“I’m what?” Genuine shock burgeoned on Ness’ face before it turned into a scowl of scorching hatred toward the kneeling man. “You lousy, sandbagging, piece of gutter trash.”
Emre palmed the vial and stuck it into his pocket. He reached into the crate and pulled forth a handful of glass vials. Each one was semi-translucent, not opaque like the one Kephren had given him. “The deal was for two bushels of second grade, Keph. Not first. You think two stretches of gold is enough for first? Now, how would a rat like you get your grimy hands on a vial of first grade without going through me?”
Killian took a menacing step forward. His frown a deep ravine. “You sold me out.”
The trap set, Emre burned his parch.
In the silver sheen of aetheurgy, the air felt denser, claustrophobic even. The silence was deafening, only the hurried breathing of those around filled the void. The many aerescreens in the sky all shifted to a vision of Solanine, but the messages had stopped as the aetheurgist merely watched with a blank cyber gaze of non-life until the screen went dark. All the small camera drones stopped buzzing; blinking lights gone dark.
A single aethecite clock across the street read the time as 00:58.
“What’s that, Keph? I didn’t hear your answer.”
“I… I didn’t… I swear.”
“He’s hacked the screens,” the wiry grunt said. He had a compact aerescreen in his hands, his fingers typing furiously. “The entire grid’s shut down. I can’t… nothing.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Ness demanded. “I thought this was a friendly neg—"
Emre’s scrutiny flashed toward Ness, the furor stopped the gang leader in his place. In the aetheurgy-enhanced veil, Ness’ blood pumped faster through his blue veins under his Drenth-born flesh. His mouth quirked, but he bit back what he’d intended to say, his breath was ragged as if he’d run a mile up a sand dune.
“You thought I’d be easy to con, Ness. Too worried about the Imperium to know what was happening right under my own nose.” Emre cuffed Kephren, sending the raven-locked man sprawling under the aether-enhanced blow. “Playing both sides against each other. Smart, if not short-sighted.”
The aerescreen flashed, black nothingness coming alive as aethecite bloomed in the two parallel uprights housing the Aere spells. Solanine reappeared. “Citizens of Drenth, warning. I repeat, warning. Unspecified and unverified activity in Sector 4. Early reports indicate violence. Rebel agitators assumed. Warning. Warning. All those in Sector 4, please get to safety now.”
The camera drones whizzed into a frenzy of blinking lights as the churn of tiny fans echoed in Emre’s aether-enhanced hearing like a tidal wave crashing against the southern coast of the VVyrm Ocean. Lenses panned toward the crossroads in Stanktown, highlighting eight people on the aerescreen as floodlights from the drones shone down.
“Both sides.” Emre shook his head. “To think, Finnus never thought you’d be useful, Ness.” He heard Finn guffaw. In fact, Finn had been the one to name Ness as the Imperium spy, but Killian didn’t need to know that. “You honestly think I’m going to leave my city in the hands of gangs?”
A guttural growl rumbled from Ness. “I’ll see you de—"
“But you, Keph,” Emre said to the man face down in the muddy sand, who was groaning. Or whimpering. Probably both. “I expected more from you. Brothers until the end, eh?”
Solanine’s pixelated gaze shone upon the crossroads, human-like tilt of the Aere-spelled head. “The Gutter King himself, I’m surprised to see you rear your head. Tonight, of all days. Your family would be proud. She’s here, you know? Of course, you do. The Gutter King knows all.”
The woman in Ness’ crew pointed up, her emerald pupils glowing. “O slag, Imperium!”
Emre stuck his chin proudly toward the flickering image of Solanine and smiled wickedly.
“Nothing to say for yourself, boy?”
The clock clicked over to hour one and with it came the explosions.
A blast shook the empty street, rattling the buildings in a massive concussion, waist-thick bricks exploding thunderously. Dust and shrapnel fell all around them in a vast cloud, centuries-old architecture from before the Fall of Eminence showered down, evicted angrily from their catacombs. Curses from Ness and crew. Finn shouted at him as the elfir scooped up the crates of parch.
The images of Solanine winked out, but not before Emre saw a fraction of concern mar the heart-shaped face.
Larger detonations erupted across the city, the closest being in the Smelt. Ash and flames burst into the sky hundreds of feet as the aethecite factories went up in smoke. All eighteen. The Smelt. Bar Stock. Slag’s End. All the rest. Not just one, as had been his tactic in the early days of their rebellion, but all of them at once. Chaotic screams thickened the nightturn air. Those screams were only Imperium soldiers and supervisors, as all Drenth-born workers had already left when the shift had ended.
Just like they’d planned.
And yet, when he looked up at the four-chained tethered Gargantua, the fortress barely flinched.
A rope ladder dropped beside Finn, and the elfir hooked a leg in one of the rungs as he fumbled with the heavy crates of parch. “Come on, Em!”
Alarms and squealing sirens declared Imperium soldiers headed their way. Aethecite vehicles rumbled along the sandswept streets with floodlights blooming everywhere. Airgliders puffing aethecite dropped from Gargantua’s underbelly like bees. The scant mist stirred by the commotion.
Ness’ crew had fled, but not Killian. The green-bearded man burned aetheurgy and leapt toward Emre with a hammer fist, his emerald pupils bled murder. Emre’s aetheurgy came alive. His muscles jerked as synapses flared, speeding up his movements. He sidestepped the gang leader’s initial attack, Ness’ aether-protected fist crashed into the street. The man howled as he swung again, but Emre danced away.
“Em!” Finn screamed as the rope ladder rose, the airglider pulling it away.
Emre looked toward Ness, but now the man realized his folly, as he began to flee the other direction. Finn reached out his hand, and the first of many Imperium vehicles appeared, blue and orange lights blinking, siren loud. Rubber tires skidded and sprayed sand and explosion debris. Killian Ness bellowed but was trapped as the Fallen’s soldiers piled out of the vehicles, wheellock rifles pointed at him.
At them.
Aetheric gunshots borne from Ignis spells whizzed past as Emre took Finn’s hand.
Kephren was on his knees. “Em?”
They rose now, shirking aetheric bullets. “Goodbye, Keph.” He nodded toward the shadow of Gargantua, his voice raised so that Kephren could hear, “Traitor or not, you had it all. But the Fallen wants everything, you stupid fool. I aim to take it all back. This is my city!”
Kephren’s face fell as Imperium soldiers surrounded him. His arms went up, but not before he tried running with aether-enhanced speed down a darkened alley. Soldiers poured after him.
As their airglider sped away through the hundred-story-tall apartments, Finn cackled like a madman amid the chaos. Emre gripped the rope ladder with all he had, his bravado drained as he snuffed his aetheurgy. The warm nightturn air sent shivers down his spine.
The moonlight drenched Drenth; the only shadow was the city-sized blot that was Gargantua. It was going to be a good day for revenge.
