“Let’s go around.” Elren grabbed his arm. “No need to watch.”
Rylan nodded but couldn’t pull his eyes away.
The whines of the dog became a wet gurgle as a big flatback lizard dragged it into the flooded ditch and stood on its throat. The black, hexagonal scales along the lizard’s spline rustled as its muscles flexed.
The dog’s pack watched, whimpered, and paced, but they knew better than to intervene. Their companion had stepped past some invisible boundary and now the city was exacting its punishment.
The splashing quieted. The small, furry shape beneath the surface went still as the lizard’s front legs held it firm. The flatback turned to Rylan, its yellow tongue flicking out to taste the air, a curious look in its dead, glassy eyes.
“Come on.” Elren pulled harder this time.
Rylan released a slow breath and followed his sister out of the shaded alley. The pack of feral dogs began howling, their despair echoing across that ancient graveyard of steel and stone.
This clutch of lizard wardens had, apparently, just claimed this stretch of the ruins – a fact that the dogs had learned the hard way. He and Elren would have to find a different way past. Another detour, another delay.
“We’re running out of daylight,” Elren said as they hiked east.
“I know,” Rylan replied. “Come on, should be able to get a view from up there.” Rylan pointed with his ringstave rifle to a nearby tower.
They picked their way through the steel roots of the leaning structure, then found a stairwell and ascended ten flights. Finding a stable overhang, they looked out to survey a path forward.
The towers of the central city loomed to the north, like half-chewed bones left out in the sun. On the street below, a river carved a branching canyon through mossy stone and rusted steel. Tall clusters of bloodgrass sprouted from the banks, glowing red in the afternoon light. Razorvines added a musical whistle as the wind gusted. And, just to add to the list of things that could kill them, another clutch of flatback lizards patrolled the glade, placid as placemats.
Rylan’s jaw muscles clenched. That whole block would be off limits now. They’d been fighting all day to reach the heart of the city, and the city had resisted them at every turn.
Elren set her ringstave against a wall, then leaned out over the drop to get a view straight down. She tucked a strand of dark, curly hair back into her hood and adjusted her breather mask. Her tinted goggles reflected the sun as it settled towards the horizon.
“Don’t see a way through,” she said. “Something’s definitely off this week. Time to cut our losses and head back.”
Rylan ignored her, searching the ruins below for another way – an overpass, a canal, anything to get them around that patrol.
“Mother will already be furious we came this far,” Elren continued. “Probably a good thing we can’t get any farther.”
While they’d all seen unusual patterns over the last few days, Mother forbidding them from scavenging altogether was an overreaction. He and Elren had safely traversed the ruins for years, each with their official dispensation from the Clerics. He was nearly eighteen and Elren was nineteen, well past time to cut the umbilical.
“We’ll try your hunch again after things settle down,” she concluded. “Let’s head back.”
“This can’t wait till then.” Rylan turned to face her. “Kasran’s spiraling.”
“And after eight years of searching, mapping, and scavenging, we’ll find the Oracle today because…” Elren waved a hand vaguely to the north. “You had another dream this morning?”
“It wasn’t a dream.”
Rylan wished it had been that simple. A dream was something he could wrap his head around. The truth was more complicated.
“It was a memory…or fragments of memories,” Rylan tried to explain. “But not my memories.”
And even though the memories lacked continuity, context, and connection with his own narrative of events, the images and experiences were undeniable. Rylan knew exactly how to find the Oracle now, as clearly as if he’d done it the day before.
If only he could get there.
Elren’s concerned and skeptical expression was apparent even behind her goggles.
“Don’t give me that look,” Rylan said.
“What look?”
“The ‘I’m worried you’re going crazy like Kasran’ look.”
Elren’s look shifted from concern to anger. “No one’s saying that.”
“I know it sounds insane.”
“No, Rylan, it’s just that the last time you followed one of these…’memories that aren’t your memories’, you ended up—”
“This is different,” he insisted, refusing to be baited. “I took you with me this time, right? I’ve learned a lot since then.”
Elren let out a longsuffering exhalation, puffing the filters on her breather mask. “You’re a model citizen now. Shirking escort duty, lying to mother, dragging your sister into your crazy—”
“What if it’s real?” Rylan jabbed a finger towards the heart of the city. “What if something or someone is giving me these visions? What if it’s the Oracle itself trying to be found?”
“She’s a gene loom, not some sort of god,” Elren said.
“Do we really know what that technology can and can’t do?” Rylan asked.
Elren sighed, frustrated by his logic. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t see a safe way forward. So whatever it is you saw, I’m not going to try something even riskier to —”
“The biggest risk is doing nothing,” Rylan said. “Kasran nearly killed you this time.”
It was Elren’s turn to look uncomfortable. Her jaw worked beneath the straps of her mask, apparently chewing on his logic before she spat up a response. “He didn’t, though, did he?”
“Not for lack of trying.”
“I’ll worry about me.” Elren adjusted her scarf as if trying to loosen a noose. “You need to worry about what Mother will do to you when she finds out we went scavenging instead of escort duty.”
“I’ll deal with it if she finds out. You don’t need worry about me, either.”
“Great,” Elren replied. “No one’s worrying about anything.”
They stood there a while, both surly and self-righteous.
“Mother always finds out,” Elren said to break the silence.
Rylan laughed. That part was true enough.
A low rumble shook the tower beneath their feet. Rylan turned west and saw a long dust cloud rising between fractured buildings. He recognized the telltale signs and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, a bit of luck.
“That terapede’s heading downtown! Come on, there’s a stop in that clearing.” Rylan leapt down from their overlook to a rusted staircase mounted on the outside of the tower. He ran down the rattling structure until it disappeared into a steep mound of rubble. He jogged out onto the mound, then alternated between sliding and scrambling as the stone broke apart under his boots.
Elren leapt down after him, adding to the minor land slide rushing down the heap. They skated down to the ground, then outpaced the resulting cloud of dust as they dashed for the stop.
They reached the old, battered signpost just as the terapede came stomping into view. As long as a city block and as wide as the street, the massive creature’s countless legs undulated in a sinuous wave as they trampled past.
Rylan raised his arm, displaying a narrow silver band they’d scrounged off a corpse just that morning. The ancient artifact emitted a feeble chime and the terapede began to slow. Its spindly legs kicked up moss and gravel as it skidded against the uneven pavement.
“We’re really doing this?” she asked.
“Yep,” he replied.
“How does this happen?” Elren asked. “Why do I always let you do this?”
“Because you’re my big sister and you’re the best?” Rylan said using his little kid voice. “And if you didn’t go along, I’d just run off and do it on my own?”
“Ugh,” she grunted. “Now I remember. That’s the reason.”
The terapede finally reached a standstill in front of the rusted signpost. Its sleek body was pocked with boils and scars. Rent flesh hung off in patches from the terapede’s metallic skeleton of greasy gears and pistons. The fleshy exterior was intermingled with a honeycomb of glass windows, etched, stained, and scratched until they were cloudy as wax.
“Just my luck,” Elren said in horrified recognition. “I swear this one likes you, Rylan.”
“Scabby!” Rylan patted the fleshy side of the terapede.
“You named it?” Elren asked.
An opening split along its exterior with a sticky, squelching sound. A tongue-like ramp extended to allow them in. Of all the terapedes still roaming the city, Scabby was the furthest past retirement.
“I think it’s cute she’s still pluggin’ along,” he said as they strode up the pliable ramp into the humid interior.
“’Cute’? Rotting Hell.” Elren coughed as the foul aroma blasted them.
Both he and Elren raised their wrists to display thin metal bracelets. His band buzzed with a chime and a tinny voice saying, ‘Payment withdrawn.’
The doors zippered shut again with a slurping finality. Green pustules along the floor illuminated the surreal space. Rylan quickly pulled his hood tight as two rows of orifices overhead began to cough mucus, splattering them. Flesh drew back to show gray tongues and teeth inside each.
With a rattling chorus in Old Aedelric, the terapede said, “Welc-me to LifeLine, Stella Carver, Markus Null. T-is is th- green l-ine, bo-und for axis cour-t.” The mouths coughed again, spraying more fluid. “Stops one, four, eight, twelve, thirteen, eighteen, and twenty are currently unavailable. We apologize for the inconvenience. Please brace yourself for acceleration.”
Rylan and Elren grabbed one of the bony posts along the floor.
The terapede’s legs began pumping again, heaving them down the road. The creature’s joints screeched with effort, but it kept accelerating until the landscape outside began to sweep past.
Rylan smiled as he saw a dozen flatback lizards anxiously scramble out of the way before Scabby could trample them.
Several overhead mouths began humming a forgotten melody, some of them with more apparent skill than others. Rylan imagined that at one point it might have been relaxing.
The mouth closest to Rylan began to speak to him directly. A gravely female voice said, “There are several seats available, Stella Carver, if you would prefer to sit.”
Rylan glanced behind him to eye a seat that unfurled from the wall. Half-dried mucus prevented it from opening fully, fleshy flaps trembling from the effort.
“No thanks,” Rylan replied.
The seat slapped shut with a sigh.
“It has been…one thousand, three hundred, and ninety-four years since your last trip aboard LifeLine,” the voice continued.
The terapede darted down into a tunnel, shrouding them in darkness. The livid glow of the organic lights washed the space in horrid detail for a few moments before the creature galloped out of the tunnel and back into the sunlight.
Switching to a new voice, the mouth over Rylan spoke in dull, somber tones. “With incidents of human rebellion on the rise, mandatory curfew will remain until all unrest has been quelled. Violators will be executed without trial. Please remain in your assigned domicile after sunset to avoid…”
“That’s it!” Rylan said as he spotted a dome through the dusty glass. He raised his bracelet and tapped it frantically. “Stop! Hey, uh, can you stop here, please?”
“Please confirm emergency stop,” the overhead voices said.
“Yes, confirm!” Ryan shouted. “Right here.”
“Brace. Brace. Brace,” the mouths chanted in a fearful chorus.
Scabby began a frantic braking maneuver, its legs burrowing deep furrows in the old street as the vehicle struggled to slow. Several legs snapped at their joints, spraying black grease. Rylan nearly lost his footing as the creature lurched to a standstill. The overhead voices petered off into painful groans and whimpers.
“Emergency stop unauthorized in this sector. Infraction recorded. All accounts locked. Stella Carver, report immediately to the nearest warden or master for processing.”
“Sorry, Scabby,” Rylan whispered as the doors yawned open.
He and Elren strode down the ramp. As soon as their boots hit pavement, the ramp curled back in, and the doors snapped shut like closing jaws.
The old terapede moved off at a markedly slower pace, dragging in the spot where it had lost a few legs. It’d trundle its way back to the station, where ancient repair drones would graft replacements on. Probably.
“Stella’s not going to be happy about her accounts,” Rylan noted, watching Scabby disappear into the ruins, feeling a little guilty that he’d added to her many wounds.
“I think Stella’s probably more occupied with being dead,” Elren replied. “So. Here we are, as deep in as you can get.”
“Thank you,” Rylan said.
Elren raised an eyebrow.
“For, you know, trusting me,” he said.
Elren blew out a heavy breath, rattling the filters on her mask. Even though she was only one year older, Rylan knew she shouldered responsibility for the both of them. He rarely worried enough, knowing that she did it on his behalf.
“Just don’t make me regret it,” she said. “Where to?”
Rylan looked around to get his bearings. He hadn’t been back to the heart of the ruins since the incident last year, mostly due to their mother’s new prohibition – but that wasn’t the only reason.
The ruins were more alive here, a beating heart within a corpse.
Horrific plants pushed through every broken surface, breathing like beasts while expelling their spores to the wind. Watchers formed a grid overhead, dragonfly wings buzzing as their glassy eyes stared down. The pavement undulated as they strode upon it, slimy tendons appearing between the seams.
Towers rose up all around them, some gleaming, some so dilapidated a stiff breeze might topple them. Rylan spotted a cluster of crawling fixers on one of the closest buildings, appearing at a distance like maggots crowding a kill. Of course, they were as big as horse carts, and instead of eating the old building the creatures cleared, polished, and repaired the ancient structure. Nothing could ever stay dead here.
While far richer in rare artifacts, the risk-to-reward ratio of venturing here had always proven less than ‘worth it’ for Rylan’s family. There was a reason this place hadn’t been picked clean yet. A thousand reasons.
Rylan nodded towards the building he’d spotted from within the terapede. “That’s what I saw.” The domed structure lay on the far side of the intersection, half buried in rubble.
They made their way cautiously forward, navigating through a nasty field of needle trap plants. Then the lush and varied forms of life growing within the rubble gave way to a wide, barren field of blackened stone and metal slag. Rylan recognized the Clerics’ handiwork in the yellow powder scattered throughout the fire-purged rubble. It had been here long enough that the powder had a thick crust on the outside from years of rain and fog. Still, he could smell a strong aroma of almonds through his breather mask.
“Must have been a big nest here,” Elren said, walking over to a fallen signpost that she flipped with her boot. The faded sign read in local Tel’Dronic script:
“Forbidden. All who trespass here will be considered tainted by the Poisoned City and purged by the Clerics of the Watchwood Barrier.”
Rylan glanced east to the terminus of the Black Road where a glowing column of riftspace shone into the rust-colored sky. That narrow blue channel connected this continent to the rest of the Hundred Worlds, and purging the road to and from that spot was ostensibly the only reason that the Clerics had for venturing out this far.
“We’ve gotta be what, five, six miles from the Black Road?” Rylan guessed by gauging their distance to the rift. “That’s way too far for them to bother clearing out a Razorbeak nest,” he said, looking back at the warning sign.
“More importantly,” Elren noted, “why warn us off, under penalty of death, if they’ve already dealt with the nest?”
Rylan began to smile as he studied the rolling mounds of blackened, poisoned rubble. She made a good point. Then the hairs rose on the back of his neck as he spotted a gaping hole about fifty paces out. A rush of adrenaline pulsed through him.
The memory that wasn’t his memory clicked into place in his mind.
“That’s it!” Rylan ran forward and slid down an embankment until the hole yawned open in front of him. A stone the size of a cart lay beside the opening. Rylan approached it slowly as Elren caught up behind him.
“Black on the bottom,” Rylan observed, crouching down to study the base. “Must have been flipped after the Cleric’s purge.” A shiver ran down from his fingertips to his spine as he touched that big chunk of rock. It had been heavy, slick with dew at the time he’d rolled it over.
Rylan checked himself, fighting the disorientation as that out-of-place memory collided with his own. He hadn’t flipped the stone. He’d never been in this particular spot before. Besides, it would have taken six men with levers to have budged the thing.
“No claw marks.” Elren ran a gloved hand along the chunk of stone. “If a razorbeak or flatback moved it, we should see claw marks.”
Her words seemed distant. Even if the memories hadn’t been his own, he’d known this would be here. That meant he was right about the rest, too. “The Oracle is close. Come on.” Rylan dropped down into the opening.
“What about the thing that moved the rock?” Elren demanded as she leapt down after him.
“Whatever moved it is gone now,” Rylan said quietly as he tried to adjust his eyes to the gloom. He didn’t want to tell her that he’d remembered moving the stone as doing so wouldn’t alleviate her worries, merely redirect them.
“Don’t worry, nothing huge could fit through here,” Rylan said, gesturing down the narrow, choked passage that cut deeper into the mountain of rubble.
“Fair enough,” she said, following as he began picking his way downward. “You…saw all this?” Her voice didn’t project confidence.
“Yeah,” he said, ignoring the skepticism. “This leads all the way down to her chamber. After this there’s a bunch of … uh, glowy root things.” They moved between dusty shafts of afternoon light, pressed between huge slabs of rough stone and jagged steel.
“Glowy root things?” she asked.
“You’ll see.”
“Visions or not, we still don’t know this isn’t a razorbeak nest,” Elren said in yet another attempt to dissuade him. “What if it just went too deep to fully purge?”
“If it really is a nest,” Rylan argued, “the Cleric’s poison has had plenty of time to leech down a hundred feet. Everything down here is long dead.”
A stone clattered and fell behind them. Rylan whirled around to see a shadow dart between patches of light. They waited in silence for a moment, but the corridor remained still.
“You were saying?” Elren said, pulling out her lighter from her belt pouch. Like a large silver beetle, the artifact unfolded onto three legs and crawled to her wrist to sit on her LinC bracelet. Its triangular face illuminated, cutting through the shadows. “Payment withdrawn,” it chimed.
“It was too small for a razorbeak.” Rylan activated his as well, comforted as the small device took position on his shoulder. The mechanism tracked his gaze, lighting wherever he looked with only a momentary lag. Unlike Elren’s lighter, Rylan’s didn’t need payment every time it activated. Good thing, too, since he’d gotten Stella’s accounts frozen.
“We aren’t the only scavengers in the ruins,” Elren said. “Maybe we’re being followed.”
“Yeah, but we’re the only ones crazy enough to go underground. And the only ones desperate enough to risk getting burned alive by the Clerics by searching for the famed ‘Demon of Melarias’.”
Elren chuckled. “Good point. Unless it’s a Cleric following us.”
“They never come out here by themselves,” Rylan said, although that didn’t slow his racing heartbeat.
“Well, we’re in the pudding now,” Elren said. “Might as well eat our fill.”
They continued downward until a gap in the rubble showed a chamber beneath. They dropped down onto polished marble flooring.
Decorative carvings covered every wall, beautiful creatures of every type all posed in an interlocking dance. Translucent fibers grew across the carvings, worming between cracks in the stone. Rylan’s foot crunched one of the fibers and a glowing blue dot shot along the root deeper into the complex. He drew his foot back with a jerk, then laughed.
“Glowing root things.” Elren brushed her hand along the fibers. About half of them were shriveled and dead, but each of the living ones illuminated at her touch. The light traced downward along the branching roots, a tiny glow that illuminated the length of the corridor before disappearing. “I’m uh…starting to believe you weren’t just dreaming,” she whispered.
“Me too,” Rylan said, terrified.
“So,” she said, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. “We’re close?”
Rylan nodded and pressed onward. At each footfall, a burst of glowing lights danced ahead, guiding them into the darkness.
The translucent roots got thicker and thicker the further they went. After descending a second flight of stairs, the roots became so abundant as to obscure any sign of the original structure beneath. The waxy tubes slowly contracted and relaxed in rhythm, forming a wave that rolled towards the heart of the complex. The air here was warm and moist, fetid with decay.
It felt like they’d entered some leviathan’s digestive tract.
Elren raised her lighter as they passed into a vast chamber. The beam highlighted a ring of monolithic sculptures stood in a circle around the room, posed as if they held the ceiling in place. A few inches of water made a mirror across the chamber’s floor, reflecting ancient figures and scenes painted across the domed ceiling.
A shock of memory hit Rylan as their lights swept across the chamber. He knew every detail in this space like he’d seen it yesterday. He’d seen the shallow, still water on the floor. He’d known how the ceiling had caved in on the far side even before his light swept across the rubble.
He’d seen it. He’d been here. And yet he couldn’t have.
His mind spun in that impossible loop. A stuck gear, grinding as the other cogs whirled around it.
Had he seen the future, somehow? No; it wasn’t as if he’d moved the stone. He couldn’t have, in any past or future. These memories weren’t his.
But they were real. So where in all addled Aedelra had the memories come from? How’d they end up rattling around inside his skull that morning?
Also: if these weren’t his memories, was there some original owner who had already been here ahead of them?
“Rotting Hell.” Elren grabbed his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. “You did it. You actually found it.”