Rin returned, not just with Path, but Jhor, Linz and Tamor. She wondered at the Minq’s presence until he pulled out his tech and pointed it at the crate. What did he not record?
She handed Path the notebook; the khentauree buzzed and cocked her head, then flipped through the pages so fast Lapis questioned whether she absorbed the contents.
Jhor grabbed another, then raised an eyebrow when he beheld the first page.
“These are Gedaavik’s notes,” Path declared before grabbing another notebook. “It is his handwriting. He liked to write. He hated to type.”
How odd.
“His notes?” Jhor breathed as he scanned the pages. “A lot of this is code . . . we need to ask the shanks where they found this. I spoke more with N035NX. I think the coder who modded him discovered a secret Gedaavik lab I’m not even certain the mine owners knew about. And they must have found something big because they shot up the rest of the markweza’s people to confiscate it.” He tapped the page. “Gedaavik lists variables, one after another, and it looks like he switched them in and out of this block of code. Sanna and I will have to look at these more carefully, to figure out what result he hoped to achieve.” His gaze flicked to the teens, who had moved away to examine more boxes, and back to Lapis. “Rin said the crate was just sitting here?”
“Yeah. Tovi said the shanks were complaining about some scary place with tech, when he was captive here,” she said. “I’m betting that’s where they found this crate. They dragged it here, discovered something they thought Hoyt could sell, and refused to go back for more.”
Jhor grabbed another notebook as Linz scrutinized the enclosure. It was metal, with rounded edges and no obvious handles, making it a nightmare to move. Gedaavik meant for it to remain where it was.
“Do you think they found this in one of those tunnel rooms?” they asked.
“No,” Path said. “Gedaavik did not keep his most important things where others could see because he was afraid the mine owners would stop his research. He modded other khentauree, and they worked in the mines faster, with less breaking, but he hid us until he went to silence. He told us to pretend to be like other khentauree. So we did. The workers made more tunnels and discovered his private labs. The mine owners were angry he kept so much from them, angry that his assistants did not continue his work and did not tell them about the labs. They confiscated his research and looked for more. They tried to figure out which khentauree he specially modded, but the mines had thousands and they never found us. When Taangis left, so did they, and the new owners did not know about the labs or modded khentauree.”
“Do you know how many secret rooms Gedaavik set up?” they asked. She shook her head. “That’s not great news. Hoyt obviously found one of these hidden labs. He wouldn’t know what to do with anything there, but the markweza’s people would. Do you think he peddled some of this info to them?”
“That would explain N035NX’s strange code,” Jhor said. “Hoyt must have sold a notebook to the coder, though why he didn’t ingratiate himself to a royal is odd. Eldekaarsen would have paid his right hand to have this info. Instead it landed in Caardinva’s lap.”
“They didn’t get along, as far as I can tell,” Lapis said. “And Hoyt’s one to hold a long, long grudge. If the markweza was nasty to him, he probably sold it to the competition for profit and a healthy dose of retribution.”
“Hey!” Rin called. “Tovi says he’s smellin’ the sponoil ‘n greest really strong here!”
The terron pointed at a part of the wall beneath a rickety scaffold. Jhor and Path hurried over, while the rest of them trailed. Path studied the wall with brief intensity, then touched a section with chunks missing, likely picked out by a shank.
The rock next to it lowered like a ramp. So, an accidental discovery of a lab by a shank with a pick. Hoyt must have gloated at his luck.
“Stay,” Lapis told the two eager teens, who more than wanted to be down the corridor first.
Path proceeded down the rough tunnel, lighting the way and humming to herself, though she did not sound happy. Tamor gave a shout to the guards, and one ran to get more help while Jhor, then Linz, followed the khentauree. Lapis firmed her shoulders and walked confidently into the opening; anything, to get out of reading the nasty scrawls. Over her shoulder, Tamor’s tech produced a light, and he pointed it at everything, a red button flashing on the top at random intervals.
The short entry led to a mansion-sized room lit by the special light-producing tiles, still active after all the centuries between their placement and now. They remained about the only things left intact.
Broken containers sat in heaps. Old wiring dug out of black casings lay next to tech with unique, natural curves interrupted by odd protrusions and pitted transparent coverings. Broken equipment covered the tables and the floor, coated in glass shards and the splatter of not-quite-dry residue.
Why had Hoyt destroyed so much stuff? He surely knew how important a hidden lab would be to anyone interested in the khentauree and demolishing it would mean far less silver.
Unless the person who bought the info decided to clean house, like they did in the markweza’s lab and Central One.
Another hallway intersected the room, one with the same tiling, though more had fallen from the ceiling and walls. The sense of pristine still filled the place, despite the damage.
The stink of sponoil and other chemicals made Lapis gag. Linz shoved their nose and mouth under the collar of their shirt, shuddering, before hastening inside and grabbing pages covered in the nastiness, saving them from a wet demise. Jhor, seemingly unconcerned and unaffected, breezed to a wide, shallow staircase next to the right side wall, leading down. The railing lay on the floor around the hole in twisted piles of rusted metal. A cyan beam emitted from a round disc at the top tread, but a fallen rail kept it from reaching the other side.
He squatted down, studying the beam.
“The entire stairwell’s trapped,” he said. “But the circuit hasn’t completed because of that.” He pointed at the rail.
“You know, when Dagby mapped Ambercaast, he saw these beam traps,” Lapis said. “I wonder if he found a hidden lab or two.”
“Gedaavik had many,” Path said. “And he would trap them.”
“This is modern, using an older base,” Jhor said, pointing at the disc. “I’m betting the original ran out of power, and someone rejuvenated it. You see, Meergevenis tech during Gedaavik’s time had a dark blue cast to it, because of the chemicals used to trigger the aquatheerdaal. They switched their solution around the time Dentheria invaded Ramira, which produced a cyan hue.”
“So whoever trapped this is Meergeven,” Lapis said. “Who’s Hoyt working for, that has access to this kind of equipment? Eldekaarsen? Caardinva? Gredy?”
“I don’t know,” Jhor said, taking a thin silver something from his deep coat pocket. While Lapis assumed he wore the leather to keep comfortable in the mines’ chill, he carted around a lot of stuff in it, too. “The Dentherion military would use this set-up to protect something they unexpectedly found, so I’m betting a merc placed it, instead of scientists.” He angled the needle-like object and stuck it into the center of the disc. Yellow light raced up and down it and a sizzle erupted; the beam sputtered and disappeared.
“Let me and Lanth go first,” Tamor said. He flipped a small lever on his tech and a thin metal casing slid around the outside and enclosed it. He stuffed it into the pockets of his pants, where it bulged out just above the knee. Drawing back his long, wide shirtsleeve, he retrieved a knife from a hidden sheath.
Lapis triggered her gauntlet, wishing she had both blades, and proceeded the Minq cautiously down the steps.
She half-expected darkness, but the tiles stretched to the lower level four flights down, illuminating everything in a soft white glow. Crates, metal boxes, and long containers made of plastic stacked on one another creating a labyrinth of walls. Spots not liberally covered in dust marked where several once stood, and numerous footprints marred the powder. Oddly, nothing looked broken or looted. The beams must have kept whoever destroyed the upper lab from touching anything down there.
Lapis crept around corner after corner, holding her breath each time and cautiously peeking. She detected no other living soul, through sight or sound. She reached another tunnel, one still lit but missing many tiles. Some had crashed onto the ground and shattered into small, glowing bits, but not enough to account for all the empty spaces.
The footprints led into and out of it, so whoever discovered the room likely transported items that way. Glancing at Tamor, she padded on, her heart pounding so hard her ears and eyes throbbed in unison.
The soft trickle of water over stone filled the end of the hallway, and the air held a heavier wetness than other parts of the mine. A metal door lay just inside the next room, knob and hinges torn from it, though no dents or holes marred the surface. A natural cavern met her gaze, water flowing across it in a knee-deep channel and yellow wooden planks spanning it. Beyond that, the space fell into darkness. A few tiles remained on the walls near the door, but the rest had fallen and cracked or broke on the hard rock. More crates and containers sat in random places, also untouched, and sporting a circle with a test tube rack painted on them. Did that indicate what rested inside?
To the left, a factory-sized, grate-enclosed oven with its dented chimney snaking awkwardly up into the darkness sat amid a cluster of lamps and containers, some open, some not. The odor wafting from it, a mix of burnt flesh, metal, wood, with the acrid scent of sulfur and rotting sponoil, rolled her stomach. The fragrance of fruit oil did not coat the stench, but mixed with it, making it more sickening.
“There’s something odd, to the right,” Tamor whispered. “I’m getting weird signals.”
Hmm. Did his eye mods share Patch’s scanning ability? Both were stark white, obviously fake orbs, and she had no doubt the Minq happily used them to advantage.
“Anything else?”
“No, but my eyes have been pretty useless down here because of the interference. I’m surprised I can still see.”
Dammit. Lapis, despite her mind screaming at her to rescind the bad idea, crept to the right. She set her back against a stack of metal boxes, and peeked around the edge. Nothing. She continued, her boots pressing down into the soggy soil with a squishy sound.
Movement. A hand slapped over her mouth. She screamed into the palm, terror blinding her as another grabbed her blade arm, to keep her from reacting.
She was going to die!
“Lanth! It’s me,” Patch hissed before dragging her behind the metal boxes.
Tamor slammed into the ground next to them, his arm in Dagby’s hand, looking as if his heart would pound out of his chest and flee back to the upper lab without him.
Something moved. A flash of silver, but three times her height. She looked up and up as a khentauree torso leaned far enough over, the wall tile illumination reflected off them. She glimpsed the outline of a body as large as a single-story house lying on its side, and with something odd about the legs.
Tamor stuck his tech out, recording the giant. Was there anything he refused to point the lens at?
A low, ominous buzz-growl rolled past them. She opened her mouth to scream, but a high-pitched shriek issued forth. She grabbed at her throat; that was not her! Patch let her go and leaned around the edge. She peeked with him; Hoyt and his merry band of guttershanks ran through the stream, shouting and screaming and flailing their arms as if that would propel them faster in escape.
Where had they come from? She had not noticed them! Of course, she had not noticed Patch and Dagby either. Failure slammed against the relief that her partner and the ex-chaser came to no harm; they had caught her unaware, and she well could have ended her life, if they had been the enemy.
The shanks followed the trail of footprints into the darkness, away from the giant. The humongous khentauree snatched at them, their hand large enough to engulf them like a doll, but they did not come close to touching the cowards as they pelted faster.
They had the reach, too, so deliberately scared rather than harmed.
Their attention turned to them, and they rose, towering far above them. Patch hissed, apprehensive, and his fear struck her; he never expressed anxiety on a mission. She squeezed his arm, then held up a hand.
“I’m Lanth, and I’m here with Path,” she called.
The head cocked to the side. “Path?” they asked, in the buzz she associated with an average khentauree tone. The frantic shushing of the men amused her.
“And we’re working with Ghost and Sanna and Chiddle.”
More racing steps echoed through the cavern. Orange lights flashed about as the people holding them ran their way, rays striking the torso and blinding all with the bright reflection. Did more scientists flee the fighting? She peeked around the corner; Gredy huffled through the water, mercs stepping on his heels, all confused until the khentauree leaned forward.
They gawked and stared and screamed, all but Gredy. He had run far enough in front of his men, he caught sight of her. With a maniacal grin, he whipped his weapon up.
Patch responded by pointing his crossbow at the man and firing, before he squeezed her against the wall, keeping as much metal between them and the madman as possible.
The previous, ominous buzz-growl did not prepare Lapis for the annihilation of hearing caused by the searing roar. She clapped her hands over her ears and huddled against Patch as it reverberated through the cavern. The mercs shouted, panicked, and more tech beams bounced off the khentauree, striking the rock of the walls and ceiling. Bits of stone flew from the impacts, and Lapis hunched, trying to protect her head with her elbows. Patch covered her, cursing.
The giant snagged a box the size of a workstation vehicle and heaved it at the mercs. Metal cracking rang through the cavern, and the spray of its contents even reached their hiding place. Splashes and fleeing feet made Lapis assume they followed the way Hoyt took, uninterested in facing the monster.
Only Gredy remained. He waddled across from them and raised his weapon.
“Shit!” Patch said, pushing her back and maneuvering into a shooting position.
The khentauree hurled another box, even larger than its brother, at the merc. He shrieked as the container broke in front of him, sending shards and whatever had been inside flying into the air, pelting him. He arched away, covering his head, as Patch nailed his arm with a bolt; it stuck in his body armor, blue lightning racing from the impact spot. Gredy slapped the bolt, hunkered down and scurried away, aware the battle he wanted no longer favored him. Retreat was the smartest option.
He should stay and get smooshed.
Her group remained in the same position as the hissing buzz of the khentauree faded into silence. They remained quiet, expectant alert, but only the trickle of water rose above the noisy fuzz interfering with her hearing. When should they leave the shelter of the boxes? She glanced at Patch, but his wary attention remained on the giant.
“Cuddle Bear!”
. . . Cuddle Bear????
Path pranced to them, joyfully bouncing, as Jhor and Linz followed, staring up, aghast. Minq flooded the cavern behind them, both from the stairs and the darkness beyond the oven that produced Hoyt and Gredy. Patch popped up and pointed.
“Hoyt, his shanks, Gredy and his mercs, went that way. They’re armed with tech and scared!”
One of the Minq pointed their index finger at them, proving she heard him. They quickly integrated and stormed across the boards and disappeared into the blackness, after the long-receded enemy.
“Path,” the giant said, their deep resonance sounding happy.
“Why did you not tell Ghost you had not gone to silence?” she asked, sticking her fists into her sides and leaning forward, the picture of a mom scolding a child.
“I . . . am coded not to.”
“I can help with that,” Jhor piped up. “I’ve deleted nasty code from Sanna, Ghost and Chiddle.”
They focused on the modder. “I do not know you.” Suspicion laced the words.
“He’s Sanna’s,” Path said.
“Sanna’s?” they asked, the distrust replaced by warmth.
“Am I?” Jhor asked, eyeing the khentauree. She did not acknowledge his inquiry. He cleared his throat and looked up at the not-cuddly being. “If you don’t feel comfortable with me, Path or Duxe can help.”
Lapis used the boxes as support to rise, wobbly, her ears still ringing. How did Patch function, after that roar? Dabgy and Tamor were as stunned as she.
“Duxe will come. You were very loud, and he probably heard,” Path said.
Yes. Loud. An understatement, along the lines of ‘the sky is kinda big’.
“I think that roar vibrated something out of alignment in my eyes,” Tamor said, a hand still smashed into his forehead. Lapis gripped his arm as Jhor hurried over and raised a finger.
“What do you see?”
“Ten blurs.”
“Well, let’s see what I can do to fix that.” He looked at Patch. “And you?”
Her partner shrugged. “Everything’s working.”
“Good. I’d still suggest, you let me look and make certain your set-up is functioning properly.” With another concerned glance at an awed Linz and excited Path, he took Tamor’s arm and helped him out of the cavern. Patch stared suspiciously after the modder; Lapis smacked his arm and smiled.
“There’s no reason not to trust him,” she said. He raised an eyebrow at that. “He knows Sils.”
Dagby rolled his neck, then looked at the oven. “Wanted to see that,” he said, jerking his chin at it. “Hoyt’s people knew about it and they seemed pretty fearful, so I don’t think they’re the ones usin’ it.”
“They’re Stone Streets shanks,” Lapis said. “Fear is in their blood.”
“Maybe,” he replied before striding with purpose to it.
Patch followed, and Lapis unsteadily trailed him. Truthfully, she did not want to know what the oven burned. She had enough experience with the Pit to guess, and she did not want to ponder her dread answers.
The open boxes marked in red slashes held an assortment of items, some she deemed research waste, some she thought still-viable tech. Dagby ignored them, focusing on a pile of items next to the oven. Skinning knives, fish scaling blades, random metal rings and tubes for equipment, heavy boots and some fur-lined but stained outerwear. Jewelry sat in heaps on a nearby box; necklaces, rings, chains, pocket watches, accompanied by fish hooks, sinkers, and a few bits.
Dagby bent and snagged something from the front of the pile and waved it about to dislodge gunk.
A badge. The smiling face of a man with short grey hair and heavy wrinkles sat to the side of an information box. Typed beneath the picture was Turig Lovent.
“Cassa was hoping he was still alive,” Dagby murmured.
“Hope’s a dead thing, in Ambercaast,” Patch said.
“The khentauree and terrons don’t think so,” Lapis told him, feeling perverse.
He pursed his lips at her. Dabgy half-laughed, and moved, dislodging the bottom of the pile. It slid down, coating his boots. Growling, he stepped back. Stopped. Then retrieved something from the top.
He straightened and stared at a doll.
The Lells merchants sold similar toys; hay-stuffed socks with twine wrapped around them, denoting a neck, arms, legs. This one had a few lengths of dirty yarn created hair and mouth, and only one button eye remained.
If the Meergevens brought their families, which she had seen no signs of, she much doubted they would have given their children a Lells doll. She wiped the lone tear away from her cheek. That explained the burnt flesh smell.
“I will kill them all,” Dagby said through gritted teeth. Fear squirreled up Lapis’s spine; she witnessed the hunter, not the recovering addict.
“Yeah. And I’ll help,” Patch promised.
Dagby swayed, then eyed the other chaser, expressionless. “Do I need to sign up with the rebels?”
“No, though Faelan will pay for services rendered. I don’t know where this is going to lead.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m goin’ to send these stakes into the Damned Well; time and distance is no issue.” He tossed the doll back to the pile, turned on his heel, and fled into the opening.
She glanced at her partner, then slipped her hand into his free appendage. They looked at Linz, who remained rooted while Path continued throwing incessant and snappy questions at an increasingly uncomfortable Cuddle Bear—though, a part of Lapis delighted in the small, elegant khentauree taking to task a being the size of the Eaves for being thoughtless.
Patch tugged, and they proceeded to the stairs.
