She thought of Lu Har as he performed the ritual binding her to the Strix all those years ago.
The Fallen’s breathtaking smile drank in the shadows, his onyx eyes glowed like smoldering embers. In his hand he held the blackened steel that was aflame as he pressed it to her monthly blooded womb.
Her only thought was of her daughter, taken from her. The daughter she’d carried within the womb that was now being bound by Void Form aetheurgy. A searing, a severing of the life she could and had carried, now being destroyed, replaced with the bond of another kind.
“BRYNNNNNNN!”
Hatred grew. Venom biting. “Vengeance is all I have left to me. You best not be lying to me, Strix.” A laced demand.
The Strix did its best snort impression considering it had no nostrils. “SEE, YOU DO TRY TO HURT ME. WHY WOULD I LIE?”
“Because you come from them.” The magical weapon was trying to be playful, but she was having none of it. “Brynn is all that matters. Fuck the Seals. Fuck the coven. Fuck Solanine and the rest of them. Fuck the Imperium. Fuck Emre.” Now she was full of anger. “And fuck Lu Har!”
A crimson-scaled captain stopped her before she could take two steps deeper into Gargantua. “Sorry, Mistress Cadrianna, but no one is allowed to enter without clearance from Solanine.”
“That’s who I’m going to see,” she growled.
“Orders, mistress.”
She stepped up to the man, who jerked rigid. “Don’t get in my way.”
“I’m… I’m sorry, mistress. I have my orders.” Cadrianna calculated there were at least thirty, if not more, soldiers within the hall, plus another dozen automatons. Not exactly the best of odds without the Strix handy, but doable with her Void Form. Sensing her aggression, the man cleared his throat. “Solanine is… uh… out on the main mezzanine. Ringing the party in… uh, your presence… uh… there.”
Without pressing, she turned and marched away.
XXXII
Lojen
IF LOJEN HAD been told how incredibly silent and empty Gargantua’s inner workings would be, he would have gone straight to the nearest gambling den and placed a major wager on getting caught.
The silence was deafening.
Outside of the engines thrumming and the workers shoveling the raw material into the furnace, as well as the random beeping of an automaton, once he moved away from the main cavern, there was nothing but the sound of his boots gently kissing the walkway.
Worried that he would be discovered at any moment, Lojen probably shaved some days off his life, but at least the nervous jitters also kept him alert.
He’d left the engines by way of a series of maintenance tunnels similar—though a scant bit taller—to the one he and Ru had taken from the chain. Each was curved at the top and dimly lit. Part of him was surprised there weren’t any surveillance cameras, but he encountered no one or thing in the tunnels as he placed half a dozen bombs on appropriate targets. On each bomb, he clicked a tiny lever that released a spell of Ignis. The rune etched onto the bombs glowed like fire, a dribble of mist from it. From there it would be on Emre to make it go boom.
Lojen soon found a winding stair that would lead him topside. He waited just inside the shadows cast by the twisting steps, listening for the sound of descent.
When he was satisfied—or at least not frightened enough to run into some unexpected worker, soldier, robot of death, or the bloody scourges themselves—Lojen raced up the staircase, taking three steps at a time. The air cooled as he climbed, the heat given off by the engines fading away. A soft buzz grew as he went upward, and before long, it developed into clear expressions of music accompanied by a voice from the heavens.
He emerged through a well-oiled metal gate—which made him feel better since it didn’t squeak loudly to alert anyone to his presence—into an open terrace upon Gargantua. But more worryingly, he could see that he was opposite of the compound where, according to the map, the Seal was located. And the entire party filled the space between.
Broken shells!
He thought about going back into the tunnels and trying to find another way, but a quick check of his watch showed that was out of the question. He tried to think. Guards roamed the perimeter of the mezzanine, but they stayed in the shadows just outside of the frolicking guests, and kept a solid distance between a low hedge and the party. But that meant they were closer to him, making his task even harder.
Pressed against the building’s wall, Lojen snuck as close to the party—and guards—as he was willing to get. He marked two firedrake-scale-clad soldiers patrolling in a set course, turning about face after twenty steps, then retreating the opposite way in the same pattern, only crossing paths with the other at a set point. Over and over, no stopping. Faceless helmets on swivels, watching the party, as well as those who might think it prudent to slink into the shadows for some ‘fun’ alone time. Even if he got past the guards, he couldn’t just waltz into the crowd; a drakken would stick out like a broken tusk on a Merj mammoth. A cursory investigation of the scene didn’t leave him much choice either; it was crawling on his belly near the bushes or climbing the building at his back and scale it to the hanging aethecite lights.
Neither option was a good one, but scaling the lighted string was the preferred one in his mind. Either way, it meant he had to get even closer before he could make his ascent.
Time dragged as he counted the guards’ steps from the moment they crossed each other to the time they pivoted. Fifteen seconds.
Crouching with one boot forward, he cinched the satchel tighter and took a deep breath. Twenty feet in fifteen seconds. Damnit, Lojen, best be fast.
The guards passed another shoulder-to-shoulder and Lojen hurled forward, bent as low as he could, counting in his head.
One.
Two.
Three…
He was closer now, just about ten feet from the guards.
Six.
Seven.
Eight…
His boots barely touched the ground as he broke past where the guards had crossed, aiming for the nearest cover of brush.
Eleven.
