Tolemek didn’t question him further.
While the others hopped out of the basket, Ridge walked along the base of the mountain toward the alcove that held the doors. They were tall enough and wide enough that a two-seat flyer could have navigated through them, though he couldn’t imagine landing and taking off without a runway, unless that was built into the mountain itself somehow.
He froze as soon as he poked his head around the corner for a better look. Clearly what Sardelle had meant was that there was nobody living out here. He gulped as he stared at two bodies hanging on hooks on either side of the closed doors.
Though Ridge wasn’t certain he wanted to see better, he had to know who the people were—who they had been. He dug into his utility pouch for his small tin of matches. He lit one, the flame flaring and reflecting off heavy rivets on the steel door. It also illuminated the bodies.
On both of them, the skin had been flayed—no burned—off, leaving the facial features unrecognizable, but the shredded remains of gray-and-blue Iskandian army uniforms were all too familiar. Much of the hair had been removed—burned or melted away, but from the sizes and shapes, one clearly feminine, Ridge was fairly certain he was looking at the bodies of Captains Nowon and Kaika. He let the match fall to the ground and dropped his chin to his fist, guilt and regret gnawing at him. If he hadn’t left that posturing colonel behind, was it possible the mission would have gone more smoothly? That the elite troops team might still be alive?
“Oh hells,” Duck whispered, stopping beside Ridge. The others soon gathered in front of the doors too.
Tolemek shook his head slowly. Sardelle closed her eyes and looked away. It was a disturbing image. Ridge was glad the sulfurous scent all around them overrode the butcher-house smell that had to be lingering around the bodies.
“Should we cut them down, sir?” Ahn asked.
“If we can get them on the way out, we will.” Ridge would like to give the officers burials somewhere, but the sooner they finished what they had come for, the sooner they might escape with their own lives intact. He didn’t want to see the rest of his team suffer this fate.
Ridge took a breath and walked up to the double doors. There wasn’t a handle, latch, or even a keyhole. He looked back at Sardelle.
“Tolemek has a knack for opening doors or making them where they don’t exist.” She sounded weary, like she would prefer to hand this task off to another.
“Yes, he does,” Ahn said.
If there was an alternative, Ridge would gladly save Sardelle’s powers for when they truly needed them. “Tolemek?”
“It will take a couple of minutes.” Tolemek stepped forward, and the satchel he always carried clanked as he dug into it.
Ridge tried pushing and pulling on the doors while he waited. He didn’t expect them to budge—and they didn’t—but one had to try. In the darkness, he wasn’t positive what Tolemek was doing, but he seemed to be drawing a circle on one of the doors. After a moment, he stepped back.
Ridge shifted his weight from foot to foot, resisting the urge to demand what was supposed to be happening. Eventually, Tolemek planted a boot on the center of the circle and shoved. To Ridge’s surprise, the movement dislodged the metal. With a resounding clang that made Ridge wince, the circle fell through, landing on a stone floor on the other side. Light spilled out from within. Ridge dropped to his knee to the side of the hole, pistol in hand, and leaned in, prepared for a firefight if legions of guards were descending on the door.
But the chamber inside, a cavernous space with ceilings so high he couldn’t see them from the doorway, was silent. Black marble tiles stretched out in all directions. There were doors to what might have been a lift at the far end of the space. He glimpsed alcoves and recessed doors in the side walls, too, though they were also a long walk from his observing point. Everything was. This chamber looked to take up most of the ground floor of the mountain base. Maybe it was a hangar. Many of the tiles were chipped or cracked, and he spotted a couple of old oil stains.
The only sign of humanity was a guard in a crimson Cofah uniform lying on the floor a couple feet from the big metal circle. Ridge’s first thought was that he had been crushed by the massive falling disk, but no part of his body was trapped beneath it.
“Looks clear, sir,” Ahn whispered. She had knelt on the other side of the hole from him, her rifle at the ready.
Without taking his eyes from the room, Ridge stepped through the hole. The large chamber was lit from above, dozens of bulb-shaped paper lamps hanging suspended from the ceiling at all different heights. Some were even moving about. Strange. Ah, but no, they weren’t hanging at all but floating. The candles or whatever fuel was burning must be heating the air within the lampshade, like the burner had heated the hot air balloon outside.
Interesting, but not the ultra modern technology they had been sent here to learn about. Ridge shifted to the side, so the others could enter, and so he could check the guard. It was one thing seeing dead enemies of the Cofah hung up as a warning in front of their secret laboratory, but one didn’t expect the guards to be dead too.
The man’s neck had been slit. No need to check the pulse, but Ridge touched his skin anyway, trying to get a gauge for when this had happened—and who might have done it. If his people had both died, did this mean they had some other ally in here? Or maybe the Cofah had some other enemy worried about secret bases and dragon blood. The guard’s skin was faintly warm.
“This didn’t happen long ago,” Ridge said, then chastised himself for stating the obvious. Of course, it had to have happened after the balloon observer left, or the man wouldn’t have gone out on his normal rounds. Then again, Ridge couldn’t prove the balloon man had left through these doors. He couldn’t imagine where else such a craft might be launched, but there weren’t any other baskets lined up along the walls.
By now, the rest of the squadron had entered the chamber, and everyone was looking at him. That didn’t normally faze him—he was in charge, after all—but he had no idea where they should start searching. He turned three hundred and sixty degrees, seeking inspiration from the chamber. He halted to stare at notable decorations, ones he hadn’t registered on his first inspection because they were so big as to seem like part of the architecture.
“Uhm?” Ridge muttered, stepping back and nearly tripping over his heels as he craned his neck to see into the shadows above the lanterns.
What he had mistaken for columns were the legs of enormous blocky statues. With patchwork metal bodies of bronze, steel, and more alloys Ridge couldn’t identify, they looked like some child’s project composed from junkyard scraps, except on an enormous scale. They were humanoid with rectangular torsos and square heads that sat flush against the broad flat shoulders, with nothing resembling a neck. They had simple faces, rectangular holes for mouths, circular holes for noses, and vertical rectangles for eyes, the latter appearing closed, metal lids drawn down in sleep.
“I believe those represent the Tangula Tarath from Cofah mythology,” Apex noted. “The ambulatory statues protected the gods’ sky palaces from dragons, back when humans were dwelling in caves and hunting mammoths with stone-tipped spears.”
“Whatever they are, I really hope they don’t come to life,” Duck said.
Ridge almost snorted. Come to life. How could they? But he caught himself before he expelled that breath. If unmanned aircraft could be powered and directed by dragon blood, what if giant statues could be too?
“Let’s get moving before they decide to,” Ridge said. “Sardelle, any idea of where the stash of blood might be?”
Her eyes stared off into the distance. He was starting to recognize that expression as the one she wore when she was discussing things with her sword. With Jaxi, he amended. Somehow it sounded less odd to his mundane little mind to think of Jaxi as a person rather than a pointy stick.
Good for your mind. I’m less likely to harass people who use my name.
Before Ridge could reply, o
r decide if he should flush with embarrassment, Sardelle was answering his question.
“The heaviest concentration is up there.” She pointed toward the ceiling.
“Let’s try that way then.” Ridge pointed toward the far wall where sliding metal doors waited—all of the other exits from the chamber were single doors. “It looks like a lift.”
Nobody objected to his assessment. Either they thought he had a clue, or they didn’t have any better ideas. Inspiring.
He, Ahn, Duck, and Apex walked on either side of the group, their rifles cradled in their arms and pointed toward the perimeter, ready to shoot if any guards trotted out of those doors. Ahn looked alert and unintimidated, her calm gaze roaming about, taking in everything as they advanced. Duck and Apex didn’t look quite as professional. Their boots clomped a little loudly, and their shoulders were tense, as were the fingers on the triggers. Ridge tried not to think about how Kaika and Nowon, true professionals when it came to sneaking into places, had been discovered. He had Sardelle and Tolemek. That ought to give Ridge an advantage they hadn’t had, no matter how skilled they had been at stealth, attack, and evasion. Still, the lack of columns or any sort of features that could be used for cover in a firefight made him nervous as they traveled across the very large, very open chamber.
The group had walked halfway to the lift when a soft clink-clank-clink-clank sound came from behind them. It reminded Ridge of the drawbridge being raised back in the king’s castle. Or of a clockwork machine being wound up. He and his pilots spun in the direction of the noise, their rifles ready. Sardelle and Tolemek faced in that direction, too, though they didn’t reach for weapons, as if they knew that whatever they might face wouldn’t be harmed by mere bullets.
Nothing back there was moving, save for the floating lamps that drifted lazily on currents of air, but the mechanical noises continued. Then Ridge spotted something that had changed: the eyes on the statues were open. And they were glowing red.
“You still not sensing any magic, Sardelle?” Ridge pointed to the eyes.
“Not magic, in the traditional sense, but there is dragon blood in those statues.”
“You didn’t think that was important to mention before?” He regretted the sarcasm immediately, but there was no time for apologies. “Back up, everyone. Keep heading to the lift. Let’s see if we can get out of here before we get a demonstration of what those things can do.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hardly needed to give the order—no one was charging down the room to engage those things. Half of the team turned and ran for the lift doors. Ridge backed away more slowly, watching those statues. What had Apex said? Ambulatory? They looked too top-heavy to move, but he wasn’t willing to make a bet against that.
The tone of the clink-clanks shifted, as if smaller gears were moving than had been before, and the left arms on both of the statues began to rise. The next step before the metal contraptions started walking?
“The doors are locked again,” Duck said, reaching the lift first.
“Tolemek?” Ridge prompted.
“If it is indeed a lift, burning through the doors may render it inoperable.”
“Sardelle?”
The arms of the statues had risen to roughly forty-five degree angles and stopped. Ridge didn’t like the way they seemed to be pointing at his team. If something crazy happened, they could still escape through the front doors, but they would have to run a hundred meters to reach them.
“It’s a lift system, yes,” Sardelle said. “I can sense that there’s a vertical shaft behind the doors. There’s not a cage or cabin or anything on the other side, though. It might be at the top.”
Ridge had been prompting her to open the doors, but that information was valuable too. “Then burning a hole shouldn’t make a difference, eh? While Tolemek does that, someone see if there are any levers around to call the lift down to our level. I’m going to be—”
Without warning, a thik-thunk came from the other side of the room, and something flew from the tip of one of those arms. Ridge jumped to the side, though it was more luck than skill that kept him from being skewered. Something clacked into the marble floor beside him with enough force to crack the tile and leave a hole. It ricocheted off, landing with a ping somewhere else in the room.
“—dodging for my life,” he finished with a grimace.
Ridge looked around, but he had already studied the room with defenses in mind, and he knew there was no place to hide, no cover to be taken. The firing noise came again, and Ridge dodged to the side again, as he might in a firefight in the sky, but he was just guessing that he was a target.
This time, the projectile thudded into something behind him. He glanced back, his heart jumping into his throat. If it had hit Sardelle or one of his men…
But the weapon was stuck in the lift door—it had ripped into the outer metal layer and was sticking out, still quivering. A knife? No, it had several points. A large version of a Cofah throwing star, but it was more like a saw blade at this size.
“Hurry, hurry,” Duck whispered.
“I’m going to second that.” Ridge raised his rifle to aim at the head of one of the statues, but he was reluctant to shoot and make noise. The statues weren’t that loud by themselves, but someone was bound to hear gunfire and wake up to check on intruders.
Sardelle stepped up beside Ridge, her sword out now. Out and glowing.
“Jaxi and I will protect the group from fire,” she said.
The thik-thunk came again. Despite her words, Ridge’s instincts were to throw himself to the ground to make a smaller target.
The throwing star hurtled out of the shadows toward them, but burst into fire ten feet away. Ridge swallowed. That had been an accurate throw. It might have cleaved one of them in half.
“How’re those doors coming, Tolemek?” Ridge asked, wishing he didn’t feel so useless. He fingered the trigger of his rifle. Would a bullet even do anything against a metal statue? Maybe if one shot at the holes from which the stars were being ejected. From this far across the chamber, that would be a job for Ahn.
“I’ve applied the dissolving goo.”
“It’s smoking,” Duck added helpfully.
“No sign of a lever,” Apex added, less helpfully.
Ridge started to ask Sardelle if she could call the lift down from whatever level it was on, but the statues shot again. She was busy. He hated relying on her for everything anyway. He dropped his rucksack and pulled out a coil of rope. Maybe there would be something inside the shaft they could anchor it to so they could climb up to the next level, or at least out of reach of the statues.
A creak and a groan came on the heels of the next round of projectiles. The arms weren’t moving this time; it was the legs. A shudder ran through the floor with the statues’ first ponderous steps.
“I appreciate you and Jaxi keeping us from being shot,” Ridge said. “Are you going to be able to keep us from being crushed by ten tons of metal too?”
The doubtful expression on her face said a lot. Nothing he wanted to hear.
“Ahn and anyone else who’s not helping with the doors, come up here,” Ridge said, raising his rifle again. “Stealth probably became useless as soon as we knocked open their front door. Time to see if we can find a vulnerable spot on those statues.”
“You’ll have to stand over there to do so.” Sardelle pointed to the side. “I have a barrier up in front of the doors and the group, and your bullets would be bounced back at us.”
“Good to know before we start shooting.” Ridge and Ahn stepped to the spot where she had indicated, and she gave him a nod.
“I assume we’re in danger here too?” Ahn asked.
“I’ll keep my eye on you, but you might want to lunge back over here before they shoot each round.”
“Understood.” Ridge fired his first shot, aiming at one of the red eyes. Those things were eerie.
But the statues were still a hundred meters away, their heads obs
cured by the shadows above the lamps. His bullet clanged into the nose hole instead. A few clangs sounded—the shell bouncing around inside its head? Well, maybe that would do some damage too.
Ahn must have guessed his original target, for she aimed in the same direction. Her bullet took the statue in the right eye. The red glow blinked a couple of times, but then returned to a steady crimson light.
“Guess the eyes aren’t the most vulnerable part of a statue.” Ridge thought about firing at the monster’s crotch, more out of spite than because he believed that would be a vulnerable spot, but that seemed a touch immature. Besides, he was busy jumping back into Sardelle’s sphere of protection, for the statues were firing again. Firing and walking. As slow and ponderous as those steps were, the monsters were drawing ever closer.
A soft metal clang sounded behind him.
“I’ve made a hole,” Tolemek said.
“Duck, take my spot,” Ridge said and joined Tolemek at the lift door, bringing his coil of rope. It was probably foolish to think there would be anything up there he could hook it on, but it was worth a look. He had a collapsible grappling hook in his pack too.
“We’re on the ground floor,” Tolemek said, pulling his head out of the still smoking hole. Amazingly, his shaggy ropes of hair didn’t catch fire in the process. “I can’t tell how high up the shaft goes. It’s dark. There’s not a ladder or anything on the wall to climb; I could tell that much.”
“I don’t think lighting lift shafts is a priority in many places.” Ridge ignored the shots firing behind him, even though the blazes that occurred when Sardelle stopped a throwing star were bright and spectacular, and eyeballed some of the nearest floating lanterns. Some of them weren’t that high up there. He made a quick lasso with the rope and gave himself room to throw. “Sardelle is busy at the moment, but she floated that Cofah observer out of the balloon. Maybe she can float us up too. Or call down the lift.” That would probably be less taxing for her.
“Except that we might not be able to spare her out there.” Tolemek nodded his head. “Those statues are going to be here soon. We might have to abandon this and run back to the front door.”