Marvel's Avengers: The Extinction Key, page 12
He let fly his shield at the flashy one, who seemed the more dangerous of the two. He dealt Sagittarius a blow that sent him sprawling, then raced toward Strange.
The spinning shield turned in midair and came sailing back at him. He grabbed it, but lightning followed close behind, and he blocked the bolts with the Vibranium disk. Before he could continue his assault, however, he was engulfed in gale-force winds that threatened to blow him off of his feet.
Then an even more brilliant flash of lightning strobed the dark canyon as Thor descended, bringing his own storm. A ragged bolt of electricity arced past Steve. It struck Sagittarius, who had recovered consciousness and was readying an arrow. Then Thor was with the dark and light twins, whirling his hammer. First one, then both of them were sent flying across the canyon.
Sagittarius reached for the bracelet on his wrist and vanished with a sort of thumping sound. Across the canyon, their other two attackers also disappeared.
The winds died down, and everything was still.
Doctor Strange’s hand lifted. His eyes opened.
He looked around.
“All quiet out here, I see,” he said. “I hope you weren’t bored.” When they didn’t answer, he added, “Ready to go inside?”
* * *
STRANGE led them into a circle, and a moment later they were someplace utterly dark. The air was cool, stale, and smelled faintly of dry rot and sulfur.
A moment later, a nimbus of light appeared around the sorcerer’s hand. It expanded until it was several yards wide, illuminating their surroundings in a lemony glow.
Unsurprisingly, they were in a cave. Some of it seemed natural, but a great deal of it had been carved. Unlike the bas-reliefs outside, which had suffered from thousands of years of wind and rain, the sculptures in the cave might have been carved the day before. Dozens of dragon-scaled men in short kilts stood in silent rows, staring vacantly through stone eyes. The statues held up the low, gently vaulted ceiling, where glowing gemstones picked out familiar constellations. Most were as Steve remembered them from the night sky, but a few seemed distorted, as if modeled on slightly different—earlier?—star formations.
The focal point of the underground chamber was a stele of translucent white stone engraved with some sort of flowing script, although it didn’t look like anything he recognized. Toward the bottom, however, a chunk of the stone was missing. The shattered and blackened edge seemed recent.
“They beat us here,” Strange said. “They destroyed Scorpio’s message.”
“Obviously,” Thor said. “Then they laid a trap for us and waited for us to arrive.”
“Was the Key here?” Steve asked. “Do they have it now? What is this place, exactly?”
“The Well of Indara,” Strange said.
“I don’t see a well.”
“In this context, the word kha, or ‘well,’ doesn’t mean a place from which to draw water. It refers to an extradimensional pocket, a bubble of isolated space-time sandwiched between two or more realities. Power may be drawn from a kha, so they often become holy places like this. Scorpio was looking for such a well in which to hide the Key. He began here, with one he knew of from legend, but the well here wasn’t stable. It has dissipated—been absorbed by the dimensions around it. So no, I do not believe the Zodiac found the Key here. Scorpio moved on, looking for the next well, but he left a clue here to guide future followers.”
“The clue was there, I guess,” Steve said, pointing to the shattered edge of the stele. “Making sure we can’t follow them.”
“Of course.”
“Then our quest ends here,” Thor said.
“Not necessarily,” Strange replied. “The destruction of the clue is quite recent. Judging from the damage, it likely happened moments before our arrival. If you two would step back a bit, I will see what I can do.” As they complied, he settled back down into his cross-legged pose, resting his hands on his knees.
The amulet hanging from his neck began to glow. It was fashioned in the shape of an eye, and as Steve watched the metal lids opened, revealing a glowing orb that looked unsettlingly like a genuine human eye—but also, somehow, quite alien. As he watched, the orb drifted from the opening in the amulet up to Strange’s forehead. There it sank into his flesh and deeper, into his skull, until the sorcerer had three eyes. He closed his normal ones, and the one in his forehead blinked once, slowly, and then a cone of pale yellow light shone from it, playing on the broken edge of the stele.
For a moment, nothing changed. Then the light flickered—like in an old silent movie—and the stone was whole. The newly revealed part of the stone was figured in symbols—but these looked more familiar, the angular lines and triangles of cuneiform, the ancient writing of the Fertile Crescent. It looked out of place among the whirls and curlicues that otherwise adorned the standing stone.
Another source of light fell across the marks, and then shadows. A black, weirdly armored hand reached from the edge of the eye’s illumination and stroked the incised characters with needle-like claws. A voice spoke from the empty air, intoning syllables in a language Steve didn’t recognize. Whoever it was seemed to be reading the inscription out loud.
We’re looking at the past, he realized. If Strange can see the past, can he go there? And if he can go there…
He tried not to let the thought distract him. But it was in his mind now, the moment of his own past he played over and over in his head, trying to see a way out, a different ending, or even the way it did end, after the blast took consciousness from him. To know for sure whether Bucky lived or died that day. Logic told him there was no way the young man could have survived, but logic said the same thing about Cap. If he could have been preserved in ice, maybe Bucky could have been, too.
To at least know for sure, to see the actual moment…
There was a flash of light and the sound of stone shattering. He fell into a fighting stance, and the stele was back to its present appearance. The light faded, and the uncanny eye detached from Strange’s forehead. It floated back down to the amulet and slipped inside. The metal eyelids closed. A moment later, his less unnatural eyes flickered open.
“You can see the past,” Thor said. “A useful skill.”
Steve couldn’t take his eyes from the amulet.
“How—how far back can it see?” he asked.
“Hours, usually,” Strange said. “A day or so at most.”
“But there must be a way to see back further.”
The sorcerer frowned slightly. “There are ways,” he said, “but they are not easy, and far from certain—otherwise I would try to follow Scorpio’s trip through time and space.” Strange’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you asking me, Captain?”
Focus, soldier, Steve thought to himself. Fight what’s in front of you.
“Never mind,” he said. “We can talk about it later, when this is all done. The question is, did we learn anything?”
“We did,” Strange said. “Scorpio—the ancient one—made that inscription, and he was dying when he made it. He felt he had only hours or days remaining before his body failed, but he was determined to leave a record for future allies, even though he knew the message might come to his enemies. When he arrived at this place, however, he was out of choices.”
“And his message was?”
“As I inferred, the well here was not sufficient for his purposes. The message pointed toward a second choice—the nearest geographically.”
“And where is that?”
“The inscription said to ‘seek in the Heart of Hanlin,’” Strange replied.
“That’s good, then,” Thor said. “We know where to go next.” His brow wrinkled. “You do know where that is, don’t you?”
“I know where it was,” Strange replied. “Hanlin was one of the chief cities of the Pyu Empire, which was located in the country we now know as Burma or Myanmar. But Hanlin came into existence a thousand years after Scorpio’s defeat at Penthos. He was traveling not just in space, but in time.”
“Does it make a difference,” Steve asked, “if he put the Key in this Hanlin place a thousand years ago, instead of three?”
“Not to us,” Strange said. “If he put it in the Well of Hanlin, it should still be there. Except…”
“Except what?” Steve said.
“Hanlin, and presumably everything in it—including the entrance to the Well—was destroyed by a flaming sandstorm more than a thousand years ago.”
THIRTEEN
NATASHA was already aboard the Quinjet, checking her Widow’s Bite gauntlets to make sure they were combat ready, when she got the signal. There was a call from Maria Hill coming in through the vessel’s secure link.
“Maria,” she said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“A couple of things,” the SHIELD commander said. “One is a confirmation that the location your friend gave us checks out. It’s a mansion in the mountains outside of Taipei. I’m sending along satellite images and the coordinates.”
“Understood,” Natasha said. She hadn’t had any doubt about Ivan’s information, but it was always good to have confirmation. The satellite imagery would make it easier to set up their plan of attack. “What else do you have for me?”
“We ran background checks on everyone at Advanced Idea Mechanics,” she said. “Standard procedure, especially when enhanced types are involved. Rappaccini and Tarleton check out. Both are eccentric in their own ways, but no red flags. Blonsky, on the other hand, comes with quite a history. Guerilla fighting, sabotage, espionage—he was on a couple of terrorism watchlists back in the day.”
“That fits,” Natasha said. “I ran my own checks. But he’s been quiet for years, with no record since moving to the States. The way I read it, he’s trying to make a fresh start. Did I miss something?”
“Nothing obvious,” Hill said, “but it’s interesting. I think he bears watching.”
* * *
BLONSKY was in his office. He was in his uniform, but Nat could see the bandages bulging beneath it.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Let’s take a walk,” she said in Croatian.
He stared at her, and then sighed heavily.
“U redu,” he said, slipping the phone into his pocket.
“Your Croatian is good,” he said, continuing to speak in his native tongue as they walked along the way to the docks. Gulls squawked overhead and picked about on the quay for scraps. The sky was as clear as she had seen it since arriving here, although what little real sunlight shone through the clouds had a brittle feel to it.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ve had some practice. You know a little about me, I guess.”
“Yes,” he replied, nodding. “Where I’m from they tell stories about you. Mostly to scare children. There’s Baba Roga—and there is you.”
“How flattering,” she said. “It’s nice to know I’m remembered.”
He didn’t reply, and he didn’t meet her gaze.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“I’ve felt better,” he said.
“I’m sure you have,” she said. “You nearly died.”
He shrugged. “Not the first time.”
“Right,” she replied.
“Why are you asking me this?” But the raw tone of his voice betrayed him.
That was the funny thing about empathy, she mused—so many ill-informed people talked about it as if it was such a wonderful thing. But empathy was just about being able to get into someone else’s mind, to understand what they were feeling. Like anything, that ability could be used for good or evil or anything in between. All of the best interrogators were highly empathetic. So were torturers.
“You and I have some things in common,” she said. “If I had your job, and someone came in and knocked me around the way you got knocked around—I’d have some feelings about it.”
“Yes,” he conceded. “I guess I do have some feelings about it. But begging your pardon, I don’t see that it’s your business.”
“You’re staying on here, I understand. That’s admirable. But I think you’ve got something to prove, yes? To everyone. To yourself.”
His features were neutral, as if he didn’t feel anything at all. “I wasn’t prepared,” he said. It might have been a machine talking. “Next time I will be. But what do you care?”
“Because Bruce is my friend, and he is here, with you. I would rather you not act foolishly.”
Blonsky uttered a harsh laugh. “What does the Hulk have to fear from me?”
“I don’t know,” Natasha replied. “But it’s the thing you don’t know that often gets you in the end.”
FOURTEEN
“HOW’S your homework coming?” Tony asked as the swells of the Pacific rolled by miles below them. The roar of the engines was a distant whine in the thin atmosphere. The radar showed that everything was clear, at least for the immediate future.
They wouldn’t cross into anyone’s sovereign airspace until very late in their flight, but it was impossible to know what was going to turn up in the stratosphere, and they could never be sure how some of the touchier countries along the Pacific Rim would react to unidentified aircraft moving at more than Mach 2. That included the U.S.
“I think I’ll pass the test,” Natasha said, looking up from her screen. She’d been going over the file Strange had sent—mostly a bunch of scans, some handwritten translations, and a few diagrams. Alongside that she had the information she’d been able to pry from various sources about Capricorn and his operation in Taiwan.
“What are you up to over there?” she asked. “Playing video games?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s a game I like to call ‘Let’s not get blown out of the sky.’”
“How’s it going?”
“I’ve got the high score so far,” he said. “Of course, it’s the only score. I’ve upgraded our radar invisibility, but I have it on good authority that the Chinese have better detection equipment than they did last time we were out this way. So this is sort of a test. They noticed something a little while ago, and we’ve been probed by sources I’m just going to call ‘unknown,’ but no one has fired on us, and I’m pretty sure no one knows for sure we exist. So, tell me about our friend Capricorn.”
“There’s not a lot to tell,” Natasha said. “He’s got his fingers in a lot of pots—SEACS, the Russian SB, and so on—but he’s not directly involved, just does business with them. The KGB had files on him going all the way back to the thirties and forties, when he was supposed to be involved with Hydra.”
“That can’t be the same guy, right?”
She looked at him strangely. “That’s a rhetorical question, isn’t it? I mean, we’ve got a man that age on our team.”
“Sure, but—”
“No, it probably isn’t the same person,” she said. “What I got from Strange is that these guys inherit their positions. The man we’re after more likely is just the latest Capricorn.”
“Do we know anything about his abilities?”
“Not really, but Capricorn is the Greek name,” she said. “It means ‘horned goat,’ which seems a little redundant to me. The older, Sumerian name was Suhurmas, ‘goat-fish.’”
“So, goaty, fishy powers. That’s a tremendous help.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” she said. “We know a little about six of the Zodiac members, right? Leo is pretty straightforward—looks like a lion, has claws and an… energy roar? Should we call it that? Libra, that’s a little weirder. Her modern sign is scales, but her older associations are with Ishtar, the Queen of Heaven, and with Venus as the Morning Star. According to the Tetrabiblos—”
“I’m sorry,” Tony said, “the what?”
“Tetrabiblos. It’s a book.”
“Okay, so there’s a book now.”
“Yep. Written by the Greek philosopher Ptolemy. It’s the source for most of what we know about the Zodiac.”
“So… science. Go on.”
“Libra is an air sign,” she obliged. “Changeable.”
“So she can walk through walls.”
“Yes,” Natasha said. “Taurus, on the other hand, is associated with the Bull of Heaven. She’s an Earth sign, fixed. Immovable.”
“Because she manipulates gravity,” Tony added. “At least that’s what we can surmise from Cap’s scrimmage with her.”
Natasha nodded. “Virgo was known to the Sumerians as the Maiden, the daughter of the god Sin, and in the earliest depictions of her she has a star on her forehead and a whip in her right hand.”
“Sounds like our girl,” Tony said. “You said six.”
“I’m assuming the two I met in New York were Zodiac. One of them was probably Scorpio, given how he both poisoned and dehydrated that guy. The other one attacked me with some sort of sonic and heat blast. I’m thinking that was Aries, a fire sign.”
“So, Capricorn? What’s his deal?”
“Earth sign, like Taurus,” she said. “He’s linked to the planet Saturn, which means illness, poverty, corruption of the air, decay, ‘fearful cold.’ In one Babylonian legend he has a talking mace.”
“No kidding,” Tony said. “A talking mace. Hear that, JARVIS? This guy may have a talking mace. I absolutely need one of those. Include it in the next armor design.”
“Noted, sir.”
“Really?” Natasha said.
“Hey, if Thor can have a hammer, why not? It sounds fun.” He sighed. “I know you’re trying, Nat, but I don’t see a pattern here. We have no idea what we’re up against. Capricorn could be a goat-fish or a walking disease with a huge… mace. Or something else entirely.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “It’s all too obscured by history and myth. What little we know comes from Ptolemy, via the Sumerians and Egyptians who got it from an older, mostly lost source. It’s gotten all bent from what the original Zodiac was exactly. If we’re to believe Strange, their powers come from the constellations themselves, which in turn represent some sort of extradimensional powers. Maybe Strange knows more about Capricorn.”
