of here.¡±

    The ambassador shrugged, ¡°quite simply, this ship runs on black crystal.¡±

    Henry brightened, ¡°As in, the stuff in half the cargo crates, black crystal? That stuff?¡± He pointed and the hastily laid pile of wooden crates. Next to them, Kalandra was fast asleep; pale white from loss of blood but still breathing steadily.

    Fredrickson nodded, ¡°I¡¯ll save you the technicals¡­ since I know you don¡¯t care anyhow, but black crystal is the catalyst that activates the core that powers this ship. No steam power here boys. Tonight, we ride in the chariot of the ancients.¡± He was beaming.

    The spirit in the room improved. Outside, they could still hear the occasional curse and shouts. Now though, the fear of being trapped between a dead machine and a hungry cannibal hunting party was fading. Henry turned to Jim and joked, ¡°well, the ambassador earned his keep today. What about you?¡±

    Jim smiled. There were few things that could put him in high spirits. Aside from his memorable and exhausting nights with Alia, Henry¡¯s unshakable sunny disposition could be counted among them, albeit in a distant second. ¡°I did find something you might find of interest, ambassador,¡± he said.

    ¡°Really? Do tell,¡± Fredrickson replied.

    Jim unslung his travel bag and opened the leather flap. From within, he pulled out the strange metal box. ¡°I found this in an old wooden desk in what I think may have been the captain¡¯s office or quarters. I also found a pile of old bones. I¡¯m pretty sure the person was killed in some sort of animal attack.¡±

    Fredrickson¡¯s eyes went wide, ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t believe it! You found remains? What¡¯s more, an actual intact artifact from before the fall!¡±

    Jim nodded, ¡°I guess they were pretty well preserved. This place is buried far down.¡± He could see the look of anticipation on the ambassador¡¯s face. ¡°You Protectorate types practically worship old tech don¡¯t you?¡±

    Fredrickson eyes remained fixed on the box as he replied, ¡°History is what makes us who we are, son. What you and everyone else seem to have forgotten is that the ancients were far greater men and women than us. Our achievements pale in comparison to theirs. Every piece of that time should be treated with tremendous respect and careful attention¡±

    The ambassador reached out and carefully stroked the small lock, ¡°I wonder what secrets this was meant to hold. The lock is so tiny. Perhaps a jewelry box? Maybe for keepsakes or other small items.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s find out,¡± Henry said bluntly. Before Jim or the ambassador could protest, he gripped the small lock with two fingers and crushed the brittle metal. It fell to the floor with a clank.

    ¡°Are you insane!?¡± Fredrickson shouted, swatting Henry¡¯s hand away He howled as his hand made contact with the clockwork man¡¯s immovable appendage. He continued, ¡°This thing is nearly ten thousand years old. You just damaged an irreplaceable piece of history. I swear, you people have no respect for -¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± Jim interrupted, ¡°look at this.¡± He had opened the box and was peering in. Within, a pile of clear thin sheets lay carefully stacked. He reached in and carefully withdrew the top one.

    ¡°No, don¡¯t!¡± Fredricson protested, ¡°You could damage them.¡± New beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead. ¡°I¡­ wait, look. I think¡­ yes. There¡¯s writing on that material.¡± Jim held the sheet up against the artificial ceiling light. Indeed, thin lines had been etched onto it.

    ¡°Please, for the love of all things, let me handle those,¡± the ambassador begged. Jim sighed and placed the sheet back into the box. Fredrickson gently took the box and held it against his chest. Then, he turned and walked to a nearby console that had been placed directly beneath one of the artificial lights. Whether by design or accident, Jim couldn¡¯t surmise.

    ¡°You know, ambassador,¡± Henry noted dryly, ¡°if you showed people the same level of care as you do to artifacts, they might not hate you so much.¡±

    Fredrickson ignored his comment. Carefully, he placed the first sheet on the console. With one hand, he motioned for the group to gather, ¡°Yes, yes. I can see it now. Oh yes, I recognize this writing. It¡¯s one of the languages of the ancients. Hath and Vale made their way over with Henry and Jim close behind.

    ¡°And what does it say?¡± Henry asked as he came to a stop next to the ambassador.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Fredrickson replied with resignation. ¡°We¡¯ve only recovered a handful of artifacts from that time and I only know of two with any reference to this particular written language of those days. Even then, they were so old and worn, we couldn¡¯t decipher it. I do recognize the pictographic composition though.¡±

    Jim leaned over Henry¡¯s broad metal shoulders to catch a glimpse. What he saw both confused and amused him. He began to laugh.

    ¡°Is there something funny?¡± Fredrickson asked, finally looking up from the old page.

    ¡°I can read it,¡± Jim replied.

    Fredrickson furrowed his brows and shook his head, ¡°I highly doubt that. Nobody has read or spoken the ancient languages in millenia.¡±

    Jim shrugged and said, ¡°you¡¯d be surprised how wrong you are.¡± He turned to Henry and asked, ¡°Do you recognize it, Henry? Look closely.¡±

    Henry leaned in toward the paper. Though he could not squint his eyes, his brass eyebrows lowered and his eye apertures closed in slightly, giving the vague impression of concentration. Suddenly, he leaned back and let loose a metallic laugh, ¡°haha! Of course, It¡¯s the -¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s best if we don¡¯t share that information with others just yet,¡± Jim interrupted. Both he and Henry saw it as plain as day. The writing was Ll¡¯tal. Only the crew of the Liberator knew of their existence though. Emat had insisted it be kept that way. For now, until the time is right, he had told them.

    ¡°Do you mind, ambassador?¡± Jim asked. Fredrickson grunted and stepped to the side, allowing Jim to stand in front of the aged clear material. Jim leaned in. The characters were small and hard to read. A stray thought passed through his mind, I wonder if my premature aging is starting to affect my vision. Another image if himself in a rocking chair, wrinkled and wearing thick glasses passed through his mind and gave him a shiver.

    ¡°Well, are you going to keep us all in suspense?¡± Henry asked, pulling Jim from his thoughts.

    Jim took a breath and began to read aloud.

    To whoever finds this letter.

    This will be my last entry. I suppose it¡¯s fitting that I write it by hand. I always had a special love for the navy captain¡¯s of old. Stories like Treasure Island and Mutiny on the Bounty were front and center of my bookshelf in my childhood years.

    With no power, no food, and now no water, it seems I¡¯ll become the buried treasure for some other poor soul to find. Whoever you are, I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t leave you with a more valuable prize. I am writing this on nano film since it is all I have in my desk. At least it will survive longer than paper ever could.

    I want it to be known, regardless of the inhuman creatures my men have become, they served with distinction and dedication. The end of this war was was a foregone conclusion years ago, but they soldiered on and brought honor to their uniforms and their planet.

    It¡¯s been at least a month since the pulse stalled our ship and stranded us beneath the surface. Unfortunately, we were nearly one hundred fathoms down, the limit of our depth ability when it happened. The fuel for the reactor was completely fried in the blast and the emergency power cut out just a few hours later. I guess The General finally got his way. I just pray that our forces were able to get the World Engine up and running beforehand.

    I have very little time, so I must explain the actions of my crew for whoever finds this. Our food stocks ran out weeks ago. Order became less easy to maintain with each passing day. First it was just little incidents of insubordination. The drive to eat outlasted their training to obey and soon the crew mutinied. I was powerless to stop them.

    Their hunger drove them to do something terrible. They turned on our Ma¡¯amal comrades and. Well, they ate them. It was horrific. Their screams still haunt me whenever I close my eyes. Such gentle and kind beings, and they slaughtered them like cattle.

    God, the universe, karma, I¡¯m not sure what, but something punished them for what they did. Their hunger may have been abated for a short time, but the flesh of the Ma¡¯amal did something to them. Somehow, it poisoned their minds and drove them completely mad.

    There was a break in the page, as if the writer had gotten up between words and then resumed at a later time. Around him, the crew was utterly silent, drinking in the words as he continued to read them aloud.

    They are at my door. Banging, snarling, scratching. I¡¯ve barred the way, but they have inhuman strength and a terrible fury. I can¡¯t help but wonder if the Ma¡¯amal¡¯s flesh somehow enhanced them physically. If that¡¯s so, at least they will die down here with me. God help those above us if they get free. It could be the end of civilization.

    Goodbye

    Captain Bianca Moto

    4th Subterranean Naval Atta

    Her words had ended abruptly.

 Chapter 10: Dreams and Desire

    It was a dream. These days, dreams were all that remained of her memories from so long ago. Time was like a slowly snaking river, gradually eroding away at the bedrock of her past until one day, all that remained was a deep dark chasm.

    She knew this particular dream well. It always started with the cries of women. Their frightened shrieks pierced the thick air through the thin wooden walls of the shack. The smell of blood, burning flesh, and sweat permeated the small space.

    She tried to block it out, but the memory could not be altered. She was at its mercy as it played on. On top of her, the massive man was grunting. He was as ugly as he was foul. He stared at her frail body as he violated her. His expression was one of sick pleasure and hatred.

    Without warning, his thick leathery hand knocked her head sideways. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me!¡± he screamed. ¡°Subhuman filth.¡± Stars filled her vision and her eyes burned. She tried to blink the grime away, but she¡¯d run out of tears to give. How many more will come until I die? she wondered.

    Her answer came as his hands suddenly grasped tightly around her small neck. His grunting grew more rapid, but it was quickly fading into a cloud of darkness. Her panicked cries were stopped short by his powerful grip. As the world faded to a point of light, fear and rage took hold of her tattered soul.

    Her last thought was a curse. On the man, on the bandits ransacking her home, on the world. She¡¯d wasted her short life preening for the young men of her village, soaking in their affections but never ending the chase. It was their attentions she loved most. Her death would be her own worst irony.

    Only later would she learn, she would be the first awakened. This moment didn¡¯t just belong to her, it was a new dawn for humanity. It would take years, hundreds of them, but she would eventually find her purpose.

    The first step into the new age was to be a bloody one though. A tremendous feeling of power suddenly coursed through her. Her eyes opened. On top of her was not a man but a dessicated corpse. She would have screamed, but she was outside her body now. A mighty roar shook the ground.

    The sounds of villagers and bandits shouting in horror were suddenly drowned in the torrent. She continued to watch apart from herself. Her arms were outstretched and her eyes were deep pools of black. Time seemed to slow as the house burst into little more than matchwood.

    ***

    The prophetess awoke. Sweat streamed down her face as she took in rapid breaths. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the dream but it had already retreated deep into a place in her mind where she, the only awakened of water, the most powerful telepath in all of Ruin, could not journey willingly.

    ***

    ¡°How is she doing?¡± Jim asked.

    A frown crept across crewman Vale¡¯s face. ¡°Not good,¡± the young man replied. ¡°I only received basic medical training back in league boot, so I can¡¯t say more than that, but her pulse is really weak.¡±

    Kalandra¡¯s body lay atop a cushion of clothes and folded bail wings that Vale and Jim had constructed for her. Her face, normally a deep olive, had gone pale white. Though the bleeding had stopped, her condition was getting worse. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Suddenly, the ship shuttered and Kalandra¡¯s head flopped to one side. Jim swooped down and steadied her. ¡°Can you tell the guys to slow this thing down before we fall apart?¡± he asked angrily. Again, the ship bucked. From somewhere, a metallic groan protested as if in agreement.

    ¡°Sure thing, captain,¡± Vale replied, happy to be relieved of his grim responsibility.

    ¡°I told you, don¡¯t call me -¡± he gave up. Vale had already disappeared down the hallway.

    Jim lifted the lower half of Kalandra¡¯s shirt, careful to retain her dignity. His face twisted into a grimace as he examined her. Deep black and purple bruises had spread across her left side. Her breathing was labored. Her lower ribs seemed to be sunken in unnaturally.

    He recalled Malachi¡¯s words, Each time you heal, days of your life are stolen away forever. He struggled with the choice he would have to make. He tried to convince himself not to do it, but chivalry or pity, he wasn¡¯t sure which, won. He placed his hands on her broken body and prepared himself for what would come next.

    ***

    There was a knock at the door. The prophetess stood and steadied herself. She wasn¡¯t sure if it was the rocking of the enormous airship or her dream, but she was out of sorts. ¡°Come in!¡± she snapped.

    The door crept open. Inside stepped Scieth who also looked anxious. ¡°Something bothering you, son?¡± she asked, annoyed that she cared at all. Damn these dreams, she thought angrily.

    Lord Sceith shooed away two awakened attendants and a clockwork servant, then closed the door. ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± he replied. ¡°I¡¯m just not fond of the southern passage. It hasn¡¯t been used in nearly a century.¡±

    The prophetess grinned and replied, ¡°and as the traders say, a path not tread, is cause for dread.¡± She chortled, ¡°Need I remind you, we are in an airship, surrounded by a small armada?¡±

    ¡°Of course not, your highness. Some old fears are just hard to shake. I won¡¯t let it interfere with my duties,¡± Scieth replied. ¡°I¡¯m here to inform you that we are about one hour out from Complex 4. The fleet will begin its descent shortly.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± the prophetess muttered. Shaking off the last of the unpleasant dream, she ordered, ¡°Deploy two squadrons and set up a search grid. If you find anyone, kill them. I don¡¯t want our recovery effort interrupted.¡±

    A grin crept across Scieth¡¯s face as he replied, ¡°It will be done, my queen.¡±

    ***

    ¡°W-why did you do it?¡± the small voice pulled Jim from his thoughts. His body still tingled as the borrowed wounds healed.

    ¡°What?¡± he asked. His ears were still ringing.

    Kalandra grabbed his shaking hand, ¡°Why did you heal me? Look at you. It nearly killed you. You¡¯re a mess.¡±

    Jim took a breath, trying to center himself. The healing process had already removed the pain, but he was weakened. He felt tired, older. He focused, speaking slowly, ¡°It¡¯s my fault you were injured in the first place. I wasn¡¯t going to let you die for my mistake.¡±

    Kalandra¡¯s face twisted into a pout, ¡°Oh so, its guilt then.¡±

    Jim saw the hole he¡¯d dug but was powerless to avoid falling into it. ¡°No,¡± he began, ¡°that¡¯s not it at all. I¡¯m just saying¡­ I¡± He sighed, ¡°I don¡¯t know what the hell I¡¯m saying.¡±

    Kalandra began to laugh. Jim stared at her blankly. ¡°You¡¯re cute when you¡¯re nervous,¡± she said through giggles. ¡°I was joking, Jim.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll never understand women. Why can¡¯t you all just speak plainly. Why the mind games?¡± Jim asked.

    ¡°Let me put it plainly then,¡± Kalandra replied, ¡°Thank you for saving my life, Jim. Truly, thank you.¡± Jim had finally regained his focus. He noticed that she was moving closer. Her deep brown eyes seemed to conceal a fire behind them.

    He felt himself blushing as he translated the longing expression on her face. Desire. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and said, ¡°I uhh¡­ You¡¯re a valuable member of this crew. I couldn¡¯t just  let you die.¡±

    Kalandra smiled and stared at him. As she did so, she continued to move in. Jim tried to pull away but, his head hit the metal wall. ¡°Umm Kalandra, I -¡± he stuttered.

    ¡°You know,¡± she whispered. Her face was inches away. ¡°You may not be good with words, but your heart is in the right place. You¡¯re a good man, Jim. I¡¯ve known it since you saved me from the prophetess¡¯ control. We shared something in that moment. Something, few ever could.¡±

    Jim¡¯s heart beat quickly. Part of him screamed NO but another part, a very instinctual part urged him on. ¡°Kalandra, I¡¯m married. We can¡¯t -¡±

    She kissed him. Jim was lost in a confused mix of primal instinct and guilted conviction. The two sides fought a war in his heart for a moment. Finally, he pulled away, ashamed. Not because she had kissed him.

    No, he realized. I kissed her back.

 Closing Time!

    Hello readers! I am moving the content of this book back to the main book. Essentiall I will be merging all the books into one superboook. I thought about it and realized that I was dropping possible readers by splitting these all up. Some people aren''t very good at reading the notes haha.

    Anyhow, I will be doing a second pass through the book chapter by chapter before I move it over. That means the chapters back in the main book will be a bit more refined. No new content will be added so don''t feel obligated to re-read </img>If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Thanks all! Once the transfer is complete, I''ll close this book down and resume writing at the old link. Here it is if you aren''t aware. https://www.royalroadl.com/fiction/13608/ruin-series</a>