Within the series of giant chambers making up the Northastr docks a small legged vehicle was pulling along a miniature train of crawler modules. While it was able to mate to the lead module, each of the four dwarfed the machine which hauled them along.

Within the control room were gathered a small band of Pharyes, officers from Captain Beyla’s crawler, seated at the worn and dirtied controls, many of the levers and dials encrusted with years of grime. The captain herself stood at the back of the cramped space and watched, trying not to lean on or brush against anything.

“This really isn’t necessary, Vigg,” she insisted for a second time.

Vigg laughed as he slouched against the wall of the module, watching her crew direct the dock’s hauler.

“Oh sure it is, gotta have someone authorize access to the storage bays, so mayswell be me, right? Fewer people who know the better. Fewer people I gotta cut inna the deal that way too!”

He rubbed his hands together with a glee that would have been child-like on a younger, cleaner man – but on the older, hard-worked and greed-addled face of the dock chief it just seemed comical. Darkly so given the disappointment inevitably coming for him.

She doubted Vigg would see the funny side of things if the raid succeeded however.

The man was of an age with Beyla, hair peppered with grey, but where she held on to her vitality and focus, Vigg looked his years. Perhaps that was no surprise, she reflected – he had worked his way up from a dockhand, loading and unloading, doing basic maintenance and repairs, all while taking training in the more complex mechanics of crawlers and golems in his free hours. Even now, as dock chief, the man seldom had a wheel to himself – it was his neck on the line should anything go wrong, and as hard-won as his position had been, there were plenty of noble-blooded young upstarts who could try to claim it from him in return for a few political favors to Colonel Malmr, were he to fail to keep Northastr running smoothly.

Perhaps it was no wonder he was so eager to cash in on the supposed haul of gems. He could have finally retired, and spent his wheels in the safety and comfort of the Deephold, in a private warren complex...

Instead he was walking into the biggest mistake of his career, and potentially foiling the raid without even knowing it.

“We can move the modules without your help,” Beyla suggested. “What if one of your crew notices you’re missing?”

“Hah! You trynna get ridda me, Beyla? I’m not letting you outta the bargain now. I toldem imma take the shift off, with a wicked gut cramp. Far as they know their chief’s asleep in bed.”

“And if someone tries to reach you by voice?”

“Then we better hope they give up when I don’t answer, cause I’m not leaving until I see my share.”

Beyla resisted the urge to argue with the chief, but her first officer was quick to speak up.

“We can’t open the modules with people still around! They’ll see everything!” Keipr protested.

“Now now, nothing to worry about, I ordered alla the workers out just like the captain wanted. Not just the bay we’re using either – don’t want any eyes about to see us come and go, so all the storage bays are gonna be completely deserted until we’re done. No-one’ll ever know we were in there.”

“Still, it would be safer if you went back,” Keipr countered.

“Now I know you’re trynna get ridda me,” the chief snapped with a snort, “I’m not going anywhere until I see my gems safely locked away – think I’m daft? I go now and you could just turn this hauler around and keep the lot! Or were you gonna leave me with empty modules?!”

Beyla could see Keipr faltering – the man was a poor liar at the best of times.

“Nothing like that,” she assured Vigg quickly, “my officers and I are just anxious to avoid anything which could compromise our reputations – or careers – as I’m sure you are too. Once we stow the modules we’ll open them all up for you and give you a good look at how full they are.”

Vigg nodded. “That’s more like it then. Don’t you worry, longas you’re keeping your end of the bargain it’ll all go fine. But I’d say stuff the career once this is over, imma be rich as that Lord Uldmar’s uncle!”

The lukewarm looks he received from the captain and crew seemed to needle the man, and his grin faltered.

“Now don’t go gettin sour on me, just cause you got outsmarted, you still got a whole crawler fulla gems.”

“We’ll be more relaxed once we’re away from Northastr,” Beyla answered.

They proceeded in silence then, save for the gushes and whirrs of the old machine around them, until finally they had left behind the dock entirely, passing into connecting tunnels, then on into the cavernous storage bays beyond.

Stepping out of the hauler and onto one of the raised access platforms, Beyla breathed the still, musty air and looked about.

Devoid of staff the chamber was eerily quiet, the overhead gemstones deactivated to save power. It gave an uncomfortable, unnatural stillness to the space, the stationary hulks lined up all about taking on the appearance of countless carcasses of fallen monsters in the gloom. The comparison was apt, as the place was as much a graveyard as storeroom for the crawlers it housed – those nearest the doors were ready to be activated at short notice, but others further back were older models which had been retired, or broken down machines half-cannibalized for parts.

Even so there were many hundreds of modules ready to go. The captain and her crew just had to fuel them with gemstones, link them all up and make ready to receive their new passengers.

After dealing with Vigg that was.

“Hee heeh, lemme in already,” the man was saying, positively giggling in his glee at the prospect of his cache of riches.

Beyla opened the panel at the side of the first module and pressed her finger to the voice crystal.

“Gastores, open the door.”

Vigg frowned at the name – he could hardly fail to notice it couldn’t belong to any Pharyes, however the bay doors of the module soon started to move, and whatever momentary qualms he felt were forgotten, the eager gleam returning to his eyes.

The interior of the module was pitch black, so just as when going from darkness into light their eyes took a moment to adjust, drawing on more essence to penetrate the scene.

“What… what is that?” Vigg murmured, as the monochrome shapes moved and came slowly into focus.

The four arms snatched the man up in giant hands before he could move a muscle, an entire palm engulfing his head lest he attempt to cry out.

“Gottem!” Ripides said, with a triumphant grin.

Other surfacers were scanning anxiously for signs of anyone else who might be in need of ‘getting’, while behind that front row were magic-users at the ready.

“Relax everyone,” Beyla said, holding up her arms. “He came alone!”

It took a moment for Sulis to give a translation to those still struggling with Pharynx, but once she did the group looked relieved. The captain could only imagine how nerve-wracking the last hour or so must have been for them.

Now the terror was on the face of Vigg alone, held five times his height off the ground in the hands of a terrifying monster the size of a Skidbladnir, from the forbidden heights of the surface world. If anything Beyla was impressed that he’d maintained any composure at all.

“It’s alright, Ripides, you can take your hand off his mouth.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

When the ogre complied the man gave a yelp, as if afraid that his head might be pulled away along with the… less than perfectly clean hand, however he was quick to regain his senses.

“Put me down, monster! Beyla, what is this?!” Vigg exclaimed, squirming in the ogre’s grip. “This is… it’s… treason! Betrayal! Where are my gems?! What are you doing?!”

“I suppose I’m outsmarting you after all,” was all Captain Belya could think to say.

~~~

Being literally as well as metaphorically in the dark until the final moment of Beyla’s trick, Gastores felt a certain relief at the capture – and subsequent gagging – of the meddling, greedy dock chief.

What had begun as a crisis had been turned into a triumph for the raiders thanks entirely to Beyla’s quick thinking and Vigg’s greed. In one move they had redirected all attention and smuggled their people into the storage area, ready to proceed to the next stage of the plan.

Perhaps, with just a little more luck, Captain Encheiro, Calidae and the others would be with them once more in mere minutes.

Gastores was thrilled at the thought of finally bringing his captain the promised help… the aid she had counted on him for during the attack. The thought had put a spring in his step, and a smile on his lips as he worked, despite the strain of hauling huge metal tanks and crates made to be moved by golem.

Tense and precarious as their situation was, spirits were high among the raiders.

Most of the raiders at least. Sulis was busier than anyone, given her role as the only surfacer able to aid Beyla’s crew in piloting modules, and the sole person present with sufficient Pharynx and Cycloan to resolve any communication struggles, but even so as she rushed from crawler to crawler, exchanging hurried words with those in need of her aid, Gastores could sense something was wrong.

“Sulis?” he called out, as she was disembarking another module in the growing chain.

“I’ll move that module later. I have to free another row ahead.”

His large hand caught her shoulder gently as she tried to rush past the forgotten cargo module he’d been helping to empty of disused containers.

“What?” she demanded impatiently, slipping away from his touch and glaring up at him. “There’s no time, Gastores!”

“Sulis,” he said, lowering his voice.

In the newly noisy bustle of the storage bays only she should hear.

“What’s wrong? Why are you so anxious?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but the naiad hesitated to speak.

Glancing up and down the line, she saw no-one in immediate earshot.

Looking back up at the ogre, she met his eye with her own pair, and frowned.

“It’s all too good to be true,” she said at last. “The plan is going too smoothly. We never explained the interference with the voice system, or the message sent ahead of us. Whoever did it could have told Northastr we were coming, but did not. Now luck is in our favor once more.”

Her words resonated with the worries buried at the back of his own thoughts, but Gastores ignored them for the moment.

“I know it’s dangerous, and nothing’s certain,” he admitted, “but we’re so close now. Soon we’ll have everyone back, my captain, your brother, all of them.”

“How do you know that?” she hissed, through clenched jaws. “No-one knows what happened to either of them after they were caught!”

“What are you saying?” Gastores asked, fearing he knew the answer.

“When we reach the cells… Calidae might not be there,” she said quietly. “I… can’t go back without him. If he’s missing I don’t know… what to do…. I have to find him.”

Gastores gave a long, soft sigh.

“I get it, Sulis, I really do… but you can’t get caught up thinking that way. I’ve spent too long in the past contemplating all the ways things could go wrong, and it… it weighs on you, and it messes you up.”

Sulis gave him a dubious look.

“I’m not saying don’t think ahead, just that… we’re already doing everything we can now. If we get there and he’s missing there won’t be anything we can do. We’ll save everyone else, everyone we can, and then get out... like we planned. We can look for other ways to save anyone still missing once we save the people who are here. But if he is with them… then all the more reason we need to focus on making it to him safely and quickly.”

He felt a soft, smooth cluster of tendrils grip his hand, and looked down to see Sulis entwining his fingers in her own.

The naiad looked back up at him with a small smile on her elegant, deadly lips.

“Thank you… I needed to hear that. When did you get so smart, Gastores?”

“While you were saving my life all those times I guess.”

He had to bow his head down to receive her kiss, and then the two of them returned to their work. Time was still precious after all, with no way to know when Safkhet might show up.

The crates were still just as heavy, but somehow they felt lighter in Gastores’ arms.

~~~

“More wine, Lord Uldmar? Or perhaps you’d care to try the aesc seeds? We ferment them right here at Northastr, and if I may say, the dash of ruby powder gives them a… delightful….”

Colonel Malmr trailed off as he saw the disdain in Lord Uldmar’s eye.

“I’m sure you misspoke, Colonel,” Uldmar said quietly, “no commanding officer would partake in such a dereliction while on duty.”

“As you say, my lord,” Malmr answered, nodding solemnly.

The nobleman wouldn’t have put it past the colonel to have made the offer in an attempt to dull his wits before the raid began, but the man seemed too absorbed in the social graces for one aware of the imminent danger.

But that didn’t mean Uldmar could lower his guard. For all his obsequence, the colonel was far from the mindless, simpering fool for which he could easily have been mistaken. The man had his own pride and wit, they were simply secondary; willing sacrifices to the pyre of his ambition. A man to watch, and watch carefully, Uldmar had concluded. It would be well to separate from him as soon as could be accomplished, and far in advance of the beginning of the raid.

That was easier to contemplate than accomplish however, given the lavish party and buffet which the colonel had thrown in their honor, the officers of Northastr mingling with the nobles of the Deephold. Both sides were garbed in fine silks, attire wholly unfit for donning a Skidbladnir, but the impracticality was in one way the point of the ruffled and elaborate garments, a show of one’s wealth and refinement, and of the ease that came with absolute security.

Strange then that military officers were in similar clothing to his delegation, but Uldmar suspected they took after their colonel. Each he had spoken to thus far had their eyes set clearly on advancement, whether through connections or perhaps courtship, with aims for a descent back into the prestigious, comfortable depths.

“My Lord Uldmar,” lilted a young aide of the colonel’s, flashing him a winning smile, “would you perhaps care to accompany me for a dance? We may lack the culture of the Deephold here, but we do at least know how to conduct ourselves in the manner of the nobility….”

A bold request, and one quickly dismissed with a few deft words, but the woman simply moved up the list to the lesser victims who might yet succumb to her charms.

The colonel could hardly have formulated a more effective means of interference; a perfect opportunity for a traitor in their midst to relay the particulars of the mission, and an imposition which kept busy all those of noble standing who might otherwise put their Skidbladnir to use when the time came.

Most of the noble men and women who had followed Lord Uldmar maintained their alertness nonetheless, waiting only for some opportunity or signal from their leader, however he couldn’t fail to note the particular case of Lord Hlesey. His ever loquacious friend was positively garrulous among the gaggle of beautiful young ladies, uninhibited in his consumption of wine and aesc as he waxed ever more poetic in his tale of the journey to Northastr.

Even as Uldmar watched Hlesey was soon in arms with one of the women, moving to the music of the small carillon overhead.

Seeing his foolhardy example the others of the delegation relented one by one, and soon the chamber was awash with dancers, the music picking up its pace as the atmosphere grew merry.

It was, perhaps, hard to entirely blame Hlesey, Uldmar reflected, as he felt his own heart racing far faster than the chimes. At any moment it could all begin, and at any moment they could all be betrayed, or discovered – this was for them a moment of calm, peace before the tumult to come.

But it was no time for merriment. A nobleman had to be better than that, better than the common rabble who panicked and babbled at every danger, or disgraced themselves with unsightly shows of terror – or debauchery when they should exercise restraint.

There would be words with Hlesey later, once the raid was enacted successfully, but for now all which he need consider was how to bring the victory to fruition.

Lord Uldmar settled his thoughts, and with them smoothed the uneven fluttering in his chest into a steady pulse once more.

He was still brooding when Lady Idavoll caught his attention.

She wore a long, elegant gown of black which showed her figure but not her flesh, and the nobleman quite forgot himself for a moment as he took in the sight.

“Perhaps you would grace me with a dance, Lord Uldmar?”

For a moment the proposal had him wholly disarmed, his duty forgotten in a rush of feeling, of foolish sentiment, however as his reason reasserted command he frowned, seeing the grave expression she wore, and realizing the note of concern in her tone.

“I should be… delighted to accompany you, Lady Idavoll,” was all he said, taking her hand.

She led him out, onto the dance floor, just as the upbeat music changed to a sultry, tense melody like the beating of a heart.

Pulling him in close, she looked down into his eyes as they moved as one.

“Your dress is most fine, a worthy choice, my lady.”

He spoke softly enough that even the other dancers wouldn’t hear. Perhaps that was why Idavoll leaned in closer.

“Look over my shoulder, towards the doors,” she murmured.

Past her immaculately styled hair, he saw the figures of Hlesey and his own dance partner, another of Malmr’s staffers, moving furtively towards the exit.

His snort of disapproval was not in the best decorum, however Idavoll barely seemed to notice, staring at him intently.

“Did you know Hlesey knew someone at Northastr?”

“Are you certain he does?” Uldmar responded. “Regrettable as it is, Hlesey is not above dalliances with women formerly unknown to him.”

“Perhaps… but he admitted it to me. An old friend, he said… he asked me to distract you, so they might have some time alone.”

Uldmar felt cold at the words, despite the warmth of her arms around him and her body against his. It was the way they were spoken, the tone, and urgency behind the simple assertion.

“I ordered no-one to be left alone, how could you allow him to go?”

“How was I meant to stop him? Tell his friend I can’t let them be alone together in case he spills all our schemes? No… that’s why I came to you. To tell you before it’s too late.”

“What are you implying, Idavoll?”

“I warned you back on the crawler… we had no time to catch the saboteur.”

“Hlesey?!” Uldmar exclaimed.

Others on the dance floor turned their heads at the sound, and Uldmar quickly recomposed himself, lowering his speech once more to a murmur.

“Winewords. Pure impossibility, Idavoll. We have both of us known and trusted Lord Hlesey since we were little more than babes. Even had we not, do you truly believe him capable of such subtlety in manipulating aulogemsic systems? The sabotage was a work as precise and informed as it was treacherous.”

Idavoll gave a soft, weary sigh.

“I wish I could match your noble ideals, Uldmar, but your good spirit blinds you to the treachery of others. Remember, there was maintenance scheduled for that system… and Hlesey is a nobleman of some standing and charm. It would have been simple for him to seduce or simply smooth-talk an engineer into… satisfying his curiosity about the system… and talking him through the process as they set it into test mode and checked on their repairs.”

“That cannot be,” Uldmar said quickly. “Why then would they conceal their name? And for what purpose would Hlesey betray us?”

“Intimidation, or else bribery. Perhaps both. You too know well how our lessers may be swayed by even the implication of reprisal or reward. By keeping the work anonymous he denied us any lead to follow when we inevitably discovered his handiwork.”

There was an upsetting logic to the suggestion, and shameful though such skulking and treachery might be, if Idavoll could conceive of it, others could also. Even Hlesey, lackwit thought he could act, was not truly a fool.

Seeing him silent, she went on earnestly, her voice a mere whisper in his ear.

“As for why Hlesey would do such a thing… you heard him after the battle, you saw his anger, his sense of betrayal. Do you really believe your speech won him over so easily? Think about what you asked of us… to join forces with the surfacers against our own kind… to risk Pharyes lives for the outsiders, and to gamble our houses and reputations both….”

“Idavoll… I…”

“Perhaps he grew afraid,” she went on, “or just hoped to scare us out of the plan… but we have no way to know now, and if Hlesey is the traitor then he’s surely telling all to that girl from Malmr’s staff.”

“What would you have me do?” Uldmar murmured, as the music throbbed over them.

“Just what I asked you before. It’s not too late for us to call this off. Even if the… cargo is found, we can deny all involvement in the Chief Aulogemscire’s plans – there will be no need for you to shoulder that burden, or that disgrace. And should we stay our hand in time even that may not be necessary.”

They moved together in silence for a time, as Lord Uldmar tried to process what Idavoll was telling him.

It was only as the music changed once more, a clear crystal chime ringing through his disordered thoughts, that he spoke at last.

“No.”

“Uldmar?”

“I am not so feeble a judge of hearts as you would paint me, Idavoll. Nor have I the disloyalty to smear the good name of Lord Hlesey on so meager a basis as this. I know the man – as do you – near as well as we know one another I’d venture. Beyond that, I know people. I know his character and it is not the twisted form of a traitor. Whatever else he may be, Lord Hlesey is a true friend and an honorable man.”

“Then your mind is made up? Even if it costs you everything?”

Vitality seemed to drain from Idavoll as she spoke the words, but even so Lord Uldmar could not deny his resolve.

“It is. Whoever sent that message, it was not one of my own. We proceed with the plan, and I’ll hear no further suggestions to the contrary. Too much lies at stake, more than reputation or personal honor, and more than my life or the future of my house. Our people need this, no matter what it may cost.”

At his proclamation Idavoll fell silent. She knew him well enough not to waste words once his mind was settled.

Dancing on, Uldmar felt his partner’s arms tighten around him, as though at any moment he might be snatched away forever.

He caught sight of a sheen on the taller woman’s cheek as they changed stances for the next tune. It was the second time he had made her shed a tear that wheel.