“How could they do such a thing? Don’t those old fools realise you had no other options?” Leal huffs. “Who do they think they are to stop you from returning with us?”
For the first time in a while, Leal is more concerned with complaining about the choices of the grand elders than her own marking research and theorising. Whether she has forgotten one of those grand elders has joined us on this flight, or simply doesn’t care, I don’t know.
Ignatia listens with a wry, if uncomfortable, smile. She’s polite enough to ignore Leal, and while I should probably stop her from accidentally insulting the grand elder, I’m not exactly happy with the choice myself.
Leal grabs my hands and stares me in the eye. “Solvei, let’s leave. They won’t be able to stop us if we return to New Vetus now.”
I glance to the side, where Ignatia’s smile grows further strained. Honestly, I’m impressed the elder hasn’t said anything about the ursu’s complaints yet. If this was any of the elders that voted for my punishment, then I would love to watch them squirm, but Ignatia isn’t Vesta, so I should put a stop to Leal.
“It’ll only be for a short time.” I wish I believed that. “So don’t worry so much. In no time, I’ll be back to see everyone.”
I can’t let her know how tempting it is to just leave while the only grand elder around is Ignatia. With her tiny capacity, fleeing would be easy. A direct battle would be questionable at best, but it’s not like I want to fight my own kind. The idea of being restricted at all is annoying, but the Titan Alps are massive. Unless the grand elder tasked with supervising me decides to implement strict limitations themselves, I’ll have thousands of kilometres to travel.
Really, it only because I will be restricted to the Titan Alps that I’m okay to accept such punishment. If it were the Agglomerate that I couldn’t leave, I’d probably already be flying for the border.
This short journey to the first cube will be the last I get to enjoy with Leal and Grímr for a good while. It is less than ideal, but the both of them will be returning to their homes once we find the key. We will be splitting ways. I hate it, but it’s not like I can ask them to join me up the mountain for however long I’ll be stuck up there.
With all the problems in the wasteland, both have essentially been kicked out. It is entirely unfair considering all the help they’ve provided since they arrived. Grímr led Odqan to newly discovered metal deposits, and Leal guided us through the island.
I know the grand elders' primary concern is our own kind — with the excessive numbers of áed at the Agglomerate and those who would typically protect them all busy, it’s understandable — but I still hate that they would cast off my friends after all they’ve done to prove their trustworthiness.
The burning inscription appears above my hand again, ready for Leal’s water hyle, but it’s pointless. The dip in sand that leads to what we now know is an ancient ship appears ahead of us.
“So how have you never found this place despite the thousands of years you’ve been here?” Grímr asks, likely trying to drag the conversation away from fleeing in the face of this grand elder. “Considering the nomadic nature of your kind, I would have assumed not a grain of sand would remain undiscovered after all this time.”
Ignatia, all too ready to change of subject, jumps on the chance. “It’s not like our tribes travel for the purpose of combing the desert. If we find something, we’ll record it, of course, but mostly we travel from landmark to landmark. That means we often travel the same paths as other tribes.” She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have to tell you how wide the wasteland is. It takes a lot longer to cross when you can’t fly. But even without that, we’re in the barren lands; there are no resources here to incentivise tribes to travel this way.”
As we fly over the dune blocking sight of the cube, Ignatia pauses.
“Oh, wow. It really is active.”
“Haven’t you seen the island?” Grímr asks.
“Oh, Ember, no,” she says. “Water is still water, no matter how hot the áed. Really, Śuri is the only one that actively went out that way.”
The cube is the same as it was when we left it. Still gushing out water to the sands below. The geysers are tiny, almost inconsequential compared to the intensity of the explosive streams around the island. These are closer to waterfalls than the pressure cannons in the larger structure.
“So, how are we entering?” Leal asks. “I can make a path through a stream rather easily.”
I know Leal is excited to get a proper look inside. Both other times, we were hurried out too quick for her to explore for long. If not for the grand elder joining us, I wouldn’t let her have her way; there is still a high likelihood that there are traps to block our entry. What if the Anatla has control over here too? I can’t see the green glow through the structure, but it could be hidden deep within.
“Ignatia, you can control plasma, right?” I ask.
“Sure.” despite her confirmation, she doesn’t sound confident.
As I stare at her with concern, she elaborates. “I can control it, but I cannot create it myself, so I don’t have much experience.”
She doesn’t leave me with much confidence. “You’ll be alright to stop the plasma cannon inside the ship, right?”
Thankfully, she nods with a more comforting level of conviction. “Of course.”
“Then I’d much rather go through the undamaged entrance than one of the water streams.”
Leal looks slightly disappointed, but it only lasts a moment. If I’m to guess, I’d say she’s transitioned her excitement to analysing the inscriptions that create ranked fire. Honestly, I’m kinda interested in that myself, but my knowledge is still incredibly lacking. Maybe one day I’ll reach Riparia and get Solon to teach me.
Grímr glides us into an opening without issue. Thankfully, this one doesn’t have water flowing along the floor like the last time we visited this cube. A touch more prepared than last time, we stay on Grímr’s back as he trots forward. The alicanto’s wings remain extended and ready to launch us out the way we came in an instant.
At about the same point as last time, the shutter slams closed behind us and flames flood the hallway. Between myself and Ignatia, the fire extinguishes in an instant. The chill that rushes through the vents permeates the surrounding metal, but sitting on Grímr as I am, the cold doesn’t grab at my feet.
An intense glowing heat at the far end of the corridor burns with intensity for a few moments, but it doesn’t even come close to the strength it reached last time. The gathering plasma disperses like it hadn’t just been preparing to blow us apart. Ignatia was thankfully not lying about being able to control the ranked fire.
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The rest of the tunnel and its inscription don’t seem to have been designed for a failure to fire once the plasma began charging. Frost permeates the metal so deeply that crystals of ice form all around us. Strangely, despite the cold, the air grows dryer. All the moisture floating around from the geysers disappears in moments, and it suddenly becomes so much easier to breathe. It’s like we’re back in the Agglomerate rather than in the rainy part of New Vetus.
I could do without the chill, though.
A few more seconds after the plasma should have exploded, the cold energy running through the vents ceases. I wonder how effective that design really is at protecting the metal from plasma? The shutter that closed in behind us opened as soon as the explosion should have gone off, so I guess it really is intended as a cannon. Maybe the fire at the start has some purpose of its own?
We’ve made it this far without the ship blowing itself apart, so I’d call it a victory. Now we just have to see if there’s actually a way forward in here.
The end of the hallway appears to be a dead end, but there has to be some way through; the connecting dock back at the island would have been pointless if this corridor led nowhere. An array of lines protrudes from the far wall, and despite my little knowledge of inscriptions, I can recognise a similar technique as in the one I used to track Kalma; there are two distinct tracks for hyle types.
Considering the many tracks that lead into vents along the edge of the wall, I assume that’s the carrier of the plasma hyle. They must generate all the energy elsewhere and concentrate it here with the other inscriptions. Do all the cannons share the same source? If so, I wonder if they would fail if more than one triggered at the same time?
The design of the massive cannon is impressive, but it would be horrible if it ever landed in the hands of the nations to the east. We’re lucky our elders can prevent the explosion, but would any non-áed elite survive such a blast?
The first time, we survived only because the plasma exploded, rather than concentrating down the barrel. Whether it was because of disrepair, or my actions actually destabilised the inscription, it was clearly a misfire. Just who were these beings fighting that they needed defences able to kill elite at the level of the inner circle mercenaries in over a hundred ships?
The centzon — or some ancient offshoot of them — are still the most likely to be the creators in my mind. But even they don’t seem possible. The centzon never showed proficiency in inscriptions, and while this ancient species is capable of mechanical contraptions — if the doors and shutters are anything to go off — they don’t incorporate the moving machines into their designs nearly enough to be related to them.
As I look along the walls, I notice a control interface. Well, it’s not exactly the same as the orbs we saw in the island, but the knife-like key slots are arranged in an ever so slight depression in the metal. Each slot is arranged with the same spacing and order as the small half-spheres I used to open the wall inside the island.
The slightest application of physical flame is enough to press each of the tiny buttons inside the key-slots.
Its purpose reveals immediately. The four major inscription paths that lead in from the vents along each corner break away from the rear wall with a hiss of air. They latch cleanly into the corners as the back wall rises into the ceiling. The section of metal that rises is incredibly thick, showing the pads of many inscription pads that connect to the floor when lowered.
Not wasting time, the four of us proceed into the core of the ship. Thankfully, the section we walk into isn’t flooded. We follow the corridor for another dozen metres before we open into a space reminiscent of the area within the dock of the island. It isn’t as large as that warehouse-like room, but the stairs and mechanical platform are the same.
It’s surprising how pristine everything looks despite the aeons it remained here. Without the pressurised water that damaged the associated chamber of the island, the hand rails lining the main stairs and the elevators leading up to the higher floors appear almost new.
As we head up the main stairs, the tap of Grímr’s talons echo around us. Now that we’re properly inside, there’s probably nothing to worry about, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful and stick together. Who knows if there’s a trap ready to flood this chamber?
“To think there was so much metal just waiting to be found.” Ignatia shakes her head in disbelief. “How many more of these could be buried beneath the deserts?”
“Unless they are active, it’ll be hard to find them,” I say. Grímr can sniff out metal, but his nose isn’t so strong as to smell these things from across the wasteland. The best he can do is find things just beneath the surface as he flies over.
Sitting on Grímr’s back, we pass through the corridor at the top of the storage room that doubles as an entrance hall. No shutters close on us this time. Our passage is almost uneventful. A deep rumble gradually grows as we travel deeper, but Leal is quick to assuage our concerns. Well, mostly.
“That’s the water,” she says. “There are a couple of channels travelling beside this hallway.”
Having an answer that isn’t ‘Anatla’ is comforting, but only so comforting as being surrounded by water allows. I’m not worried though. I trust Leal to deal with it if the walls do break.
There is no massive open area in this ship, nor is there a sphere to contain the water production. The corridor leads directly to the bridge, and right in the middle of the room is the small cubic key. It does not glow an eerie green. The standard steel grey seems almost plain compared to the unreal transparency of the first one we saw.
Just in case there is the smallest influence of corruption, I leap off Grímr’s and tear the key from its socket before any of the others can think of doing it first. Thankfully, there is no trace that tries to fight my fire.
“Solvei, you’ll need to put it back in if you want to deactivate the water production,” Grímr reminds me. The sound of rumbling around us only emphasises his words.
“Right. Right.”
The cube is back in its slot, and I have my flames unlock the control interface within moments. I don’t know if I get lucky again, or if is really that easy to shut it off without understanding the controls, but after a few jerked motions, the growl of rushing water slows to a stop. Not wanting to accidentally turn it back on, I rip the cube from the machine again and send the ship into an eternal rest.
It will either be buried forever, or scrapped by the áed.
❖❖❖
The incursion into the cube ship went far better than I ever hoped.
I don’t think I’ve ever had something go that smoothly, but despite the success, I am not happy. Now that we’re done, I have to say goodbye to my two friends.
In a perfect world, this would never happen. The two of them should be fine to return to the east without problem. They should, but trusting that nothing horrid will happen when I’m not around to incinerate threats that might appear is hard.
“No need to worry about us, Solvei. Just do what you need here. Your team will be waiting for you to join us.” Grímr, somehow always able to tell when I’m concerned.
“Don’t wait too long,” I joke, “you’ll never progress if you don’t find someone to perform the inheritance ritual in my stead.”
Grímr’s eyes widen as if the thought only just hit him. “Well, even if we find another mage, we’ll always welcome you back.”
I look to Leal, but I have to hold myself back from recommending her to take the position. If she does, she does, but I’m sure she wants to return to Gerben, her father. I’ve already taken her away for a few months; I’d feel even worse if I took her away any longer.
“The next time we meet, I’m going to be the one to surprise you with my growth,” Leal declares. “If the next few Markings I’ve got planned work well, expect me to stand my ground by your side.”
I’m sure she’s got some good ideas, but to reach my strength in such a short time would require some dangerous risks that I don’t know if I’ll be all that happy with her taking. I shouldn’t talk, considering my past, but I can’t help myself.
“Don’t do anything reckless, alright?”
“I promise not to do anything you wouldn’t do.” She smiles innocently, but the glint in her eyes reveals her game. I decide to play.
“Alright, so does that mean no water for you?” I ask, tapping my finger on my chin. “I certainly wouldn’t touch the stuff.”
She simply smiles in return before tugging me into an embrace. “Goodbye, Solvei. Come see me as soon as you can. I wasn’t lying about wanting to show you what I’ve been working on.”
“I will. Hopefully, it won’t be longer than a few months.”
I break my hug with Leal and crash into the alicanto standing awkwardly off to the side. His wing hardly hesitates to curl around me as I do. “I’ll miss you both.”
Leal clambers up Grímr’s back and the two take to the skies, heading south where they’ll follow the coast east. The sight is sad, but it makes me realise something.
“How are you getting back to the Agglomerate?” I ask Ignatia, who has been analysing the cube key while giving us space. I can fly, but it should be harder for her to get back as quick.
“We,” she stresses the word. “Will be running.”