Steadfast: Prison Breaker Book 4, page 6
Now restore my sight! Shih demanded.
Not until you distance those things. Do it now! I pressed on his consciousness to add weight behind my words. Shih groaned in protest, the old admiral conjuring all manner of heinous tortures he desired to inflict on me.
I had enough enemies as it was—he would simply have to take his spot in line.
Send them away! I projected.
I could feel my friends in the flooding chambersphere watching me. Preacher's large hand gripped my shoulder, but just as quickly darted back to plug two bullet holes in the shell.
I felt that same fulsome, oily energy as Admiral Shih projected thoughts in an echoing fashion. The connection he maintained with his skeletons wasn't like the Wit, but rather like the imagination of a truly depraved soul.
Then... I sensed him issue a command.
“What's happening? Leon,” Annie cried, “What are you doing?”
The skeletal warplanes began to recede, fading into the turgid backdrop.
The gelid liquid chilled my legs, my waist. I found my lungs strained to pull oxygen from the air. My heart hammered desperately, and I waved my hand towards Meadowfax.
“Go—go now! Take us down!”
I severed my connection with Shih, releasing the pressure I'd placed on his sight. Eventually, given enough time, he would recover. At least, so I theorized.
Now, we had to reach the nursery below before Shih realized I was no longer a proximal threat.
Meadowfax didn't need a second invitation. We sped back down towards the ocean floor, faster, faster.
“Hold on!” Meadowfax yelled. “I've lost control.” Water sloshed about as I now found myself trapped in an aquarium. I winced against the bitter taste. My eyes glued to the jutting mountain rising from the ocean floor. The vermen miners continued their work, indifferent to the chaos above and around them. I watched the small, child-sized creatures descend towards the tunnels built beneath the scaffolding.
Water now gushed in from dozens of bullet holes. Preacher gamely tried to press his body against as many as he could. It looked as if he were playing an upright version of twister, the way his back jutted against one portion of the sphere, his hands against another, his feet over holes in the floor. Annie was trying to help with shadows. Gildquail just stood there, the water nearly up to the small genie's neck.
“Careful,” Gildquail cautioned softly. “We don't want to arrive with too much racket.” He spoke in calm tones, but his words reminded me of what awaited below. A threat. Something had been hunting genies. And now we were speeding straight towards it.
Behind us I saw the warplanes emerge once again. Shih seemed to realize he was no longer in danger. Forty necromantic warplanes sliced through the ocean, speeding towards our drowning chambersphere.
“Come on! Go! Go!”
“I'm going!” Meadowfax bellowed.
I heard the sound of thumping gunfire beneath the water. Watched the flash of pale light as streams of bullet zipped around us, searching to find their mark.
“Faster!” I cried.
Meadowfax was leaning against the bubble, hands raised, eyes wide. All of us braced suddenly as we sped towards the side of the mountain.
“Hang—hang o—”
But Meadowfax's words were cut off as he swallowed a mouthful of ocean water. It sloshed in my eyes, my nose. I gasped, cuts along my body stinging from the salt.
Meadowfax had angled us towards a small tunnel burrowed in the side of the mountain. Our chambersphere zipped through, swallowed instantly in darkness. Bullets from the planes slammed into the tunnel walls and ceiling, dislodging rubble and collapsing the stone around us.
We burst through an air pocket, a shelf of breathable atmosphere held at bay by the curving shape of the stone ceiling and the lip of the floor.
The chambersphere suddenly ruptured as rubble struck the puncture and slash marks. I shouted, spitting ocean as I went flying, tumbling head over heels in the dark.
Chapter 9
We all landed in a tangle of limbs and jumbled forms. Groaning, I pushed off a granite floor with my good hand. Jagged rock indented my palm and rough stone grazed my fingers. I extricated my leg from beneath Preacher's great bulk, wincing as I did and hissing beneath my breath.
Meadowfax, Annie, Preacher and I were all rising slowly, illuminated by the red glow from the ruby imagem in Gildquail's palm.
The genie inventor stood upright, a few paces away from the rest of us.
I shot him a confused glance. He didn't even look ruffled, not a stitch of fabric out of place, as if he'd hit the ground standing.
But that wasn't possible. I rubbed at my head, groaning as I did, searching desperately for the chambersphere, but the thing had vanished.
Gildquail, who remained steady on his feet, murmured, “There's moonore in these walls.” He blinked in the red glow from the flickerflint in his hand.
I winced, taking my feet now and glancing back towards the rubble collapsed over the entrance to the tunnel. Wooden scaffolding jutted in splintered spears through piles of rock and stone. A faint trickle of liquid swished through the gray, staining the stone black. The water spread across the ground, slick on the floor.
“What's that smell?” Annie asked, her shadows carrying her to her feet. She paused for a second, her green eyes turning gray as she glanced over my shoulder. “What? You're sure?”
Gildquail glanced curiously at this. For my part, I'd often seen Annie consult other peoples' guardian angels. It was forbidden to see one's own—I never had, but Annie claimed she could see angels and demons, spooks and ghouls that existed beyond the veil. She began fidgeting, her booted foot swished and her pea-coat, dusty and tattered as ever, swirling about. Watching her, I felt my cheeks suddenly flush. I frowned at the odd emotion, trying to place it. A likely culprit came to mind: Annie had expressed something of an interest in me back on my brother's vessel. Now, on the hunt for some ancient genie-slaughtering monster, certainly wasn't the time to contemplate the proposition.
Annie frowned over my shoulder, clicking her tongue. “Wow, huh... Yeah, I'll tell them.” She turned towards where Meadowfax and Preacher were rising and dusting themselves off. “Guys,” she said emphatically, “Careful where you step. Leon's angel doesn't want you disturbing the corpses.”
Preacher glanced sharply back then took a few hasty steps away from the dark corner of the cavern.
Meadowfax adjusted his spectacles, his expression bland as he stared towards the forms on the ground.
Gildquail turned his flickerflint, illuminating the bodies.
Five of them.
Each in different states of mutilation.
My breath lodged in my throat along with the threat of a gasp. My hands tensed, and the prickle of adrenaline numbed the pain in my gauze-wrapped fingers. I stared at the corpses, heart hammering. “Tomb's trove... What in seven hells did that?”
Gildquail's eyes shone with a grim curiosity as he hastened forward, holding his red light lower so he could examine the bodies.
“Are those... Gentle Hand uniforms?” Meadowfax asked in that dull voice.
“And graysuits,” I replied, pointing with a straining finger towards two of the corpses leaning against the far wall on either side of a protruding stalagmite.
Horror swelled through the illuminated cavern, coming as slow prickles up my spine. Preacher was murmuring a soft prayer beneath his breath to ward off evil.
But evil had already arrived.
For one, the corpses were missing their teeth. The nearest soldier's mouth was open, gaping at the ceiling in a black yawn. I glimpsed stubs and jutting protrusions where molars and incisors had seemingly been crushed or ripped. I swallowed faintly, looking about for evidence of the missing teeth. But I spotted none.
My eyes trailed down the toothless mouth towards the figure's legs. It was as if someone had set to with a filleting knife and removed the shin bones. Slabs of meat spread, bloody and thick to either side. But the bones, like the teeth, were missing.
I turned away in disgust, feeling my stomach twist. I bent over, breathing heavily towards the ground.
Annie was standing by Preacher, patting him soothingly on the arm.
Meadowfax didn't betray his emotion, but I noticed him looking away from the gruesome spectacle. Gildquail, though, leaned in, his eyes wide with curiosity. He held the glowing red light towards the dissected legs. “Curious...” he murmured. “Calcium, perhaps? Hydroxyapatite...” He clicked his tongue. “Maybe the texture? Very curious.”
“What are you going on about?” Preacher demanded, breathing in shallow huffs.
The childlike inventor turned slowly, his eyes glinting and reflecting the red as he stared towards Preacher. He didn't blink and exhaled slowly. “Something ate the teeth and bones.”
“Ate it? Dear God...”
“Yes, I'm afraid. Ate it.” He shook his head, glancing back.
I scowled. “Think it's the same thing that took out the Adelgrief clan?”
“Possibly. Too early to tell.”
“What does that? What sort of monster eats teeth... and bones... but leaves the meat?” I shuddered, glancing back towards the other corpses. Ribs were missing as if pulled from holes in their chests. One head was cracked, brain matter and blood visible, but the skull notably absent. Portions of the bodies drooped like wet licorice, or puppets with snipped strings.
All except one of the bodies.
The smallest form—that of a woman in a Gentle Hand uniform. Her ebony features were stained with blood and her hands splayed off to either side. I frowned in the direction of this corpse, looking for her injuries... Though I wasn't so sure I wanted to look too closely.
“Where are their weapons?” Meadowfax said faintly, scowling around the room. “Shouldn't they be armed?”
The rest of us also frowned. He was right. The Gentle Hand didn't normally venture unarmed into dangerous terrain. These, I surmised by the graysuit, were members of Admiral's traitors. Bleach had mentioned they'd taken the graysuit submarine towards the treasure gardens.
I just hadn't expected to find them so quickly... or in such a state.
“Admiral had at least twenty with him when he fled,” I said grimly. “They must have rebuffed whatever attacked and taken their weapons with them.”
“Admiral Manthe?” Meadowfax asked, turning to me.
“Yes. He's down here too, unfortunately.”
“Great,” the bodyguard murmured, crossing his arms and adjusting the strap of his leather satchel. “Monsters are trouble enough. Also dealing with special forces isn't going to be pleasant.”
I jutted a thumb over my shoulder towards the collapsed entrance. “Not to mention Bleach and Cleopatra. You'd best believe they'll pursue us down here eventually.”
A cold chill lingered over the room at this declaration. I kept the rest of my concerns to myself. We were already hungry, thirsty, tired. But we hadn't brought so much as a canteen. No food, no water—if Admiral or this monster didn't kill us, dehydration or starvation would. The twinges in my stomach and dryness of my throat suggested scavenging this unusual place needed to be top priority.
I cast one more glance towards the mutilated, boneless corpses, scowling. What sort of monster fell upon twenty Gentle Hand, wiping out a quarter of them in such gruesome fashion?
I shivered as I peered in the other direction, down the long mine shaft the vermen had dug.
These would be another obstacle. The rat-people infested this place. They weren't aggressive by nature—but they were scavengers and opportunists. And they made my skin crawl. I'd be sleeping with one eye open.
“Leon!” Preacher said sharply. “Leon, look!”
I turned at the urgent tone, following my friend's pointing finger. Preacher was staring towards the smallest corpse.
Except what I'd taken for a lifeless form was now moving. The Gentle Hand woman gasped, eyes blinking, her chest hyperventilating all of a sudden as she took in desperate breaths. “No...” she murmured. “No—no! Help! HELP ME! DEAR GOD, NO!” She screamed in a way that brought the hairs to attention on my limbs. These weren't screams of fear or of desperation. Those terms were far too tame. These were screeches of stark terror compelled by abject horror.
Her eyes gaped at the ceiling as if studying something there, unblinking. Veins pulsed in her blood-speckled skin. She sat upright suddenly, still gasping, looking around. “Is—is it gone?” she said, a moan to her voice. “Oh please... please...” she began to sob, shoulders shaking.
I just stared. She had the golden numeral V on her shoulder.
Not just a scout or a grunt. A corporal. A trusted soldier. A Gentle Hand wasn't ranked without proving themselves in battle. These soldiers were made tough, bred to bleed.
But all I saw, in that brief glimpse, was a terrified woman.
She shook her head, desperately, gasping as she did. “Please,” she said. “P-please!” And her hand surged towards her hip, yanking a knife from a sheath. Wild-eyed, desperate, she pressed the blade to her neck, loosing a shuddering gasp of relief. Her muscles tensed in her forearm, her veins still pulsing, and she began to cut.
“No!” Preacher shouted.
I lunged in.
But Meadowfax beat us all to it. Leave it to the bodyguard to save a life.
He swatted the knife from her hand, catching the wrist in the same motion. He gripped her hand which tensed the instant he touched. She was hyperventilating again, staring at the ground now, looking to the corpses of her colleagues. A slow mewl of horror burbled from her lips. “No,” she moaned. “No... Kill me. Kill me now! Please!”
She lunged towards where the knife had clattered, but Meadowfax kicked it, sending it skittering away. The woman tried to rip from his grip. She was strong, her training taking over as she twisted her hips, planting a hand, and—even sitting—tried to throw Meadowfax.
She was quick, even in her disoriented state and Meadowfax was forced to release his grip to avoid being tossed.
The woman scrambled desperately, like some creature on hands and knees as she raced for the knife to take her own life.
Gildquail stepped in, bringing his small hand swiping down.
His fist struck the back of her neck. The red glow from his flickerflint caught the final glint of desperation in the woman's eyes before she keeled over, hitting the floor with a thump. Unconscious.
We all stood in silence, staring towards the woman. I issued a shaking breath, and then my gaze slipped from the woman's unconscious form towards where Gildquail stood over her, one hand still clenched in a fist.
He looked directly back at me. “We ought to preserve the specimen,” he murmured, nodding towards the woman. And then he turned, dropping to his haunches and examining the missing shinbones of the first corpse I'd seen.
I stared at the would-be child. A slow prickle of dread spread through me. Whatever he looked like, Gildquail wasn't what he seemed.
Nothing down here would be.
At least by knocking her out, he'd saved the woman's life.
“We should head further in,” I said after a moment. “No sense lingering in some predator's hunting grounds. For all we know it will return for further feasting.”
More than one of my companions grit their teeth at this suggestion.
“Preacher, Meadowfax, mind helping with the woman?” I winced apologetically, raising my bound hand.
The two men nodded, and Annie's shadows extended, forming a stretcher beneath the woman and already lifting her by the time Preacher arrived at her side.
“Bring her with us,” I said softly. “If she wakes, we can question her about... about what did that.” I stared towards the other bodies, half expecting one of them to rise, mutilated as they were. It provided grim relief that the cold corpses remained motionless on the cavern ground.
The saltwater continued to leak through the collapsed boulders and scaffolding, spreading and darkening the mist-hued floors.
The light was fading in the cavern now, though, as Gildquail carried his imagem down the mineshaft tunnel, deeper into the underwater mountain.
“Come,” I murmured quickly. “Best not lose him.”
“Leon,” Preacher interjected, “We have no food. No water. We're unarmed...” he trailed off, standing over the fallen woman's form. He let out a faint sigh. “Are you sure we're able to face whatever lurks down here?”
Annie's eyes brightened. She looked sadly at the woman, but excited at Preacher's words. “Ooh my,” she declared, “I bet it's got lots of teeth. I love teeth.” Then, waving a hand and lifting her stretcher of shadow, she skipped off after Gildquail and the fading glow of his red light.
I watched her leave. Meadowfax's gaze also lingered on her retreating form, a bit longer than made me comfortable. I scowled at the back of the bodyguard’s head. “Help lift her,” I snapped.
He looked back at me and flashed a sheepish smile before stooping over to pick the fallen woman off the ground.
Preacher gave me a significant look before bending as well.
“I know, I know,” I muttered. “We'll get food. We'll get water. We'll reorient. We'll be fine... At least, I think so. Well... I hope so. What else can we do anyway? We agreed to help Gildquail.”
“That's no child, Leon,” Preacher said, grunting as he hefted the woman's shoulders, aided by Annie's shadows.
“I know,” I muttered. I began to pick up my pace, leading the way for the rest of them. The faint, sickly sweet smell of death lingering on the air behind us.
Chapter 10
Gildquail came to a halt, facing a stone wall, a frown creasing his features. Preacher and Meadowfax carried the surviving corporal between them, their muscles tensed for any sign of danger.
The effect of the woman's screams, her lunge for the knife still lingered like the goosebumps up my arms. Annie, never one given to fear, still sensed it in the rest of us, and—out of solidarity—kept her cheerful prattling to a minimum.
Now, we'd come to a dead end.
The air down here was warm—far warmer than I'd expected. The wooden scaffolding the vermen had erected in this now collapsed tunnel held the ceiling aloft, braced against the stone around us. The granite flecked with moonore glistened as if wet.
