Chapter 45
The pure darkness gave them no way of measuring time, but Snow believed the journey took more than twenty minutes for them to complete their descent. As light spilled over the platform from below, he saw Element wary, ready, her weapon in hand, grimacing as her hands shook. He supposed he could have used his Gift to light the passage, but he would need that energy later.
Soon, the stone walls cut away to reveal bubbling glass tubes through which bright chemicals flowed and artificial hands which kneaded twitching masses of flesh. The air was acrid, aggressively clean in a way that coated the tongue. Tubes built into the ceilings shed lifeless light onto what Snow guessed was a workshop. Tables against the walls were covered in scrawled documents. In one corner, two caged wolves rested, alive or otherwise, and a tunnel stretched away beyond sight.
“Sol be with us,” Element whispered. “Look at all this. How could this be so close to us?”
“Maybe it was here before we came to the Moenian Forest.”
Element shuddered. “We could have passed over this a thousand times in our patrols and not known about it. Think how many more there could be.”
“I'm trying not to.”
“That's not what I want to hear from my Shield-General!” Element said with a laugh.
Snow laughed too, a manic reaction, not a comedic one. “I'm not your Shield-General yet, Element.”
The platform finally came to a stop. They stood still, eyes watering from the chemicals in the air, and awaited a reaction to their intrusion. None came. There were no signs of Disciples either, meaning that they were alone. At least for the time being.
“I think we're a hundred feet down: I kept my hand to the stone to measure our progress,” Element said. She stepped away from the platform and looked around, coming to terms with this workshop. “They could do anything down here. Anything.”
“Have you seen the tunnel?” Snow asked.
“I have.”
“Thankfully, it doesn't go south. But...”
Snow tailed off, not needing say that a tunnel south meant the Disciples have tunnelled under Geos' Fronts. Lun, even if they didn't find such evidence, another network could have bypassed their defences. Disciples strolling past the Fronts unnoticed, attacking from behind or going straight to Aureu made Snow dizzy.
“What do we do?” Element asked. “What do we do about this... workshop?”
“Destroy it.”
“How?”
Wanting to exorcise his fear, wanting to destroy something intricate, Snow drew Scar's signet ring. He swung the necklace it hung from, then charged at the artificial hands that massaged disembodied flesh. The ring struck their housing and Sol's might shone, slicing the machine in two. He cut through it again to be sure before moving onto other sets, ruining four in total.
Element stepped back on the platform, out of his way. A mixture of wonder, rapture, and fear played across her face as she watched him work.
Snow turned to the glass veins. It was too dangerous to crack them open – he could splash himself with something that poisoned or ate his flesh – so he would use pure energy. Sigil, somehow looking fierce and full of rage, bonded with Snow and granted him its energy. Together, man and Servant encircled each wretched system or mechanism and crushed them. Unlike other Disciples creations, they resisted little, requiring no effort to destroy, and soon he had seven spheres of broken glass and unholy chemicals under his power. These, he grouped into one and threw into the furthest corner.
There was no sizzle, no reaction: just a splash and the tinkle of glass shattering further.
“That is everything, yes?” Snow asked, worried he might have missed something.
“It is,” Element said breathlessly. “You did that so... easily.”
Snow nodded. “Any Acolyte would.”
“Sol is wonderful,” she said, then wiped her eyes. “I assume we'll search the tunnel?”
“Something made and sent those Lions. We must find it.”
“And kill it,” Element said.
They walked past the wolf's pen. Element looked in as she passed. “They’re dead,” she said. “Bled out.”
Snow took a moment to examine the creatures. Their throats had been slit, a rather... simple method of murder for Disciples. He couldn't work out why they would bring these creatures down here, go to all that effort, only to slaughter them like lambs.
“We couldn't take them with us anyway,” Snow said.
“I would have liked to release them if they were alive. Instead, they have been... butchered.” She frowned, looked down the corridor ahead of them. “Maybe their organs are used in the construction of the Lions, like... like bricks of meat, a foundation made of real creature.”
“Perhaps,” Snow said, suddenly eager to be away from the corpses. “I don't know. Let's go.”
Those odd tubes of light continued down the corridor, shedding sterile light onto walls far rougher than those in the workshop. Snow rolled his fingers along their surface, these tunnels no one had seen fit to shore up. They didn't sprint for fear of traps, but their passage still generated loud, echoing footsteps that bounced between the rough walls.
Snow kept envisaging the ceiling collapsing, and them being burrowed in a mound of soil. Perhaps that was why they had no shores. He had plenty of time to imagine such scenarios: the tunnel continued for miles.
They jogged until they reached a dome, where two tunnels went north east and south west. Element raised a hand to stop him, then put a finger to her lips. Snow stopped, held his tongue. It was only in the still that he noticed the absence of the clean stench, replaced by the warm smell of earth.
Element crept toward the south west tunnel and flattened against the domed wall. Her hand cupped her ear; she closed her eyes. After a few seconds, she gestured Snow to run to the other side of the corridor. Quietly, he did so. Snow couldn't hear what made the Contegon so wary. He cupped his ears too, but detected nothing. She frowned at his shrug and then mimed speech.
Snow raised an eyebrow. Element must have much sharper hearing than him. He waved a hand, tried to get her to explain what she heard, but she shook her head and held her hands apart in response. After a moment, he realised she was saying it was too far away.
He pointed down the tunnel. Element nodded: they would sneak down.
Snow started down the corridor, taking the lead now. This tunnel curved away to the north. They followed it in silence, Snow hearing only the whispers of their robes and muffled padding of their boots.
But then Snow heard the talking. It impressed him that Element had heard it from so far away. The words were indistinguishable, a low murmur. He wondered if Element could hear individual words, if she were privy to what they said, her emotions calm in the face of alien speech.
No one had ever heard the Disciples communicate. It was assumed that they spoke in ways humans couldn't understand, from mind to mind or through sounds humans could not hear... but what if they kept that speech for battle and had a formal language for discussing plans? Snow looked forward to hearing more... and then snuffing their lives out.
The tunnel curved further away, going what Snow assumed was north west. He halted, gestured for Element to do the same, then peered around the corner: ahead was another workshop, this one filled with a dozen artificial hands toying with flesh. There was no cover between them and the workshop entrance, but there were also no Disciples so they could probably get closer.
When he stuck his head out slightly, he got a clear snatch of speech. He was horrified to hear them speaking Modern, Aureu's language.
“... somewhat successful trial, I'd say,” the voice said. It sounded like they had a tongue of flesh. “It's certainly successful enough to roll out full production. I can then make anti-Cyrus Force armour for them, really turn this all around.”
“I remain unconvinced,” came the reply. This voice was scratchy, emotionless, and atonal. “But I will send some materials to allow you to launch a larger a
ssault. Should that be successful–”
“Oh, come, that's not good enou–”
The inhuman voice cut over the human one, so loud Snow might've heard it on the descending platform. “Should that assault be successful, we will grant you everything you need!” Then it quieted. “Until then, we cannot spare that long on the Matter Generator. Am I understood?”
There was a pause, then the crash of something smashing. “Fine. I'm unhappy, but I accept.”
“Whilst I appreciate it, I wasn't looking for your acceptance. Babbage out.”
“Fucking shit-stain,” the human voice hissed. “And now I need a new desk. Damn it.”
Snow looked back at Element, who had gone white. They were the first humans to hear Disciple speech. From the way the human-sounding one spoke, it seemed that 'Babbage' had gone, but there were no footsteps or signs of a Disciple's passage. Plus, it hadn't allowed enough time for ‘Babbage’ to leave so its comment wouldn’t be heard. They must be able to communicate across distances. If so, Babbage was probably speaking from Moenian.
He held up a finger to say there was probably one Disciple in the room. Element slowly nodded in agreement. She then pointed down the corridor. Snow straightened and nodded, preparing to assault the workshop. Element stood straight.
With a thumbs up, Snow stood to charge down the corridor.
The human voice spoke immediately, saying, “Who is that? Wind, is that you?”
Someone then stepped into view. Their form, their shape, had once been human. All that remained was a torso and head: its arms, legs, and much of its back were Disciple technology, great clawed limbs with gold plating. A thin glass-like material covered its flesh, though Snow did not think it weak as glass. The eyes beneath were deeply sunken, and the skin was pulled taut over his ribs and skull.
The Disciple smiled at them. “Oh, thank you so much,” it said. “I needed to kill something.”