“Why are you here?” Even the statue's voice is overwhelming. Its body is brown like clay and though proportioned like a person, the face remains mostly blank as though the ceramist gouged out holes for eyes and a mouth then gave up. When it speaks, the mouth opens but moves no further. When it regards them, its head swings from side to side. When it lumbers into their path, the ground shakes with each step.
Eje hisses to Ariel. “Ariel, is that a troll? I told you not bring it up, you fool. Look what you've done.”
“I don't think that's a troll.” Ariel addresses the towering thing blocking their path. “We are here for the artifact left by Kio Blaketik. Why are you here?”
It seems to Salaya that challenging something that could squash them like insects is a bad idea, but if the thing is capable of anger, it shows none. “I am Guardian. I am here because I am always here. If you seek the artifact, then you must prove yourselves worthy first.”
“What are you, Guardian? How did you come about?” Eje raises her eyebrows as Octave speaks up as though she's finally found something in a mission that interests her.
“I am Guardian. I came about to guard Kio Blaketik's family artifact from those unworthy. Nothing more, and nothing less.”
“It doesn't know.” Octave whispers to them. “It's a golem.”
“A what?”
“A being of clay given life, or at least a mimicry of life. Questioning it will most likely yield us nothing. I suspect it will behave with a defined logic and nothing more.”
Eje seems relieved that it's not a troll, though Salaya is more curious about how Octave came to know about golems. Ariel takes the lead. “How do we prove ourselves worthy, Guardian?”
“I will ask you questions and evaluate your answers. If they are satisfactory, I will let you pass. If they are not satisfactory, I will kill you.” Eje looks the thing up and down, from its torso-like arms to its hulking legs and feet the size and shape of giant boots. She's got to be thinking the same as Salaya: how will they fare against the golem in a fight? It's unlikely that the thing would be harmed by any magic they know, nor would swords have much of an effect on that solid exterior.
“Do we have a choice?” asks Eje. “I don't trust the thing. What do you mean when you say it behaves with logic?”
“Whatever logic its creator gave it, it will follow. If treachery was a part of that formative logic, it will betray us.”
“Wonderful.”
The rumble of a sliding door behind them interrupts the conversation. “What this now?” Salaya looks back to see Ebin, Broga, Annya, and Telemius pack their way through a sliding door, unwilling to wait for it to finish opening.
“Did they pass through here?” yells Ebin.
The golem turns its entire body to face these new interlopers. “Why are you here?”
“What hellish damnation is that thing?” Annya ducks behind Broga while Telemius backs partway into the doorway, ready for a quick escape.
“I am Guardian. I am here because I am always here. If you seek the artifact, then you must prove yourselves worthy first.”
“It's going to ask us some questions and evaluate our answers.” Eje's voice is scornfully sardonic, railing against every facet of the situation. “If our answers are unsatisfactory, it's going to kill us.”
“What sort of object is it?” Ebin looks the thing up and down.
“Apparently it's a golem.”
“Great, we're being questioned by a children's fairy tale. Next we'll have to battle a witch.” He turns to the golem. “Did Kio Blaketik leave you here?”
“Yes.” If the golem is offended by Ebin's manner, it doesn't show it.
“Then know that we have been contracted by Rol Blaketik, Kio's descendant, to retrieve the artifact. Move aside.”
“You must first prove yourself worthy. I will ask you questions and evaluate your answers. If they are satisfactory, I will let you pass. If they are not satisfactory, I will kill you.” The golem doesn't seem to have much variety in what it says.
“Holy hell.” Ebin mops his brow with a sleeve. “Just our luck that now this thing is in our way.”
“Ebin,” Annya hisses, “ask him about the other team.”
“Oh, right. Guardian, golem, whatever you are, did another team pass through here? All men? Led by someone named Tolmin?”
“A team of four men did pass through. I do not know any of their names.”
“And you let them by?”
“Their answers were satisfactory.”
Ebin buries his face in his hands. “Stupid plodding golem. Shit, what a mess.” The golem regards them impassively.
“What's wrong, Ebin? You guys did well to get this far. It's been awfully difficult for us.” Salaya goes over to offer reassurance.
“Those backstabbers from Stonewatch, Salaya. We ran into each other a ways back and they lied to us. Said they'd check something then shut us in the room. Took us ages to get out.”
“They what?”
“It's true. They're playing dirty.” Annya gives them a sombre look. “They're far too set on getting the artifact first. They're up to something, and it's dangerous.”
“They're up to something.” Eje gives Annya an incredulous look. “You mean they want to win, right?”
“If Annya says they're up to something, then they're definitely up to something and need to be stopped.” says Salaya firmly. “No question.” Annya's tired face breaks for a small smile. The one and only other time Salaya has seen Annya unhappy was when her pet robin died. Even when she broke her arm she refused to frown.
“Well,” says Ariel, “then let's figure this out.” She turns back to the golem, waiting patiently, if a golem is capable of patience or anxiety. “Guardian, what are your questions?”
The golem remains impassive for several seconds, then speaks, its voice lower and rumblier than the caverns they'd climbed out of. “A merchant sells you a sword. He promises you that it is forged of the highest quality steel. It breaks the next day. The steel was low grade and wrought with impurities. What punishment should the merchant face?”
The two teams turn inward to consider. “What are these questions?” grumbles Eje. “Have the merchant whipped and the money returned.”
“Does anyone disagree? Octave?” Octave shakes her head. There are no disagreements.
Ariel addresses the golem again. “We have the merchant whipped and the money returned.”
“Whom do you speak for?” asks the golem. “You, or everyone present?”
“Just us four.”
“Very well. What do the other four say?”
“Erm,” stammers Ebin, “same thing.”
If this has any impact on the golem, it doesn't show. “Next question. A provincial governor requests the crown lend aid after a flood. Later it transpires that this aid was sent directly to the governor's pocket. What should be done to this governor?”
“That seems a little too straightforward.” Salaya wracks her brain trying to spot the trick. She addresses the golem. “How much money was embezzled?”
“That answer is not important.”
“Of course it is!” exclaims Salaya, though softly so only her teammates can hear. “The punishment for embezzlement ranges from prison to execution depending on the amount stolen. How can't it know that?”
“It's not a matter of legalese. I think I've worked it out.” Ariel now addresses the golem. “We have the governor imprisoned and all his assets seized and returned to the crown.”
“Careful, Ariel.” mutters Eje. “Didn't he threaten to kill us if our answers weren't good enough?”
“We have the governor executed.” declares Ebin.
Again the golem regards them impassively. “Next question.” The next question is a yet more extreme crime, and again Ariel offers a more severe punishment. Ebin stalls and the golem directs the final question to Ariel in its steady rolling voice. “A man discovers his wife is unfaithful to him. He hires a murderer who kills her and her lover. What punishment should the murderer and husband face?”
“Stop this farce.” Ebin approaches the golem, face clouded with storm. “What is the point of these questions? Why are they important? Who are you to ask us questions of morality?”
The golem has no neck, but its head turns to Ebin, creaking slightly. “There is a door to your right. It opens to a path. The path leads down the mountain. You may take it if you wish to leave.”
“We don't want to leave, dammit! We want to continue.”
“Then you must answer my questions.”
“No. I want an explanation of this. You're not even a person, you're a freak of magic from folklore; what right do you have to judge our morals?” Ebin's hand, strays down toward his waist. “Answer me!” The golem remains silent, and Salaya knows this will only provoke him further. Ebin always was a hothead, even when he instructed them in swordplay at Three Peaks. “I am Ebin, knight of the Upper Realms, and I demand you explain yourself, or I will give you such an explanation as you won't soon forget.” He plants his legs in a wide stance. His hand flashes with steel, his back carries itself upright and stiff, head held proudly, body framed against the giant golem's bulk. His offhand burns with fire fuelled by his own determination. But even as his sword rises, red fire reflecting off its blade, the golem's arm crunches into him, the enormous fist smashing his head, neck, and shoulder. Ebin flies several paces from the impact, then falls. His legs splay out from under him and his body crumples into itself. Silence.
Annya is first by Ebin's side, then Salaya, then Ariel and Broga. Telemius hovers in the background, his hand inching toward his own sword, then after a look at the implacable foe before him, shooting away. “Is he ok?” demands Broga. He too looks at the golem as though preparing himself for an attack he'll never have the courage to make. Annya only shakes her head as blood pools at her feet. Salaya looks away from her one-time mentor and friend. Some things should not be seen.
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Broga throws every foul word, every curse dreamt up by vindictive mages over the years. “What god can see us through this now?” mutters Eje.
“Stop!” cries Ariel. “I understand it, I understand it now.” She puts her hands over her ears as though trying to drown out the din of voices. Broga curses, Telemius joins in, Annya whispers last rites, Salaya stares at a chip in the floor. “I said STOP! It all makes sense. It's logical, purely logical. It doesn't care for you, it doesn't care for morality, it cares for a logically consistent answer. That's it, logically consistent.” She's talking faster than ever, eyes on the ground, addressing nobody but making herself heard over everybody. “It's simple, so simple. What was Kio thinking?” She straightens herself up and approaches the golem. Its head bends every so slightly down at her.
“Ariel, get back from there.” snarls Eje. But Ariel isn't listening to anyone but herself.
“Execute them both.” Silence again. Then the golem nods.
“You four may pass.” It steps aside revealing a door in the far wall.
“I...”
“Go on.” Annya looks up at them with a blank stare. “Get there before the other team. Don't let this be for nothing. We're going out that door and down the mountain.”
Salaya should be screaming, crying, attacking, roaring with rage, something. Somehow, she's relaxed. When the rage and despair falls away, all that's left is bitter calm. She turns and walks by the golem. This time, she's leading and the others are following. Through the door, up another staircase. Her boots thud on stone steps. Her hand flairs again with fire to light the way. Was there once a time when she was scared? It's like looking back on a different life. To have this courage is intoxicating – is it courage? Perhaps she's lost the capacity for fear or grief. The next room is empty save for a shards of stone littering the ground, some of them identifiable. A ear here, a shoulder there, a small limestone foot. She doesn't bother walking around. Two doors stand open, both leading up and away from each other. Eje speaks first. “How did you know that execution was the right answer?”
“It was the right answer based on our previous ones. The golem wanted logical consistency. With each increasingly severe crime, we proscribed an increasingly severe punishment, that's all.”
“Why couldn't Rio have told us this instead of his stupid story?”
Salaya speaks now. “Let's split up.” They need to keep moving.
“Down the passageways? We should stick together.” says Eje, understanding that now is not the time to complain about their employer. “We still go right, don't we?”
“You go right.” says Salaya. “I'll go left.” If the role reversal is bothering Eje, Salaya has never felt more...liberated? Is that the correct way to describe it? There's some empowering about giving instructions. She should try it more.
“I'll go with Eje.” says Ariel. “Octave, you go with Salaya. That way each team of two will have a melee combatant and a ranged one, if it comes to that. Yell if you find something.” Eje doesn't argue. She accepts a lit torch from Salaya and enters the darkness of the right-hand passage with Ariel. Salaya enters the left-hand passage.
“You're acting like you've found a revelation.” remarks Octave, following close behind.
“There's no time to waste feeling sorry. We'll deliver the eulogies tomorrow.” Octave says nothing but when Salaya glances back, she's smiling.
The path leads up, steadily up. Occasionally they see a side passage leading out where sun shines. When they look, they invariably find a dead end overlooking cliff face that drops down from every more dizzying heights. They're ascending the Bulwark, and the way up is dotted with little cave entrances. From up close, the Bulwark isn't nearly as sheer as it looks from afar, though the drop is still prodigous. She turns inward to her mission and to the main path she treads. Somewhere at the end they will find what they are looking for. Her legs burn, but with the sharp bite of exertion, not the dull ache of fatigue. Salaya pushes on.
“Do you think it was a good idea to split up, Octave? What if Ariel and Eje are in danger?”
“Danger is present wherever we go. There must come a point where you trust in your allies to do their roles, and they in turn trust in you to do yours.”
“I guess that makes sense. Still, it feels strange working apart for the first time. Like we're vulnerable. And they're vulnerable too but we can't help them. If they get hurt, I may never forgive myself.”
“Look at it another way: if we get wiped out, they'll survive.” Salaya decides not to voice any more concerns. Higher and higher they climb without rest. Then just as the burning in her legs is becoming too much to bear, they're at at the top. Salaya doesn't even notice it until she looks around and sees no more steps. She walks with renewed vigour into the open air, blinking as her eyes adjust to the sun. Atop the Bulwark, the valley below winds like a string, houses and streets of Arrow City reduced to distant grids.
“I've never been so high up. This is incredible! How high do you think we are?”
“A league. Perhaps a league and a half.” The path leads down a ledge the size of a backyard garden. It juts off the mountain like a great stone tray perched halfway off the edge of a table. At its base, four figures kneel around something. “Hello.” Salaya waves as they approach the team from Stonewatch, remembering what Annya and Ebin said about them. No, she mustn't think about Ebin now. Just Annya. She warned her about them, and so she will be on guard.
Tolmin looks up from the box. It appears to be partially buried in the limestone of the Bulwark. He and the rest of his team are prying at the top with no apparent success. “We can't seem to get this one open. Know any crafting or mineral magic?”
“I'm afraid not. Is the artifact in there?” If they've gotten to it first, what is she to do?
“I hope so. A box stuck in stone at the top of a mountain? It's got to store something, right? Unfortunately, the hinges have rusted and the blasted thing won't – urg, open. Just remember we were here first.”
“We'll still have a look around.”
“This is ours.” Another of the Stonewatch team glares at her. “We got here first, we get whatever's inside.”
“Ok, fine. Sure.” Salaya sighs and looks around. They did get here first, and it's not like she and Octave can fight them for it. She watches as they pry with daggers and pound with rocks until finally the box cracks open.
“What have we here?” Tolmin pulls out a pair of objects. They're black and ovular, like eggs, and clack like stone when knocked together. He hefts each in his hand as though weighing them. “Two artifacts? That fool Rol told us only one. Now I wonder if there are more. If only he'd been more clear in his instructions rather than wasting time with insipid stories.”
Are those really the artifacts? It's all so bizarre. Salaya looks around the ledge, avoiding the edges. “There's something else over here.” She walks over toward the end where something unusual pokes out. Octave on the other hand goes straight for the edge looking down, hands in her pockets. “It's some sort of carving. Octave, come look.”
“Hey!” The man from who had glared at her stands up. “Didn't you hear? This is ours. Leave it.”
“You got the box with the eggs.” retorts Salaya. “Those're yours. I found this.” She brushes at the stone but it isn't dirty, just weathered. “It's a picture of some sort. Is that a house?” She's talking to herself now. As she traces a finger over the lines, something shifts. “Octave, come quick. I think something is buried under here.”
“I'm afraid we found that too. You're going to have to leave.” Tolmin strides over, any friendliness from the morning gone. This must be business for him, but Salaya didn't come all this way to give up here.
“I don't think so, Tolmin. I found this, just like you found the box, and that's just how it is.” Octave still dawdles by the edge, tapping her foot on the stone.
“I said we already found that.” Tolmin towers over her, his face hard. His lips are raised like a snarling dog and his teeth set. She'd thought he seemed nice at first. It's hard to believe he's changed so drastically, and over what? Some silly artifact for a mission. Is it even worthwhile? As she stands to confront him he puts his hands to her shoulders and pushes. She's forgotten how close to the edge she is. She did not have her guard up.
Salaya stumbles back and back and back and then there's nowhere left to stumble. Her feet slip and kick air, her arms flail, a single breath escapes her mouth in a prolonged gasp. Then she's falling.
Salaya's neck cranes so she can look down. To one side, flat cliff face. To the other, the land spreads out beneath her green and uneven, trees like fluffy grass, the manor bulging like a wart. Can this be real? It feels so dreamlike; she'd always thought death would be painful and terrifying. There has to be a way out. She kicks, remembering old swimming lessons, and waves her warms, remembering how birds took off. There's nothing left for her to do, and nothing inside her. It's over. She feels nothing but the wind rushing over her, howling in her ear of impending death.
As Salaya turns back to look up at the sky once more, a faint commotion breaks out above her. From the ledge of the cliff, growing ever smaller, a figure hurls itself off head first. Octave? Has she lost her mind? She's shed her overvestiments, wearing only a shirt as she falls, gaining on Salaya, arms at her sides speeding like an arrow. It all kicks in to Salaya's head at once. She screams at Octave to help, but no sound issues forth from her lungs that can be heard over the wind. Salaya reaches out to her as she draws near, and Octave reaches out in response. Octave, the master of kinetic magic somehow gaining on her with a speed that shouldn't be possible. Can she also slow herself as she did when she breached the walls of Salkrit? Her hand grasps Salaya's. Her other arm takes Salaya around the back, and then their bodies are together, falling as one. Salaya wants to beg, plead with Octave, with Ererebesh, with Syallafar, with any gods, anyone for life. Nothing comes out. Only moments before they hit the ground and their lives are extinguished. The cliff face hurtles past them, crisscrossed with vents and scars; paths lead up and down. For a moment, she could swear she saw someone, maybe Annya, looking out from a path, looking out at them fall. She tries to speak again and finds she has nothing to say. She holds Octave close.
Fabric tears. Leathery wings burst from Octave's back like a giant bat. She can feel the bones in Octave's shoulders roil under the pressure. Is this some new level of summoning magic? Then the wings flap, each beat resonating through Octave's body into hers and she understands. Salaya looks down to see the land growing larger and larger but at a slower and slower rate. Then it falls again, but away from her. They're rising. She cranes again to look at Octave's face. Octave looks down at her, looks down like a mother would with a reassuring smile. They rise, the wind beneath them now, bearing them back up, each beat of Octave's wings pushing them yet higher.
The ascent is far slower than the descent, yet in seemingly little time they're back at the top. Octave lands on the same ledge Salaya was pushed from and releases her. Salaya's feet once again set themselves on solid rock. She falls to her knees. Only now can she appreciate the enormity of those wings: one alone would dwarf her in height, two together blot out the sun leaving her in shadow. Each sinew bulges with the thickness of a rope leading to clawed fingers like a bat's. Octave's shirt hangs loosely from her shoulders, the back rent and torn asunder from the force of sprouting wings. Her hands, yes she still has those, brush long hair from her face as her chest heaves.
“Gods above.” Salaya jumps, having forgotten about speech, about spoken words. Tolmin squats a handful of paces from them, mouth agape. The rest of the Stonewatchers stand farther away, equally frozen. Under him, that carved picture Salaya found has been prised open, the contents revealed as another of the black eggs. Octave's wings flap and ripple one last time, then fold neatly behind her back, the clawed tips rising over her shoulders. “What in hell's name are you?”
Octave walks up to Tolmin as he stands and takes the stone egg from his uncertain grasp. As he opens his mouth to protest, she rears back and slams her forehead into his face. Tolmin falls onto his back then scrambles to rise and get away from her. She kicks his legs and he falls again. His teammates advance. One of them holds out a hand. Blue fire dances from his fingertips – he must use fire and colour magic, like her. He blasts fire at Octave. Salaya snaps out of a trance as she remembers everything: Tolmin tried to kill her, Octave brought her back, Tolmin and his team still oppose them. As Octave swats the burst of fire away with a disdainful flick of her wrist, Salaya feels the magic pulsing through her head and exploding over her temples like never before. In the moment, Tolmin and his compatriots become the focus of her anger: the toils underground, Ebin's death, her own near-murder. White magic bursts from her hands and face in a blinding flash that washes over her foes, the force of it bringing shrieks of pain. The odour of singed hair assaults her nostrils. It's not enough. The same man who tried to scorch Octave turns to her and another burst of blue fire flies. Salaya freezes for the merest fraction of a second, then it comes to her. Just as she practised every night for weeks. She feels the magic warming her hand, she feels like heat of the enemy fire, and she turns it outward. The blue flame dances harmlessly against her hand, then deflects away off the edge of the cliff. Salaya's response is no longer a white warning shot. She calls on the deadliest most flesh-searing colour of all, and the opposing mage dives out of the way just in time to avoid the green ball of flame aimed at his head.
“Whatever you are, you'll bleed the same.” Tolmin is back on his feet now, sword drawn.
“Behind you, Octave!” cries Salaya as she launches another gout of green fire. It strikes Tolmin square in the chest and his scream cuts through the clear air of the mountaintop. His natural warding melts, as does his skin. Then Octave is upon him, her own sword in hand. She cuts him down with a single blow, stepping over his body toward the remaining three. Her wings flex and unfurl behind her like a mantis spreading its limbs.
“Give those eggs over.” says Octave.
“But we found them.” The colour mage sends a wave of blue fire at Octave to no avail. She says nothing but raises her sword and continues her advance. One of them drops the eggs and runs. The other two are close behind. Back down the path into the mountain they go, and Salaya chases after, fire in her eyes. She aims another blast at their backs, but something stifles her magic. She roars a curse and turns to find Octave with a hand on her arm.
“That's enough death for one day.” Her wings are gone leaving her shirt flapping, scarcely covering her breasts. Only then does Salaya see the blood on Octave's sword and the full force of the situation hits her. The magic drains from her head and she takes a deep breath.